An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Ellora’s Cavemen: Jewels of the Nile I ISBN 9781419915741 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Earthly Pleasure Copyright © 2008 B.J. McCall Erotic Sacrifice Copyright © 2008 Cynthia Rayne Hot Under the Collar Copyright © 2008 Katie Blu Incensed Copyright © 2008 Kate Hill Making the Madam Copyright © 2008 Delilah Devlin The Emissary Copyright © 2008 Jenna Reynolds
Editorial Team: Raelene Gorlinsky, Briana St. James, Carole Genz, Helen Woodall, Denise Powers. Cover design by Darrell King. Electronic book Publication March 2008 Print book Publication March 2008 With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/) This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
ELLORA’S CAVEMEN: JEWELS OF THE NILE I Earthly Pleasure By B.J. McCall
Erotic Sacrifice By Cynthia Rayne
Hot Under the Collar By Katie Blu
Incensed
By Kate Hill
Making the Madam By Delilah Devlin
The Emissary
By Jenna Reynolds
EARTHLY PLEASURE B.J. McCall
Earthly Pleasure
Chapter One Security lights dimmed by a low-level fog illuminated the courtyard of the business park. At this hour, the businesses were closed, the windows dark and the parking lots empty. Renee Tremaine tightened her grasp on the palm-sized locater unit and picked up her pace. Following the signal emitted by the warrior’s locater beacon, Renee’s heels beat a lone tattoo on the wet concrete. She’d answered distress calls before, but tonight she was flying solo. Mouth dry and her heart pounding, Renee hurried through the misty fog. Somewhere in this maze of two-story buildings, a wounded warrior waited, Earthbound and vulnerable. The greenish glow on the locater unit assured Renee she followed the correct path. She passed a service opening between two buildings and the unit flashed purple, then back to green. Renee stopped, spun to her left and took three steps. The screen changed to a bright purple. Retrieving a penlight from her jacket pocket, she flicked it on and entered the narrow alley. A foul odor assailed her nostrils seconds before the beam of light flashed over a row of dumpsters. Something to her left moved. The screen flashed, pulsing a deep purple, quick and steady. “Turn off the light.” She started and dropped the penlight. It rolled beneath a dumpster. Gulping the cool, night air, Renee displayed her locater unit in the direction of the deep, male voice. “I’m Prioress Renee, daughter of Zelda, House of Aasi. I offer sanctuary.” The warrior rose from his hiding place between two dumpsters and stepped toward her. Like the battle-fit celestial soldiers that had come before him, the warrior loomed over her. Renee craned her neck to look up at him. “I am Itan, son of Rane, House of Tanzer.” Warriors seeking sanctuary had spoken of the legendary Tanzers always with reverence and often with awe. “I am honored to serve the House of Tanzer.” He raised his locater and touched it briefly to hers. A flash of blue shot between the locaters and sent a shock through her hand and racing up her left arm. Wow, that hadn’t happened before. Identity established, Renee switched off her unit and dropped it into her coat pocket. She looked around. “Are you alone?” “Yes. We must leave before my blood scent draws the wraiths.”
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Renee shuddered and glanced over her shoulder. She understood his reason for hiding near the foul dumpsters. “Can you walk?” “My leg is wounded, but I can walk.” Relieved he was mobile, she released an audible breath. “My car isn’t far away.” Despite his injured leg, he moved quickly. Beneath the muted glow of the security lights, Renee noticed his hair fell in short, dark waves. The warrior wore the usual weapons vest, but no shirt. His multi-pocket dark pants were tucked into heavy boots. “Should wraiths appear, step behind me and be prepared to follow my commands. I would not have you harmed.” “Okay.” Thankfully, one of them was armed. Only weapons forged by empyrean fires destroyed the evil ones. Without warriors like Itan, evil would dominate the Earth and the populated planets throughout the universe. Most humans were blissfully unaware of the timeless war between good and evil and the warriors intended to keep them in this state of grace. As they approached her sedan, Renee rushed forward and opened the passenger door. Itan leaned down to look inside. “It’s too small.” If Renee had received the summons while at home, she’d have driven her mother’s thirty-year-old, gas-guzzling, luxury sedan. Its size and powerful engine befitted a warrior. Perhaps the time had come to replace Zelda’s car with an SUV. Leaning into the compact, Renee released the seat catch and shoved it back as far as it would go. “Scrunch. You’ll fit.” Ignoring his snort of disapproval, Renee rounded the car and slipped into the driver’s seat. She started the engine and waited until he wedged his big body and wounded leg into position. The moment he shut the door, she stomped on the gas. The compact lurched forward. Pushing the speed limit, Renee kept her eyes peeled for police cruisers. Renee glanced at Itan. Her mother had often described the warriors they harbored as magnificent reflections of beauty and goodness. Perhaps this warrior was handsome, but right now the grimace contorting Itan’s face made it difficult to judge. Turning onto her street in the warehouse section of the city, Renee pressed the remote on her dash. One of two twelve-foot-high industrial rollup doors slid open as she approached. Renee zipped into the garage of the three-story building owned by the Aasi and stomped on the brakes, parking next to Zelda’s gas-guzzler. A bank of industrial lights illuminated the garage. Renee pressed the remote and forty feet away, the door slid closed. She opened the driver’s door, but Itan didn’t move. His eyes were closed. Fearing he’d passed out, Renee reached over and grasped his arm. His muscles bunched beneath her hand. 6
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“Sanctuary. We’ve arrived.” He turned his head, looked at her and blinked. Renee’s jaw dropped. His eyes were a brilliant green and his face ruggedly handsome. A dark growth of beard shadowed his jaw. “How long have you been driving?” Ignoring his question and focusing on her sworn duty, Renee scrambled out of the car and slammed the door shut. By the time she rounded the vehicle, Itan had opened the passenger door and angled one long leg out of the car. The gashes across his right thigh were dark with coagulated blood. Clutching the doorframe, the warrior gritted his teeth and hoisted himself out of the low-slung compact. He glanced about the vast garage, focused on the flight of metal stairs leading to the upper floors, then looked at her. “There’s an elevator. You won’t have to walk.” She took a deep breath. “You can lean on me.” His left eyebrow lifted as his gaze slid down her body and lingered on her legs, but he said nothing. Renee wasn’t sure if he was doubtful of her ability to assist him or checking her out. Dressed for a girls’ night out at the local clubs, Renee’s black skirt was short, her heels were high and her legs bare. Instead of taking the time to change into jeans and practical shoes, she’d left the club and rushed to his aid. When his gaze finally lifted, Renee closed the passenger door and tucked her arm around his waist from the right side. He grunted as she brushed her leg against his thigh. “Sorry.” As they walked, Renee took care not to touch his injured leg. When they reached the elevator, she selected an oddly shaped key and inserted it into a shunt. When she turned the key, the doors began to slide apart. “It’s an old service elevator,” she explained, guiding him inside the ten-by-ten-foot space. “The building is designed to look like a factory. The Aasi built it during the last century as a sanctuary. The walls and doors are reinforced.” Slowly the elevator rose to the top floor, but her warrior remained silent during the ride. The doors opened and Renee propelled Itan forward. The warriors brought here were provided with a safe place to heal or rest. A few steps inside the building, Itan stopped. “I hadn’t expected so large a space.” The floor plan was open and spacious. The west side of the building included an infirmary, kitchen and dining area. The center space provided two sleeping areas with comfortable warrior-sized beds and convenient bathing facilities. Each canopy-style bed offered privacy curtains, one of white gauze and another of deep blue velvet. “On the far side, there is an exercise and rehabilitation area. The ensign of each warrior given sanctuary is displayed there. I will add yours.”
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“I’d like to see the ensigns.” “Let’s take care of your leg first. To your left,” she said, directing him toward the infirmary. “You live here?” “I live on the second floor. This floor is the sanctuary.” “You will not sleep at my side?” Renee stumbled and brushed her leg against his. He grunted in pain. “Sorry.” His question had taken her by surprise. It wasn’t forbidden, but those providing sanctuary rarely indulged in physical pleasures with warriors. Her mother had warned Renee to never fall for a warrior. Warriors lived to fight evil and were destined to leave everything, even those they loved, behind. The trained men and women of the House of the Seven Flowers provided pleasure, the Aasi provided medical attention and sanctuary. Renee had trained in the art of healing, but her primary duty was to maintain the sanctuary. Should a warrior require more than minor wound-tending, the Aasi had a staff of medics on call. Her sense of duty overrode her feminine curiosity. Itan’s wounds required attention. Renee released Itan and opened one of the drawers in the lower cabinets lining the wall. She withdrew an energy knife with a curved blade and laid it on the counter. “Remove your vest. I think I should cut off your trousers.” The flexible fabric of his vest and trousers was thin body armor. The sharpest knife or heavy scissors couldn’t cut the material. He removed his weapons vest and set it on the floor. His shoulders were broad and his back thick with muscles, yet Itan moved with controlled grace. Between his powerful body and incredible green eyes, Renee couldn’t ignore the sudden jump of her pulse or the tiny throbs between her legs. Never had she felt such strong sexual vibes from a warrior. During her youth, her mother had shooed her out of the room when the warriors disrobed. After her seventeenth birthday, Renee had flatly refused to leave. Little wonder the men she’d dated couldn’t hold her interest. Warriors thought of their amazing bodies as a weapon. Strength and agility meant survival. Either Itan radiated an irresistible sensual heat or her long-unsatisfied needs had risen to remind her that weeks had stretched into months since her last sexual encounter. Her friends considered her picky, but then not one of them had seen a naked warrior. “Unless you have a pair of pants my size, we should salvage these.” When he unfastened his trousers and pushed them down his hips, Renee realized he wore no underwear. She forced her gaze from his genitals to the gashes on his thigh. Blood had dried and stuck the ragged edges of his torn trousers to his wounds. 8
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“Are you going to gape or help?” His question brought a flush to Renee’s cheek. “I can trim the material away.” Sitting on the edge of the infirmary bed, he stretched out his right leg. “Do it, but take care with that blade.” Was he worried about his wounds or his penis? Feeling warm and edgy, Renee removed her jacket and tossed it over his weapons vest. She selected a healing wand and lifted it from its cradle. Like the warriors’ weapons the wands were created on Arcis and shipped to the Aasi. Warriors carried emergency wands in their weapons vest to seal wounds. Renee handed the wand to Itan. The moment his hand closed around the healing wand it began to hum, signaling the transfer of the warrior’s energy. By the time she cleaned the wound the wand would be ready. Picking up the knife, she leaned over his right thigh and slid her hand beneath the material of his trousers. His skin felt hot against the back of her hand. Lifting the material gently, she guided the energy blade around the wounds. Satisfied, Renee lifted her head and looked at Itan. The warrior stared down her gaping neckline. A beam of light appeared at the tip of the wand. “Beautiful.” Her cheeks burned at his compliment. Then he caught the dangling pendant she wore in his fingers. “Exquisite piece.” A man who notices jewelry? She’d worn the pendant since Zelda’s death and not one of the men she’d dated had commented on the piece. She’d only been on three dates, but still not one of them had noticed. Itan rubbed his thumb over the intricate design and Renee felt a sudden warmth run along the length of the chain. “It belonged to my mother.” “This is the ensign of Lucan.” “Lucan?” “A renowned warrior. A gift such as this is given as a sign of respect or affection.” Zelda had treasured the pendant, kissing it after nightly prayers. Her mother had never mentioned Lucan, but when death hovered, Zelda had given the piece to Renee. “Perhaps Zelda sheltered Lucan.” Itan’s gaze lifted and Renee’s breath caught. His eyes were shimmering and again she felt a sensual heat pass between them. The wand hummed louder and the threeinch beam turned a bright blue. “Thank you for coming to my aid.” “I am Aasi. It is my duty.” 9
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The beam turned a deep blue. She took the wand and set it in its cradle. She’d never seen one energize so quickly. “I think it’s fully charged.” Leaning down, he removed his boots. His feet were long, and on the second toe of his left foot, he wore a silver ring. Renee assisted him in removing his trousers. After retrieving clean cloths from an upper cabinet, Renee soaked one in warm water. “This may sting.” He grunted as if her warning offended him. As she cleaned the wounds, the muscles in Itan’s thigh jumped, but the warrior remained silent. To distract him and to satisfy her own curiosity, she asked him about him home planet. “If I remember my grandmother’s stories correctly, the House of Tanzer is from Kuel?” “I was raised on Kuel.” Renee made a point to ask visiting warriors about their families. Far from home they usually enjoyed sharing memories. “Do you have a family?” “My parents. Three sisters, one of which is in warrior training on Arcis. Two nephews, one niece.” Handsome and single. “Tell me about your home.” “I was raised by the sea,” he said. “My father taught me to sail. He believed in learning to work with nature, understand its forces and its beauty.” “I often drive to the shore. I love to walk along the beach.” “Kuel is one of the seven ancient planets. Like Kuel, Earth is blessed with oceans, lakes and rivers. The other six are more arid.” She looked up, met his gaze. “Have you visited the ancient planets?” He shook his head. “Only Arcis. The battlefront is on the young planets.” Her heart rate jumped. “Like Earth?” “The demon planets thrive. They want to possess Earth.” A shiver slid down Renee’s spine. Itan reached out and cupped her face. “Do not fear the future, we live to protect you.” Once all the dried blood and pieces of trouser were removed, Renee picked up the healing wand and moved the beam along the cuts, sealing them from the inside out. Except for one, the gashes weren’t deep and certainly not debilitating. “When is the next gateway available?” “Sunrise, day after tomorrow.” At the rate most warriors healed, the time was sufficient. “Rest this leg as much as possible and you’ll be fine by the next gateway.”
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Within a couple of minutes, Renee guided him into the modern, spacious bathroom. A shower large enough for several warriors was to the left and a deep soaking tub to the right. “I’ll turn down the bed.”
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Chapter Two Renee prepared Itan’s bed with fresh linens, then turned off the bright overhead lights and muted the wall sconces. One lamp glowed softly on the bedside table. Her breath caught when the naked warrior walked out of the bathroom and into the sleeping area. He’d combed his wet hair and taken the time to shave. Entranced by the perfection of his muscled body, Renee watched spellbound as he climbed into the large bed, leaned back against the carved arc of the wooden headboard and drew the sheets over his lower body. She cleared her throat. “Are you hungry?” He shook his head. “Rest. Should you require my services, I’ll be downstairs.” “Stay with me.” His request sent a spiral of heat through her middle. Logic warred with desire. “I won’t be far away.” She approached the bedside table and pointed to the thumbsize gray depression on a small plastic device lying within his reach. “It’s wireless. The alarm rings in my living quarters.” “I like your scent. After weeks of battle, it’s a balm to my soul. Will you stay?” “As you wish,” she said, turning toward a chaise lounge used by Aasi medics when a patient required a healer close by during the night. “The chaise is quite comfortable. I’ll remain until you’ve fallen asleep.” His warm fingers wrapped around her upper arm. “I want you beside me.” The deep huskiness of his voice sent a delicious thrill down her spine. Heart pounding, Renee turned around. The scent of the spicy soap she’d provided clung to his skin. She lifted her hand to touch the smooth skin of his broad chest, but Zelda’s drilling came to mind. Leave the pleasures to the flowers. She fisted her hand. “I can’t.” Even as she uttered the words, the heat building inside her denied them. “Why not?” “I’m not a flower.” “I did not request the services of a flower, merely your presence.” As his fingertips slid down her arm to her grasp her hand, a trail of sensual fire followed them. “You want me to sleep beside you?” “Yes.”
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Renee knew she wouldn’t sleep a wink. Just knowing he was naked and within reach would make sleeping impossible. “I don’t understand.” “I’ve been chasing a particular nasty demon. Horrible menace. I finally found him and disposed of him and his evil friends. As my reward, I was granted a respite at this sanctuary.” His thumb caressed her wrist. Her pulse leaped and her blood thundered in her ears. “It’s been a long time since I visited a flower,” he said. “And you smell as good as a flower.” Warriors leave. “I’m not schooled in those arts.” “I seek rest and comfort. Your voice pleases me and your skin is soft.” His lips grazed her wrist. “If I wanted a sexual marathon, I would have requested the services of a flower. Instead, I sought the peace of your sanctuary.” Renee wasn’t sure whether to take his admission as a compliment or an insult. “You want me to sleep with you, but not have sex?” “You’re a beautiful woman.” His eyes glowed, giving emphasis to his words. “Of course I wish to have sex with you, but it is disrespectful to treat you as I would a flower.” “How would you treat a flower?” He rose to his knees and cupped her head in his big hands. “A flower has expectations, needs of their own, which I’ll admit at times may tax even the strongest of warriors. If you were a flower, you’d be naked and beneath me.” That image flashed in Renee’s mind. Oh my! She licked her lips. “Touch me.” She placed her palms to his chest, moved her fingertips over his hot skin. His eyes drifted closed and his lips brushed hers. In that split second, her secret fantasy became reality. She’d kissed a few warriors in her twenty-nine years, but never had she taken one as a lover. None had tempted her as Itan did. Once she’d given in to the temptation, Renee feared she’d lose her heart. Warriors leave. Itan would leave. She wanted him. More than any man or warrior, she wanted Itan. Why this warrior, when so many had passed through the sanctuary? He kissed her, lushly, thoroughly, his lips moving over hers in erotic exploration. The heat of his body penetrated her palms. Aching to feel that heat everywhere, Renee leaned against him. The touch of his hand to her breast sent her heart rate into overdrive. He cupped her through the soft, black knit camisole and slid a thumb over her nipple. The gentle motion and the soft rasp of the material teased her sensitive flesh. Beneath his palm, he had to feel the fierce pounding of her heart.
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He deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue between her lips. Her blood singing, Renee crawled onto the bed. She wanted more. Slow and unrushed, he placed gentle, sensual kisses down her neck and with the tip of his tongue he traced a trail of promised passion along the thin strap of her cami. She arched her back and the strap slid off her shoulder. With a gentle caress, he pulled the fabric down, exposing her breast. He touched his lips to her hot skin and drew circles around her nipple with the tip of his tongue. Her nipple tightened and her heart rate soared. He suckled, drawing leisurely upon her flesh and making her ache so badly she wanted him now, deep inside her. A heated breath caught in her lungs and released with a passionate cry as she thrust her hands into his hair. He’s the one. As if he’d read her thoughts, he crushed her to him. His heat seeped through her clothing, burning her skin, making her ache. With a low throaty groan, he suckled deeply and slipped a hand beneath her short skirt. The touch of his long fingers to her bare thigh sent rivers of need coursing through her body. His fingertip followed the edge of her bikini panties. A shiver of anticipation slid down her spine. His finger slipped beneath the soft silk and skated across her clit. Moaning, Renee pushed her throbbing pussy against his hand. Itan accepted her lush moan as a positive response. Gently, he stroked her pussy, loving her sensual reaction to his touch. She nearly purred and subtle vibrations coursed through her body. Her aura glowed a deep reddish-gold, letting him know the timing was perfect. Her lack of training in the sensual arts didn’t discourage him. Renee’s needs were raw and natural and Itan knew he’d satisfy each and every one of them. When she fisted his hair in her slender hands, Itan’s heart raced and his cock stretched. Never again would he think of “seeding” as a duty.
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Chapter Three The “seeding” females were chosen for their lineage and health, not their beauty, but Itan had been truly blessed when the council had selected Renee. The moment he’d gotten a good look at his Earth mate, his whole body had responded and he thanked the heavens he’d chosen to conceive the natural way instead of depositing his warrior’s seed in the creation bank on Arcis. Renee’s hair was the color of burnished gold and her eyes were as blue as the seas of Kuel. Knowing one’s mission was to create life stirred any warrior’s loins, but when the female had the face of an angel, one might easily forget the purpose and indulge in earthly pleasures. Given the dampness of the slip of silk between her long legs and the sexual heat pouring from her slim body, Renee was indeed an earthly pleasure. No match for the strength of his sword hand, the thin silk tore easily. The fact she didn’t react to the destruction of her panties, but sucked in an audible breath and pressed her pussy to his exploring fingers, told him she was ready and wanting. His cock stretched, the pain of need felt in every cell. Twisting to one side, he lowered her onto the soft bed and pushed her short skirt up to her waist. Her long hair fanned around her head like golden wings. Planting his knees between her soft thighs, Itan coaxed her legs open. Daily he battled demons, but tonight he’d needed a woman as soft as an angel and as fiery as a flower. Renee was that woman and the anticipation made his balls ache. Fisting his cock, Itan touched the tip to her wet center. Her eyes opened and in their blue depths a sensual fire burned that was anything but angelic. Although Renee was eager and receptive for mating, Itan resisted the urge to thrust hard and fuck her with the pent-up energy from months of celibacy. A shudder slid the length of his spine as he dipped the tip inside her. Warm and wet, she lifted her hips, urging him to bury his cock. Holding himself in check, Itan probed her tight sheath, stretching her gently to accommodate his size. She moaned and whispered his name. Wet heat wrapped around cock, drawing him in. Unable to hold back the surge of need flooding his senses, he plunged deep. She wasn’t an angel, but an Earth woman with needs and a hot pussy. Sheathed in her wet warmth, he pumped his hips. When Renee wrapped her long legs around his waist, he almost lost it. The edge became sharper, sweeter than ever. His heart thundered as he rode the edge of climax. Still he held back. He wanted her to climax, to writhe beneath him in ecstasy and take his seed deep into her womb. Cupping her breast, he stroked her firm flesh and captured her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A soft urgent whimper escaped her lips. 15
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Her sex squeezed him, every movement designed to draw his semen. Warned by the explosion building in his balls, Itan released her breast and slipped his hand around the base of her neck. He kissed her, the thrust of his tongue and cock branding her as his. He focused his energy, demanding her total surrender, willing her to climax, to open her womb and receive his seed. She moaned, a heady, lusty drawn-out feminine moan of pleasure. Then she clamped down on his cock. The tremble of her climax rolled through him like a wave. Every cell responded to her call. Semen surged, ripping free of his body, exploding deep into her wet heat. Momentarily breathless, Itan reeled. It wasn’t until the wave had passed that he felt the pain. She’d fisted his hair and held it so tightly during her climax, he worried she’d pulled out large clumps and the heel of her right shoe had been planted so firmly in his buttock he was sure she’d bruised his flesh. Next time he’d remove her shoes and her clothing. “Renee.” Her eyes opened and a sensuous smile curled her lips. Beneath him, she began to move, her pussy tugging on his cock, her hips grinding against his. Grinning in sheer delight, he answered her sweet demand by thrusting his hips. She wanted more and he wanted to please her. She released his hair and grasped his shoulders for leverage. Sliding his hand beneath her, he cupped her buttocks and lifted her to him. Letting her set the tempo, Itan matched her pace, giving her what she needed, allowing her to take what she wanted. The sensuality of looking into one another’s eyes while they made love again for her pleasure added a level of communication Itan hadn’t experienced with a flower. Lovemaking wasn’t a duty for Renee, but sheer consensual pleasure. She had no idea she’d been chosen to conceive a warrior’s child, to carry his child. As her second climax overtook her lithe body, she clung to him. In her eyes, he saw more than a reaction to a physical need, he saw passion, a pure connection shared between the two of them. His mission’s objective was to seed her womb and the council had granted him a few amazing hours to fulfill the miracle of creation. An easy challenge when mated with a beauty such as Renee. During the short time allotted, Itan intended to seed her womb again and again until he had to drag his exhausted ass through the gateway. In the past, he’d remained distant with other females. He hadn’t shared anything like this with any woman or with any flower. Itan realized her solitary climax was one of the most erotic moments he’d experienced.
***** The brief yet tender kiss Itan gave her before rolling onto his back added to the sensual magic, but the flush of passion waned slightly when Renee realized she’d
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bedded a warrior and hadn’t even taken the time to remove her clothes or shoes. Stunned by her reaction to Itan, Renee shook her head in disbelief. She never jumped between the sheets without a reasonable get-to-know-you period of time. What had gotten into her? Itan wasn’t the first naked man she’d seen. He wasn’t even the first naked warrior. Suddenly self-conscious of her state and unable to explain her actions, Renee sat up. Her panties were lying on the floor. At the moment Itan had ripped them off, she practically melted from the intensity of heat between them. She scrambled off the bed and adjusted her skirt. “Going somewhere?” She considered remaining with him, but decided to seek the isolated comfort of her own bed. It wasn’t as though they were lovers or even friends. Now that his needs were satisfied, he’d want to sleep. Healing and rest were the reason the sanctuaries existed. Renee told him she’d see him in the morning. Before she taken two steps, he’d wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet. Holding her against his chest, he carried her back to the bed. Kneeling, they faced one another. Renee wondered what he intended to do next. The anticipation of his actions brought a whole new heat. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d reacted like an animal in heat. Grasping the hem of her chemise top, he pulled it up and over her head. His gaze focused on her bare breasts. Without saying a word, he reached out his right hand and touched his fingertips to her breast. The tender yet sensual exploration set her pulse to racing. His thumb slid over her nipple. The magic of that simple caress brought forth a sharp gasp, and when he removed his hand, Renee wanted to cry out in protest. Eager to feel flesh against flesh, Renee unzipped her skirt. The skirt and shoes discarded, his gaze slid over her body and his hands followed with gentle caresses. He molded his palms to her breasts, cupping and lifting, raking his thumbs over her nipples until they were firm, responsive points of pleasure. His fingers danced over her skin as he caressed a path down her torso to her hips. Splaying a hand across her belly, he fanned his fingertips through the curls guarding her sex. “You’re as soft as an angel.” The tone of his husky exclamation and the admiration burning in his eyes told Renee she pleased him. And she wanted to please him. She didn’t know anything about Itan except he carried an honored family name, but she wanted this warrior more than she’d wanted any man. Itan drew her to him, crushing her breasts to his chest. This close, his scent enveloped her. Her heart pounded, her skin tingled and her pussy pulsed. Renee wrapped her thighs around his waist and rubbed her breasts against the solid wall of his chest. If she were a cat, she would have purred.
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Guiding her onto her back, he remained on his knees with his gaze locked on her pussy. Leaning down, he touched his tongue to her throbbing flesh. Clasping his head in her hands, Renee lifted her hips in silent submission. With a gentle thrust, he tongued her heated flesh. A hot flick to her clit made her gasp and shudder, left her dancing along a delicious edge. Catching the bud between his lips, he suckled her to trembling completion. Her sex still quivering, he lifted his head. The deep fire of desire burning in his eyes was confirmed as he sat up and rested his buttocks on his heels. Reaching out, Renee curled her fingers around his swelling cock and stroked his hot flesh from root to tip. Gently, she circled the broad head with the pad of her thumb, bringing forth a bead of moisture. Groaning, Itan grasped her by the waist and lifted her onto one hard-muscled thigh. She threw her arms around his neck. “Your wounds.” He guided her legs around his waist and balanced her butt in his hands. “What wounds?” Grasping his cock, she positioned the tip to her throbbing center. “You should rest.” “Want to make me feel better? Ride me hard.” One thrust and the hard heat of him penetrated her. Never had Renee felt so hot, so wanting. He held her as if she weighed nothing, giving her free rein to satisfy her needs. Head flung back, she slammed her pussy onto his thick cock, pounding her aching flesh. The flick of his wet tongue over her nipple made her cream. Flesh met flesh. Lush and wet, her pussy slid along his length. Her breathy moans and his audible gasps mingled to sing the ancient song of ecstasy. Quivering, she held him tight and let the tremors of pleasures move through her. After such a heady rush, Renee slumped against Itan’s heaving chest. Engulfing her in his strong arms, he held her close. What a climax! She’d never fucked a man before, taking, demanding, insistent on her own pleasure. Letting go had its rewards. For several minutes, neither of them spoke. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Renee lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his green eyes. He looked satisfied, the fire she’d observed earlier now banked. Featherlight, he brushed his lips to hers. “Something happens when we join.” His voice was low and husky. “It’s as if the heavens ordained it. Do you feel it? The wanting. The driving need to mate, the intense pleasure.” “It’s called sexual chemistry. Pheromones. Your scent, the skin-to-skin contact. The fact that I haven’t had sex in months.” 18
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“You make it sound so clinical. It isn’t. I get hard thinking about sex and a naked woman stirs me. But you are unique. You touch me as no flower has. Perhaps Elanta is truly an oracle.” Elanta? The only Elanta Renee knew of was a member of the Celestial Council. Comprised of revered leaders of the ancient planets, the council controlled the warrior armies from their stronghold on Arcis. Elanta selected warriors for seeding. But that couldn’t have anything to do with her. “What has Elanta to do with us?” “She matched us.” Warning bells went off in Renee’s head. Matching wasn’t a term taken lightly in the warrior world. She’d taken no precautions with Itan. She hadn’t felt the need. Birth control implants in warriors and flowers were mandatory. “Match as in…” A smile curled his lips. “You are my seeding female.” “But I can’t be. Earth-born Aasi are rarely selected as seeding females.” “The council has spoken. We were selected.” “You mean you were selected and you’re—” She scrambled out of his grasp and huddled against a corner poster at the foot of the bed. “Fuck!” Feeling safe, Renee had thrown caution to the wind and jumped his warrior bones. And she hadn’t jumped them once, but twice. The image of millions of swimming, fertile sperm came to mind. “Did you come?” He glanced down at his flaccid cock. “I did. What was I supposed to do? Given your enthusiasm, I was helpless to do otherwise.” “This is not a joke.” The half smile left his face and his gaze narrowed. “Creating a warrior is a very serious business and an honor. You must admit our mating was far more enjoyable than having an Aasi physician fertilize your womb.” “I decide my fate. I should have been informed of this decision before you arrived.” “No female has refused the honor. And you enjoyed it.” She bristled at the barb. “You knew and yet you said nothing.” He stretched out on the bed and reached out to stroke her thigh. “I chose natural creation.” She pushed his hand away. Ignoring her, he wrapped his hand around her upper thigh and gently dug his fingertips into her flesh. “Selected warriors are given the option of depositing their seed in a bank on Arcis and letting the doctors choose the time and place of creation.” He paused and brushed his fingertips over her pussy. 19
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A tremor of desire slid through her. “Or making love and conceiving in the natural way. I chose the latter method.” Angered by his deception and her body’s reaction, she scooted away. “But to conceive, the timing must be perfect.” “You are in a receptive state.” “How did the council know that?” No sooner had the words left her mouth before the answer formed in her mind. Her Aasi physician had charted her aura readings for years. She would have told the council the optimal time for Itan’s visit. “Why was I chosen for you?” “Two warrior bloodlines were chosen. All that was needed was a healthy male and female to bring them together.” “But I’m not of warrior blood.” “Lucan is Zelda’s son.” Renee shook her head. Somehow Itan had entered the wrong gateway. “Zelda’s only son, John, died at the age of sixteen. I have no warrior bloodline. Zelda adopted me as an infant. Both my parents are dead. Because my father was Aasi, Zelda raised me as her own in the tradition of the Aasi.” “Zelda’s son left Earth at the age of sixteen to enter warrior training on Arcis. At twenty, he swore an oath, joined the celestial warriors and took the name of Lucan. He never returned to Earth. You are Lucan’s child.” “If he never returned, how was I conceived?” “A young woman came to Zelda after Lucan had left Earth, claiming the child she carried was his. Zelda took her in. After you were born, Zelda adopted you.” “And my birth mother?” “Your mother died, but thanks to an Aasi physician, you survived. That part of Zelda’s story is true.” Renee rose from the bed and folded her arms before her. “How old was my mother?” “Fifteen.” “How did my mother die?” A fist closed around Renee’s heart. “Why didn’t Zelda tell me? I don’t understand.” No sooner had Renee uttered the thought than a horrible truth came to mind that explained Zelda’s action. The fist squeezed tighter. “Did my mother die trying to abort me?” Itan’s eyes burned with compassion. “Yes.”
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Zelda viewed abortion as a sin. Given her son’s commitment to becoming a celestial warrior, Renee understood Zelda’s reluctance to explain the circumstances of her birth. She grasped the pendent. Zelda was her blood. Her grandmother. Lucan was her father. Had everything Zelda told her been a lie? “My mother’s family?” “I know nothing of them.” She folded her arms and closed her eyes. In one short night, her life was unraveling around her. Opening her eyes, she challenged Itan. “If Lucan is my father, why didn’t I meet him? Why wasn’t I told?” He shook his head. “I do not know if he was informed of your birth, but he was a brave and valiant warrior.” “Was? He’s dead?” “He died in battle on Enzare when you were twelve. To honor his memory, the council selected you as a seeding female. Out of a hundred warriors, I was chosen to mate with Lucan’s daughter. I am honored.” Recalling Zelda’s nightly prayers, Renee removed the pendant from her neck and stared at her father’s ensign. Her hand shook and the fist released her heart. She felt empty and alone. Why hadn’t Zelda told her the truth before she died? “You know more about me than I do.” “Elanta wanted you to know. When you turned twenty-one, she informed Zelda she had chosen you as a seeding female, but Zelda petitioned the council to prevent Elanta from taking action. If Zelda had lived past your thirtieth birthday, I would not be here and you would not have been chosen.” The required age for seeding females was from the eighteenth birthday to the thirtieth. If Zelda had lived another six months, Renee would not find herself in this predicament. “And my child, will he or she become a warrior?” “Blood warriors are needed.” Zelda had lost her only son to the cause. The reason for Zelda’s deception and her warning slammed into Renee. Her heart lurched. “They chose me to bear a child destined to die in battle. Never!” Heart pounding, Renee raced across the room and down the metal stairs near the infirmary. She needed the sanctuary of her room, her bed. Huddled beneath the covers, Renee hugged her pillow and cried for Zelda, for the father and mother she never knew, but mostly she cried for herself and the possibility she may have already conceived. Having accomplished his mission, Itan would leave Earth and the council would bide their time until her child became of age. Renee had only sixteen short years to change her child’s destiny.
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Chapter Four Itan didn’t try to stop her. He realized she needed time to absorb the information that Zelda had unfortunately kept to herself. He’d intended to seek out the daughter of Lucan and explain his mission, but the beautiful young Aasi woman who had bravely come to his aid in the middle of the night, knowing blood-scenting wraiths might attack at any moment, had stirred him. As usual, the council hadn’t provided an image of the famous warrior’s daughter. He’d chosen natural seeding, and no matter the face or form of the female, Itan intended to perform his duty, but once he’d laid eyes on Renee, his mission had promised pure pleasure. He wanted more than the accomplishment of the mission, he needed to find out if she’d take him as a lover without a council edict. It was their divine destiny to join, to create, and the moment he kissed her, Itan knew he’d been blessed. Elanta had promised him a great thing would happen on Earth. It had. He’d fallen in love. Now all he had to do was convince Renee that she too had been blessed. Rising from the bed, Itan crossed the large room to the kitchen. He drank a glass of cold water, indulged in another hot shower and headed for the staircase. The metal was cold beneath his bare feet as he padded down to the second floor. A door stood open on the second-floor landing. Half of the second story was a storage area piled high with wooden crates bearing the council’s seal. Demons were targeting Earth and the council had stockpiled a cache of weapons to arm a future warrior force. Itan prayed he’d lead that army. Along the high ceiling, every third fixture was lit, providing just enough illumination for him to traverse the vast space. Bisecting the center was a wall with a set of double doors. Itan walked through the open doors and into a living area. A large, plush sofa sat opposite two chairs. Several lamps cast a soft glow upon the walls. Books, earthenware bowls and vases filled the shelves along one wall. Another wall bore several seascapes. The open floor plan included a dining area and kitchen. To his right a wall ran the length of the living area and led into a long hallway with several doors. The false ceiling gave the space the privacy of separate rooms rather than the vast openness of the sanctuary. He peered inside the first room, an office with a desk, chair and several file cabinets. He moved on. The next door revealed a bathroom and the next an empty bedroom. The framed photos on the wall and on the bedside table chronicled a life from
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infancy to young adulthood. Itan resisted the urge to enter Zelda’s chamber and view the pictures of Lucan as a child. Moving farther along the hallway, the light from the living area faded into shadows. He passed another bathing room, then finally he found her huddled beneath the covers in a brass bed draped in white. A faint nightlight guided him as he entered her personal sanctuary. Her delicate perfume scented the air. Like a wounded animal, she’d run to her place of safety and warmth. His heart ached for her. He wanted her to enjoy the creation of their child and he wanted her to rejoice at the birthing. Prepared to face her anger and determined to convince her of the honor bestowed on both of them, Itan lifted the covers and slid in beside her before she could turn or move away. Wrapping an arm around her, he pulled her tight against him and molded his torso along the length of her slender back. Ignoring the pain, he anchored her legs with his wounded thigh and cradled her soft round buttocks with his groin. “Get out.” “I am no more free of this situation than you are. We are mated.” Her muscles tensed and her fingers dug into his arm. She tried to move, but he held her fast. She didn’t speak. Despite her protest, she’d made love to him freely and demanded his seed with passion. “Why did you make love with me?” “I was horny.” “You fuck every warrior seeking aid?” Her spine went rigid. “I didn’t think so.” Given her beauty, he would have heard about her and every warrior working this galaxy would have chanced a wounding to seek comfort and aid at this sanctuary. He nuzzled her neck. A tantalizing mixture of perfume, woman and sex scented her skin. “You’re damp.” “I took a hot shower.” “How are your wounds?” He smiled at her concern and kissed her on the slope of her neck. “Healing.” Determined to push through her resistance, he held her in his arms and kissed her neck and shoulder until her muscles relaxed and the grip of her fingers eased. Soft and warm, her female body called to him. The desire to suckle her breasts and to taste her essence consumed his thoughts and fueled his imagination. A slow heat burned in his core, heating his blood. Testing his hold, she shifted her weight and his cock slid along the crease of her ass. His heart thumped against his chest wall as he shifted and the swollen head slid between her thighs.
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She tried to move away and separate their bodies. Again he shifted, easing the weight of his body from hers. When she tried to escape, she made the anticipated mistake of rising on her knees and planting her hands. In one swift move, he grasped her wrists and pulled them over her head while placing a knee between her spread thighs. On her knees with her ass high, her position guaranteed deep penetration. He had her right where he wanted her. “You can’t force me. It’s against the warrior code.” He clamped her wrists with his left hand. “I have no intention of forcing you.” Cupping her breast with his right hand, he teased her nipple until it puckered into a firm nub. The desire to suckle washed over him. His cock stretched and his balls felt heavy. “I intend to make you beg.” She answered with an unladylike snort. From breast to hip, he stroked her warm flesh, learning the sweet contours of her body. Gently, he caressed her belly, working his way to her hot pussy. He stroked her silken warmth, teasing and dipping into her heat until his fingers were slick with her juices. Lifting his hand, he sucked her essence from his fingers, then placed a wet fingertip to her swollen clit. Moving his finger in a slow circle, he felt her quiver and heard the gasp she’d tried to restrain. “Don’t.” The breathy tone of her voice made him grin. Close to climax, her sweet body denied her protest. He dipped a finger inside her and pumped his hand. “Tell me what you want.” Again her sex trembled. She hadn’t granted permission in words, but Itan knew she rode the fine edge. He pumped his hand. When she moaned, he asked, “Do you want me to fuck you?” Itan withdrew his finger and positioned the swollen head of his cock against her pussy. “Answer me, Renee.” She moaned and rocked back, driving the tip inside her pussy. The sensual game forgotten, Itan thrust into her wet heat. Releasing her wrists, he gripped her hips with both hands and pushed deep. Hot and tight, she clamped down on his cock, convulsing as she took her pleasure. Hips pumping in and out, he fucked her hard. Her cry of protest turned into a satisfied moan as he buried his cock to the hilt and came in a lusty rush. Itan remained on his knees and inside her until the air had cooled his skin. He’d expected a verbal reprimand, an accusation that he had forced her, but Renee had remained silent and passive. Finally, his breathing settled down to normal and his wounded thigh began to throb. “It is said sons are conceived in this position.”
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When she didn’t respond to his comment, Itan withdrew and stretched out beside her. She slid away from him, but he caught her by the arm before she made the edge of the bed. “I’d like to shower.” “To wash my scent from your skin or to rid your body of my seed?” “Would it do any good or would Elanta keep sending you back until you accomplished your mission?” He sat up and leaned back against the brass headboard. “I’d keep coming back.” Grasping her by the waist, he pulled her close and cradled her in his arms. She didn’t resist, but her body tensed. “We are mated. Nothing and no one on Earth or in the heavens can change our fate.” “I don’t have to like it.” Resignation laced with a bit of humor instead of anger underlined her words. Grinning, he felt his heart swell. “No, but you do. Now go to sleep. In the morning, I’m going to fuck you again.”
***** Renee bumped into something big and warm. She opened her eyes. Sunlight filtered into her bedroom and across the man in her bed. Itan lay on his back with an arm bent over his head, his face shielded by his dark hair. His broad chest moved with a slow steady rhythm. Although the pale green sheet covered the lower half of his big body, the raised contour beneath it brought a rush of memories. She rolled onto her back. The sex was better than anything she’d conjured in her wildest dreams, but it came with a heady cost. She was powerless to defy the council. To do so would bring dishonor upon the Aasi and the loss of the sanctuary. Sliding her hand to her flat belly, Renee thought of the child she would bear. The honor of carrying a warrior’s child meant a life of loneliness and the loss of the child to a higher cause. Alone, she’d grow old within these familiar walls. A large hand settled on hers. She turned and looked into Itan’s eyes. Would her child be blessed with his amazing green eyes? “I’m honored you will bear my child.” “I should have been told.” “So you’ve said.” He rose from the bed. “You were selected and the council sealed your fate. Would you have preferred the cold clinical hands of an Aasi physician or would another warrior have pleased you more?” Renee watched his perfect ass as he walked across the room and into her bathroom. The door closed with a decided slam. Maybe he wasn’t a morning warrior.
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She thought about his question. The answer was a resounding no. She’d wanted Itan from the moment she’d looked into his eyes. When she’d touched him, something inside her had bonded with him. Since her teenage years, Renee had dreamed of a warrior lover. He’d finally come to claim her. At the sound of the shower, Renee scrambled out of bed and entered the bathroom. Enclosed on two sides by block glass, the shower was large enough to accommodate them both with room to spare. Her heart thumped. Powerfully built and a feast for the eyes, her warrior stood beneath the spray, his back toward her. Without hesitation, she stepped into the shower and wrapped her arms around his waist. “No other warrior will ever please me more.” He turned and drew her flush against him. Standing on her tiptoes, Renee reached up and grabbed a fistful of wet hair. Head bent, his mouth closed over hers. The press of their bodies, breast to groin, enhanced the lush kiss. Cupping her buttocks, he lifted her up and placed her back against the glass block wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to his shoulders as he adjusted their bodies. Hot and ready, she maneuvered her hips until the broad head of his cock pressed her center. She gasped and arched her back, meeting his deep lusty thrust. He drove into her, hungry, relentless, pounding her flesh with his. The spray hit his back and warm steam enveloped them, making their bodies wet and slick. His breath came in harsh puffs and the muscles in his neck strained. An odd heat flooded her middle and coiled deep in her womb. Like a rope, the coil of heat surrounded his cock and pulled him deeper inside her. He stilled and his body jerked. Her climax radiated from the coil of heat. Renee’s breath caught and burned in her lungs. She opened her eyes as a sparkling glow split the droplets of water on his hair and skin into a thousand shards of silvery light. In that moment, Renee realized the heavens had sealed her fate. Their essence had joined. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight as tiny convulsions pummeled his length. Chest heaving, he slumped against her and sucked in a deep breath. “That one was so good it hurt. I thought my balls would burst.” Satisfied and content, Renee smiled at him. She wondered if he’d noticed the heavenly glow he emitted. “How does it feel to be drained of your warrior essence?” He opened his eyes. “This keeps getting better and better.” It did, and she’d gotten so wrapped up in the pleasure, she’d forgotten to check his wounds. “Some Aasi I am, I should have checked your wounds before—” He hushed her with a kiss. “I’m fine.” He grinned. “I feel better than ever. I think sex aids the healing process.” They washed one another between lush, loving kisses and finished when the hot water gave out. Renee slipped into a thick, terrycloth robe. She had nothing to offer Itan beyond the towel wrapped around his hips.
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“Upstairs you’ll find a robe like this in the closet next to the bathing room. I’ll make breakfast. Coffee or tea?” “Coffee, with a touch of cream. No sugar.” Renee had the coffee brewing by the time he returned to her kitchen. She preferred the intimacy of her space to that of the sanctuary. Itan wasn’t just a wounded warrior, for these few hours he belonged to her. He ate the hearty breakfast she’d made with the same gusto he put into sex. When he pushed his empty plate aside, she refreshed their coffees. “You ask me why you weren’t informed.” Picking up her mug, she leaned back and waited for him to continue. “I asked Elanta to let me deliver the seeding decree.” He reached into the pocket of his robe and removed a rolled document about six inches wide and handed it to her. The gold seal bore the council’s ensign. Renee broke the seal and read the decree selecting her as a seeding female, validating her status as the blood daughter of Lucan and declaring Itan as her seeding warrior. “Since I’d chosen the natural method, I had planned to deliver the document and give you time to get to know me before we joined. I figured once you accepted the honor, mating with you would be akin to visiting a flower.” “You’d have sex and complete your mission?” He nodded. “I wanted more than an essence donation. The idea that I would have more knowledge and intimacy with a favorite flower than the woman bearing my child was unacceptable. I wanted a connection.” Favorite flower. The information shouldn’t surprise her, but Renee realized she had begun to think of Itan as hers. When he returned to battle, her status would shift from lover to a lusty memory. Their connection would be through their child. Warriors leave. “But you decided on deception?” “Seduction. The moment I laid eyes on you, I wanted you. If the council hadn’t selected us, if I’d simply sought sanctuary, I’d have wanted you. But mostly I wanted you to want me. I didn’t want you to view me only as an honor and a donor. It was a selfish decision, but I’ll never regret it.” “I’ve accepted your essence in my womb. And when the sun rises tomorrow, you’ll leave, mission accomplished.” “Only duty will take me away.” Renee set her mug down on the kitchen table with a decided thump. “And your duty will keep you away.” “I can no more turn away from the battle against evil than you can turn away the wounded. Like you, I’ve taken an oath.”
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Pushing away from the table, Renee stood. “When the sun rises tomorrow, you will go?” He nodded. “I must.” “Do not return, Itan.” “I can request visitation leaves.” Each brief visit would tear her apart. Better a clean break than having her heart shredded a piece at a time. “Give me your word, the word of a warrior, the word of a Tanzer.” Itan stood and planted his palms upon the table with such force the plates and silverware rattled. “How can you ask this of me?” “I don’t ask. I insist.” “I refuse.” “Think about it. Isn’t it easier to leave now with the knowledge you’ve completed your mission, done your duty, given the council what they wanted?” Tears welled, threatened to spill. She forced them back. “Like my father, you’re free to become a great and revered warrior.” Anger burning in his eyes, he turned away. Shoulders rigid, he stomped out of her kitchen. Pulling the edges of her robe tighter, Renee released the pent-up emotion she’d barely held in check and let the hot tears of loss spill down her cheeks.
***** The kitchen and sleeping areas empty, Renee padded barefooted toward the thudding sound coming from the east side of the sanctuary. At the far end of the training area, a naked Itan jabbed and thrust his sword repeatedly into a practice dummy. Perspiration beaded his skin as he worked his splendid warrior’s body. Although she’d moved quietly across the space, he must have sensed her approach. Sword in hand, he spun to face her. The thick erection bobbing between his legs took Renee by surprise. “You always get a hard-on fighting demons?” His eyes glittered. “I get a hard-on thinking about you, and even though I’ve completed my mission, I still want you.” The same realization had followed her tears. Nothing would change tomorrow, but she wanted the remaining few hours. Untying her robe, she pulled it off her shoulders and dropped it on the floor. “We have until sunrise.” Itan’s sword clanged against the floor. In one swift motion, he crossed the short distance to where she stood and scooped her into her arms. He carried her a few steps and together they fell to the large tumbling pad on the floor.
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Levering his hips between her thighs, he positioned himself for entry. “I want to fuck you forever.” She cried out as he plunged inside her, the pleasure of their joining more than she could bear. Hips thrusting, Itan drove into her again and again. She clung to him, aching to receive his essence. Their spirits and their bodies came together, meshing, interlocking, becoming one. A sparkling silvery aura enveloped them, swirling around their entwined bodies as they climaxed together. Exhausted from the wildness of their mating, Itan nearly collapsed on top of her. Tiny tremors rippled along his length as she took her pleasure once again. If warriors had any idea how great creation sex was, not one would willingly deposit to the seed bank on Arcis. At the first opportunity, he’d request permission for a second child with Renee.
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Chapter Five The stars were fading and a faint yellow glow colored the eastern horizon as Renee and Itan stood on the sanctuary’s rooftop. The warrior had arrived on Earth through a wormhole breached by demons, but a secure gateway provided access to an energy slip. Warriors were trained to handle voyages through time and space, the techniques and the gateways perfected on Arcis. This passage would safely return Itan to the council stronghold. He took her into his arms and crushed her to his broad chest. His lips touched hers, clinging briefly before he released her. Behind him a green flash signaled the opening of the gateway. “I must go.” Renee’s heart squeezed and the breath froze in her lungs. She shook her head. Once Itan stepped through the portal he’d be transported to another world, to face a new enemy and fight a new battle. Warriors leave. Renee understood the blinding pain behind the Zelda’s words. Tears welled in her eyes. Don’t go. Don’t leave me. “I’ll return.” His eyes glistened. “My heart is here with you and our child.” Tears spilled down Renee’s cheeks. He reached out and cupped her face. “I love you, Renee.” “I love you.” She knew he had to leave, but the words she’d tried to hold back tumbled out. “Don’t go. I can’t bear to lose you.” “You will always be with me.” He fisted his hand and thumped the left side of his vest then walked to the fiery green portal. “I’ll come back, Renee. Wait for me.” Her throat clogged with tears, Renee nodded. “Our son, call him Lucan.” The green fire spread surrounding him and in another bright flash Itan disappeared and the gateway closed.
***** Renee shifted her weight to her right side and adjusted her pillow. Itan had left over a year ago and she missed him more as each day passed. Accustomed to the large building and familiar with its creaks and groans, her beloved home felt empty and quiet, her bed lonely. The visit of wounded warriors brought a reminder of the dangers
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of Itan’s calling. At every opportunity she’d sought information, but learned nothing of her warrior lover. Lucan whimpered. Before his whimpers turned into lusty cries, Renee rose and crossed the room. The sun had set hours ago, but the room remained hot. A heat wave had settled over the area and refused to abate. She’d discarded her nightshirt, but her skin still felt hot and tight. She scooped up her son and carried him to the bed. Since none of her non-Aasi friends knew about Itan, Renee had told them she’d chosen to have artificial insemination rather than try to explain an absentee lover. The Aasi were sworn never to reveal the existence of the celestial warriors or the council. Settling back against the coolness of the brass headboard, she cradled Lucan to her bare breast. Lucan nuzzled her breast, clamped down on her nipple and began to nurse. Her son suckled eagerly. As they often did, her thoughts turned to Itan. Where is he? Is he safe? Wounded? Renee refused to think about her heart’s worst fears. Like women through the ages, she had to handle the waiting, the worry, the loneliness and the longing. Her body ached, ripe and plump, hungry for her warrior’s touch. She closed her eyes and whispered her lover’s name. The elevator rumbled. At the sound of fast footfalls inside her living quarters, Renee sat up. Reacting to her fear at the unexpected intrusion, Lucan began to fuss. “Renee.” A thrill shot through her, but Renee refused to believe her ears. Dressed in a black jacket, pants and boots, Itan appeared in the doorway. Renee blinked. Had she conjured him up? “Itan? You’re really here.” “I told you I’d return.” He stripped off his jacket and dropped it onto the floor. His weapons vest and sword belt followed. Taking two strides, he stopped in his tracks and dropped to his knees. His gaze slid from her face to settle on their son. Reaching out, his hand shook as he cupped their child’s head. “Lucan.” He visibly swallowed and repeated their son’s name. When Lucan started to cry, she shifted him in her arms. Nuzzling her breast, the baby latched onto her nipple and began to suckle. “He’s beautiful.” Itan’s gaze lifted and met hers. He slid his fingers through her hair and cupped the base of her skull. “You’re beautiful.”
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Angling his head, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was lush and very thorough as they became reacquainted after the long months apart. By the time he pulled away, Renee’s whole body throbbed. Rounding the bed, Itan removed his boots and trousers and settled beside her. Renee swallowed hard. She’d dreamed of him often, but seeing him in the flesh set her heart to pounding. Leaning back against the headboard, Itan drew her close and cradled her body against his. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.” While Lucan nursed, his father caressed her arms and placed soft kisses on her shoulder. “Your son is almost finished.” Satisfied, the baby released her nipple. Lifting their son onto her shoulder, she patted his back. Lucan responded with a healthy belch. Itan laughed. “Does he always eat with so much gusto?” Renee shifted her weight and turned toward Itan. “Would you like to hold your son?” “Can I?” “Of course.” She placed the baby in Itan’s strong hands. At the sight of her tiny son cradled against Itan’s broad chest, Renee’s heart swelled. “I don’t think I’ve every seen anything more beautiful.” Itan placed his fingertip against Lucan’s tiny palm and the baby responded by grasping his finger. Lucan yawned, and within a few minutes, he was fast asleep. “He’s so fragile and yet he has a good grip.” “I’ll put him in his crib.” Itan handed the sleeping child over to Renee. Rising, she carried Lucan to his crib. She’d moved into Zelda’s larger bedroom and had redecorated her old room into a beautiful nursery, but she preferred keeping Lucan close at night. When she turned around, her breath caught at the sight of Itan, naked and handsome. Her gaze must have communicated her need. His cock visibly stretched. “Is that for me?” Renee teased as she approached the bed. “If you so much as smile at it, I’ll come.” Renee climbed onto the bed and into his arms. His fingertips caressed her swollen breast. “It is safe? Are you well enough?” She looked into his eyes. They blazed with a heat she felt all the way to her toes. “To make love?” He nodded and his gaze narrowed. “I’ll try to be gentle.” “You’ve been gone a long time. I’d love a good fuck.” Rolling her beneath him, he pressed his lips to her neck, kissing and suckling as his cock nudged and probed her sex, seeking entry. 32
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She shifted her hips and the broad, velvety tip slid inside her. He groaned, rocked his hips and pushed deeper. A fire fueled with love and lust consumed her whole being. Trembling, she held him tight. “Open your eyes.” His intense gaze bore into hers. “I love you, Renee. I’ll always love you. And when I’m granted leave, I want to come home to you. Marry me.” The council had mated them to conceive a child, but the contract guaranteed neither a long-term obligation nor a warrior’s heart. “The council will approve?” “You must accept me as your husband by Earth and celestial law. This decision is entirely yours.” If she married Itan, the council would consider them mated for life. Divorce wasn’t an option ever. “Lucan would grow up knowing his father. And you’d decide if you want more children.” He pumped his hips and groaned. “Are you trying to influence my decision?” He rocked his hips, withdrawing his length and filling her again. “Have you missed me?” She clamped down on him. “Yes.” He cocked his head to one side, pumped his hips again. “Yes, I missed you.” His gaze narrowed and lips compressed into a thin line. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” Renee’s breath caught as his hips began to move, filling her again and again. The loneliness of the last year faded as the tempo increased and her satisfied moans joined his lusty gasps. In the glowing aftermath, Renee asked her warrior if he were fertile. “Since I’m committed, I saw no reason to reactivate my implants.” “Tell me you’re not going to get me pregnant and leave again.” “I’ve been assigned to Earth.” She sat up. “Earth. For how long?” “For as long as evil threatens her. When my fighting days are over, we could grow old here maintaining the sanctuary, helping warriors. If you’ll still want me.” Renee cupped his handsome face in her palms and brushed her lips to his. “Growing old together sounds heavenly.”
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EROTIC SACRIFICE Cynthia Rayne
Erotic Sacrifice
Chapter One Are you ready to be mine? Bronwyn Steele bowed her head as she heard the Dark Lord’s voice echoing in her mind. “Yes, my lord,” she answered. She could feel him on the outermost edges of her consciousness, seeking entrance, but he didn’t intrude. Yet. Soon. Very soon. She felt him leave her presence and shuddered. Soon she would be his. The pull of magic in the air was palpable. Bronwyn could feel it tingling up and down her spine. Urging her on. Calling to the magic that lurked within her, untapped. Her senses were heightened, keyed up. Or perhaps she was just filled with anticipation. She turned to the mirror and placed a hand on either side of the antique silver frame as she surveyed the transformation that had taken place. She resembled a bride. Not that she would ever get a chance to be a bride. At thirty-five, Bronwyn was rapidly beginning to lose hope of finding someone special to share her life with. The only man who’d ever appealed to her was Gabriel Trueblood, a local business leader, but he hadn’t so much as glanced her way. Perhaps that was why she’d volunteered for this sacrifice. She would be joined with the Dark Lord this very night, but it had little to do with love and everything to do with lust and magic. The Carnal Sacrifice. Bronwyn continued to examine herself in the mirror. She wore a flowing, white sheer dress. Through it, she could see the shape of her body, the silhouette of her rounded hips, large breasts, the pouting, pink crests of her nipples and the thatch of curly hair between her thighs. Her eyes looked almost liquid, like a black inkwell. Bottomless. Her long blonde hair had been entwined with ivy for luck. She looked more exotic than she usually did. She brought the four-leaf clover necklace she wore to her mouth and kissed it. She needed all the luck she could get. Usually sequestered behind navy blue suits and boring black shoes, she didn’t really stand out from the crowd, but this night was hers to shine. Tonight she would be given to the Dark Lord, the local demon leader. Every year he demanded a carnal human sacrifice to be used to keep the fragile peace between humans and demons. It was a ritual the inhabitants of Salem, Massachusetts, had performed for centuries, after the Witch Trials. Most people believed that the Salem Witch Trials were caused by a few hysterical teenage girls who accused innocents. Actually, the Trials had resulted out of a feud
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between the natural and supernatural citizens. Both had agreed that they could coexist peacefully if the mortals offered up a payment of some kind. The Carnal Sacrifice was born out of the desire to keep the peace. Not that Bronwyn considered it much of a sacrifice. She had never seen the Dark Lord undisguised, even though she’d attended numerous meetings between him and the mayor for whom she worked. But he was a well-built man who possessed a sort of primal eroticism. For obvious reasons, the demons in their midst kept their identities secret. They only appeared at the town hall meetings in masks. If the majority of townsfolk knew demons were in the community, they’d simply use man’s laws to flush them out and be rid of them. Most people were completely oblivious to the demonic presence around them. She’d always been curious about the masked figure of the Dark Lord. He intrigued her more than any other mortal man she’d ever met. Maybe because he was so forbidden. So untouchable. So inscrutable. “Are you ready, Bronwyn?” Bronwyn met the eyes of the town’s mayor, Annabelle Simon, who was standing in the doorway. She was dressed in high priestess regalia, a long black robe with ornate scrollwork on the cuffs and collar. She looked out of place, uncomfortable. Annabelle was more suited for boardrooms and lecture halls than all of this magic and mystery. Bronwyn cleared her throat. “Yes, just about.” Annabelle smiled. The lines of wisdom and worry showed on her face. “Good.” She handed the metal goblet in her hand to Bronwyn. “The, er, demons made a love potion for you. It is supposed to help you relax and allow the magic to work in you.” While Bronwyn was a mortal, she did possess magic resulting from the unions between mortals and immortals. Her grandfather had been a demon. That’s why she had been selected as the Carnal Sacrifice this particular year. The bonds between their two peoples had become strained. Bronwyn had the ability to blend her magic with that of the Dark Lord. Mortal and immortal combined. Bronwyn nodded and stared down into the depths of the goblet. The red mixture swirled and bubbled as though it had a life of its own. She brought it to her lips and bravely swallowed it all down. Fire. In its wake, she felt a burning sensation in her mouth, her throat and down into her belly. But unlike alcohol, the burning didn’t hurt. Instead she felt warm, more powerful. Her fingertips tingled. The potion seemed to enhance the small trace of magic in her veins. She licked her lips, suddenly wishing she had more of the concoction to drink. “Are you certain about this, Bronwyn?” She nodded. “Of course I am.”
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“I really appreciate this. You are doing a service for the town, not that they will ever know about the demons that live among us. But I will see to it that you never want for anything.” Bronwyn smiled. “Thank you, Ms. Mayor, but I assure you that I don’t need any special treatment. I don’t mind serving my city.” Truthfully, this had more to do with Bronwyn’s desire to get closer to the Dark Lord than it did with civic duty. Annabelle narrowed her eyes as though she suspected why Bronwyn had really agreed to do this. “Good. Are you ready then?” The mayor seemed eager to get this over with, because she probably found the whole thing creepy. Bronwyn didn’t blame her. “Annabelle? Why does it have to be a sexual sacrifice?” Annabelle sighed. “Before I took this job, I had no idea of the supernatural forces within this town but the way it has been explained to me is because the bonds between us need to be sealed with very powerful, earthy magic. There is nothing more powerful than sex magic. You will be our sexual surrogate this year. Your body will join with his and renew the compact between our two groups.” Bronwyn nodded. It made sense. Sexuality was a primal force, possessing a raw energy that could be used to forge a bond between two people. “Is it time?” “The Dark Lord awaits you in the sacrificial chamber.” Like the dressing room in which they now stood, the chamber had been built in a secret part of the town hall. She knew very little about the Dark Lord. He was secretive, hidden behind a crimson hooded cloak and a mask that concealed his face. But his voice had seized her, intrigued her. Annabelle moved from the doorway and, with a wave of her hand, indicated that Bronwyn should follow her. She did, her bare feet slapping on the cold concrete floor. Torches sputtered and sparked as she walked past them. Demons clung to the ancient ways, to the archaic. They preferred candlelight to electric light. Swords to guns. Scrolls to books. Perhaps that was why they needed humans so much, for men seemed to crave change and were accustomed to technology and industrialization. As she passed down the hallway, the demonic guards inclined their heads. They too were robed. This was a sacred night and she had earned a place of great honor. At the end of the hall, Annabelle knocked on the door. “I bring to you the Carnal Sacrifice,” she said, following the pomp and circumstance of the ritual. “I bid you enter,” a deep voice intoned. Bronwyn shivered. The Dark Lord. Even his voice was arousing. She entered and the door quickly closed behind her, leaving Annabelle and the demonic guards behind. The door shut with an air of finality that didn’t escape her notice. She looked around. The sacrificial chamber was impressive. The Dark Lord sat at the far end of it but she couldn’t look at him. Not yet. Instead her eyes wandered over the walls. While the
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floor underneath her feet was still bare concrete, the walls were marble and covered with paintings and tapestries. Large torches were fixed to them, adding an eerie illumination. Four other demons waited inside the chamber, all masked and cloaked, all solemn. In the center was a raised, large marble dais with an altar made of smoothlooking wood, easily as large as a queen-size bed, and a table next to it. Candleholders were spread around the altar. When she couldn’t wait any longer, she turned to face him. The Dark Lord sat on a throne, hands clamped on the armrests. “Welcome, Carnal Sacrifice.” Following her role, Bronwyn curtsied to him. “Thank you, Dark Lord.” Her head was spinning and it wasn’t from the elixir she’d drunk. Just being close to him, anticipating what was to happen, nearly undid her. He stood up from the chair. The aura of power that surrounded him was almost like a cloud. He seemed larger than life somehow. Well, at least larger than her life. “Today the barriers between the supernatural and natural worlds are at their thinnest. A connection with the forces of magic must be renewed in order to keep the peace between humans and demons.” “Yes, my lord.” She bowed her head. She couldn’t see his face inside the low hood but she felt his presence. His voice was evocative—like the hot brush of a tongue down her spine. It seemed to touch her physically. Or perhaps it was the potion winding its way through her body. Whatever the reason, she felt both sensual and submissive, yet at the same time filled with a disturbing new power. Strange. “Are you prepared to join your body with mine, Carnal Sacrifice?” The Dark Lord paced around the room, hands on hips, regal and utterly masculine. She could feel the fire inside her heating her blood, causing her pulse to grow more rapid, eager. “Yes, Dark Lord.” While her sacrifice would help the other citizens, she had to admit that she wanted this for herself. Wanted him for herself. He paced a tight circle around her, letting her feel the heat from his body. She felt as though she was standing close to a sun-warmed window and she basked in his light. While she couldn’t see his eyes under the heavy hood, she could feel them taking in every inch of her. Then he stopped in front of her and held out his hands. “Come, little acolyte. Press your hands to mine. Let me see into your soul. Know what you know.” They pressed their palms together. She knew it would be the first of several joinings. The touch disturbed her. She still couldn’t see his eyes, yet they bored into her, drank of her mind and her essence. She could feel him entering her, studying her. Finally he seemed satisfied with what he’d seen. “I believe you are worthy of the title.” He broke their mind link and let go of her hands to look at the others. “Behold, my brethren, the Carnal Sacrifice. She will serve us well.”
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The other demons in the room gathered around them, pressing in closer. “Come. This ritual must be performed skyclad,” the Dark Lord said. “Skyclad?” she asked in a soft whisper. She didn’t know if it was okay to ask questions. “In the nude,” he murmured. She could hear the anticipation in his voice. He seemed as eager as she was. “Let us begin,” he said aloud to the room. As one, all of the demons dropped their robes, leaving four demons in white half-masks and the Dark Lord in a black half-mask that covered all his face apart from his sensual mouth and strong chin. She was about to look down his body, unable to help her curiosity, but the Dark Lord shook his head. “Not yet, little acolyte.” Bronwyn had the odd feeling that she knew him as someone other than the Dark Lord but, as soon as the thought popped into her head, it left. To be replaced by a surge of lust. She nodded, not looking lower than the powerfully built muscles of the Dark Lord’s chest. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell he was handsome. His hair was black and silky and she longed to run her fingers through it. Behind the mask, his eyes were brisk blue orbs. His skin was tanned, shining like burnished gold in the chamber. As one, the demons began to chant. She already knew that the four other demons made up his council and that they too would play a part in this ceremony. Although she wasn’t certain as to what role they would play exactly. While she was aware that the ritual involved sex and magic, she hadn’t been briefed on what would happen precisely, which heightened both her anxiety and her desire. She watched the Dark Lord as he spoke in low tones, the Latin words pouring from his mouth, exotically accented and mysterious. Like all demons, he possessed supernatural physical beauty and charm. That was why his voice was so resonant, so seductive and why he appealed to her so much. When they finished chanting, all of them bowed their heads before looking upward, arms at their sides. It seemed that they had just completed the first part of the ritual since the four other demons traveled back to the corners of the chamber. It took all of her willpower not to look at one of them. “What is your name, little acolyte?” the Dark Lord asked. Her eyes widened, amazed that he would care to know. “Bronwyn,” she whispered. “Bronwyn,” he repeated and took her hands again. She could almost hear the smile in his voice. “Yes, I have observed you over the years, assisting the mayor, trying so very hard not to be seen. But tonight, little acolyte, we shall see all of you but first I must make you ready to accept our attentions.” So it begins.
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Chapter Two Bronwyn took a shaky breath to calm her nerves but her heart still beat wildly. Fear. Desire. It was all the same. The Dark Lord still held her hands but now he separated them and made a gesture over her. She felt a breeze stir and begin to stroke her body. She’d never felt anything like this before. A hot wind that sought to pleasure her, it almost felt corporeal. She was touched by hands. Mouths. Sucking. Stroking. His hands. She was lost. Yet no one physically touched her. Bronwyn moaned, her knees shaking. “How are you doing that?” she gasped. “Magic, my dear. I am pleased that you respond so well to my touch.” She gasped, barely resisting the need to touch herself. Even her clothing bothered her, brushing against her sensitized skin. As though sensing her need, the Dark Lord reached down to the hem of her dress and lifted it up and over her head. “Now I must see your lovely body.” The demons around them, still watched, still waited. Bronwyn was naked in a room full of strangers but she didn’t even want to wrap her arms around her body. Instead she let them rest at her sides. As she breathed, her breasts rose and fell. They were capped with tight, pink nipples that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. “I am pleased by your beauty, Carnal Sacrifice.” “Thank you, my lord.” She felt so warm, so sensual. Again she could sense his heated eyes on her but he did not touch her yet. “You are here as my sacrifice. A show of submission of your people to mine and a way to prevent bloodshed.” “Yes, my lord.” “As such, you are my property this evening. My slave. I will take your body any way I please. Enter your body again and again. Binding our people together as we do.” Again she nodded, shivering. She’d never known she possessed a submissive streak, not like this. But the idea of being beholden to his will was exciting. Her body was so sensitized she could feel her pussy well with need, her juices running down her thighs. So far this was better than any other sexual encounter she’d ever had and no one had even touched her yet. “I am pleased that you understand and accept your role. Kneel at my feet, Bronwyn.”
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She sank to her knees before him. Her position was a strange echo of another type of religious ceremony. She was a penitent, on her knees in front of an authority figure. It was blasphemy to think such a thing but it resonated with her. When she opened her eyes, she saw his thick cock before her, large and aroused, ringed by a black thatch of hair. From the head dripped fluid that slowly slipped down the sides. She licked her lips. A different sort of sacrament to taste. From everywhere, she could feel hungry eyes on her, wanting her. Just as she wanted the Dark Lord. He snapped his fingers. One of the other demons appeared at his side with a leather collar in his hand. The Dark Lord fastened it snugly around her neck, locking it into place. She could breathe but, every time she did, she felt the collar, felt his ownership. Then he was handed a length of chain with a clip on the end. It fastened to the collar and he pulled it tight so that she was forced to move under his command. She moved closer as he pulled. “Crawl on your hands and knees, slave. Follow my lead.” The Dark Lord led her around the chamber in front of the other demons, all of them positioned at the far corners of the room. The purpose of this show was apparent. He wanted to display her as his property before his minions. Not that she cared what it meant. Being under his control made her wetter. Who knew she was a closet submissive? Bronwyn struggled to keep up, her arms and legs felt leaden. Her breasts swayed as she moved. “Behold, my brethren. The human slave is obedient. She accepts the yoke of our will.” The demons growled, a rumbling echo in the chamber, excited by her vulnerability. Again she shivered. He brought her to kneel by his side in front of the raised dais in the center of the room. “This is an auspicious occasion, my brethren. This night when the supernatural becomes natural.” As the Dark Lord spoke, he stroked her as though she were a cherished pet. He was sliding his fingers through her hair, rubbing her. “We will harness the magic of this night and ensure the future of both humans and demons.” He paused, looking to his far right. “Alusious. Come forward and prepare the sacrifice.” One of the demons came to the center of the room and took her chain. He led her closer to the wooden altar where she lay down, settling on her back. Her arms were pulled to either side of the platform and fastened with leather tethers. Bronwyn felt even more exposed when her legs were spread open in front of the demons in the room. Alusious tied her ankles with leather straps to the large brass loops on the altar. They allowed for some movement so she could slightly bend her knees but not close her legs. On impulse, she tugged and found that she couldn’t move her arms. She was helpless. Although being bound and spread open for a demon’s pleasure felt exotic, she felt a little measure of fear. They could do anything they wanted to her and she could only
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hope their intentions were benign. She’d never heard of them harming a Carnal Sacrifice but, then again, no one knew who they were exactly. What if they decided to keep her bound here forever? A traitorous current of warmth slid up her body at the thought. Danger made for a strange aphrodisiac. Or perhaps it was just the presence of the Dark Lord that filled her thoughts, echoed in her mind. Alusious climbed on the altar and leaned over her, inhaling the scent of her pussy. His thick fingers prodded the tender flesh, entering her and making Bronwyn jump, though her movements were hampered. “Her cunt is soaked for our Dark Lord!” Alusious proclaimed. Again there was a general roar of approval from the demons. He rubbed his fingers along the warm folds, creating a delicious friction that had her hips bucking in time, but he refused to brush against her clitoris. She bit her lower lip to keep from pleading but still he continued to tease her. Finally she gave in. “Please!” she whimpered softly, hoping no one heard her apart from Alusious and the Dark Lord, who was standing close to the altar. The Dark Lord chuckled. “Not yet.” Bronwyn moaned in disapproval when Alusious removed his fingers and went about his task. He reached down to the table next to the altar. Bronwyn could just about make out what was on it and follow his actions. The demon poured water into a battered wooden bowl, which he set on her stomach where it balanced precariously. She tried very hard not to move, lest she be completely drenched by it. She sucked in a breath as he soaked a sponge. He held it up in the air and wrung it out, water splashing over her breasts and belly. Liquid sluiced over her skin as he moved the sponge down between her legs. The contrast between hot skin and cool water only increased her desire. Then the sponge moved inside her spread legs, toward her pussy. The Dark Lord stood behind her on the platform, holding the chain fastened around her neck. Occasionally he pulled it taut to let her know it was there, to let her know she was still under his control. “Are you afraid, little acolyte?” the Dark Lord whispered. Bronwyn swallowed thickly. “A little,” she murmured. “I promise that you will only know pleasure this night.” The fear curling in her belly eased at his words. She didn’t know why but she believed him. The Dark Lord kept his identity secret in his meetings with the mayor but she’d always known him to be truthful in his dealings with the mortal population of Salem. The demons all lived among them, all in secret, and no one really knew who they were but that didn’t mean they weren’t valuable members of the community. She quivered as the other demon patiently scrubbed her pussy. Not missing a single inch of silky flesh. Bronwyn felt him stop then gasped when he showed her a razor. “All the hair must be removed. You must be purified.” The blade ghosted over her vulnerable sex, removing the pubic hair without damaging her skin.
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Bronwyn moaned when she felt the cold steel moving so tightly against her. It scraped against her vulnerable flesh, shaving her hair, making her more vulnerable. But it didn’t hurt her although it added a further aura of danger. The touch made her tremble and quake with a delicious mixture of fear and desire. When he’d completed his task, Alusious removed all utensils and bowed to the Dark Lord. “I am finished, my lord. The Carnal Sacrifice has been cleansed for your use.” He moved away from the dais. Bronwyn felt dazed and decadent, lying so open and exposed on the altar. She looked around the room at the masked demons. She wished she could see their faces. No doubt they would be handsome. It wasn’t fair that she was defenseless while they remained aloof. “Now she must be consecrated.” The Dark Lord reached down to the table. He used her body as a surface, setting a large brass bowl on her belly. It felt cool resting on her hot skin. She wasn’t sure if it was meant to humble her or if he only wanted her to see his movements. Into the bowl, he threw a black, crumbling substance and crushed it further with a pestle. When he was evidently satisfied with the consistency, he added what looked like red wine. Next he removed the stopper from a small glass bottle and held it over the mixture. She wasn’t certain what it was but it smelled of roses. He let the liquid fall into the bowl and blended it into the mixture. When he was finished with the concoction, he held the bowl high above his head. “Behold, my brethren. I have made the sacred ink to anoint our sacrifice. I shall paint her with the symbols of our people. Place our ownership on her.” He took a long, thin brush and dipped it into the paint then turned to her trembling belly. He patiently drew a black pentacle on her abdomen. She could see all five points of it. The brushstrokes deliciously tickled her belly. Next he circled her breasts with the substance, taking care to outline them at the base before adding a smaller circle on the mounds. Then he turned to her spread thighs and gently stroked the substance over her pussy, blackening the top of it. The Dark Lord leaned over her and murmured something in Latin. She didn’t recognize all the words. Something about possession. Something about darkness. As he spoke, the marks on her tingled. She knew that he’d already started to magically bind them together. Bronwyn shivered, overcome by the experience. When she’d volunteered to be his sacrifice, she hadn’t planned on belonging to him, wanting him this much. She glanced up. “Do not look at me.” His face was covered by the mask but his voice was mesmerizing. It licked a hot path deep inside her sex, lapped at her nipples. Bronwyn moaned when lust took over. Her legs were trembling and she knew she dampened the altar beneath her with her juices, the physical evidence of her desire, but she didn’t care. She felt carnal. Sexual. A slave.
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The Dark Lord lit candles all around her body with the force of his mind alone. They glowed brightly with a supernatural fire. “In the name of all darkness, I claim this slave as ours.” “Ours,” the other demons echoed. “Let her desire bind the mortals to us as we are to them. Let us bond.” “Bond!” the demons shouted. Bronwyn shuddered. Her eyes fell shut. She felt all her restraints seeping away, replaced by a desire that was building to a crescendo. She knew she would come very soon—if he let her. The Dark Lord leaned on the altar and plied the vulnerable lips of her sex open. She was wet and the slick folds opened for him as though begging for his caress. He brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. “You taste delicious, little acolyte. In fact I shall offer my brethren a taste of your bounty.” He turned away from her and looked out to his followers. “I shall choose my advisor Granel. He shall have the honor of the First Taste this year.” Bronwyn watched wide-eyed as the demon approached her and moved on to the altar. He sunk to his knees between her legs and quickly covered her sex with his mouth. “Oh!” Bronwyn’s head thrashed to the side as she moved against his touch. His tongue swept along the lips of her pussy before delving farther in to sample her juices. He sank his tongue deep into her vagina and then across the length of her cunt, capturing her clitoris between his lips and sucking. She howled, bucking against him. “Please, Dark Lord, please!” The Dark Lord chuckled. “Do you see how she begs?” he murmured, running his hands possessively along her highly sensitized body. She struggled to direct his touch by undulating under his hands to where she would find it the most pleasurable but he resisted her effort. “What is it that you wish, Bronwyn?” “Please let me come! Please!” He shook his head, an exaggerated motion. She focused on his masked face. His jaw tightened but he betrayed no outward emotion. Yet Bronwyn felt as though he was possessive of her, as though seeing another touch her pained him in some way. Ridiculous. “Not yet,” the Dark Lord said. She squirmed against Granel’s mouth. Again the demon plunged into her sex, lapping in and out, fucking her with his strong tongue. It had a strange texture, almost like a cat’s tongue. Rough and persistent. Finally, after a few more moments of torture, the demon bent between her legs snarled long and low. He looked up at her across the length of her body but all she could see were red, pulsing eyes, glowing behind his mask. They mesmerized her. She was unable to look away from his gaze.
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“You have earned your reward, my advisor,” the Dark Lord intoned. “You may spend yourself in her mouth. Anoint her with the first taste of demon seed. The first of many.” Bronwyn saw nothing but the red glow of Granel’s eyes until she felt his cock probing her lips, coaxing them to open for him. She obediently took him in her mouth and sucked him deep, relaxing her jaw and concentrating on the smooth but hard feel of his cock. She wished it belonged to the Dark Lord. Then she wished he had sunk his cock deep inside her swollen sex instead. The Dark Lord bent to whisper in her ear. “Do you like sucking him, little acolyte?” She slightly turned his way, meeting his eyes, while she suckled the cock in her mouth. “Blink once for yes. Twice for no.” She blinked. Once. The Dark Lord smiled but there was a hesitation in it. “Wait until you taste mine.” She shuddered. “Good, Bronwyn. You are going to receive a great deal of pleasure tonight but first we must complete the binding spell. We need all of your sexual energy.” Bronwyn sucked harder at just the thought of being allowed to come and the Dark Lord bit her ear, nipping slightly. “Patience, little acolyte. Soon, very soon.” All too soon, the demon cock in her mouth exploded, coating her tongue and throat with his hot, sticky seed. “Swallow every bit of it, my slave.” When the cock was withdrawn, the Dark Lord opened her mouth and inspected it. “Good girl.” The demons whispered among themselves, sibilant, seductive voices. Bronwyn could hear their hunger, their urgency. “Now we must anoint her breasts with seed.” The Dark Lord took something from the table then wrapped a thin strap of leather between and around her breasts, creating a narrow valley of cleavage. The harness lifted and squeezed the orbs together for a man’s pleasure. She’d never let a man do this but just the idea made her pussy twitch. Or maybe she was just so worked up that anything appealed to her. The Dark Lord nodded to yet another demon. “Hage, come forth and collect your due.” Hage’s cock looked fierce and stood proudly, rising from a wild thatch of curly red hair at the base. His balls were strung tight against his body. His cock dipped as she looked at it, ready for a taste of her. Hage straddled her on the altar and bent down to run his lips along her breasts. He took one nipple into his hot mouth and sucked it harshly. Bronwyn squirmed beneath him. “Please!” she moaned. Then Hage sucked the other nipple, nibbling before he pulled on it. Her head fell back against the platform and she moaned again. There seemed to be a connection between her pussy and her breasts. With every slow suck, she felt her
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pussy swell with a deeper need. Her inner muscles clenched, undulated, seeking the fierce pressure of a thick cock. Then he ran the silky, plum head of his shaft over the top of each breast, touching it to each swollen pink nipple. She arched up her back as far as she could so that she could get more contact but it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. Hage grasped her breasts and stroked his cock between them, creating friction. Bronwyn was beginning to feel frustrated, needing more but not receiving it. His thick shaft appeared and disappeared from between the creamy mounds of her breasts and she pulled her head up to lick his erection but it remained frustratingly out of reach. She looked up to see Hage’s eyes shut behind the white mask. His mouth was curled into an animalistic snarl as though he had almost been unleashed on her. With a cry, he came, spattering her breasts with his thick seed. Bronwyn howled, wishing he’d been inside her instead. She’d never been so fiercely aroused, so near to losing control. The Dark Lord loomed over her. “Tell me, Bronwyn, are you enjoying this?” She bit her lower lip, sucking it into her mouth and seeking comfort. “Yes.” “You are so beautiful. So aroused it’s almost painful.” The Dark Lord dipped his finger into her sticky sex. “I cannot wait to claim this cunt as mine.” Her knees were cramping and they began to ache, but she still strained toward him. “I’ve waited ages to claim you.” She moved on his fingers but he studiously avoided her clitoris. He rubbed the folds of her sex, playing in the sweetness. “Please make me come. Please!” she begged. “Not yet. We still need to claim you here.” With that, he reached farther down between her legs, past her pussy to the tight ring of her ass. Her juices leaked down between her thighs and coated her anus. “Dominion, come forth,” the Dark Lord commanded. The last demon came forward. He would be the one to claim her ass, make her his as well. Bronwyn bit her lower lip. She’d only had anal sex once and she tried to shut her legs but couldn’t. “Easy now,” the Dark Lord murmured. “I promise you that no harm will come to you.” Dominion’s cock was the largest she’d seen so far. Bronwyn was glad she wasn’t expected to suck it. She doubted she could get her mouth around him. When he’d settled on the altar, his hand slipped between her thighs and she pulled at the ties that bound her, desperate to move so that he would graze her clitoris, but he merely used her juices to coat his thick cock. He eased his hand up and down the long, hard shaft, wetting all of it. He then reached down to the table for a small bottle and squeezed a substance on to his fingertips. He coated his cock and circled her anus with the clear lube. It felt cool on her hot skin. Dominion finally touched her tight ass with his shaft and slowly pushed in, obviously taking care not to harm her.
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The Dark Lord leaned over the altar and kissed her voraciously. He sank his hand into her hair and held her head still for his invasion. She barely noticed as Dominion began to pump his thick cock in and out of her anus. Bronwyn was completely focused on the Dark Lord. She relaxed her inner muscles and took the demon all the way in, breathing long and slow, as, inch by inch, Dominion invaded her, filled her. The Dark Lord’s fingers slid down between her thighs. He played with her pussy, pushing two fingers inside her. “Oh!” She began to pump in time with both of their thrusts, feeling full and completely sexual. A vessel. “That’s it, my little acolyte.” Bronwyn looked up at the Dark Lord and all of her yearning came to the fore. She wanted him inside her. While all this had been very pleasurable, she wouldn’t feel replete until the Dark Lord had taken her. A fine reddish mist appeared, surrounding them. “Ah, so it comes,” the Dark Lord murmured. The demons began to chant again. More Latin. She wasn’t sure of the words but their voices were excited, triumphant. Beside her, the Dark Lord’s cock began to pulse red as it grew to impressive proportions. It seemed to be charged with some sort of magical energy. With a shuddering cry, Dominion climaxed and she felt his seed burst forth inside her, coating her. When the demon withdrew, the Dark Lord finally straddled her on the altar. He was poised above her, his cock weeping with pre-cum. Hungry as a satyr. He shoved a velvet pillow that was lying on the table beneath her ass then sank his magnificent cock deep inside her. Before he entered her, Bronwyn saw that the head glowed red, tipped with fire. “May our people know peace. Know joy. May we live together without bloodshed. Without strife,” he whispered. Bronwyn’s eyes rolled back in her head. She’d never been this aroused. Never. She thought she would die if he didn’t let her climax soon. The other demons gathered around the dais. Her eyes slammed shut but she knew they were watching her losing control. She didn’t give a damn though. She needed to climax. The Dark Lord began to pump in and out of her, setting a furious pace. Still he didn’t touch her clitoris, leaving her ragged and wanting more. He stroked in and out. She opened her eyes. The demons came closer and began to run their hands along her body. Hage squeezed her breasts, plumping them before Granel took a nipple into his mouth and sucked. Dominion placed two fingers in her mouth and made her suckle them. His fingers tasted strange as though they had been coated in something spicy, almost like cinnamon.
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Finally Alusious placed his fingers between her legs and began to play with her clitoris. She felt the Dark Lord enter her mind, heard his thoughts as though they were her own. He was completely inside her. Her body and her mind. Do you hear me, little acolyte? Yes, Bronwyn responded in her thoughts. I need you to come with me. Harness all that sexual energy within yourself and leash it to my own. She closed her eyes again and found a quiet place inside, gathering the energy within herself. Bronwyn forgot everything, the five demons sharing her body, the incredible pleasure it brought. Instead she focused on the energy, isolated it within herself and handed it over to the Dark Lord. Like a firestorm, it blew through her body, igniting her passions as it went. Her pussy began to contract. She could feel Alusious’ sly fingers teasing her and the thickness of the Dark Lord’s cock within her body. She screamed, finding a release so complete she thought her heart might stop for a moment. At the same time, the Dark Lord roared and spilled himself into her. She knew she wouldn’t get pregnant since demons had the power to control when to reproduce. When it was over, Bronwyn lay limply on the altar. Her whole body thrummed with the force of her climax. Deep inside, her pussy still quaked with the echoes of her orgasm. Little shocks that set off renewed bliss. She felt the Dark Lord’s seed fill her up, bursting forth with the same force as the thrust of a cock. Her eyes were shut but she could feel the Dark Lord hovering over her, looking at her. The demons removed themselves from her body, including the Dark Lord. He leaned down and kissed her once more. Softly. Tenderly. “You have served us well, Carnal Sacrifice,” he said. They looked at each other. The demons bowed to her before they sought their robes and retreated. She didn’t watch them leave. Instead she closed her eyes again and lay back on the altar, exhausted. She felt the Dark Lord release her from her bonds. They were alone in the chamber now. “Come with me, little one. I will make sure that you are cleaned up.” He hoisted her in his arms and exited the chamber. Bronwyn hung limply in his embrace. He carried her down the cavernous hallway, unlit by any torches now. She looked up at his face and saw that his eyes glowed red in the darkness. She’d never seen his face. “Who are you?” Bronwyn whispered. She reached up, smoothing a hand over the mask. “Why do I feel like I know you?”
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“I’m your master, little acolyte.” He opened the door to a lit bathing chamber then set her down on the soft rug at the base of a large claw-footed marble tub before filling it with hot water. “That is all you need to worry about this night.” “Yes, but who are you really?” Bronwyn asked. “I believe that is a discussion best held when you are not quite so exhausted. You did very well. Your master is pleased,” he murmured as he stroked her head and squatted next to her. “Thank you, my lord.” Something niggled at the edge of her consciousness, some forgotten piece of knowledge, but she let it go. Lying on the rug, she rested her head on her knees while he continued to stroke her body, running his hands along her legs. “I find that once I tasted your beauty I am doomed to want more.” “You think I’m beautiful?” she asked wonderingly. “I do not think it. I know it.” He stood up and took her into his arms again before lowering her body into the tub and cleansing her with soft fingers. “Is this a dream?” she asked dazedly, laying her head against the back of the tub. She felt so strange as though nothing were quite real at the moment. Bronwyn opened her arms and legs to him and he washed her body, taking care not to mar her tender flesh. He cleaned away all of the seed and the evidence of sex from her skin but she still felt hot and liquid inside. His touch aroused her like no other. “Yes, a beautiful pleasant dream,” the Dark Lord answered. He bent and sampled her lips once more. “I confess that I am hungry for you again, my dear. May I have another taste?” She smiled. “Oh yes, please.” She was drunk on her sensuality, on the experience of being with him. The sheer carnality of this night. The Dark Lord got up from the floor and slipped into the tub opposite her, the water splashing down over the sides. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle with you, my dear. I’ll be very gentle.” He gathered her up into his lap and kissed her softly, taking great care with her. His mouth consumed her, teased her. It all felt like a dream, some glorious fantasy. She floated in the water while a seductive demon kissed her senseless. He pulled back from her mouth and rested his forehead against hers. “Can you feel it?” he whispered. “The magic in the air?” Bronwyn nodded. She did feel it. The boundary between the supernatural and natural was at its thinnest now. The room around them shimmered with demonic powers. She felt the magic slide up her spine, tingle her senses. The gates between their worlds were wide-open and anything was possible. He slowly eased her upward and let her slide down on his thick cock. She sank down the length, moaning. It felt so good, like coming home. She could get used to this, feeling so sated, so special. The ritual had been for her people, although she had
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enjoyed every second of it, but this was for her alone and it was beautiful and special. Wonderful. The Dark Lord grasped her hips and moved her up and down his cock, taking great care not to hurt her. Still sore from the ritual, she appreciated his soft touch. While the sacrifice had been carnal as well as a beautiful, spiritual awakening, this felt a lot more intimate. “Are you thinking about what we did?” he asked softly. His eyes were impossibly kind, filled with warmth and emotion. Obviously their encounter had meant something to him as well. Bronwyn held his shoulders as she was sliding along his length. She felt more connected to him than any other man she’d ever had a relationship with. He understood her desires like no one else ever had. She smiled drowsily. “Yes, I am.” “Did you know you had a submissive streak?” he asked. She shook her head, still feeling muzzy. “I’ve always been interested in men who had power. Influence. But I never sought out a man who was a master. I’ve never let myself be…” she trailed off, unsure of the proper term to use. “Experienced. We experienced you.” He slowly moved his cock in and out of her. “Like I am experiencing you now.” His breath hissed from between his teeth and she saw his eyes drift down to where they were connected as though mesmerized by the sight of himself entering her body. The pressure became more intense and she bit her lip as his slow, deliberate pacing drove her to the very edge of madness. Finally he took pity on her and rubbed her clitoris. She came in a sudden burst, throwing back her head. The orgasm was shattering in its intensity. It felt like the beginning of something wondrous. When the contractions subsided, she rested her head on his shoulder, delighting in his strength. A question buzzed around the edge of her thoughts, nagged her until she had to ask. “What happened to the rest of the Carnal Sacrifices?” He smiled. “I never cared to know.” “You mean you don’t do this with all of them?” Hope flooded her. She wanted to be special to him somehow, not just another body. The Dark Lord shook his head. “No, Bronwyn, you are an exception to the rule.” With a pleased smile, she drifted off to sleep in his arms.
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Chapter Three Bronwyn woke in a bed, his bed. She could hear him breathing next to her, could feel his heat seeping into her pores. Unsure what to do, she wrapped her arms around herself and sat up, looking around. His bed was everything she’d expected it to be. Large, carved wooden frame with big, crimson velvet drapes and silky black sheets. She burrowed down in the covers. The room was filled with paintings and artifacts. Odd, men didn’t usually like to decorate but then she remembered what little she knew of demons. They liked to acquire beautiful items. She wondered if that desire to possess lent itself to the possession of human beauty as well. Did the Dark Lord have many women stashed away for just that reason? She shook her head. She shouldn’t think of that. Nothing good could come from it. She had fulfilled her duty. They’d had sex for the ritual and that was it. Bronwyn couldn’t even remember being carried in here by him. She must have been fast asleep. Now, in the broad daylight, she didn’t know exactly what she should do. The polite thing would be to gather up any clothing she could find and head outside. After all, she’d participated in a sexual ceremony. It wasn’t as though she’d had a date with him and he owed her anything. Although she had to admit that she’d always been strangely attracted to him. She’d watched him as he conducted meetings with the mayor, surreptitiously closing her eyes so she could concentrate on his deep voice. She’d fantasized about being taken by him. Again and again. And now it was time to end her fantasy and get back to reality. Her eyes sought his form. The Dark Lord lay next to her, his mask still on his face, sleeping soundly. He looked exhausted. There were faint lines around his mouth as though he’d spent a great deal of energy. She wondered how much of his magic had fueled that ritual. If it was any consolation, she felt tired as well, even after a night’s sleep. Her limbs were leaden and she felt drained. Not to mention having aches and pains in a host of brand-new places. In the light of day, some of the mystery and magic faded to be replaced by doubt and fear. Who was this demon lying next to her? She’d let him do unimaginable things to her body the night before and she wasn’t a bit embarrassed by it. Just eager for more. The Dark Lord was a powerful figure, someone to be reckoned with. She leaned over him, inhaling his sexy, salty scent. Her fingers itched to pry his mask off, see what
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was beneath, but she resisted. Barely. Pulling off his mask would probably be a great demon faux pas and she couldn’t risk antagonizing the demon population. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to linger here, waiting for some sort of response from him. She forced herself to get out of bed, even though her body still craved more rest. She looked around for something to wear and found her own clothes, which had been discarded earlier when she put on the sheer white ritual dress, neatly folded on the trunk at the end of the bed. The demons must have brought them in here for her. Thoughtful. She was unsure of what to do next. What was the appropriate thing to do? Leave? Wake him and say goodbye? Write him a note? She started putting her clothes on when his voice stopped her. “Where do you think you are going?” She froze. “Not sure really,” she mumbled and walked toward the bed. She only had on a pair of white panties. “Then you will stay here. With me.” He reached out a hand and yanked her onto the bed. Bronwyn found herself lying on her back, looking up at him with wide eyes. He leaned over her and smelled her hair, inhaling her scent. “You smell of sex and magic.” His full, sensual lips curled into a satisfied smile. “And me.” She bit her lower lip. “Can I ask you a question?” She felt shy all of a sudden. She didn’t want this intimacy to end. He nodded solemnly but laughter danced in his eyes. “Of course.” “What is your name?” Instead of answering immediately, he leaned down and kissed her forehead then her eyelids. “Names have power, little acolyte. Knowing my name, my true identity is dangerous. Can I trust that you will protect my name? Only use it in my presence and guard it well?” Bronwyn swallowed. “You can trust me.” “My name is Gabriel.” Bronwyn frowned. “I know that name. I—” Then she stopped herself as the thought flitted out of her mind and she smiled. “Like the archangel?” “No, Bronwyn, like the demon.” Gabriel grinned at her, tenderness showing in his eyes. There was an odd flash of light in them. “I am so pleased that you agreed to be the Carnal Sacrifice this year.” “Why?” she asked curiously. For the demons, it shouldn’t really matter who was the Carnal Sacrifice, any human with some residual magic would have done. “Because I have watched you over the years. I have been intrigued by your beauty, wondered what it would feel like to taste your sweet mouth.” He bent down and kissed her, nipping at her lips. When she moaned, he released her. “Tell me who you are, young Bronwyn, the witch.” “I’m not a witch. I’m just an assistant to the mayor.” 52
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“I don’t believe you are just anything.” Gabriel cupped her cheek. “But you are part demon and that means you possess some magic. It also explains your supernatural beauty.” “You really think I’m beautiful?” Bronwyn swallowed thickly. No one had ever called her beautiful before, not like that. He’d said it last night as well but she hadn’t taken him seriously, because they had all been caught up in the magic of the moment. Today he was in possession of all his faculties and his voice sounded truthful. She could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against her thigh. His cock was thick and hot, searing her. “Certainly. You are a beauty.” His eyes told her that he spoke the truth. He seemed to gaze at her tenderly, like a lover. “And what about you? What do you look like?” She’d give anything to have a peek behind that sexy mask. Gabriel smiled. “Ah, so you wonder if I possess worldly beauty as well?” Bronwyn nodded. “If that isn’t too much to ask.” “It is not but I think we have been through a lot already. Perhaps we should give our bodies a chance to rest and our desires a chance to cool.” She frowned. Was that his code for dumping her? Her heart pounded in her chest. Please don’t dump me…not now. Not when I have finally found you. “I confess that I have formed a bit of an…interest in you over the past few years. If you still feel the same way about me, we shall meet in the town center tonight at midnight. At the fountain. Are we agreed?” Wide-eyed, she nodded. Her heart felt like it was exploding in her chest and her cheeks warmed up. Could it be true? Did he really have a thing for her? “I find your mixture of innocence and sultry minx an intoxicating cocktail.” She couldn’t help but smile. His regal manner of speech was so sexy. Everything about him screamed alpha male and she supposed he was used to getting his own way. “So you will obey me?” he asked. She could have sworn his voice held tension, as though he weren’t quite sure she would agree to the proposal. As if she would ever say no to see him again! She nodded. “Agreed. But it’s just… I don’t know anything about you.” “Very soon you will.” Gabriel looked down at her chest. “And now I must taste your succulent breasts.” He sampled one of her nipples, nibbling on it before sucking it into his mouth. “I need to have you again before you leave.” She arched her back, giving him greater access to her breasts. As far as she was concerned he could touch her anywhere he liked. “I must confess that you are as much a mystery to me as I am to you,” he whispered before bracketing her body with his own. Gabriel grasped her by her shoulders and pinned her to the bed. “There is much about you that is unknown.” As he spoke, he
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moved his hands up and down her body deliberately. Her muscles loosened in response to his touch. His hands were so practiced, so knowing. Fully aroused, he put the silky head of his cock between her panty-clad thighs and massaged her pussy with it. “I was torn yesterday. You looked so beautiful being taken by those other demons that I couldn’t help but watch. But a part of me was angry, furious even, because I wanted you all for myself. It was all I could do not to stop the ceremony and demand access to you alone.” Bronwyn gazed up at Gabriel, suddenly saddened. While they were intimately touching each other, she felt miles away from him. He spoke of want, nothing more. Men had desired her before but, along with passion, love had continued to elude her…until now. Last night, she had felt a great passion for him but she had also felt something more. Something disturbing that centered around her heart. A raw emotion. A connection she couldn’t explain. His hands grasped her breasts again. Then he ripped her panties and tossed them aside so she lay naked under him. Eyes locked with hers, he penetrated her. He rode her slowly and soon she couldn’t think anymore. All she could was feel. She forgot his want, her predicament, everything. She just listened to her body. Bronwyn gasped, almost sighing as she felt her orgasm bubble through her, long and slow. Her muscles convulsed in delicious spasms for what felt like minutes. Gabriel moved on top of her faster and faster until he climaxed deep inside her. When their bodies stopped shaking, he asked, “A sadness creeps into your eyes sometimes. Why?” His eyes bore into hers. To her embarrassment, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m not sad,” she argued, hastily rubbing her face. “Yes, you are.” He stroked her hair and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Please tell me why.” His voice was so gentle now she almost melted. She didn’t know why she cried but all the womanly wiles she usually employed when dealing with men failed her. Bronwyn couldn’t lie to him. “I just realized something. I am alone.” Gabriel cocked his head, watching her with unblinking eyes. “Why are you alone? Where is your family?” “In Portland.” “Then you aren’t alone. You have a family.” “Not really.” “You are not alone,” he said with emphasis. Gabriel bent down and kissed her neck, warming her with his breath. “All men must do your bidding. A woman such as you? I can scarcely believe this. You are so passionate, so willing to please.” “I am not usually so willing to please,” she answered. It was true. He had brought a deeply buried submissive side to the forefront. “And I am alone. I am not with anyone.”
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“Now you are with me.” He leaned to kiss her nipples before sucking one into his mouth. Then he moved his lips away, nipping and biting her tender flesh lightly. “I crave you.” She squirmed but didn’t want to ruin the moment. “And what about you? Are you alone?” “I have many companions but few friends,” he said evasively. And now for the really big question. “And lovers?” Bronwyn held her breath, waiting for him to answer. A muscle worked in his jaw when he met her eyes. “I find that my taste runs to human beings. They are less—” “Hassle?” Gabriel chuckled. “No, they are more hassle but they are also more loving. More forgiving. Less interested in furthering their power at the expense of my own. There is much to like.” Bronwyn smiled at him. “Am I included in that?” “Most especially you.” His eyes glittered as he looked at her. Once again she wished she could see his face. She wanted no barriers between them…not anymore. “I find that I am entranced by you,” he confessed. Her heartbeat sped up and she cocked her head to the side, elated that he wanted her for more than sex. “Are you saying that you’d like to date me?” Gabriel inclined his head. “I believe that you and I have some sort of connection.” “I believe that too but I can’t explain it. I just feel like we belong together.” She looked up at him expectantly. Had she said too much? Gabriel nodded. “Troubling, is it not? I have never had a personal relationship with a Carnal Sacrifice. It is unheard of by my people but I am intrigued by you.” Bronwyn nodded. Relief flooded her. “Right back at you.” “But I am afraid that you will have to leave my chambers for now. My brethren will be here soon to complete another ritual for the day after. We must maintain the power that we raised.” He stroked her cheek. “If you desire to pursue a relationship with me, you will meet me at the fountain.” She nodded. “I will be there.” Nothing would stop her from seeing him again. “Do not make promises you aren’t certain you can keep, little acolyte. Your emotions are running high now. We have shared much with each other. When your ardor cools, you might find yourself feeling very differently.” His eyes slipped away from her furtively but she saw the intensity in his gaze. This mattered to him. “I won’t. I’ve felt connected to you for a long time, ever since I met you with the mayor,” she argued. “I felt it when I first heard you speak. You called to me somehow.”
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Gabriel locked eyes with her. “Soul deep,” he said. “That is what I felt. I kept hearing your voice in my head, ringing like the most beautiful, clear bell.” He bent down and kissed her forehead softly. “I…” She didn’t know how to put her emotions into words. He looked away. “Come, I shall see you off.” She pulled on her clothing and Gabriel blindfolded her for the walk outside. She reluctantly followed him out into the cold. Into reality.
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Chapter Four “Dammit.” Bronwyn stood next to the fountain, swathed in a thick sweater and sturdy boots, along with a tight skirt. She didn’t wear any panties. For some reason, she was nervous, worried that Gabriel wouldn’t show. What if he had changed his mind about her? All she’d been able to think about after she’d left his chamber was being in his arms again. Every time she closed her eyes, she found herself tethered to the altar, with him riding her hard. Or, better yet, tucked back in his bed, being fucked slowly, deliberately. Someone grabbed her from behind. “Gabriel?” she asked breathlessly. “Were you expecting another?” He wrapped his arms around her, holding her immobile, folding her against his body. She could feel his cock through his pants. It was nestled against her ass, hard and thick. Evidently he had spent the day thinking of her as well. The thought warmed her. “No, you are the only man I am thinking of right now.” “I am not a man. I am a demon,” he murmured in her ear. “I’m much more possessive than a man, more in touch with my own animal nature.” She liked being held like this, helpless in his arms, as his hands roamed over her body. But she understood his words for what they were, both a warning and a promise. She shuddered. “I know.” “You think you know but you are about to find out how much of a demon I am. Before I reveal myself to you, I want another taste. That is if you don’t decide to deny what I’ve already claimed.” He guided her back into an alleyway behind them, never letting her see his face. The streets of Salem were oddly quiet, empty, and she wondered if he had anything to do with that. “I am going to fuck you again, little acolyte. I have not been able to think about anything else but getting inside you all day.” His words were already making her wet. “Don’t I get to see what you look like first?” She wanted to see him, know him desperately. “Not yet.” He guided her farther into the alley with her back to him. Bronwyn gasped when he shoved her against the wall but, while his touch was rough, it wasn’t painful. She put her hands against the hard brick and felt him hike up
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her skirt, exposing her bare ass. “No panties. Very good. Have you thought about me today, little acolyte?” “No, “she lied, hoping she would feel the slap of his hand against her vulnerable flesh. Gabriel obliged. He smacked her ass then rubbed the skin to take away the sting. “No? You haven’t spent all day wishing I would come to you? Come in you? Mark you as my own again?” She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out in her need. “Yes, I have thought about you all day.” He slapped and rubbed her ass again. “What is my title, little acolyte?” “Dark Lord,” she murmured. “That is right.” Smack. Then he spread her legs and pushed down on her back before his fingers delved between her thighs. “Ah, you are silky wet for me.” He rubbed her cunt slowly. “Mm, please I need you inside me.” “Do you, little acolyte? I find that I want a more permanent association with you. Are you prepared to accept my dominance? Give me sexual control over you?” Bronwyn swallowed, her mouth suddenly gone dry. “Yes, Dark Lord, I can accept that if you reveal who you are.” “All good things come to patient little slaves. I think I want to fuck your pussy and then your ass.” She was so aroused her juices were running down her thighs. He moved his hand along the moisture that seeped down from her vulnerable sex to the crack of her ass. Gabriel inserted his finger into her anus, slowly stroking in and out, coating her in her own juices. Bronwyn winced because she was still sore, but it was a good sore. She’d enjoyed every minute of being the Carnal Sacrifice. Her fingers gripped the hard brick. “Oh God!” “Which do you want me in first, little acolyte? Your tight little ass? Your sweet little cunt? Tell me what your desires are.” “Please fuck me, Gabriel. I don’t care where.” She closed her eyes, loving the harsh sensuality of that word. She’d only spoken it in her mind, never aloud. “I will, but where do you want my cock?” She whimpered. “Please fuck my pussy.” “Tell me you want me,” he murmured. “I want you.” Words couldn’t express how much she craved his touch. “Feel that sexual energy within yourself, little acolyte. Let it loose.” She moaned. “Fuck my pussy, Dark Lord! Please!”
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“Mm, I love hearing you beg for me.” Gabriel inserted his cock between her thighs and, in one swift move, slammed it into her pussy, balls-deep. She could feel the thick length claiming her tender folds that made room for his girth and size. There he was, jammed tightly inside her and he didn’t move. Bronwyn whimpered, trying to roll her hips against him, but he controlled the movements of her body and held her still. He was still fully clothed and in control behind her. Gabriel pushed her sweater up then popped her breasts over the top of her bra, exposing them to the chilled night air. They puckered instantly. “Do you like this, Bronwyn?” he murmured against her neck. “Being exposed like this? Anyone could find us. Anyone could see you.” “Yes, Dark Lord, I do.” She moved against him but his body held her captive against the wall, open for his invasion. His cock moved in and out of her pussy in a steady rhythm, pulling out all the way and then plunging deep into her sex again. His hands reached up to squeeze her breasts. Gabriel bit her neck, a mark of possession. “You’re mine, Bronwyn. Mine.” “Yes, I’m yours,” she hissed. God, she was so close, teetering on the verge of orgasm, but he still denied her. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she concentrated on the feel of his cock. Gabriel pulled out of her pussy again and let his cock circle her tight asshole. “I’m going to take you there now.” His hands delved between her slick thighs and removed some of her sweet juices. Then she felt him move away and heard him unscrew something. He must have brought lube. He massaged her juices and the lube into her tight anus, easing the way for his entry. The thick head of his sex pushed in and Bronwyn arched her back, pushing her ass against him, inviting him. She felt him slowly slip past the tight ring of muscles guarding her ass and then inch inside. When she whimpered, he murmured soothing sounds. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. Ease your muscles. Let me inside you.” His cock was slick with her juices and the lube and he entered her easily enough. God, the fullness was exquisite. It hurt in the most pleasurable way possible and she wanted to concentrate on the feel. Leaning on the wall, she felt him pound into her from behind, sliding in and out of her vulnerable ass. At one stage, he pulled out all the way and then eased back in, setting a feverish pace. Suddenly he stiffened behind her, the length of his cock still embedded deeply in her tight channel. Then he groaned and exploded, filling her with his seed. For a moment, both paused. Bronwyn’s eyes were tightly shut. Her only thought was that she would die if she didn’t come soon. Gabriel eased himself out of her, taking care not to hurt her. Finally he turned her in his arms and held her close in his embrace. Expecting to see his face, Bronwyn looked up and saw…a mask. His eyes were roving over her lovingly and soon his hands followed suit, running over her body. 59
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“Let me see you,” she pleaded. Her hands traced the outlines of the white mask. It glowed in the moonlight. Chest heaving, he removed his mask and it fluttered to the ground. She sighed. A proud, Roman nose and a sensual, full mouth… He was beautiful. She recognized him instantly. He was Gabriel Trueblood, the local business leader. She’d seen him before. Judging from his nonchalance, she’d guessed he didn’t even know she existed. But then again he’d told her yesterday that he’d watched her over the years. Go figure. “It’s you,” she whispered. Of course she should have guessed it when he told her his name but her mind had been too dazed by sex and magic. “Disappointed?” he asked, his voice hesitant, his eyes pleading. She shook her head vigorously. “Never. Honestly, I’ve always had a thing for you but you ignored me,” she said reprovingly. Gabriel took her finger in his mouth and suckled for a moment before letting it go. “That isn’t true. I used to get very distracted by you at those meetings. I watched you closely. Sometimes I would even wait around places just to get a glimpse at you. I was forced to take gorson root to diminish my desire so I wouldn’t carry you off and have my wicked way with you.” Bronwyn bit her lower lip. “Then why didn’t you ask me out?” “I am the Dark Lord and my personal life is very unusual. No one can know what or who I truly am. Finding a woman under those conditions is nigh impossible.” “That’s another thing. Mr. Trueblood, business owner, doesn’t speak the way you do. Why the act?” “I speak as demons speak but I have learned to mask myself when I am with humans. It is something I’ve adopted over the years.” “Why couldn’t I put the bits together? It seems so obvious now.” “I clouded your mind, the mind of anyone who has had occasion to meet both Gabriel Trueblood and the Dark Lord.” He took a deep breath. “Do you think you could ever love someone such as me, Bronwyn Steele?” She reached up and tentatively traced his long, Roman nose, his high cheekbones. Her fingers ghosted over his full, sensual mouth. “I think I am falling for you, Gabriel Trueblood, the Dark Lord.” He let out a yelp of joy and swung her into his arms, spinning her around. She laughed, pressing kisses to his handsome face. He finally set her on her feet. “Then I am one very lucky demon.” “And I’m one lucky human.” She looked up at him slyly. “Who hasn’t come yet…” Instantly his eyes darkened with desire. “Perhaps I can remedy the situation.” She sighed. “Please do.”
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Her skirt was still hiked up so Gabriel knelt at her feet and shoved his hands between her thighs, widening them. She eased back against the cold wall for support as he worked his magic on her. Being out in the chilly night air where anyone could come upon them egged her on. She spread her legs wide and he flicked his tongue against her sex, lapping at her. He seemed to savor every inch of her sensitized flesh. Featherlight, his tongue teased. She quivered, soon teetering on the edge of orgasm again, the fire renewed by his touch. Gabriel suckled gently on her clitoris, nibbling it and coaxing her closer and closer to orgasm. Then she felt the climax blast through her body, sending her into a tailspin. When she stopped quivering, she almost collapsed to the ground but he stood up and caught her. Gabriel discreetly wiped his mouth and kissed her long and slow. She could feel all of his passion in that kiss. Their passion. He lifted her up in his arms. “Come for me again, Carnal Sacrifice, your Dark Lord commands it.” Bronwyn threw her head back and laughed. “As my lord wishes.”
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HOT UNDER THE COLLAR Katie Blu
Dedication To Kelly Kirch, Amarinda Jones, Anny Cook, and Helen Woodall, for their fair dinkum advice and encouragement. Mates through and through.
Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Velcro: Velcro Industries B.V. Limited Liability Company
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Chapter One Was it a sin to go to church and lust after the minister? Emma Leeds wondered. Did it make her more or less guilty, to have only begun attending services because the rumbling baritone timbre of Eric Johns’ voice quaked sensually through her body causing moisture to pool between her legs? God had blessed him with the voice. Surely she couldn’t be held responsible for Divine Intervention. The All-Knowing had known exactly how wet Reverend Johns would make her as she squirmed on the hard pew looking for relief. Emma darted a glance around the congregation. She’d bet hers wasn’t the only new face seen inside the church doors since his arrival two months ago. And judging from the come-hither looks being sent to the pulpit under the blind eye of the senior minister, Emma couldn’t be the only one wishing to rip the black alb off Reverend Johns’ six-footfour frame. Perhaps even tie him down with one of those ropes the acolytes wore around their waists. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of the chapel, baptizing him in indigo, scarlet and amber. Reverend Johns lifted his arm into the air for emphasis and pounded the flat of his other hand on the podium. She shivered at the prospect of him spanking her with the same fevered sting. Her gaze roamed each mahogany curlicue under the multicolored attention of the tall windows. His curls shivered with the force of his delivery. Emma couldn’t help but wonder if they would tremble with silken abandon each time he thrust into her pulsing sheath. Her cheeks heated with her daring. As though he would find her plump form attractive with the abundance of willing women in his congregation. Did Evangelical ministers even have sex? She tipped her head, considering. Were they like priests who weren’t allowed carnal pleasures? The idea of forbidden pleasures with Reverend Johns made her body tingle deliciously. Emma sighed. At the rate she was going, she’d be lucky to stand close enough to him to discern his eye color. She hadn’t worked up the nerve yet. That would be the same day she worked up the nerve to sit in the front pew without her panties on and see if he noticed her. Her eyes glazed over. His voice droned seductively like a backdrop to her favorite fantasy. Reverend Johns smiled at her from the podium. Her heart fluttered madly in her chest when she realized he had singled her out. He stopped mid-sermon to send her a wink before shifting his solid frame from behind the pulpit and crossing the altar. Never taking his eyes off hers, though she allowed hers to drift over him taking special note of the quickly tenting material of his black robes, he moved silently to her pew. Reverend Johns 64
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lowered himself before her, one hand grasping both of hers, the other whipping the red stole from around his neck to tie her hands behind her. “Here? Now?” she asked. “Now. I know they’re waiting for a sermon but I have to taste you again. Now,” he answered. He brutally shoved her skirt to the top of her thighs, wedging between them so she couldn’t hide her wet pussy from him. Slowly, the reverend unbuttoned her blouse amid the horrified gasps of the congregation. But the good reverend was busy popping one button after the other, devouring her with his eyes, displaying her. Emma panted with anticipation. Her hurried gasps sounded ragged to her own ears. Reverend Johns hooked his fingers in her bra between her heaving breasts and unsnapped the front closure, spilling her swollen mounds from their bondage. Her nipples peaked painfully but he refused to touch them no matter how she begged. Instead, he tickled the sensitive flesh on her inner thigh, skating back and forth until she whimpered and jerked her hips toward him. She wanted him to touch her. He looked at her, taking his fill. There was no way he could miss the seeping juices from her core or her heated response to the hunger in his gaze. Then he stroked his fingers across her pussy, tangling them in her hair. She gasped as his electric touch shoved past that barrier to caress her eager nub with bold, deliberate strokes… Reverend Johns’ hand slammed the podium again, jarring her from her daydream. Emma wiggled on the pew, hoping her dampness hadn’t leaked beyond the confines of her panties. The last thing she needed was a wet spot on the back of her skirt. Though, she mused, the other women in the congregation might understand. Emma glanced up, trying mightily to listen to the message Reverend Johns meant to convey. Her gaze met his and froze. Was he actually looking at her? Crap. Her throat tightened and her mouth went dry. But that was the only dry part of her. Emma squeezed her legs together trying to curb the sudden throbbing ache. She was going to have to incorporate that look into her daydream. Only after he’d moved on did she begin to shake, grabbing her purse. That’s it. The minute they all stood for the last hymn she was going to be out the door and on her way home to a vibrator. Good thing she was at the end of the pew. Her fingers fumbled and her purse leaped out of her grasp onto the pine floor. The contents spilled. Her silver compact spun to a clattering halt. A flash of white caught her eye. With horror she saw several tampons roll into the aisle three feet away and a box of her “just in case” condoms spill its flavored contents by her feet. Her hot pink travel-sized vibrator careened into the pew across the aisle, hitting it at exactly the right angle. It buzzed happily to life, knocking against the wood in an effort to satisfy the sexual urges of the inanimate bench. Pews creaked around her as the whole church turned on their wooden seats toward the commotion. Emma didn’t know whether to dive under her seat or run for the nearest exit. In front of her a row of girls snickered loudly. The boys across the aisle
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pointed and Emma thought she would die. She recognized several faces as regulars at her bakery in town. Mortified, she scrambled to the floor, trying to sweep the contents back into her purse so she could crawl off and combust in a corner somewhere. The vibrator buzzed out of her reach in jerky, wobbling hops. She barely registered the change in Reverend Johns’ delivery before he was striding down the aisle. Never pausing in his sermon, he bent and collected the stray tampons and the hot pink vibrating bullet. With a deft twist, he silenced it, handed the tampons back to her with an apologetic smile and asked the congregants to please stand as they sang their final hymn, “Our Father of Mercy and Grace”. Emma barely caught the disappearance of her pink vibrator through the slit in Reverend Johns’ robe as he pocketed it. Blue, she thought randomly. His eyes are blue.
***** Just when Eric thought he’d got a grip on his attraction to sexy Emma Leeds, he had to fight the memory of her clutching flavored condoms to her full breasts. He couldn’t even think about the metallic pink number in his pocket and exactly what expression Emma would wear when she applied the buzzing joy toy to her clit. That much sexual innuendo was enough to short-circuit his brain for a month. The look of overwhelming gratitude shining from her huge brown eyes didn’t help matters either. Now instead of wondering what she looked like flushed and staring up at him, he knew. It lodged the conjured image of her pillow-mussed hair, cheeks pink from recent orgasm and slick plump lips firmly in his mind. His fingers closed around the vibrator in his pocket. Emma Leeds was a red-hot sexpot. He shouldn’t have left the altar. But seeing her distress combined with the avid attention from a congregation where some had begun laughing, he’d known he had to step in. And now she was trying to leave. No way was she leaving without explaining the clit motor. Now if only he could get her to show him how she used it. Eric grinned. Hell, if she did that, maybe she’d let him lick her dry afterward. Without thinking, he dropped his hand on her arm and held her steady. The congregation continued to sing. Eric pointedly returned the looks of the few people who continued to stare. “Don’t run off,” he said softly. “You’ll only give them reason to talk.” Emma nodded but he could feel her trembling urge to run even though she did as he asked. He tried to ignore the smooth skin under his fingers but he had no such luck when it came to the overwhelming desire he had to stroke her arm. After weeks of looking out from the pulpit to see Emma Leeds’ gently parted lips and liquid posture, he definitely wanted to touch more than her arm. Hell, this op was going to kill him if he didn’t take up the promise in her eyes soon. Today her nipples poked shamelessly at
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the thin white silk she was wearing and if he didn’t miss his guess, her arousal had been for his benefit. Hoping he maintained the appearance of dignity, he released her and exited the rear of the church where he’d greet the congregants as they left. She’d have to pass him on his way out, he thought with a smile. He might be on a job but the only undercover work he wanted to participate in right now had Emma neatly spread open for him as he fucked her brains out. And he might have done so already, if she didn’t aggressively avoid being alone with him. Emma always brought the day-old bread from her bakery to the church but he never seemed to be there when she arrived. The guys at the station would have a field day with the knowledge that he’d finally found someone he wanted to connect with, but she couldn’t be bothered beyond her weekly churchgoing activities. Shit. For all he knew she was in on the scam. What had started as an immediate attraction to the woman had grown to full-blown infatuation. It was bad enough that catching sight of her around town made his pulse kick up and sweat track down his spine, but now the smell of yeast rolls could make him harder than a brick in no time flat. He’d caught a whiff of fresh bread standing near her in the church. It left him hungry for more. Emma waited in line to shake his hand like all the other churchgoers, only her head was ducked low and she shot furtive glances around her. When his fingers finally closed around hers, he leaned in. “Ms. Leeds, I wonder if you would mind joining me in the office for a few moments. I was hoping to discuss the donation from your bakery.” He kept his tone light for the eavesdroppers. What he really wanted to do with her wasn’t appropriate for an intern to say to a potential parishioner. He’d settle for calming her and showing anyone who still bothered to care about her spilled purse contents that he valued her as a servant to the community. Huge brown eyes rested on him and Eric’s breath caught in his chest. Awareness skittered over him. He smiled but the look of terror flashing over her gave him pause. She was afraid of him? “Please?” he asked gently. “Sure. Okay,” she agreed. Her husky voice rubbed like crushed velvet on his nerve endings. Eric struggled to release her hand and take the one offered by the person behind her. He continued greeting people as they left, his attention riveted on the silent presence of Emma perusing the rack of community pamphlets. She clutched her hands behind her back, twining her fingers. The curve of her bottom brushed sweetly against her wrists. Eric’s mouth watered, imagining what the fullness of her would feel like in his palms. How she would look between her thighs just before he feasted on her. His cock throbbed. Mentally chastising himself for allowing his thoughts to get so far out of hand, he tried to tamp down the erotic images 67
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of Emma’s spread legs and padded mound. He’d always had a thing for rounder women. Emma was no exception.
***** Though Emma knew Reverend Johns couldn’t possibly be watching her while he said goodbye to the remaining people, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was. Going to meet him in his office terrified her. Maybe he wouldn’t give back the vibrator. Was self-gratification a sin? Who was she kidding? There wasn’t a person at church in the vicinity of the buzzing vibrator who didn’t know she masturbated. The broadcasting of such intimate knowledge agitated her. To give her shaking hands something to do, she feigned curiosity in the pamphlets and plucked one from the rack. After her embarrassing episode today—tampons, condoms and a vibrator, oh my!—she was finally regaining some composure. It wasn’t until the fourth person passed her with a startled chortle that she actually looked at what she had been holding. Pornography: Do you have a problem? With a squeak, Emma dropped the pamphlet and leaped backward, simultaneously bumping her bottom on the unwed pregnancy display which dropped to the floor with a thud of scattered handouts. “Oh my God,” she yelped. Emma slapped a hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened and she darted a look around the near-empty room. “I mean gosh,” she said meekly. Reverend Johns moved to her side where she crouched on the ground. “It’s all right, Ms. Leeds, take a deep breath and calm down for me.” Calm down? Who was he kidding? She could do, would willingly do, anything for him but calm didn’t factor into any of her imaginings. Sure, right, somewhere between panting and licking. She almost snorted aloud. One of those things just didn’t belong— panting, calming, licking, fucking—crap! She did not just have that thought about a minister. What the hell was wrong with her? Man of God. Man of God, she repeated to herself, hoping for some sanity to take hold. Her fingers snatched at the pamphlets. “I’m just, uh, a little nervous today I guess.” His blue eyes twinkled, belying the solemnity of his expression. “If you want, you can donate some of those condoms to the unwed pregnancy display.” Laughter bubbled out of her in waves. Helplessly she sat on the floor. Reverend Johns’ eyes crinkled at the corners and a slow smile wickedly tugged at his lips. “You have a great laugh.” That shut her up. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said. His eyes traveled over her face, lingered on her lips. Emma sucked in a breath at the intensity of his look and the stormy color which darkened his eyes. There was no way on earth the minister meant to look at her like
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that. He didn’t mean to give her the impression he wanted to kiss her. He was just trying to figure her out. But her pussy disagreed and she felt the warm, wet suggestion of her body’s desire. Something pulled tight inside the walls of her vagina and she shivered. “Reverend Johns?” “I’m not a reverend yet, Ms. Leeds. I’m an intern.” She licked her lips, wishing he would look somewhere other than her mouth so she didn’t embarrass herself further with panting or whimpering. “So that’s like, what? A minister in training?” “Uh-huh,” he agreed. He gathered the rest of the bulletins and stood offering her a hand up. She took it. Looking up into his face this closely could be addictive, she mused. The wayward curls on his forehead shifted when he lifted an eyebrow. “Does that mean I should call you Intern Johns?” Emma tried to keep her mouth moving. If she didn’t the chances were pretty good she’d kiss him. “Nope. Just Eric.” His smile widened. “Eric.” His name rolled off her tongue and she wondered what hers sounded like coming from him. “If I call you Eric, you have to call me Emma.” “Emma.” He spoke softly. “Emma,” he said again, lingering over the double Ms like saying the word satisfied him. Crap, she was really reaching if she thought a minister would get sexual satisfaction from saying her name. “How ‘bout we have that conversation in my office now?” She pulled her hand to take it from his grasp, realizing belatedly that she hadn’t let go. He held fast. Linking their fingers, he turned and led her into his small office. The sound of the door shutting behind her stopped her in her tracks. Eric bumped against her back. He cupped her arms and steadied her. Her hair over her ear stirred with his breath. “Do you always smell like fresh bread, Emma?” “Hazard of owning a bakery,” she whispered. His hands skimmed to her shoulders, fingers resting lightly on her collarbones. “Want to have a seat?” “Not particularly.” Was that her voice sounding all wispy? Tentatively Emma leaned back against him. His soft groan rumbled through his chest and shivered over her ear. His fingers flexed on her but he stood otherwise unmoving. “I should reopen the door.” The implication that he felt as weak as she shocked her to the core. And while she didn’t have a ton of experience, she was pretty sure the thick rod heating her lower back was a standing ovation. Emma gathered her nerve and turned to face him.
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Eric’s gaze narrowed hungrily on her mouth. A muscle ticced in his jaw. Emma dragged her fingers from his temple to the corner of his mouth and that’s where he lost it. Yanking her hard to him, he clutched her ass in his hands and hauled her sweet hips against his aching cock. He rubbed his hips against hers, shuddering at the friction. Emma whimpered, her hands pulling and ripping at his alb. The Velcro closure dragged open and he shrugged out of it. She shimmied her hands between them until she could unzip his pants and wrapped her fingers around his shaft. Involuntarily, he thrust into her fist on a groan. Pre-cum slicked over his cock’s swollen head. “You wear jeans under your robe?” she asked breathlessly. “I’ll go commando next time, just for you,” he said nipping her neck. Emma did a little wiggle with her hips that drove him mad when he realized she’d shucked her panties. She pumped her hand over him. His balls pulled tight against his body, ready to explode. The sensation of her hand on him together with the knowledge she was bare-assed under her skirt nearly sent him over the edge. Foil crinkled and her small hands smoothed a condom over his engorged flesh. Eric spun her, pressing her against his office door. Emma grabbed him closer and lifted her leg over his hip. In the next instant, he pushed into her. The sudden consuming heat of her pussy sizzled through him. She was so damned hot. And tight. Eric looked into her liquid brown eyes, praying she didn’t want him to pull out. “Don’t stop,” she begged. The walls of her vagina quaked hungrily in anticipation. It was all the permission he needed. Eric pulled almost all the way out before ramming back into her, hilting his cock in her hot pussy until his balls thumped her ass. He pulled out, the suction over his cock head a drug making him mindless. The sound of her juices slicking him wetly with each thrust drew him like an aphrodisiac. With a shout, Eric shoved in over and over again, no longer able to resist the mounting tension. Emma’s body thumped against the door but he didn’t care. He lost himself in her soft cries and heated sheath. A fuse of sensation lit at the base of his spine and he knew he was about to come. Eric gritted his teeth to hold back. Reaching between them, he coasted his thumb across her clitoris, relentlessly rubbing directly on the nerve center. Emma cried out as wave after wave of orgasm racked her body and pulsed over him, clamped down on him until he thought he’d pass out. Emma’s legs trembled. He pushed into her a few more times until their orgasms subsided. Eric dropped his forehead to hers. “Okay already,” she whispered breathlessly, “I’ll join the church.” Eric threw his head back and laughed.
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The first sounds filtered through her sexual haze. Eric was sheathed within her and her pussy throbbed around him eager for more. His laughter shivered inside and out until understanding dumped cold water over her libido. Her eyes widened. “Crap. I just fucked the minister in his office.” “Intern,” Eric corrected. “Though I’d be happy to fuck you anywhere.” His words coiled hotly in her middle. She tried to make sense of the incongruity between his station and his actions. She knew why she’d fucked him but she had no idea why he’d been receptive. Wasn’t he supposed to avoid promiscuity? The sound of voices carried from the back parking lot, overlooked by his office window. The drapes were drawn but as the second door to Eric’s office opened adjacent to the lot, she feared someone would be walking through the other door in a matter of minutes. Since one of the other voices belonged to the senior minister, she figured it was a good bet he’d want to see how the service went. He might frown at finding her ass to the wind with his intern’s cock still in her pussy. Eric must have sensed her panic. “There’s a bathroom over there but we need to have a talk about this.” Her gaze tripped around the small room until she saw the nondescript door half hidden behind a tall filing cabinet. The shadows of two people floated across the drapes. Emma wiggled off his cock, giggling nervously as she pushed past him and made a mad dash for the bathroom door, snatching her purse as she went. She heard a loud rap. “Come in.” No. Don’t come in. What the hell was Eric thinking? “Eric, Steve and the team need more bread for their charity donations. Can you place a call this week to Ms. Leeds about accepting larger loads of day-old?” Hearing her name spurred her to action. Emma did a quick clean, realizing too late she’d left her panties on the floor at Eric’s feet. Mortification washed over her. What if Reverend Miller caught her in here, hiding? Choosing the only option she could think of, she lifted the double-hung window and slipped out. The sooner she got out of there, the better.
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Chapter Two Eric twisted his office chair from side to side as he twirled Emma’s black lace panties around his index finger. He couldn’t get the sexy lady off his mind. She’d been passionate and eager. Hell, she’d creamed all over him when she came and he couldn’t wait to get back inside her. He tipped his head back, dropping the panties on his face and inhaled deeply. How was he supposed to focus on a drug bust when he couldn’t get beyond the idea of fucking Emma Leeds inside out? Jumping to his feet with a grin, he shoved her panties in his pocket and grabbed the hot pink clitoral stimulator out of his desk drawer. No reason not to visit her, he thought. He even had a good reason. Not that sex wasn’t a good reason, or having her panties, or her buzzer. But since the community basketball team needed more bread for their pet charity, he had an official reason to visit her bakery. If his cock twitched happily, was there really any harm? As far as he was concerned, he’d behaved pretty well, waiting thirty hours. Eric didn’t bother with a car. It was early evening and already the sky darkened with late autumn promptness. The bakery up ahead would be open for another quarter hour. He’d spent the rest of Sunday arguing with himself over appropriate behavior, especially given Emma thought he was a ministerial intern. He grinned. Not being able to disabuse her of the information could make an intimate relationship with her a little complicated. But he’d noticed Emma immediately when he arrived and she’d been driving him nuts with elusive sightings around town and hooded looks from the pew. If yesterday was any indication, she felt the same magnetic pull he did. His heart hammered in his chest with anticipation. The pimply-faced kid behind the counter was one of the community boys and Eric greeted him. “I came to speak with Ms. Leeds about the donations. Is she around?” “Yes sir. She’s in the back. I’m just closing up the shop. Can I get some coffee for you, Reverend Johns?” All the kids at the center were eager to please. It didn’t surprise Eric that Emma’s heart for service and her desire to make a difference in the community would lead her to hire one of them. The team was made up entirely of latchkey children as part of the Healing Helpers program. “No thanks, Bobby. Can I go on back?” “Sure. Will you tell Ms. Leeds I’m clocking out?” “Will do.” Alone with Emma Leeds. Damn if that didn’t sound great. Eric strolled down the back corridor to the last room at the end. The door, ajar, swung on silent hinges.
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Emma, her back to him, leaned over her desk. The back of her skirt hiked up a couple of inches and Eric was treated to the sight of her round thighs. The hemline hung mid-length and draped lovingly over her full, round ass. Eric’s cock strained against his dress pants. Not taking his eyes off her, he shut the door silently behind him. God, how he wanted to thrust in there. His cock remembered exactly how hot she was. It grew harder and began to throb. Emma’s hand brushed too close to a pencil holder and knocked it over. With a huff of frustration she leaned farther over to catch the pens before they toppled off the far edge of the desk. “Aw, hell,” he muttered under his breath. He crossed the room before she had time to react to the sound of his voice. Eric pressed his hand to her back, keeping her down on the desk. With his other hand he freed himself then tossed up her skirt. His hands trembled and without bothering to remove her panties, he yanked the crotch out of his way and shoved his shaft deep inside. Emma moaned on a gasp. “Oh God, Eric.” “Shit.” Eric panted. He was an idiot to think the invasion would be enough. He wanted her. Now. Needing a condom, he grabbed her hips and withdrew by fractions of an inch, torturing himself and her. Her pussy squeezed around him, trying to keep him seated inside. He groaned, fighting for control. She hadn’t been wet going in and the friction had nearly sent him off the deep end but Emma’s body was a quick study and her vagina sucked his shaft hungrily. Emma whimpered. “More.” His body began to shake, her fevered cry almost more than he could take. “Need a condom,” he said, his whisper strained. She fumbled across the desk to the lap drawer and blindly reached inside for the foil packets. “Here,” she said, dangling an accordion of condoms behind her. Emma wiggled backward, rubbing her round ass against his groin. Using his teeth, he ripped one free and sheathed himself. Eric slammed back into her. Her thighs bumped the desk hard enough to scoot it forward. “Bobby,” she gasped. “Gone,” he growled, pulling out and ramming into her again. Her vagina closed around him, shivered on the verge. Eric dragged his finger down the cleft in her cheeks and circled the tight rosette as he pulled out and thrust into her pussy. The blunt head of his cock jammed against her cervix. She squealed and arched her hips higher, grabbing the far edge of the desk for leverage to push back.
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Eric rubbed his fingertip in her leaking juices and shoved it inside her ass in tandem with his thrusting. Over and over, he fucked her, tickling her ass with his digit until she screamed with release. Eric grabbed her hips in both hands and plowed in and out. He tilted his hips to hit a spot deep inside her on each thrust. Her breath quickened. Emma keened, her thighs began to tremble. Her walls sucked his shaft in waves as she broke over him again. This time he rode with her, grunting with satisfaction, his cock against her womb. “Fuck me, that was good,” he gasped. “Reverend Johns,” Emma panted, “I think you misplaced your penis in my vagina. Isn’t that kind of frowned on in the church?” Eric pulled out of her and helped her stand. “Good thing I’m here on church business then.” He grabbed a handful of tissues, cleaning himself and disposing of the condom She stared at him in disbelief. How could he be so cavalier about taking her from behind? If not a reverend, at least he was interning as a student, for Christ’s sake. She still couldn’t get over that she’d been royally screwed by her minister. Her hunky, wellendowed, muscle-studded, staring into her eyes like a naughty lover, Sunday morning in the pulpit, intern-type minister. Her thighs tingled just thinking of it. He’d made her come twice and she was still slick with their combined fluids. How was it possible she wanted him again already? And how would she explain to her throbbing nether regions that screwing her spiritual leader was completely inappropriate? Especially when he was bound to tell her any minute that he’d had a lapse and God just psychically told him to abstain from sex for the next eighty years. Screwing the minister. God, she was pathetic. “You live upstairs, right?” His tone was low and husky enough to make her pussy throb extra hard. She gulped. “Uh-huh.” “Bobby locked up.” “Bobby?” Why did that name sound familiar? Oh, yeah. “Bobby! Right.” Emma gripped the desk behind her with both hands to keep from grabbing Eric and begging him to take her again. She licked her lips. Beneath the satiny fabric of her blouse and lace bra, her nipples were screaming for attention. “Take me upstairs, Emma,” he commanded. The corner of his lips cocked upward seductively. “Pretty sure I’m not supposed to be screwing the intern.” Her protest was weak. Right now she really wanted to kick off her heels and wrap her legs around his hips, spank his ass and yell “‘Yee-dawgies” while he humped her raw.
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“You’re right. Fucking an intern of the church is a no-no. Fucking me, right now, is definitely mandatory. I want back inside you.” Air whooshed from her lungs. Her stomach did a flip and her eyes traveled over him, seeing the thick bulge he’d returned to his pants, tenting the loose material. She wanted to see him. She knew he was big from the way her body had to expand to fit him and the bulge did nothing to sway her thinking. He’d fill her mouth, her throat, for sure. A tickle between her legs told her she was either going to need fresh panties or him. From somewhere nearby she heard muted buzzing. Her breath caught. She knew, her clit knew, exactly what that sound was and it seemed to be emanating from his pocket. Her mouth watered. Was he suggesting he use that on her? “Say yes,” he coaxed softly. She dragged her eyes back to his. “I really don’t think—” The buzzing stopped. Eric closed the distance. He dropped his forehead to hers. Without warning, his hand flicked aside her skirt and dived into her panties. Parting her with three fingers he began to rub. “You want me too. You’re so fucking wet for me.” Damn his sexy hide. She gripped the desk tighter, her head dropped back. “Kiss me,” she begged. “I want you to admit it. You want me.” His relentless stroking made her legs shake violently but he didn’t back down. He didn’t kiss her. He didn’t touch her in any other way except to command her pussy. It wept for him. Climax closed around her, ready to shatter her with ecstasy. Seeming to sense she was close, Eric pulled his hand back and fondled her labia. Emma twisted her hips to reach him but he chuckled and removed his hand completely. “No, Emma. Keep your eyes open. I want to look in them when you come for me and can’t deny what’s happening between us.” His tender taunt turned her on. She bit her lip to keep from telling him how much she wanted his cock moving between her legs. He wanted a game? He could have a game. Apparently ministers liked sex challenges too. His fingers slid inside her, his thumb rubbing hard against her clit. Emma’s knees buckled, her full weight supported only by her hands on the desk and his between her legs. The fingers inside her rubbed a spot on the front wall of her vagina which made her eyes want to cross with pleasure. A moan ripped from her throat. “Take me upstairs.” “Can’t move.” Was he kidding? How was she meant to go anywhere with his hand making miracles occur between her legs? No way was she moving. Eric wrapped an arm around her waist, working inside her until she thought she might pass out from pleasure. Her mouth opened, her shoulders rolled forward, curling
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her body in on itself. In a tidal wave of sensation, she crested, cuddled against his chest. One of them was going straight to hell for that. It couldn’t be biblical. Eric nuzzled against her hair. He wrapped his other arm around her. “I don’t know what it is about you but I can’t get enough. I knew it from the first time I saw you.” Her head dropped back and she looked at him uncomprehending. “When was that?” “In church. You were sitting on the pew, flushed and fidgety. You reached up and unbuttoned your top two buttons and I remember thinking you were the sexiest thing I’d seen in years.” “Me?” Did her voice crack? “I knew I was a goner when I heard you talking to Mrs. Petry. You told her you were going to make an extra batch of rolls so you could have more day-olds to give to the Elderly Edibles crew.” “What do you mean by goner?” she asked weakly. She had to know. Eric grinned. “Take me upstairs.” His lips brushed hers softly. “Please.” She sighed. “Only ‘cause you said please and not because I want you to screw me again.” “Really? Because I can make you come all night until you’re begging me for every inch.” She shuddered. “Let’s go upstairs.”
***** He could already tell he wouldn’t be the same after tonight. Having her satin heat spill over his fingertips was an experience he wasn’t going to forget. Seeing her come, hot, hungry and undeniably under his control made him feel powerful and protective at the same time. The minute he’d touched her again, he knew he’d fallen hard. Her personality came out and glowed with every stroke of his fingers. Her tenderness, eagerness to please, her shy, sweet smile, it was all there to see. A person couldn’t hide those things in the midst of lovemaking. It was laid out for him. He’d known it would be and his policetrained eye picked up on her unconscious mannerisms. Emma was golden and he wouldn’t leave until she saw they were perfect together. Emma was his, he decided. She just didn’t know it yet. The thought made him smile. But if she could walk tomorrow, he’d have failed. He still had time to find out the drug link in town. Tonight was about Emma. Eric followed her up the stairs, lightly smacking her ass. If he thought she wouldn’t mind, he’d have taken a nip of her too. His smile widened. Maybe later. When she reached the door, he couldn’t help himself. Eric spun her around and pulled her against him, grabbing her ass with both hands. His lips brushed hers, teasing
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her by touching and pulling away until she had no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck and hold him still. Her mouth parted. Eric groaned hungrily when her tongue rubbed his, coaxing him into her mouth. She tasted sweet, hot, just like he imagined her pussy would taste. Emma caught his bottom lip with her teeth and tugged. “God, Emma. I want to fuck you so badly right now. But first, I promised to make you come.” “Yeah,” she said breathlessly, “you did.” Her pupils flared. Pressed chest to breasts he was painfully aware of her nipples poking him. He’d feast on those later too. He reached for the doorknob and opened her living quarters. “Bed?” “Down the hall.” Eric lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. His hands moved under her skirt, touching her everywhere in her wide-open state. The panties were in the way and he decided they’d have to go. When he got to her room he lowered Emma to the bed. He was pleased to see the scarves draped over her lamps and with a wink he snatched them before returning to her. “What’re those for?” she asked. “You.” Eric encouraged her to the top of the double bed and tied one wrist gently to the headboard. “This okay with you?” She smiled a little nervously but nodded. He tied the other, making sure to prop her up with the plethora of pillows on her bed. He wiggled his brows and began undressing her. Each button on her blouse revealed another inch of flesh. Her eyes were locked on his hands. Good. He wanted her to anticipate what he’d do to her. He was glad to see the front-closure bra too, which popped open, spilling out her full breasts and turgid nipples. Her skirt and panties he was less careful with. He wanted her naked and open to him so he could see all of her. Emma drew up her knees shyly. Eric shook his head, caught her knees and pressed them apart as wide and high as her legs would go. Emma gasped. Eric stared at the feast spread before him. Thank God he was going to get to suck her. His cock twitched impatiently but the idea of tasting her, plunging his tongue into her made him eager to get going. “What are you going to do?” “Whatever the hell I feel like. You want to admit yet that you want me?” Her nostrils flared and he could see her pulse point on her throat fluttering wildly. Yeah, she wanted this. Using his knees to keep her legs wide and apart, Eric leaned in to kiss her. His tongue tangled with hers and she nipped his bottom lip. Heat surged to his groin.
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He cupped her breasts, stroking them but avoided her nipples. Emma writhed beneath him. His lips left hers, grazing along her jaw to her neck just below her earlobe. He sucked her, alternately scraping his teeth and flicking his tongue. “Eric,” she panted. His thumb stroked her nipple and she nearly lifted off the bed at the featherlight touch. “More?” “More,” she agreed. But he didn’t and she grunted her frustration when his fingers refused to play over her nipples. His mouth trailed to her collarbone, lightly catching it between his teeth before laving his tongue around her areola. Emma shrieked, twisting to make him take her in his mouth. When he finally did, her back arched sharply and her moan shook her body. Eric fisted his hands in her coverlet, trying to maintain his control as he watched Emma lose hers. Primitive instinct told him to rut. His cock throbbed in tandem with Emma’s subconscious hip tilts. Pre-cum dampened the head of his cock and his balls pulled tight. With every ounce of strength, he willed himself to think only about her. Eric settled between her legs. Emma continued to squirm, her body reaching for the pinnacle of sexual fulfillment, waiting for him to deliver it. Moisture pooled on the coverlet. With the tip of his tongue, he stroked her inner labia, up one side, down the other with painstaking care. “Open your eyes, Emma. I propped you up for a reason. You’re going to watch me eat you.”
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Chapter Three Emma whimpered but opened her eyes. Nearly mindless with need, she wanted him to do it. Wanted to watch him suck her. His eyes met hers and the lust burning in them was underscored by something softer and protective. She trusted him. His tongue laved her. Her eyes locked on his in an intimate bond which surpassed sex and moved into tender giving, an exchange of trust and pleasure. Her body quivered and she moaned again as his tongue stroked around her but not inside and not on the one spot where she wanted him most. He tortured her with pleasure. She loved it. She hated it. Wanted it to stop but couldn’t wait to see what he did next. All the time knowing, that if she asked, he would let her go. If she begged him to fuck her he would. But to miss out on this? Hell no. Eyes locked, Eric lavished her pussy with long wet kisses, stroking, stroking until if she moved her hips just a little, he’d be touching that spot of desperation she needed him to taste. It started with a flick. A light touch which sent her mind spiraling and continued with faster and faster lashings. She moaned, feeling her orgasm close, so close, like being swallowed by a black hole of carnality. Eric retreated, alternately darting his tongue inside her pulsing core, around her pussy, over her clit and back. Emma thought she might go mad. His hand skimmed up her body to her nipples. His fingers pinched and rolled them, his tongue continued its mad dash, finally centering on her core. His lips closed around her nub and he sucked while pinching both nipples and she rocketed into orgasm with a scream. Her body bowed with the power of her release. She dropped bonelessly to the mattress. She heard his low, strained chuckle. “I love it when you come.” He rose up to look at her, his chin shiny with her juices. “Even your ejaculate tastes good.” “Women don’t—” she panted. “Oh yes, they do.” He licked his lips. “Mmm. Want some water? You might want it for round two.” “Round two?” Five minutes later, she was still tied up but Eric helped her drink and went to get a warm washcloth to clean her. He’d cleaned up too and had left his shirt in the bathroom. His golden skin glowed with health and vitality. Black curls sprinkled across his chest and wound down his middle until they disappeared behind his waistband. Eric strolled leisurely toward her. He carried a warm cloth and a towel draped his shoulder. “You make a damn fine sight, woman.”
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“You said yesterday we were going to talk about what was going on here. Want to tell me why a ministerial intern is sexually free with his congregant and why you don’t have any compulsion to refrain from profanity?” He winked. Eric gently pulled her legs apart and sat between them. He folded the towel in half and placed it under her hips. The coverlet was damp and she appreciated the consideration. As he cleaned her though, she quickly became aware that it was part of the sex play. He rolled the washcloth and rested it inside on her nether lips. The warm terrycloth tickled her clit. He took the end of the cloth and pulled it up and out of her slit, dragging it sensuously along her aroused clitoris. “You want to keep asking questions?” Eric reached into his pocket and pulled out her pink vibrator. He twisted the base and a happy hum sprang to life. Immediately, her channel tightened in anticipation. He was intent on his promise to make her come, it seemed. Her muscles still quivered from his sensual assault but he laid the stimulator lengthwise in her slit, buzzing and jiggling her eager labia. Already sensitized, Emma watched to see what he’d do next. Eric slid two fingers inside her. Emma shuddered with the slow triple thrust he gave her which simultaneously nudged the mini-vibrator closer to her aching clit. Getting down between her legs again, Eric groaned as he lapped at her juices. “God, I could suck you all night.” His wet fingers circled her tightly budded rosette, slicking his fingers over the nerves at the opening of her anus. She’d never been finger-fucked there before today and without warning, he nudged one inside her. The pain burned into pleasure as she took it, creaming for him. Eric’s nostrils flared. He dipped low, his tongue twisting and flicking into her opening as he added another finger to her anus. Emma felt wicked. Her thighs tightened, his thrusts came faster and faster as her panting increased. The sound of him sucking her, lapping her pussy juices made her hotter. Tongue and fingers worked her openings, the vibrator buzzed on her lips. She could feel her clitoris straining to reach for the buzzing release but could not make the connection. A third finger entered her. Eric caught her inner labia in his teeth, gently sucking and nipping. In a blinding flash, she came hard, arching off the bed, dislodging the vibrator but shoving her pussy into his face. He buried himself there, mouth, nose tongue and teeth and her body convulsed. “I want you inside me,” she begged, coming down. He chuckled. “And I want to be there but first you made me wait. So now you get to wait a little longer.” Emma tossed her head. “I don’t want to. Fuck me, Eric. Fuck my pussy now.” Her words made him tremble with need but there was still something he wanted to see her do. For him. She was so fucking hot and watching her come over and over made 80
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his cock throb painfully. He did want to fuck her and fuck her hard. He wanted to feel her cream on him and have it drip down his balls. He wanted her to milk him like she’d milked him in her office. Eric wanted to fuck her deep until she could taste his cum from being so filled with his cock inside her tight pussy. God, he wanted that. But first, he wanted to see her bring herself off. Hell, yeah. He took the washcloth and cleaned her up again, wiped his face on the towel under her hips. He untied her and she shot him a look of eager confusion. “Finally,” Emma said, shrugging out of her bra and blouse. She reached for him. Eric shook his head. “Nope. I want to see you come.” She laughed. “Isn’t that what I’ve been doing?” He handed her the vibrator. “I want to see you masturbate for me.” Her cheeks turned a pleasing pink and she shook her head. “I can’t. That’s just—” “Emma. I want you. I want to come inside you so much, so don’t delay this, okay? You own a vibrator, so I know you pleasure yourself. I want to watch.” “Why?” Her voice was breathless and he knew he was turning her on. “I want to see you make yourself cream, watch your hands fondle your pussy. Touch yourself for me, Emma.” Slowly, uncertainly, she lay back, dropping the vibrator to the side. Her eyes fixed on his. She brought her hands up and stroked over her breasts. He murmured his approval, not able to take his eyes off her tentative touches. She cupped herself, her fingers stroking under her breasts then sweeping upward to grasp her full mounds in her palms. She was too much for a handful and seeing her silken flesh spill between her fingers made his mouth dry. But her nipples weren’t peaking. “Pretend I’m doing this to you, Emma.” Eric couldn’t take his eyes off her as he reached for his wallet, removing several condoms for later use. Her eyes darkened and she dragged her fingers over her nipples. She locked eyes with him and her peaks hardened. A soft hiss escaped between her lips as her eyes fell closed. Eric felt kinky, like he was watching her get off and she didn’t know she had an audience. She stroked her nipples again over and over, her back arched into her teasing caress. Like a lover she kept her touches light despite her body’s seeming demand to make her fingers latch on. Her breasts stabbed the air. Her lips parted and pleasure flushed her cheeks. Back and forth her fingers worked. Then, gripping her breasts firmly, she rolled her nipples between her fingers. She moaned on a shudder of pleasure. Eric saw a trickle of moisture seep from her pussy and he nearly lost it. Nearly touched her but held himself off. Glancing up, he saw Emma drop one hand from her breast and press her palm hard against her torso, the firm stroke stopped above her pubis. Her other hand pulled and tugged her nipple almost violently, abusing the swollen pink nub.
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Her fingers divided and ran over her pussy lips. Her hips lifted. Finally, she slid two fingers inside her slit, opening her legs wide to show him what she was doing. Her other hand left one breast for the other, repeating the sweet torture to the other breast. Emma dipped her fingers into her channel then brought them up for a taste. She panted around her fingers and returned them to her slit. Eric moaned at the erotic gesture. God, he wanted to taste her too. Eric pulled off his pants and began stroking his cock as he watched Emma pleasure herself. Her two fingers rubbed over her clit slowly at first until she picked up speed, stroking, slicking. The wet sound of her pussy juices almost drowned out her moaning pants as they changed pitch to higher cries of pleasure. Her hips lifted again, meeting her fingers rub for rub. Juice dripped from her to the towel. Eric caught some and took it to his tongue, rolling her sweet milk in his mouth. She rubbed harder, her thighs beginning to shake as she moaned her release, not bothering to hold back the sound. Eric could see the muscles in her pussy spasming, squeezing around nothing. Emma dropped to the bed. “Oh God, that was embarrassing.” Eric, swiveled, dropped between her legs and neatly unrolled a condom down his cock. He tipped his hips forward and rammed into her with one long, thick thrust. “It was as hot as hell,” he growled. “You turn me on like no one on earth. Come for me again.” He pounded into her. His lips latched onto the side of her neck, his hands cupped her breasts and tenderly swept her nipples with his thumbs. The act gentle despite the violent sound of her juices sluicing on his cock as he rammed into her over and over again. It was with great pleasure he saw her eyes roll back and her lips part as she began to crest again. “I’m fucking you, Emma. Say my name.” “Eric,” she gasped. “Who’s fucking your pussy?” “You are. Eric is fucking my pussy.” “You are so wet for me. How do you want me to fuck you?” “Fuck me hard. Oh God, I think I’m coming again. Fuck my pussy hard, Eric. Harder. Fuck me harder. Oh God,” she screamed as the orgasm took her. Her pussy squeezed around him and Eric shuddered, his own climax shooting from the base of his spine and drawing his balls up tightly. “I’m coming.” Eric rammed into her, nailing her cervix with his blunt head. A shout ripped from him as he spurted into her pulse after pulse. He collapsed, rolling to the side with her still impaled and in his arms. “That was fucking excellent.”
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“That was excellent fucking,” she corrected. Rolling onto his chest, Emma snuggled close, taking a moment to remove his condom and clean his cock with the discarded towel. He chuckled into her hair. “Sleep, love. I’m going to want to do that again very soon.” “Oh God, yes.” His cock twitched in response to her willingness. Shit. He was lost. Emma had better get used to having him around, because there was no way in hell he was letting her go. Not even fifty years from now.
***** Eric woke with a start. Something was wrong. His arms still circled around Emma and her head rested comfortably on his shoulder. With her thigh draped over his cock, though, he was beginning to ache with his arousal. Her lush breasts pillowed into his side and he couldn’t resist looking at her naked form pressed against his darker tones and hard planes. He didn’t know what had awoken him but he lay still, letting the moonlight filter through the window and over Emma’s curvy body. Her blonde hair spilled behind her and she snuffled softly in her sleep. Heat and tenderness curled in the pit of his stomach. A scuffling sound caught his attention. It had come from downstairs. Gently, he nudged Emma awake. “Emma, honey,” he whispered. She muttered unintelligibly in her sleep and shifted her thigh across his thick cock. “Any other time, sweetheart, but I need you to open those beautiful brown eyes.” She blinked up at him. “What?” The husky, sleep-filled voice fired lust inside him. “I heard something downstairs.” “It’s a bakery. People come in early to work to make bread.” She snuggled back against his shoulder. “You hear them a lot?” he asked. “Nope.” She yawned. “Usually asleep.” “I’m going to check it out.” Eric eased himself from her arms. Glancing at the clock he saw it was only two-twelve in the morning. Early even for a bakery, he thought. “Want me to come?” she asked, rising up on her elbows to look at him. Her hair hung to her shoulders, blonde wisps covered one eye. In that position, her breasts thrust proudly forward. He felt an answering tug in his cock. Hell yeah, he wanted her to come. Her gaze traveled lazily over him. She grinned, guessing the direction of his thoughts. “I meant come with you to check it out, stud.” “I got this. You stay there and keep the bed warm for me.”
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“Only if you promise to fuck me when you get back. I want to feel your hard cock inside me again.” She bit her bottom lip and eyed his penis appreciatively. “Unless you’d like me to suck you off. I’m practically dizzy to feel your cock in my mouth. You can pound me as hard as you want as long as I get to swallow your hot liquid.” His knees felt weak. God, that woman could make him come just by talking. His penis jerked. Could she see it in the moonlight? Is that why she was licking her lips like she couldn’t wait to wrap them around his shaft? He heard the scuffling sound again and urged his libido to take a back seat. Hard to do standing here, staring at her proud breasts and willing pussy. Her legs opened for him and a naughty smile tugged at her mouth. “Come here, Reverend Johns, I want to suck your cock and taste your cum on my tongue. Then you can spank me for being a bad congregant.” “Shit, Emma, I’m trying to check out the noises downstairs. How the hell am I going to sneak up on anyone with my cock leading the way?” She giggled and dropped back down on the bed. She fingered her pussy lips. “Hurry up, then. I’m going to get started without you.” “Aw, hell,” he muttered, stalking to the door of her upper-level apartment. The sounds below had ceased. It bothered him. While it was understandable employees, knowing the boss slept upstairs would try to be quiet, there was no explanation for the extreme care for silence he was hearing. She would expect early morning sounds in her bakery. These sounds were an effort to not arouse suspicion or attention. Eric hadn’t bothered to get dressed. He might have if he had thought farther than what her fingers were doing to her pussy when he left but since he hadn’t, naked it was. His ardor deflated with the increase in adrenaline. On silent, bare feet, he moved down the steps. Listening at the bottom to the sounds of the dark bakery, he paused. There. He heard it again. The storage room door was shut but light shone underneath as though from a flashlight. Eric crept forward. Stepping into her unlocked office, he looked for a weapon and found a toolbox with wrenches and screwdrivers. He grabbed a couple of wrenches and seeing her cordless phone, grabbed it off its cradle as well. The storage room knob twisted. Eric scooted back into Emma’s office. “Did you get the last of it?” Eric recognized Steve’s voice. Steve was a kid on the basketball team from the community center. “Dude, I told you. The white box right behind you still has to go in.” It was Bobby who answered. “Fuck you. Bring the other loaves of bread. I’ll stuff ‘em. You take this shit to the dumpster,” Steve whispered loudly. “Shut the fuck up, asshole. You’ll wake her up.” “If she wakes up, I’ll knock her out then knock her up,” he chortled. “Never did a big girl before.”
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“Steve. Dude. I’m serious man. Shut the fuck up. And if you lay a hand on her I’ll fuckin’ kick your ass myself. She’s a nice lady.” “A lady who’s going to take the fall for running drugs to minors.” Steve chortled again and Eric’s hands fisted around the wrenches. Eric hit the talk button and considered dialing 9-1-1. The digital screen lit up. Eric turned it off and put the phone back down. If he called the cops now, he’d lose the head honcho. Steve was still in the storage room. Bobby had disappeared behind the counter. Presumably to fetch the day-old bread. So that’s how it was going down. He’d known the church was somehow involved and had even suspected the regular runs from the bakery were related. It’s how he’d gotten the intern assignment. He hadn’t considered the boys were using Emma’s generosity to smuggle the drugs. He had to get to the storage room to find out how they were getting the drugs in the first place. Who was supplying the bakery and who was distributing the drugs on the other end, from the bread? He sensed Bobby’s reluctance to hurt Emma. Maybe he could use Bobby to find out who the mastermind was behind the drug scene. Follow the bread, he thought. Eric had his work cut out for him tomorrow. But he needed to find out who was accepting the impregnated loaves. Eric quietly retreated up the steps. He had to be patient. Had to wait until the morning to check the dumpster and find out where the loaves were headed. Especially if they were, as he suspected, destined to reach the church first. When he got back upstairs, he locked the door. No need to make a break-in easy, if that’s what Steve had in mind. Emma had rolled onto her stomach, her sweet ass spread for him to see as she dozed. Eric grabbed a condom off the mattress where he’d left his stash and sheathed himself. He crawled between her thighs and shoved inside her. She woke with a squeak of surprise. “It was nothing,” he murmured in her ear. He pulled out and thrust back in again, languidly drawing out his strokes. In, out, over and over. Her hips shoved back against his cock and he got up on his knees to watch her pussy take him, suck him in again. Her fingers reached underneath her and rubbed her clit. God, that made him hot. She reached back farther, stretching to touch his heavy sac and stroke his shaft as he moved in and out. His fingers bit into her hips and he shoved into her, dragged out. He tilted his pelvis to drag lovingly over the front wall of her vagina, relishing her sudden intake of air for the pleasured response it was. Fucking her was like coming home. Her channel shivered over his length and he knew she was coming. Her fingers cupped his balls and he went over the edge with her. Let the kids downstairs hear that and wonder, he thought smugly. Eric rolled off her but she wasn’t done. He was still at half-mast when she removed the condom and tossed it in the bin. Coming back to bed, she took him in her mouth,
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cleaning him off with her tongue. Their essences tasted sweet and salty. It was a heady combination and not something she had tried before. As her tongue found his small slit and flicked over it, she took his balls in her palm. She rolled them gently. With a cautious nudge, she penetrated his anus with her finger. Eric hissed, his buttocks tightened around her invasion. “Talk to me, Eric.” Her mouth came off him with a suctioned pop. His forehead clenched in concentration. “What about, love? How much I want to come down your throat?” She licked his testicles. Eric’s hips jerked. His cock throbbed to full length. Emma reached inside him, pushing in a second finger and finding a small spot. Rubbing over it made him moan and swear under his breath. Pre-cum oozed from his slit. So he liked that, she thought. “Why are you fucking me? Won’t that get you in trouble with the senior minister?” “Yeah,” he growled. “Yeah it will, or yeah you like this?” “Both.” She licked his balls again, savoring his musky flavor against her tongue, then lapped up his length. She sucked off his smooth blunt tip, the heat of his engorged member making her pussy weep hungrily. She stopped stroking inside him. “Then why are you risking it? Why me?” He panted, thrusting his hips down to seat her fingers firmly inside him. “I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Knowing everything you do for the community, the kind of person you are. Seeing you there on the pew every Sunday with your hard nipples and pink lips,” he gasped, “it was only a matter of time before I tried to get with you.” She stroked the spot again, pleased with his answer. Her tongue darted out over his head, loving that he was completely at her mercy. “I used to fantasize about you in the pew every Sunday. I’d imagine you taking me in front of the whole congregation while you demanded that I come for you.” “Fuck, yes.” He tossed his head, his eyes slits of pleasure boring into her. “Suck me, Emma. Wrap your sweet lips around my cock and drink me.” Her pussy clenched at his words. She shivered but she continued her on-again, offagain torture of his prostate and the casual long licks to his shaft and head. “You don’t act like a minister. Come to think of it, you don’t talk like a minister.” “I’d love to come. I think about coming with you all the time. Fucking suck me off. You’re driving me nuts.” “Nuts?” she asked coyly, taking his sac into her mouth and drawing his balls. His back arched and he swore. She rolled them in her mouth. Pulling off, she rubbed her cheek on his shaft. The velvety heat was seductive. She pressed hot, wet kisses down his length, flicking her tongue around the base of his cock. With her thumb she rubbed the
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sensitive area between his balls and his anus while she rubbed her fingers over his prostate. “I want to suck cock, Eric. Tell me the truth.” “Baby, I don’t want to tell you like this.” Her ears perked up. She’d only been kidding, playing a sex game of submission with him but he acted like there really was a secret. “Tell me, or you won’t get any of this.” “Fuck.” He reached down to take his cock in his hand but she pushed his hand away and sucked him, taking him deep in her throat and swallowing around his shaft. He was long enough to make her gag but she forced her throat to relax. His fingers twisted in the sheet. “Okay, I’m not an intern.” She swallowed around him again, encouraging him to talk even though his admission surprised her. His hips lifted as he began a slow fuck of her mouth. Emma felt giddy but managed to pin him to the mattress. She popped off his length again and he grumbled his frustration. “If you don’t start talking, it’s over.” She took him in. His groan rippled through him. He gripped her head in both hands. Emma took up stroking his prostate with enthusiastic promise. His hips began the slow grinding rhythm, fucking her mouth. “I’m a cop. I’m undercover for the DEA on a drug sting. Fuck, yes,” His hips pistoned faster. Emma had difficulty focusing on his words. Seeing him out of control made her core ache. A cop? Did he say undercover cop? “I’m almost through the case and then I don’t have to pretend—uhnn—to be an intern anymore.” She swallowed around him. He shoved in harder, sliding down her throat. Words left him and instinct took over. Emma hung on, loving the taste of him, his texture. Suddenly, he stiffened and he came down her throat. Emma sucked him dry, licking his length and swallowing the final spurts. Sucking him off, she placed a wet kiss on his slit, touching it with the tip of her tongue to clean him out. Her body shook with need. “Eric?” Her voice shook too. “I need you.” Eric sat up, pulling her into his arms, his fingers sinking between her slit. His touch was gentle, loving, tender. His concern for her had been evident from the beginning. His sure fingers coasted over and around her clit as he cuddled her to his chest. Her heart swelled with the generosity of his lovemaking. If she weren’t in a sexual haze at the moment she’d think she was in love with him. The intensity of her climax subsided as he gently stroked her folds to bring her down. His fingers swept inside her. Her eyes drifted shut and she sighed with contentment. “Does your supervising minister know you’re a cop?”
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“No.” Eric tenderly petted her. “All he knows is the district sent me down. He has no idea they are cooperating with law enforcement.” “Oh.” She yawned. Eric wrapped his arms around her, tucking her close to his body. Several moments passed. Eric pressed a light kiss to her temple. “Goodnight, Emma, love you,” he whispered. Emma didn’t move. She kept her breathing steady but her mind snapped to attention. Did he? Was that just something nice to say when he’d basically fucked her all night and wanted to sleep? Did he actually mean he loved her? Something inside her cheered. She tucked it away in her heart with a smile and drifted off to sleep.
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Chapter Four Eric had to drag himself to the shower to clean up the next morning. He could have lain in bed all day looking at her. And now that he’d admitted his feelings out loud, albeit for his own benefit since she’d already fallen asleep, the words had struck him as truth. Yeah, he thought, he did love her. And there would be hell to pay for the idiots trying to ruin her business with their drug runs. He dressed in the same clothes he’d worn the evening before. Sitting on the side of the bed, he gently shook her awake. “Emma, sweetheart. Time to wake up. We have to take the day-olds to the church.” She didn’t wake up right away. He found it endearing. He dropped a kiss on her lips, the tip of her breast which hardened just for him, then the top of her mound. She still smelled like their sex and he was tempted to run his tongue inside her. But that would only sidetrack them. Emma smiled and stretched awake. She opened her gorgeous brown eyes. “You already showered? You should have woken me.” “You looked too peaceful sleeping there. I couldn’t mess that up.” He stood. “Go on, clean up. I’ll be waiting for you.” She walked to the bathroom. His eyes followed the sway of her hips and the slight jiggle in her bottom. He was hard already. By every right, his cock should have sent up a white flag by now but something about Emma did it for him. It was the whole package. Wow. What a woman. Emma looked over her shoulder. Her cheeks pinked when she saw he’d been watching her. “Thank you for telling me the truth about you last night.” “You aren’t mad?” She shook her head. “Relieved, more like. I thought I’d be going straight to hell for corrupting a man of God.” He chuckled. “Considering what we did last night, you might have if I’d actually been a man of God.” He wiggled his brows at her. She laughed and closed herself in the bathroom. Eric went with her to deliver the loaves of bread. He kissed Emma goodbye in the office, promising to come by that afternoon. Emma yawned but nodded. Reverend Miller had taken the loaves from them to the back Sunday school room for separation and delivery. Steve arrived an hour later. Eric wondered if Steve had been called or if the pick-up was a standard time. But it didn’t go unnoticed by Eric that all the loaves left with Steve and Reverend Miller. And the only reason Eric could rationalize Steve taking the trouble to use bread to carry the drugs instead of making off 89
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with the boxes last night was to firmly entrench Emma as a major player in the drug ring. It was a simple plan. Emma already donated baked goods every other day. That, combined with hiring one of the boys to work for her, made her small business a prime target for drug disbursal. It also neatly pointed the finger at her should the cops come sniffing around. Emma would be questioned about the order which shipped in the drugs but baking the loaves to hide the shipment was another thing all together. It smacked of a setup. Heads were going to roll. The idea of anyone setting her up, hurting her, pissed him off royally. His dumpster dive had produced several small white boxes labeled simply as powdered sugar substitute. But the swipe he took and placed on his gums tingled like crack. Whoever the supplier was managed to put it in her delivery bundle as part of her order. Reverend Miller took the breads to an empty shed behind the struggling community center. Miller disappeared inside with the loaves. One at a time, boys entered the shed surreptitiously and left before the next one arrived. Leaving, their pockets were lumpy with their take. Eric snapped off several pictures and digital camera video clips. When Miller exited, he carried a plastic bag loaded and tied off. It took following him to a trash dump to find the ripped apart loaves inside. Eric took shots of that too. If he hurried, he’d get back to the bakery in time to nab Bobby for questioning.
***** Emma walked down the hall, feeling deliciously sore. Her body’s sensitivity to Eric’s pounding the night before made it impossible not to remember every detail. In fact, she thought she could use a fuck right now. She smiled at her wanton thought. Bobby loaded a sheet pan with several loaves into the oven. He glanced up at her and Emma thought she detected a blush heating his neck but decided it was the standing too close to the oven which made his cheeks and neck red. “Hi, Bobby. Listen, we’re going to increase the bread order for the church. Reverend Miller says he’s getting more requests from the Edibles group.” Bobby ducked his head and busied himself with the oversized floor mixer. “Sure.” Emma punched keys on the register. The drawer kicked out and she lifted the till. “Ms. Leeds?” “Hmm?” “Are you sure they need more bread? I mean, seems like they take a lot from you.” His thin shoulders worked self-consciously and his eyes didn’t meet hers. Emma’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Well, Reverend Miller says they need it. I figure if I can afford to send it over, they’ll put it to good use.” 90
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His Adam’s apple worked up and down in his slim neck. “I guess. Just that it seems like you’re getting taken advantage of.” Emma patted his shoulder. “Let me worry about that, Bobby.” The bakery door jingled and Eric stepped through. His eyes locked on her hand which still rested on Bobby’s shoulder. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. Her abdomen clenched in memory of their night together. “Do mind if I talk to Bobby for a minute?” Eric asked. “I guess not. I can watch the bread batch for a few minutes. Take my office.” “Thanks,” he said, already having grabbed Bobby by the shirt, and hauling him to her office. Emma glanced at the clock. The loaves had another half-hour and Eric’s intensity had concerned her. She locked the front of the store and went to her office, standing outside the door to listen. “I swear, Reverend Johns, all I do is place the order and help load the bread.” Bobby was telling him. “I found the crack boxes in the dumpster, Bobby. And I heard you last night with Steve stuffing the loaves with the drugs. I even know it’s Reverend Miller who distributes them to the dealers he has on the basketball team. I want the name of your source.” “That was you last night?” Emma heard Bobby gulp from the hallway. “You and Ms. Leeds were—” Emma shoved through the door into the office. “What’s going on here?” she demanded. “Bobby, are you dealing out of my bakery?” Bobby’s head lolled forward in shame. “Yes, ma’am.” She picked up the phone and dialed the police. Eric nodded his approval. “I didn’t know they were going to blame you though,” Bobby pleaded. “Who did you think would get blamed with the drugs coming from my business, my home?” Emma’s voice shook with emotion. “I don’t know.” Bobby’s voice sounded small, fragile. “Who do you give the order to, Bobby?” Eric kept his voice calm and Emma admired his restraint. “I swear to you, kid, if you don’t tell me who is using Emma’s bakery as their own personal drug mule, I’ll be taking revenge on you.” Her breath caught. He was so damn sexy right now. There had to be something terribly wrong with her that she wanted to fuck him in the middle of his informal interrogation. Maybe Bobby wouldn’t notice if she climbed on Eric’s lap, or planted her face between his legs. “Emma,” Eric growled at her. Her eyes darted to his. “Quit staring at my cock unless you want to give this kid an underage show.” She swallowed hard.
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Bobby’s eyes bugged. “I’m eighteen,” he whispered. Eric shot him a look. “No way, buddy. I don’t share Emma with anybody.” “Th-that’s not wh-what I meant. I just meant—” Bobby finished with a shrug. The police came within minutes and took Bobby into custody. Eric sent them over to the church and handed the lead officer his camera for proof. When the bread burned and began to smoke, Eric took care of the cleanup so Emma could work through the information with the cops. It was the only time he left her side. Throughout the questioning, Eric stood by her. Inherently, she knew he’d always stand by her. And that’s when she realized, when the word dawned on her in a blinding rush, she loved him completely. The police cleared out. Emma looked at Eric. His back was to her but she had a great view of his ass. Tight, solid, she knew because she’d had her fingers in there, her mouth around his firm, salty length. “I love you, Eric Johns,” she said, just loud enough to carry to him. He faced her. His eyes intent upon hers left her no doubt about the passion building in him. “I love you back, Emma Leeds.” She smiled, her joy making her chest catch on a deep breath. “I think I’ve always loved you.” “Good thing too. I was wondering how I’d rationalize staying in your bed for the next seventy years.” A laugh escaped her. “Seventy? Wow, okay. I’ll try to hang on that long.” “You’d better, woman, because I intend to fuck you thoroughly whether you hang on to me or not.” She reached into her desk and dangled a condom. “All talk. You’re all talk.” Emma squealed as Eric crossed the room in three strides and flipped her facedown on her desk. He grabbed her skirt and threw it up, pleased to see she wasn’t wearing panties. He freed his cock, fisting it as he smoothed protection into place and slammed in to the hilt. “Pretty ass. Pretty pussy. Pretty lady. And it’s all fucking mine.” Eric pulled out completely. “Your pussy, Eric, so fuck it for me. God, I need your cock in me. Put it back.” He obliged, taking her in and out, over and over in sweet even strokes until she splintered around him. Then he took his pleasure on her too. “I want more of you. Let’s go upstairs.” Eric disposed of the condom. He took a moment to grab the rest of her desk stash. “What about the cops?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. “Won’t they come back?” “Not if they know what’s good for them.” He eyed her outfit. “Strip. I want you naked right here, right now. And stay naked for the next week.”
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“I can’t do that! We’re still in the office. Someone could come in,” she protested. Eric dropped his clothes on the office floor and kicked off his shoes. Reaching for her, he ripped her shirt open. “I’m going to see those breasts of yours, so let’s get them out of that contraption. Then you’re going to bare your pussy. I plan on sucking you dry tonight.” She whimpered eagerly and shucked her clothing as fast as she could. Eric padded down the hall to the front of the bakery, condoms swinging in his fist and locked the door, not caring that an elderly couple walking by stopped to stare at him. Emma laughed from her office door. His eyes twinkled and he sprinted toward her. Emma dashed up the stairs to her apartment, Eric fast on her heels. On the top step he grabbed her ankle and she sat hard. Eric shoved her thighs apart, leisurely looking over her folds. She squeezed deep inside and knew he could see her juices gathering. Eric leaned in and swiped his tongue over her pussy, buried his tongue in her folds. “You taste good,” he said simply. “Thanks,” she gasped. He stood in front of her and Emma slicked on another condom, tossing the rest of the pack into her living room. He helped her up. Just when she thought he was going to lead her to the bedroom, Eric stopped and lifted her astride him. “Fuck my cock, Emma. I want to see you take me.” Obediently she clenched her thighs on his hips, raising herself and dropping on him, impaling her pussy over and over as he stumbled to the bedroom. Sensation swamped her and she was unable to move. Eric gingerly laid her back on the bed, her legs dangling off the side and plunged back into her. He shuddered. “Take me,” she gasped. “You were mine two months ago when I first laid eyes on you.” He thrust deep and sure. “You’re mine, Emma.” He thrust in, dragged out, thrust in. “Mine, forever.” “Yes,” she said, “forever.” Her pussy shivered around his thick cock and they came in tandem, sealing their words in love.
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Chapter One Fucking was the last thing on Cori’s mind when she drove to Cyril Stratton’s home on that rainy afternoon. In fact, she was so furious, she believed nothing or no one could change her foul mood. The only thing that might appease her was if Stratton did exactly what she wanted him to. Yes, sex hadn’t even entered her mind during that fateful drive, but like many nonbelievers, she had no idea of the darkly sensual pleasures that, by moonrise, would change her entire life. Cori had never heard of such a ridiculous scam. Even worse, she couldn’t believe her younger sister had actually fallen for it. The very idea of a dating service that matched couples according to incense proved that certain people would do anything to make a buck, even prey on those desperate to find love. Oh, but as her sister reminded her, it wasn’t really a dating service, but some creep with alleged psychic powers enabling him to bring soul mates together. The entire situation made her sick. This weirdo seemed to have everyone brainwashed, even a local reporter who just last year had tried to prove him a fraud. It seemed he’d satisfied everyone he’d matched up, including the damn reporter. Well, Cori wasn’t so gullible. She intended to confront the man who had ruined her sister’s life and do everything in her power to get his “soul mate service” shut down. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and turned sharply down the country road that wound through a heavily wooded section of the small New England town. It figured his business would be located in the boondocks. He must have thought it added to his “mystical” image. The road seemed to go on forever. Finally the woods thinned to acres of grassland scattered with random houses. “Does everybody around here own a horse?” She wrinkled her nose, glancing at yet another paddock with two chestnut mares nosing lazily around. Finally she reached the town square. To her left, a green sign told her she’d found the right street. Bullfrog Circle. At the very end, perched on a hill, stood a tall, narrow house painted gray with black shutters. Her lip curled and she shook her head. It looked like a haunted house, with the twisted trees on either side of it and the black iron fence surrounding it. The gates stood open and several cars were parked in the circular driveway. On the front lawn, a sign with neatly painted black letters read, Soul Scents Clients accepted at owner’s discretion.
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Aromatherapy and massage. Gift shop open to the public. She gave a snort of contempt. Clients accepted at owner’s discretion. In other words, he’d take anyone stupid enough to pay without asking too many logical questions. She parked her car and stepped out. Taking a deep breath, she collected herself, then stalked to the front door and opened it. Chimes rang softly as she stepped into the spacious foyer where two women and a man sat in comfortable-looking chairs cushioned in black velvet. A gray carpet covered the floors and several gargoyle plaques adorned the off-white walls. Looking through an archway to her right, she saw another woman poking around the gift shop—a large, airy room with multi-paned glass doors that opened to a rose garden. The shop contained small statues of mythic creatures, silver jewelry, handmade candles, essential oils and other items of a gothic and new age nature. She stepped inside and approached a man of around thirty standing behind the cash register. Slim with longish brown hair and glasses, he wore jeans and a silky black shirt. He offered her a pleasant smile and said, “May I help you?” “I’m here to see Cyril Stratton, the owner.” “He’s with a customer right now, but if you’ll have a seat in the waiting room—” “No. I want to see him now,” she demanded. His eyes widened a bit. “Is there a problem?” “Yes. There is a problem.” “Miss, if you’d lower your voice, I’m sure we can get this straightened out. Cyril can’t be bothered when he’s with a client.” “Can’t or won’t?” “Please come with me and have a seat.” He led the way out of the shop, through the foyer and into a private waiting room. Small and decorated almost completely in black from the rug to the brocade wallpaper, it had an end table made of smoke-colored glass and a round wooden chair with burgundy cushions. A marble hourglass rested on the table. The room had two doors, the one they’d just stepped through and another at the back. “Can I get you something to drink?” “No. Thank you,” she replied more civilly. Cori’s bad temper had always been one of her worst faults, especially when she felt she was being treated unfairly. Cyril’s interference in her sister’s life already had her boiling mad. “Cyril will be with you shortly,” he said and left, closing the door behind him. Sighing deeply, Cori sat in the chair and, just for the sake of something to do, tipped the hourglass. She watched sand pour from one glass sphere to the other. Several moments later, the door at the back of the room opened and a tall, pale man, probably in his late thirties, stepped inside. His long black hair hung in glossy tendrils over his broad shoulders and down his back. A black long-sleeved T-shirt clung 96
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enticingly to a body that was incredibly lean and sleekly muscled. The well-fitting black trousers made his lengthy legs seem even longer. His face had a hawkish look, especially his nose, and large, dark eyes that seemed to pierce her soul as he stared at her. Cori wasn’t easily intimidated by anyone, but this man sent a shiver of fear and arousal down her spine. “My assistant said you wanted to see me,” he said in a deep, yet soft, voice that seemed capable of seducing the devil. She detected an accent—possibly New Zealand. “I take it you’re Cyril Stratton?” Cori stood and approached, still meeting his gaze. “Yes. And who am I speaking to?” “Cori Ricci. You made a match for my sister, Lana.” He closed his eyes for a moment, giving her a clear view of just how thick and black his lashes were. They snapped open and his slender lips twisted into a strange smile. “Ah, yes. The little blonde.” His brow furrowed. “Is there a problem? She seemed quite happy with her match.” “Happy? How can she possibly be happy? I want you to undo whatever you did to her. Hypnosis or whatever.” “I don’t hypnotize anyone,” he stated calmly. “I know your gimmick has to do with incense, but let’s be honest here. Nobody pulls matches out of thin air. You know some people are stupid enough to buy into mysticism and witchcraft—” “This isn’t witchcraft.” “What kind of drugs did you put in that incense that made my sister leave the good-looking, successful lawyer she was engaged for a skinny little computer geek?” He folded his arms across his chest and cast her a look nothing short of contemptuous. “Well, aren’t we superficial? Did you think she might love the computer geek?” “They met two weeks ago!” “So?” “So? I don’t believe in love at first sight and I won’t be fooled by your scam.” If possible, his expression became even colder. For some reason she’d expected a guy who made his living off love to be a bit friendlier. Of course, she completely disregarded how she’d burst in on him with anger and accusations. “Miss Ricci, if your only complaint is that your sister’s soul mate isn’t up to your physical standards, I’ll ask you to leave. I don’t have time for—” “It has nothing to do with his looks, but with this disgusting charade.” She waved her hand around the room. “Walking into this house is like stepping into a fortune teller’s tent. Stealing people’s money for phony matchmaking is one thing, but convincing a woman to change fiancés is—”
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“Wise in this case. Obviously, if she broke off the relationship, she wasn’t in love with the lawyer. If you feel he was such a catch, maybe you should go after him?” Cori glared at him. He was the most irritating, creepy, meddlesome creature she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting. And why the hell couldn’t she keep from wondering what he looked like underneath those seductive black clothes? In spite of her anger, she forced herself to remain calm and said, “I thought you needed incense to predict who a person belongs with?” “I do.” She gave a snort of disbelief. “Why don’t you try me?” he asked, challenge sparking his dark eyes. “Because I know you’re a fraud.” “If you know I’m a fraud, then you should have no fear.” “Why would I be afraid of you?” She lifted an eyebrow. “You think you’re frightening because you try to pass yourself off as some kind of gothic mortician or devil worshipper? I bet you have a pentagram tattooed somewhere underneath those modern-vampire clothes.” “So far you’ve made fun of my house, my clothes and my job. Anything else that’s not to your satisfaction, Miss Ricci? It seems to me the problem isn’t with your sister, but with you. You probably want her to marry someone you approve of, not someone she loves.” “I want her to be happy!” Cori snapped, nearing the end of her patience. This asshole couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to want the very best for a girl she had raised. Cori had been nineteen years old and her sister ten when their parents died in a boating accident. She’d been her sister’s legal guardian and done all she could to see she had a happy childhood with all the advantages their parents had given to Cori. Lana was finishing her college education and had gotten engaged to a successful man who treated her well. Then two weeks ago, she’d come here with some friends to find their soul mates and Lana’s entire world had changed. Actually, only her choice in fiancés had changed, but it was still too sudden for Cori, who believed in thinking things through carefully before making any major life changes. Cyril narrowed his eyes at her and drew a deep breath, the nostrils of his hawkish nose flaring slightly. Another evil little smile touched his finely shaped lips. “You know, it might be a good idea if you let me find a match for you. Maybe if you had love in your life, you wouldn’t spend so much time trying to control your sister.” “Control my… Had love…” She gaped at him, more furious than ever. “What makes you think I don’t have love in my life?” “Just a hunch.” How she longed to wipe that smirk off his face!
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“What about you, Stratton? Between your charm and conventional looks, has some woman snapped you up yet? Or maybe you have a thing going with your assistant out there?” His jaw tightened visibly and it was her turn to smile. “Struck a nerve, did I? Is it possible that the mystical matchmaker can’t find a soul mate for himself?” “You’re wasting my time.” He walked to the door and opened it, gesturing for her to leave. “If you think this is over, then you’re wrong.” Cori approached so they stood inches apart. Perhaps that was a bad idea. She caught a whiff of his herbal cologne and saw that his large, almond-shaped eyes were so dark she could almost see her reflection in them. “I’m going to do whatever I can to expose you as the fraud you are.” “Good luck. Do you know how many others have tried? I am not a fraud, Miss Ricci.” She was about to leave when a thought struck her. “I’m willing to give you a chance to prove it. Find my match and if, as your advertisement claims, I’m unable to deny it, I’ll leave you and my sister alone. If not, I want you to tell my sister it was all a joke and there’s no such thing as finding a soul mate by burning incense. Unless, of course, I’m one of those customers you turn away at your discretion?” she said, a taunting edge to her voice. His face stiffened even more and he closed the door. “Follow me.” He led the way across the room and through the other door. Cori found herself in a candlelit den, the gray walls adorned with paintings of medieval scenes. A gunmetal carpet covered the floor and a large oak desk stood in front of a wall of shelves filled with various bottles and jars. The top of the desk was covered with equipment for incense making—mortars and pestles, ceramic bowls and spoons. Across the room, near double doors leading to a small patio, stood a black couch and matching chairs around a square glass coffee table, atop which sat one of the largest black bowls Cori had ever seen. It was half full of sand. Somehow this strange room seemed to fit Cyril. “Please have a seat.” He gestured toward the couch. After a moment’s hesitation, she sat, surprised when he settled down next to her, though at a respectable distance. “First I have to learn something about you to decide if I should find your match,” he said. She cast him a knowing look. Here it comes. Now he’s going to come up with an excuse about why he can’t do this so I can’t prove he’s a fraud. “Your hand please, Miss Ricci.” He held out his, palm up. She noted he had long, slender fingers, the nails short. His hand was impeccably clean, though calluses marked his palm. “If this is going to get kinky—” 99
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“Absolutely not.” He wrinkled his nose, as if the thought of anything sexual with her turned his stomach. “You are a charmer,” she muttered, but slipped her hand into his. For some reason she had expected his hand to be cold, however, it was warm and his grip strangely pleasant. He drew a breath, closed his eyes and released it slowly. Again she studied his face with all its sharp angles and those absolutely gorgeous lashes. His slim, black-as-ink eyebrows arched wickedly in the middle. In spite of her dislike of this man, she couldn’t deny he was uncommonly sexy. Not handsome, but compelling. Even his touch stirred something inside her that made her body temperature rise and created a frustrating ache deep in her belly. Her clit throbbed and heat flooded her cunt, dampening her panties. Cori’s heartbeat quickened and she resisted the urge to squirm in her seat to ease the sexual need that nearly overcame her. What was her problem? She hated this man and everything he represented. Maybe it had been too long since she’d fucked and she needed some relief. Cori had trouble keeping steady boyfriends and wasn’t the sort of woman to leap in and out of bed with just anyone. That meant lots of practice with self-stimulation. Lately she’d been so busy she didn’t even have time for that. Tonight she definitely needed to take some time for herself. Getting horny over a man like Stratton indicated desperation. When he finally opened his eyes and met her gaze, she detected a slight softening of his expression that vanished so quickly it might not have been. At least he let go of her hand. She hoped her face didn’t look as flushed as it felt. “Let me guess,” she said. “You can’t find my match.” “On the contrary, I will be happy to find your match. You deserve some joy in your life.” Cori raised her eyes to the heavens. “I bet you feed that line to all your customers, or should I say pigeons?” “I don’t use lines and some people deserve happiness more than others.” “And some don’t deserve it at all? Are those the ones you turn away? Maybe you’re the control freak.” “I turn away those whom I sense are violent and could harm others, including a soul mate. I don’t want other people’s misery on my conscience. I have enough of my own,” he said rather sharply, then shook his head. “I apologize. That has nothing to do with you.” He was probably right. Unfortunately, it piqued her interest more than anything she’d seen or heard so far in this house. What misery was he talking about? For a man who surrounded himself with love, he looked unhappy. “You can tell whether or not a person is violent just by holding their hand?” she asked.
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“No doubt you’ll mock this as well, but I’m empathic. My gift is stimulated by touch. I can’t read someone’s mind, but I can sense their feelings and intentions. If I get a bad vibe, as they say, then I won’t make a match.” More BS, but at least it made a nice speech. “Now to find your essence,” he continued. “I want you to imagine a place where you feel comfortable and safe. Close your eyes if you like.” “I’d rather keep them open.” “That’s fine. Just concentrate on that place. Do you see it?” “Yes.” She imagined herself on a beach so vast that the ocean was way in the distance—too far to present danger yet near enough to provide the aroma of salt. Gulls cried overhead and warm sand slid between her toes. “Wherever the place is, there is vegetation around. It can be plants, flowers, fruits or vegetables. Any kind or color you want. And there are two or three scents as well. Got them?” She nodded and her eyes slipped shut, though she had intended to keep them open. It was strange how calm she felt, sitting on that beach in her mind, a bunch of freshly picked lilacs in her hand. Their scent mingled with that of lemon and coconut. “Now I’m going to take your hand again,” he said and she felt his warm grip, strong yet gentle. For several moments longer she remained in that peaceful place. Then he released her hand and said, “You may open your eyes now.” He had spoken from across the room where he was quickly pulling bottles and jars of ingredients from the shelves and placing them on the desk. He worked swiftly, his slender, graceful hands using the mortar and pestle to grind herbs and eyedroppers to measure essential oil. Fascinated, she approached the desk, staring as his pale fingers sifted through the freshly made incense. When it was finished, he emptied it into a jar and labeled it with her name, then approached the shelves again, holding the jar slightly in front of him as he moved it slowly over hundreds of others. He paused in front of one jar and his face went even paler. “What’s going on?” she asked. “Is that supposed to be my match or something?” He turned to her, his brow furrowed. “Maybe this isn’t a wise idea.” Oh no. She knew what he was up to. Folding her arms beneath her breasts, she lifted an eyebrow in his direction. “Are you trying to scare me into leaving you alone? I don’t frighten easily.” “Not everyone finds their match immediately, or at all. Only if your soul mate has also visited me can I match your incense.” “And according to Lana, the trick is once you burn them together, we’ll never be parted because we are meant to be.” “Yes.” 101
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“Did you or did you not find my match?”
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Chapter Two Cyril stared at her with those beautiful, yet frightening, onyx eyes and nodded. “Then burn away. Or do I need to pay you first?” “No charge.” He pulled the jar from the shelves. Did his hand tremble a bit? He’d moved so quickly she couldn’t be sure. After taking a charcoal block and a spoon from his desk, Cyril walked to the coffee table. She watched, torn between disbelief and anticipation, as he placed the charcoal in the enormous bowl and lit it. Using the spoon, he tossed measured amounts of incense from each jar onto the charcoal and a strong, yet wonderful, scent filled the room. He opened the doors leading to the patio, allowing the smoke to drift into the rainy afternoon. “That’s all, Miss Ricci,” he stated. “Now you’ll find each other.” She sighed and laughed humorlessly. “So within the course of my lifetime, if I find my soul mate, I’ll have you to thank?” “It usually takes no longer than a day or two. You’ll be drawn to each other.” “Oh yes. Lana told me that part. We’ll want to fuck like rabbits the minute we see each other.” Another morbid twisting of his lips. “It works that way for some. For others, they talk first and fuck later. For others still, they don’t fuck at all. It’s not necessarily a meeting of bodies, but a joining of souls.” “I think I’ve had just about enough of you. You’ll be hearing from me again, Mr. Stratton, and next time won’t be so pleasant. Excuse me.” She strode out of the den, back through the waiting room and out to her car where she sat behind the wheel for a moment, feeling oddly shaken. Taking several tremulous breaths, she willed her hands to stop shaking. That was the strangest experience of her life and he was the most sinister, yet compelling, man she’d ever met. No wonder he had gotten to Lana. She was an impressionable girl with— No. She was a young woman. As much as Cori hated to admit it, maybe there was some truth to Cyril’s words after all. She had spent the last twelve years completely focused on her sister. She’d often ignored her own unhappiness, trying to provide a good home life for her, as if taking care of Lana could somehow help her deal with her parents’ death. During her last conversation—or should she say argument—with Lana, her sister had said she smothered her. That she should give her some credit in making the right
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decisions for her life. If Cori wanted her to be happy, she should accept the man Lana had chosen for herself and at the very least try to get along. Cori had been hurt that her sister could say such things after all she’d done for her, but now she realized she had been the selfish one. She’d raised Lana because she loved her and their parents. Lana gave her the respect she deserved as her guardian but that didn’t mean Cori had the right to make her decisions for her, especially when it came to love. At least Lana had found love. Cori had never even tried looking for it. Guilt, fear and responsibility weighed her down. Now in her early thirties, she began to truly feel the effects of a lifetime of loneliness, but she wondered if it was too late to find someone. Cori had done well in business, but when it came to romance she was completely inept. Not only that, she didn’t believe in love, at least not the way most women imagined it to be. Love wasn’t something that struck like proverbial lightning. It came from similar interests and beliefs and years of working together. Accepting each other, faults and all. That’s why she knew without doubt this entire soul mate-incense thing was a hoax. She started the car and drove away. At home, she found a message from Lana in the kitchen. She was spending the night at Brian’s again. Brian. The computer geek with the grapefruit-sized Adam’s apple. She felt a twinge of guilt as Cyril’s words flashed across her mind. He’d basically called her shallow. From his point of view, she probably did sound shallow. It wasn’t really a man’s appearance that mattered to her and Brian was actually kind of cute in a gangly, puppy-eyed way. It was just that he seemed to be the reason Lana was pulling way from her. She didn’t want to lose her sister. Then why are you driving her away? It’s not Lana who’s pulling back, you selfish idiot. You’re trying to control her. Cori couldn’t stand any more. She needed to get away from everything and the best way to do that was by soaking in a warm tub. In the bathroom, she ran the water and undressed. She sank into the tub and tried to relax, but it was impossible. The warmth and wetness only served to remind her of how good it would feel to fuck Cyril, then share a bath with him. Why couldn’t she get the man out of her mind? Cursing softly, she grabbed a cake of soap, washed and stepped out of the tub. She reached for a towel to dry off and caught sight of herself in the mirror. Dropping the towel, she studied herself carefully. She might not be in her twenties anymore, but she still looked pretty good. Fairly tall and rather curvy, she kept herself in shape with workouts every other day. She cupped her breasts and ran her thumbs over the nipples, feeling them tingle and watching them tighten as she caressed. A pleasant ache started between her legs
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and she ran a hand down her belly and through her pubic hair until her fingers dipped into her pussy. Yes, this was exactly what she needed. Sexual hunger made people react in crazy ways, which explained why she’d been hot over Cyril. Damn. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? She imagined his black gaze roaming over her body and his long, slender hands stroking her breasts and belly. The aroma of incense filled her with every breath and her heartbeat quickened. This wasn’t possible. Unable to stop her thoughts from racing down a forbidden path, she indulged her fantasy. Cyril’s hands cupped her breasts. Their warmth flooded her, tightening her nipples and spreading down her belly to her clit. The sensitive bud longed for a touch, but she waited, feeling it swell and ache even more. When she finally gave it what it wanted, the sensations would be unbelievable. Her eyes closed, she pictured Cyril’s slim fingers and thumbs pinching her nipples and her hands mimicked the action, squeezing the stiff little gems and tugging upon them. Pleasure-pain shot through her. She licked her fingertips and continued rubbing and pinching, the wetness heightening the stimulation, except it wasn’t her hands bringing forth such delight, but Cyril’s. Unable to wait any longer, she shoved a greedy hand between her tense thighs. Cyril’s long, slim fingers explored her cunt, gathering moisture and stroking her clit until her legs trembled and her heart beat out of control. This was too much. She needed something more than fingers on her clit and in her cunt. She wanted something long and thick, rock-hard but velvety, against her slick, soft flesh. She needed Cyril Stratton buried inside her, covering her with his pale, sinewy body and pounding into her, satisfying this unbearable desire. Cori felt so overcome by emotions that her throat tightened and tears sprang into her eyes. She needed Cyril like she needed air to breathe. This was crazy. It wasn’t right. Go back to the house, Cori. You know that’s where you want to be. You need to see him again. Closing her eyes, she clearly saw Cyril’s sharp features, his piercing eyes and the slim, clean lines of his body. She could actually smell his cologne as if he stood behind her. She still felt his warm, slender hands on her body, his fingers exploring her cunt while his thumb danced over her clit. Her eyes flew open and she stared at her reflection. Her full breasts quivered with each ragged breath. A blush stained her face and tendons stood out in her neck as the rapidly rubbing hand between her legs pushed her closer and closer to orgasm. Just before reaching her peak, she pulled her hand away and clamped her legs together, leaning heavily against the mirror. “This is impossible,” she whispered, her breath fogging the glass. Yet it was happening. She felt as if she couldn’t endure another moment without Cyril Stratton. 105
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***** After Cori Ricci left his workroom, Cyril stared at the smoke wafting from the censer, his entire body tense and his heart pounding. For sixteen years his incense jar had sat amongst the others, waiting, but never chosen. He’d traveled, searching for the one thing he desperately wanted, but was reluctant to admit, even to himself. Having decided he would never find his soul mate, Cyril had settled permanently in this small New England town. After so many years, he assumed it must not be within his power to find his match. Maybe he was only meant to find other people’s. Or worse, perhaps he was being punished for a stupid, disastrous mistake of his youth. Now he knew for certain he was being punished after all. Why else would his soul mate turn out to be a woman he’d hated on sight and who hated him? Cori was arrogant, controlling, judgmental and closed to the spiritual world. On the other hand, after using his empathic gift, he knew her to be caring, selfless, loyal and repressed. She longed to let go and enjoy her life. The woman ached for love. Not just any love, but a singular love with someone she could trust. His physical attraction to her was undeniable. Though not conventionally beautiful, she had an understated quality he found refreshing. She wore her long chestnut hair in a tidy French braid with random wisps framing her heart-shaped face. She even had an attractive widow’s peak that he longed to trace with his fingertips. Throughout their conversation, her large green eyes fixed on him from beneath metal-framed glasses. When she spoke, he could scarcely keep from staring at her full lips tinted the loveliest shade of mauve. The short-sleeved pearl gray sweater and snug jeans she wore accentuated her delectable curves. The woman knew how to look sexy without being blatant—a rare talent. For the next couple of hours, he could hardly keep his mind off her and he knew the situation would only get worse. Keeping his emotions under control became almost impossible and he could scarcely wait for his customers and assistant to finally leave. It was Tuesday, the one night of the week he didn’t schedule aromatherapy classes or massages. If he had, he’d have been forced to cancel. There was no way he could focus on anything but Cori. He longed to jump in his car and track her down, but refused. Even if it killed him, he needed to wait for her to come to him. The woman already thought him a fraud. He didn’t want her to accuse him of stalking her as well. Cori needed to be handled very carefully. Even soul mates could destroy each other, as he knew all too well. She’d come. If the pull was half as strong for her as it was for him, she wouldn’t be able to resist. He walked upstairs to his bathroom, where he shed his clothes, then stepped beneath a cool shower, hoping it would distract him from the intense emotions coursing through him, making his pulse race and temperature rise. His cock stood at full mast, rock-hard and aching. Curling his fist around the shaft, he pumped quickly, his eyes 106
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closed and face tilted toward the stream of water. It was like eating bread when he wanted cake. More than anything, he longed to plunge deep into Cori’s hot, wet pussy and drive them both to ecstasy. His eyes closed, he tightened his fist around his cock and stroked faster and harder. In his mind, Cori’s full lips slid over the crown of his erection. Her tongue flicked over it and trailed along the underside, tracing the thick vein that swelled there. She sucked him deep into her mouth so that his cock head brushed the slick, wet back of her throat. Cyril’s breathing quickened and his muscles tightened with need. His toes bit into the slippery tile and he imagined Cori right here in the shower with him, her curves beaded with water and her faced beautifully flushed, like it had been in his workshop earlier that afternoon. She knelt in front of him, sucking with a vengeance. Panting, his hips thrusting into his stroking hand, Cyril watched her suck him to the brink of orgasm, then she pulled back and with a devilish smile on her lovely face, turned and braced her hands against the wall. She thrust her ass toward him, beckoning him to fill it with his cock. Cyril thought he might explode then and there. Just the thought of grasping her hips, pushing into her tight, throbbing ass and pumping until he burst with pleasure sent his desire off the scale. His hips jerked and legs trembled as he stroked his way toward ecstasy. The aroma of their mingled incense filled him, spurring his passion even more. The doorbell rang and his eyes flew open, his hand clamped at the base of his twitching cock. Water poured into eyes and he brushed it away, turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower, reaching for a towel. Again the bell chimed throughout the house and Cyril’s already racing heart sped up even more. His chest rose and fell with excited breathing and every muscle tensed. It had to be her. He dried off quickly and pulled on his trousers, not even bothering to walk to his room for underwear. Barefoot, he jogged down the wooden stairs and glanced out the narrow window beside the front door. A jolt of passion and intense need shot though him at the sight of Cori standing there, a lovely vision in the setting sun. He opened the door and they stared at each other for a moment before she said, “What the hell did you do to me?” “I did what you asked.” “You made me want you,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I don’t know how you did it, but stop it.” “I can’t,” he said, just as annoyed. Did she think he wanted to be drawn to her like this? Hell, he didn’t even like her, but he was desperately in love with her. “I hate you,” she said with such feeling that he believed if she had access to a gun, she’d have shot him. Maybe he’d have been better off. All these years he thought he
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was making people happy by introducing them to their soul mates. If he’d had any idea it felt like this… Cori shoved him hard in the chest, almost knocking him backward. The woman was strong. He’d love to feel her tight little body locked around his, her long legs squeezing his waist. She lifted her hands to push him again, but he grasped her wrists and jerked her close. Her breasts flattened against his chest and he wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her tightly, while he grasped a handful of hair at the back of her head. “Yeah?” His eyes bore into hers and he spoke inches from her lips. “I hate you too.” His mouth covered hers in a crushing kiss. Rather than resist him, she met every long, wet sweep of his tongue. When the kiss broke, they stood panting, nose to nose. “Remember what I said before about fucking like rabbits?” she murmured, her gaze so fiery he felt sweat bead on his forehead just from looking at her. “Yeah.” “Let’s get to it.” Simultaneously, as if their bodies and minds were one, she jumped up and locked her legs around his waist while he grasped her buttocks and hauled her into the foyer. He kicked the door shut and leaned against it while Cori sucked his lower lip. Over the years he’d learned to control his empathic power, but at the moment he wanted to feel everything she felt. It seemed like he’d waited forever for this moment, to join with the one soul among all others truly meant for him. There were many kinds of soul mates and not all pairings were of a sexual nature. When all-encompassing soul mates met—a meeting of spirit, mind and body—that was the most special joining of all. Cori wasn’t what he’d expected, but she was without doubt his. He sensed she was just as surprised and confused as he was. Maybe that powerful dislike they’d felt from the first had actually been passion in disguise? “This is like some kind of drug,” Cori murmured against his lips, her eyes brilliant with emotion. “You are a witch, aren’t you?” “No.” This woman annoyed and aroused him at the same time, so of course they were bound forever. He hoisted her higher, since she was starting to get a bit heavy. “You know, at the moment I don’t even care?” She kissed him again and he walked down the corridor until he reached the parlor at the back of the house. A thick carpet covered the floor in front of the fireplace, so he knelt and placed her on it. Her legs still locked around his waist, she refused to let him go. That was fine with him, at least for the moment. His hard cock pushed against her softness and he reached down to unzip his trousers. Rather than the jeans she’d worn earlier, she’d changed into a pink petal skirt. After pulling down his trousers, he raised her skirt, noting she hadn’t bothered with underwear either. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears and he could scarcely wait to 108
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plunge into her, but that wouldn’t do at all. The way she stared at him with her big green eyes wide and her lips parted as she drew excited breaths reminded him that she deserved as much pleasure from this joining as he could give. At that moment, he realized he wanted to satisfy her as deeply as possible. He didn’t want her disappointed in any way. It seemed they’d both waited a long, long time for this. He ran his hands over her soft, smooth inner thighs and traced his thumb along the indentation of her groin. Licking his lips, he lowered his head to her soft mound. “Wait!” she panted, pushing against his shoulders. Their gazes locked and he paused, every muscle taut. “This is crazy. We can’t—” “I have condoms, if that’s what you’re worried about.” “No.” She tapped the pocketbook still looped over her shoulder. “I have those. It’s just…” He pushed forward, the tip of his nose brushing her clit, relishing her scent. Then his mouth hovered over the sensitive bud, his breath teasing her. Her tight hold loosened on his shoulders and she fell back onto the carpet. “Forget it.” Before she could distract them again, he covered her clit with his mouth. His tongue slid over her flesh, exploring every corner and crevice. Closing his eyes, he savored her taste and relished her womanly scent. With the very tip of his tongue, he teased the side of her clit, then lapped the swollen nub with rhythmic upward strokes that seemed to drive Cori wild. She moaned and thrashed so that Cyril was forced to grasp her ass to hold her steady. Her buttocks felt great—rounded, tight and covered in satiny skin. Cyril licked and kneaded, ignoring his own desire and focusing solely on her. With his empathic gift, he felt the intense pleasure rolling through her and it spurred his own pleasure. His cock throbbed and ached, longing for the heat and warmth of her pussy. Cori teetered on the edge of orgasm. Her cries became higher and more frantic and her breath came in hard pants. “Ah, Cyril! Don’t stop. Oh, please don’t stop,” she gasped, her fingers digging into his shoulders. A few more flicks of his tongue and she exploded. She throbbed against his tongue and he didn’t stop licking until she lay panting and utterly spent. While she rested, Cyril kicked off his trousers. He pulled off her skirt and her eyes flew open. “Let me see the rest of you,” he said, his voice husky with need. A struggle took place behind her flashing green eyes. Yet, entranced by the magical call of the incense, she did as he asked and lifted her sweater over her head, baring her breasts to his hungry gaze. “I wanted to get here so fast I didn’t bother with underclothes,” she explained, folding her arms across her full breasts. 109
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Chapter Three “You’re very beautiful,” Cyril said, his voice just above a whisper. Gently grasping her wrists, he guided her arms away from her breasts. Dark pink nipples topped the golden tanned spheres. He reached out and ran a fingertip between her breasts, then brushed his thumb across her nipples. They tightened and swelled beneath his touch. Tiny bumps of pleasure rose on the areolas. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Very beautiful.” Cyril gently pushed her back onto the rug. He leaned over her and took a nipple and as much of the surrounding breast as he could fit into his mouth. He sucked and licked, groaning with desire. Cori clutched his head and held him closer. Her back arched and she pushed her breast deeper into his mouth. Little thrills of passion coursed through him as she threaded her fingers through his hair. One of her hands left him and, a moment later, she nudged his shoulder. “Cyril, here.” His mind fogged with passion, he didn’t react immediately. Again she nudged him. This time he looked up and saw a condom dangling between her fingertips. He plucked it from her grasp, removed it from the package and sat back to roll it on. Staring at his cock, she drew sips of air through parted lips. “Touch it,” he said, his heart pounding with anticipation. “It only seems fair, doesn’t it?” she murmured, more to herself than to him, raw lust gleaming in her eyes. She crawled toward him, placed her hands on his chest and pushed him onto his back. Settling between his legs, she clasped his shaft and took the head into her mouth. She used her teeth and tongue on him, sending shock waves of pleasure through him that even the condom couldn’t disguise. With trembling fingers, Cyril loosened her hair from its braid and caressed it, loving the feeling of the soft, thick tendrils sliding through his fingers. While her mouth teased his cock, one of her hands stroked his shaft and the other cupped his balls. “Umm,” she moaned softly, the vibrations against his cock head arousing him even more. “Your cock is so thick and hard. It feels so good.” “Feels so good,” he repeated, his voice scarcely a whisper.
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Though he longed to close his eyes, Cyril couldn’t keep from staring at her, crouched between his legs, licking and sucking him. If she kept this up much longer, he was going to come before they got a chance to really fuck. Her teeth nipped his bulging cock head and he gasped, clutching her hair and pulling her away. Luckily, she kept her hand clamped firmly at the base of his erection and held tight for several seconds while he forced his hips to remain still. They stared into each other’s eyes, their gazes so hot that if anything had stepped between them it would have burned to ashes. “Cori, I need you so much.” He stretched out beside her. It seemed a silly, obvious thing to say, but conversation was becoming more difficult in the midst of such strong desire. He simply wished to feel and he thankfully sensed she wanted the same. Stroking her side with long sweeps of his hand, he gazed into her eyes. He didn’t doubt she saw the desire burning inside him and it stoked the flames within her. He also felt part of her holding back, as if she feared admitting, even to herself, that she was enjoying every moment of their lovemaking. “I want you too, Cyril,” she said, taking his face in her hands. “Take me. Please.” With a groan of pure lust, he loomed above her, the tip of his cock resting against the entrance of her hot, wet pussy. He longed to thrust frantically into her, but drew a steadying breath. Their gazes locked. Looking into her eyes, he felt a closeness he’d lost hope of sharing with another person. He’d been certain a lifetime of loneliness would be his punishment for his past crime. Cori was a gift he didn’t deserve, yet here she was, lying warm and waiting beneath him. If only he knew why she held back emotionally. A barrier of guilt tainted their otherwise perfect joining. He kissed her deeply, tenderly, while simultaneously filling her with his cock. Her soft, wet flesh encased him, teasing and caressing him. He thrust slowly at first, building sensation within both their heated bodies. Blood pounded through him and his cock felt ready to burst. Cori’s hips shifted upward, meeting him thrust for thrust. She’d kicked off her shoes and her bare feet slid up and down his calves before locking tightly around him. They gasped into each other’s mouths, desperate for breath, yet unwilling to stop the sensual caresses of their tongues. “Please,” she panted, tilting her head back. “I’m almost there, Cyril. Please don’t stop.” He licked her throat, then covered the side of her neck with his mouth and sucked. A sob of fulfillment escaped her lips and her cunt pulsed around his cock, shattering his control. His hips jerked spasmodically against hers, driving her up toward another orgasm before she’d completely finished her last.
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“Cyril!” she panted, gripping his head tightly. He was no longer connected to the real world, but soaring through a place where only lust existed. His body turned to flame and, with several more fast, hard thrusts, he exploded at nearly the same moment she came a second time. Never in his life had Cyril experienced such an intense climax. His head spun and every muscle tightened and burned. Finally he collapsed atop her, his body damp with sweat and his heart pounding. Slowly his pulse slowed and his senses returned to normal. He realized the magical effects of the incense had worn off and though his attraction to Cori hadn’t diminished, the desire to sate his lust was more manageable. He didn’t doubt she felt the same. Now they could take their time making love and, more important, learning about each other. Smiling, he opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her. Seeing the distraught expression on her face, his smile faded, his happiness replaced by a sinking feeling in his gut. The magical haze that had controlled Cori faded. Unimaginable lust turned to anger and guilt. She could see by the look in Cyril’s eyes that he knew her feelings had suddenly changed and it confused him. Her first impulse was to blame him for casting some sort of spell on her, childish as it might seem. There had to be a more logical explanation. Perhaps he’d drugged her with the aroma of his evil incense. After all, she didn’t know exactly what he’d put into it and she had inhaled the pungent smoke. In spite of all these possibilities, she knew in her heart he was no more to blame for what happened than she was. She had asked him to use his mystic power on her and she could no longer doubt it was real. Something told her that if they chose to deny their bond, they’d never be truly happy again. Yet succumbing to a relationship like this was pure insanity. It conflicted with her personal vows and beliefs. She had come to this house to straighten out her sister’s life, but ended up changing her own—and what if it wasn’t for the better? Just because making love with Cyril was the most wonderful experience she’d ever had didn’t mean they would be compatible in other ways. Soul mates or not, they were still too opposite to form any kind of normal relationship. A life partner should be selected carefully, with a getting-to-know-you period and discussion about— “What’s wrong?” he asked. “I can’t believe you and I just— This is completely unacceptable.” She reached for her clothes, but he took her hands. His warmth seeped into her. She still enjoyed his touch and part of her wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms while another part knew she should walk away and never look back. “I told you what could happen when you found your soul mate. I warned you.”
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“But you didn’t tell me it was your incense that matched mine.” She glared. “You should have.” “I know,” he admitted, sighing deeply. “I didn’t want to.” “Why?” He held her gaze, but refused to speak. Cori shook her head and tugged away from him. “The way we acted is not acceptable.” “To whom?” “To me!” “You couldn’t help it. Neither could I.” “Then you regret it too?” A hurt look flashed across his eyes. Completely unexpected, it touched her more than she believed possible. Just a few hours ago she’d loathed this man. Now she’d just made love with him and longed for more. “I don’t regret it,” he said, his calm tone at war with his fierce gaze. “You’re my soul mate, Cori, and I want to know you.” “Did we have to start by—” “Fucking like rabbits? Why is making love so distasteful to you?” “It’s not, if it’s done at the right time and in the right way.” She tried to pull on her sweater, but he jerked it from her grasp and tossed it aside. “Cori, listen to me. Even when we were making love I felt guilt in you, tainting the pleasure. Guilt over having fun.” “I don’t want to talk about this.” “Just help me understand why you held back part of yourself. Don’t try to deny it. I sensed what you felt. You wanted to let go completely, to fully enjoy what we were doing, but something held you back. Something very strong and very sad.” His words struck too close to home, threatening to uncover a hidden shame she couldn’t reveal. Not to him or to anyone. “You want to enjoy yourself, Cori. You want to let go.” “I can’t,” she whispered, tears springing into her eyes. “I need to leave.” “Please don’t.” He grasped her shoulders firmly, but tenderly. “Come upstairs with me and I can make you happy if you let me.” “I don’t want to be—” “Don’t want to be happy? There’s a battle raging inside you, Cori. I felt it and I can help.” “No one can help me.” “What are you afraid of?” “Not you,” she snapped. But she was afraid. Afraid of how much he made her feel.
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“Then come upstairs. I have an idea.” He stood, walked across the room and discarded the condom in a small black wastebasket. Cori pushed herself to her knees and watched him approach her. He paused, his tall, sinewy body looming over her, and extended his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she slipped hers into it and let him tug her to her feet. Her heart throbbed with anticipation. She should leave, but she didn’t want to. Already her clit tingled and cunt ached with the need to make love with him again. Hand in hand, they walked upstairs and he guided her to his bedroom. The spacious room had a fireplace and picture window overlooking the rose garden. An oversized bed covered in a black quilt stood against one wall, oak nightstands on either side of it. The only other furnishings were a simple oak dresser with a mirror above it and a dark green loveseat facing the hearth. Cori stared hungrily at Cyril’s sleek body as he walked to the dresser and lit several pillar candles atop it, then turned to the window and pulled the heavy black and green curtains. He strode to the closet and opened it, revealing a rack of black clothes, interspersed with an occasional white shirt. “You’re chained emotionally, Cori,” he said, searching through the closet and selecting several black ties. “You felt guilt about making love with such freedom and passion because in your mind you broke your own rules.” He shut the closet door and turned to her. Cori stared warily at the ties resting in his slim, pale hands. They were such graceful hands, but she’d felt the strength in them. “If you’re rendered physically powerless, you’ll be free of the emotional bonds that keep you from true happiness.” “What do you mean?” she demanded, not liking the turn this conversation had taken. “I mean,” he grasped her arms and forced them behind her back, “you need to be bound in order to be free.” “What the hell are you doing?” She struggled and kicked backward at him, but he dodged her feet and kept a firm hold on her arms. Cyril shoved her toward the bed and pushed her, stomach down, upon it. “Get your fucking hands off me!” she roared, overcome by terror. Whatever spell he had her under dissipated and fear for her life took over. He was a maniac! “I will if you want me to,” he said so close to her ear that his breath tickled her flesh. “Be still and listen.” He gripped her tighter. “You can give yourself over to me and I’ll free your spirit.” “Is that another of your psychic gifts?” she spat, her voice dripping sarcasm to cover her fear and arousal. His warm, naked body was so close to hers that she caught his delicious musky scent. Though tight, his grip didn’t hurt her and he’d even begun
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stroking her spine with a fingertip, sending little quivers of delight through her from head to toe. “I want to make you happy, Cori.” He took her earlobe between his teeth and nibbled, then licked it. “Give yourself over to me in body. Let me control your pleasure completely and there will be no guilt or anger. Everything we do will be by my command.” In spite of herself, she was thrilled by his suggestion. The idea of surrendering totally to this sexy, exotic man was something out of her darkest fantasies. Still, all her life she had fought for control. Could she give that up? Common sense told her to run, but desire overcame reason. “Do you want to tie me up?” she whispered, her cunt aching with need and her nipples stiff against the satiny comforter. “Yes. Tie you up and give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. You’ll be mine tonight, Cori, to do with as I please. Just give your permission and we can begin.” “And if I change my mind later?” “Then tell me and I’ll let you go, but I won’t make this offer again. This is a onetime opportunity, love.” Oh, he was smart. He knew if she thought this was a single shot, she’d be less apt to turn him down. After all, what was more enticing than something forbidden? “What’s it going to be?” He slid the tie around her wrists. “Should I tighten the hold or do you want to run?” Run, her conscience screamed. Surrender, cried her heart. “Well?” he demanded, more impatient this time. He continued holding her wrists with one hand while the other stroked her ass. He dipped a finger between the plump spheres and teased the delicate flesh, making her sphincter quiver and tighten as desire grew. “Yes,” she whispered, knowing she was being reckless, but she didn’t care. It was as if the tight coil of control she’d wound around her life had suddenly snapped. “What?” “Yes,” she said loudly, tremors coursing down her back. “Yes what?” “Yes, I want you to give me pleasure—to control me.” Her heart throbbed wildly in her chest. A sinister chuckle erupted from his throat and she felt the silk tie tighten around her wrists. Using the other ties, he bound her ankles to the posts at the foot of the bed and blindfolded her, leaving her in utter darkness. Cori lay bound and trembling on her stomach, waiting for him to unleash her soul.
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Though she couldn’t see, she felt Cyril’s gaze burning into her. She could picture the glow of desire in his dark eyes and the tenseness in his hawkish face. She jumped a bit when his fingertips caressed her back, then trailed over her bound hands. Her fingers reached for his and he returned their caress, then grasped her ass. Cori closed her eyes beneath the blindfold and told herself she’d only accepted this challenge out of curiosity. Simply being tied up couldn’t possibly free her from a lifetime of restraint. “Relax,” he ordered, caressing her bottom in soothing, circular motions. “Don’t fight this, Cori. I’ll know if you are and consider our session over. It would be a shame when there’s so much more to come.” “And if I’ve had enough?” “Remember, as long as I’m touching you, I know what you’re feeling. I promise I won’t do anything you can’t handle.” She began to dislike having an empathic partner, though she grudgingly admitted it felt good being with someone who knew her so intimately. All her secret fears and desires cried out to him, and while this frustrated and even frightened her, she knew in her heart no one could make her feel like Cyril. Even if she ended this now and walked away, he was part of her. No amount of denial and selfcontrol would drive him from her heart. At that moment, she realized he was in control after all, and for the first time, she truly relaxed. He swore to pleasure her and there was nothing she could do about it. One way or the other, she would always return to him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that meant he was also bound to her, but she’d deal with that later. At the moment, rational thought raced from her mind because he began covering her ass with nipping kisses and warm, wet strokes of his tongue. He licked and kissed the back of one thigh, then the other. Cori writhed with delight when he lapped the backs of her knees, the sensation both ticklish and arousing. The bed lurched slightly as he stood. “Where are you going?” she asked. “Not far,” he replied in that deep, soft voice that made her belly tighten. She doubted she’d ever grow tired of hearing that voice. It made her feel calm and protected, yet aroused. She heard drawers open and close, then silence. Cyril rejoined her on the bed and she caught the subtle aroma of flowers. His hands, slick with massage oil, kneaded first one leg, then the other from ankle to thigh. Moaning softly, she relaxed even more. When she was nearly asleep beneath the soothing massage, she felt the oddest sensation of a strip of thin plastic wrap across her buttocks. Separated only by that slim barrier, his tongue thrust between her ass cheeks, the tip of it prodding her throbbing sphincter.
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“Cyril, what are you—this isn’t right!” She tried to buck him off, but couldn’t while tied to the bedposts. “You’re under my control, Cori. Right now I want your ass.” “But—” Again his tongue prodded the tight ring of muscle. The very tip of it tickled and thrust, rolling over the puckering flesh and sending wild thrills of desire tearing through her.
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Chapter Four Not even in Cori’s craziest fantasies had anyone played with her ass. To a woman who had done her best to live a conventional life, ass play was considered taboo. Here with Cyril, she started to realize few things were taboo and a whole other world existed beyond the one she’d so carefully built for herself. Cori’s hips ground against the mattress, the friction stimulating her clit until Cyril’s hand slid beneath her and found the soft, aching nub. He rubbed and teased her clit, his fingers keeping time with his tongue thrusting into her ass. Cori exploded in an orgasm that nearly hurled her into unconsciousness. She probably drifted off for a short time, because the next thing she knew, Cyril released her wrists and ankles and rolled her onto her back where he retied her bonds. This time he bound her spread-eagle with her wrists and ankles fastened to all four bedposts. He kissed her right palm, then nibbled his way down her arm. Using his teeth very gently, he nipped her breasts, never enough to hurt, but just sharp enough for her to feel the cool hardness of his teeth on her flesh. Reaching her nipple, he took it between his teeth. He tugged upon it, then soothed it with his tongue. Cori moaned and arched her back as far as her bonds allowed. Now that she’d surrendered to him completely, all her guilt and inhibitions faded and she relished the sensations flooding her body. Cyril seemed to know exactly what she wanted, just where to touch her and how much pressure to use. He sucked her nipple hard, bordering on painful, driving her to her limits without pushing her over. When she couldn’t endure another moment of his mouth on her stiff, tingling nipple, he moved to her other one. His hand dipped between her legs and his thumb stroked over her clit. He slid first one, then two fingers into her lust-drenched cunt and explored, stroking the soft flesh of her grotto while at the same time rubbing her clit. “Oh yes,” she murmured, squirming with pleasure. “That’s right, love. Don’t hold anything back. Just feel.” He slid down her body, pressing damp, tender kisses over her belly before rolling his tongue over her clit. It trailed lower and he thrust it past her pussy lips. Cyril fucked her with his tongue, flicking it over her ultra-sensitive flesh and thrusting in and out of her. “Stop moving,” he ordered. “I…I’m not sure I can.”
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“Listen to me.” He placed a hand on her belly and rubbed gently, stirring her desire even more. She writhed and moaned, lost in sensation. “Stop moving, Cori. Make every muscle as tight as possible.” She did as he asked, tensing her entire body. Her fists clenched and her toes curled as the silk ties snaked tightly around her wrists and ankles. “More,” he commanded. She tightened her muscles until they quivered and burned. Pre-orgasmic thrills crashed over her and she momentarily forgot to breathe. Her heart pounded and she knew that in this state she couldn’t bear another touch of his hands or lips without shattering. Cyril’s tongue flicked over her clit again and again. “Don’t relax,” he ordered between laps. “Keep tightening.” “Oh fuck. I can’t,” she panted hard, almost sobbing against the pleasure. Her clit and pussy buzzed, her entire lower half encompassed in an almost unendurable state of pleasure-pain. “Oh Cyril, I can’t. I can’t…” Sweat broke out on her entire body and her face and neck turned to flame. His fingers thrust into her soaked, quivering cunt and his tongue seemed to vibrate over her clit. The orgasm struck her so hard she actually screamed. Crashing waves of ecstasy stole her breath. Bound and writhing in Cyril’s bed, she’d never felt so free in her life. It was like soaring, only better. This time she did lose consciousness briefly. When she awoke, her arms and legs were free, but the blindfold still covered her eyes. “Cyril?” she murmured. “I’m here, love.” He tugged her against him and kissed the back of her neck. “That was better, wasn’t it?” “Yes. It was great, actually.” “Recovered enough for more?” “I think so.” She still felt pleasantly sleepy and a bit sore, but the thought of being touched by him again lit a spark of desire deep in her belly. “Good.” He ran a hand down her side to her buttocks and squeezed one of the fleshy globes. “Get on your hands and knees.” This time she didn’t hesitate before obeying him. She moved to the desired position, her hands gripping the bedcovers and her ass thrust toward him. She waited eagerly for him to continue their carnal game. “Right now all that matters is sensation, Cori,” he said, stroking her back and reaching around to gently pinch her nipples to stiff, needy peaks. He kissed her buttocks and she felt something slick and warm drizzle between the crevice. Cyril
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rubbed lube over her sphincter. First one finger pushed past the ring of muscle, then two, then three. Cori moaned and squirmed, adjusting to the strange sensations. Slowly his stroking rekindled her passion. Her ass tightened around his fingers and she found herself longing for something even harder and thicker to fill her. “Do you want my ass?” she breathed. “Is that what this is leading to?” “Clever, lustful girl,” he said and she heard the smile in his voice. “Do you want me to take it?” “Yes. Oh yes, Cyril.” His fingers slipped from her bottom and he grasped her hips firmly. The tip of his cock pushed against her tight ring of muscle. Slowly, tenderly, he filled her well-lubed ass. Cori clutched the mattress, her breath coming in short pants. The sensations were indescribable—like swimming in a pool of water almost too hot for comfort, painful, yet at the same time irresistibly pleasurable. Part of her wanted to escape while another part wanted to feel the sensations that nearly overwhelmed her. He thrust slowly, giving her time to adjust to the sensations. One of his hands moved from her hip to trail up and down her spine. Then he reached around and rolled his thumb over her clit in time with the rhythmic shifting of his hips. The orgasm built slowly inside her and Cori marveled at his perfect control. His motions never sped up or became too hard. He waited until she teetered on the edge before driving faster. By then she was too far gone to care. His fingers danced over her clit and she came, moaning and bucking against him. Cyril grunted with pleasure, pumping several more times before his entire body stiffened and he came hard, his fingers gripping her hips tightly. He withdrew from her, leaving her ass tingling and pulsing along with her pussy. Cori dropped onto her stomach, trembling in the aftermath of exquisite pleasure. He lay beside her, his head resting against her back and his hand on her thigh. She loved the heat and dampness of their bodies pressed close together. After a moment, he began languidly stroking her leg. He unfastened her blindfold and discarded the black silk tie. Cori opened her eyes and blinked in the candlelight after spending so long in utter darkness. A warmth encompassed her and she realized there was nowhere else she’d rather be than here with him. Then guilt crept back and she almost wished for the bonds again to drive it away. Her thoughts were interrupted as Cyril stood and walked to the bathroom. She admired the way the candlelight flickered across his pale, sinewy body and gleamed on his ink-black hair. Random tendrils clung to his sweaty shoulders and neck, a sexy primal look she loved.
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Through the open door, she watched him discard the condom in a wastebasket and wash his hands. He returned to bed and drew her into his arms. Sighing with contentment, Cori snuggled against him, stroking his chest. She watched the dark, curly hairs grab at her fingers, then she moaned contentedly and leaned forward to kiss one of his flat, pink nipples. “Thank you for tonight,” she said, feeling strange now that they’d stopped making love and were back to normal conversation. They still had so much to learn about each other. He chuckled softly and kissed her forehead. “The pleasure was entirely mine.” Furrowing her brow, she gazed at him in disbelief. “We really are soul mates.” “Yes, we are.” “And I thought you were a fraud.” “It’s easy to think that. Lots of people claim to have psychic powers and they’re full of it. Plus, my particular power isn’t very common.” “I’ve never heard of it before,” she said. Thinking about his abilities, the businesswoman in her took over. “You know, I’m surprised you haven’t exploited it more. Gone national. I bet you could make a lot of—” “There’s more to life than making money. In truth, I charge people just enough to cover the ingredients used for the incense. I make my living off the shop, massage and aromatherapy. Toying with soul mates strictly for personal gain is…unethical.” He was right. Was her life so rigid, had she become so cynical that she’d automatically assumed everyone had an angle? She lifted an eyebrow. “You’re not what I expected.” “And you’re more than you seem.” He caressed her face. “I’d like to know the reason for the sadness and frustration in you, Cori. Please tell me.” She lowered her gaze. “I’m not sure I want to talk about this. I’d rather hear more about you. Did you always have your powers or did they suddenly appear one day?” A smile flickered across his lips. “I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine.” Sighing, she shook her head. “Forget it.” After a moment, he said, “I’ve been empathic for as long as I can remember. I’ve probably always been able to match soul mates, however, I didn’t learn how to master the power until I was about fourteen. My mother had the same gift, as did her mother. It’s rather like a family trait.” “You’re not from around here. I can tell by your accent.” A hint of amusement glistened in his dark eyes. “Keen observation.” “Wiseass,” she scolded, but placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. “What made you move here, Cyril?” “I spent most of my life like a nomad, traveling from place to place. Searching.” “Searching for what?”
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His gaze met hers with openness she’d never expected to see in him. “For you, Cori. I told myself I moved around because I wanted to explore, but the truth is I’ve been looking for my soul mate for sixteen years.” “Sixteen years?” She curled her lip. “To be honest, I’d lost hope. When I moved here, I intended to settle. There was no point in looking for something I’d probably never find. I had no idea this really was where I was meant to be.” “Cyril, when I said I hated you earlier…I didn’t mean it. I’m not saying that because we just…” “Fucked like rabbits?” He grinned. “I’m serious. What you stand for scares me. I hate admitting that. I’ve never been scared of anything.” “Everybody is scared of something. What is it about me that frightens you? Is it the strange house and black clothes after all? Or is it the psychic powers? I know all those things spook some people—” She smiled and ran a hand through his ink-black hair. “It’s the idea of a spirit world existing, even though I’ve always hoped—” She shook her head. “I think it’s because when I’m with you, I’m not in control of my feelings. That’s what scares me most, even though it tempts me too. When you took control of me, for the first time in a long time I felt relief. It was…indescribable.” “Deep inside you hate restrictions, Cori, yet you believe you must always be in control. I feel that in you very strongly. Why?” “I don’t know.” She sighed, a heaviness settling in her stomach. “I’ve had to be in control. My parents died when I was nineteen and left me to raise Lana. She was ten at the time.” “That’s a big responsibility. You were still young yourself.” “I wanted her to have the same advantages they gave me. She deserved that. I was in college at the time and working part-time in my parents’ sweet shop. When they died, I took time off from school to keep the business running and see that Lana was taken care of. I owed her that much.” “And what about yourself?” He stroked her hair and tried to meet her gaze, but she averted her eyes. Gently cupping her chin, he tilted her face toward his. “Did you ever have the chance to finish your degree?” “Yes. Eventually. I did pretty well. Now I own three shops.” Speaking of her success, Cori grew more confident. Business she could deal with. Personal issues turned her to jelly. “Lana was able to go right to college with no worries about money. She met this terrific young lawyer and they were such a great couple.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “There I go again. I have to stop treating her like a child. Obviously the lawyer wasn’t for her after all. If the pull between Lana and Brian is like what I feel for you, then maybe they do belong together.”
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“Is Brian really so bad? When I met him, I sensed he’s hardworking, sincere and generous. A little on the dull side perhaps, but Lana is a bit of a free spirit. They’ll balance each other well.” “Is that what we do?” She smiled and kissed his lips. “Balance each other?” “Could be. The question is, do I fit into your life, Cori?” “Because I look like a banker and you look like Dracula?” “Excuse me?” “Don’t worry. I’ve always thought vampires are sexy.” “You?” He feigned shock. “I can’t believe it.” “It’s true. I guess they’re a guilty pleasure. Most pleasures are guilty though, aren’t they?” she whispered, sad again. “Cori, what’s with the guilt? I can feel it in you. Strangling you. What’s it from?” “You know, being with an empathic man is damn annoying.” She pushed away from him and shot him an irritated look. “Can’t you control yourself?” “I can, but I don’t want to at the moment.” He turned onto his side and raised himself on his elbow, his calm, dark eyes upon her. “I want to know you. Please talk to me. You can trust me.” She’d learned to trust few people, to depend solely on herself. Yet for some reason she wanted to lean on this man to whom she was so inexplicably drawn. She remained silent, struggling to decide whether or not she should open up to him. Her soul mate. Cyril remained quiet and patient, waiting for her to begin. “It was my nineteenth birthday,” she began. “My parents wanted to give me something I’d really enjoy. I always loved the ocean, so I asked for a day trip for the family. We used to do that a lot when I was a kid. A storm came up fast. The boat went down. Lana and I made it, but our parents didn’t.” Cori closed her eyes for a moment, fighting off emotions as strong as when the tragedy first struck. “Damn it. Why couldn’t I have asked for something normal, like a cake?” “It’s not your fault there was an accident,” he said. “If I hadn’t asked for the trip, we’d have been safe at home when the storm came up.” “How do you know it wasn’t their time to go and if it wasn’t a boating accident, it might have been a car accident?” “I know you’re trying to make me feel better, Cyril, but I’ve already come to terms with it. I can’t expect you to possibly understand what it’s like to have someone’s death on your conscience.” “You don’t have to make me understand. I already know. And what happened with me wasn’t an accident and it could have been prevented.” Curiosity overcame her grief. “What happened?”
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“It was long ago,” he said and tugged her closer to his side. His fingertips stroked her bare shoulder as he stared into space, his face pale. “I was unpopular at school and spent as much time as possible alone. At fourteen I had one friend. A boy similar to me in many ways. Dennis wasn’t one to follow the crowd, so we spent a lot of time alone together. It was rumored we were lovers, but that wasn’t true. We both liked girls too much, except they didn’t care for us.” Cori smiled gently and kissed his cheek. “Stupid girls.” “I’d just begun to master my powers with the incense and was helping my mother match couples. Dennis asked me to find his soul mate. I agreed, but told him that unless his match was among those who came to us, it wouldn’t happen. Unfortunately, Dennis’ jar did match that of a particular young woman in my mother’s collection.” “What happened?” “She killed him.” For a moment, Cori could do nothing but stare. His dark gaze turned to her with such guilt and sorrow that she forget her own. “Why did she kill her soul mate?” “Because she was crazy. Simple as that. Finding a match doesn’t change a person’s core. Do you think violent people don’t have soul mates? I learned in the worst possible way that my power must be used with caution. That’s why I need to learn about people before I make their incense. I need to know I’m not placing others in danger. Sometimes we’re actually better off without our soul mates, Cori. Many have entered loving relationships with people to whom they’re not spiritually bound. And who knows? Maybe forming new relationships are what makes a soul mate in one’s next life.” “Next life.” She sighed. “I’ve spent years just trying to get through this one. Up until now I thought I’d never truly be happy.” “You’re happy with our situation, then?” He looked uncharacteristically eager. “Yes. Very happy.” She embraced him tightly, then shifted just enough to meet his gaze. “Cyril, you didn’t kill Dennis, just like I didn’t kill my parents.” “I wasn’t careful enough with my gift.” “You were very young, and wasn’t your mother the one who made the incense for the murderer, not you?” “That’s not an excuse.” “No, but for that one terrible mistake, how many other couples have you made happy? You deserve to be happy too. Maybe we both do and that’s why we were brought together.” Caressing her face, he said, “We have a long way to go, don’t we?” “Yes. But I think we’re off to a good start.” He smiled and kissed her, his tongue gently stroking hers. When the kiss broke, he ran the pad of his thumb across her lips, but before he could kiss her again, she rolled away and reached for the phone. 124
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“What are you doing?” he asked. “Calling Lana to tell her the incense works.” Cyril tugged the covers off her and ran a warm hand down her back. He cupped her bottom and kneaded, thrusting his finger against her sphincter. Gasping with pleasure, Cori hung up the phone, “I think I’ll call her later.” “Much later.” Cyril flipped her onto her back and filled her pussy with a long, slow thrust of his cock. Her eyes closed and body aflame, Cori locked her arms and legs around him, clinging with unrestrained passion to the man she loved.
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MAKING THE MADAM Delilah Devlin
Making the Madam
Chapter One Merry Winslow balled her hands into fists and stomped down the dusty planked sidewalk, forgetting every lesson in decorum she’d ever learned at Miss Peabody’s Finishing School or in Homer Winslow’s parlor. Her aunt’s attorney had taken one look at her black widow’s weeds and decided, without ever taking her true measure, she was completely unsuited to the rough life in Cranston, Colorado. She’d noted his slow perusal of her beaded lace veil, the gold watch pinned to her bosom, the sheen of her fine bombazine dress and polished leather half boots—and the odious man immediately dismissed her as unworthy. How could he have decided within two minutes of their meeting when her own husband hadn’t known until his mother pointed out all her faults? Her posture was straight, her clothing immaculate. Had she somehow given him a clue of her unruly, impulsive nature? When Mr. Regis’ gaze returned to her obscured face, a small obsequious smile curved beneath his thick reddish-brown moustache. Before he even opened his mouth, Merry sucked in a deep breath, counting slowly, reaching into the verbal pit of venom Mother Winslow bequeathed her. However, she couldn’t think of a single caustic setdown to put the man in his place. Instead, she’d listened in silence like she always had to Constance Winslow. As the lawyer counted off all the reasons she ought to take one of the offers he presented, her face heated with outrage until, at last, her lamentable temper claimed her tongue. What followed hadn’t been pretty. Mr. Regis staggered back into his creaking wooden chair, gaping as she towered over him and unleashed her fury. Her anger blazed hot and quick and left her feeling strangely cleansed of self-doubt and guilt. Before this journey, she’d sold all her husband’s possessions and her motherin-law’s family heirlooms—had even given away their photographs as a means of purging their disappointment from her life. Yet she hadn’t felt truly free until this moment. Poor Mr. Regis received the brunt of her pent-up rage. His mouth opened and closed as he sputtered, his eyes bulging. His expression reminded her of the little black fish she’d kept in a bowl on a table in her parlor. The only pet she’d been allowed to keep. The attorney had been so shocked he hadn’t stirred at first when she turned on her heel, flung open his office door and headed south along the street, determined to see the property he’d tried so hard to “protect” her from. 127
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He caught up to her just as she passed the sheriff’s office. “Miz Winslow, I assure you, the offers are fair,” he said, huffing as he skipped alongside her. “There’s no need to—” “How dare you think me incapable of running my aunt’s emporium,” she bit out, keeping her voice low and heated. “Just because I’ve never worked outside my home doesn’t mean I can’t measure a pound of flour or a length of gingham.” “There might have been a detail or two I left out of my explanations, ma’am,” he said. “Things I didn’t think a woman of your tender nature—” She gave him a blistering glare and continued on her way, for once not paying the slightest attention to the people lining up behind the glass of the barber’s shop to gawk as she clomped past with Mr. Regis scurrying beside her. At last, she caught a glimpse of a sign hung from the peaked roof of a rough wooden building—“Millie’s Emporium”—her inheritance from the aunt who’d generously provided for her education after her parents’ death. An aunt she’d never met or heard of until they’d passed. She stared at the double swinging doors. “Now how am I going to lock those? Am I expected to keep this establishment open all hours of the day and night?” The interior beyond the top of the doors was too dim for her to see inside after the bright sunshine. With a quick move, she lifted her veil and paused to let her eyes adjust. Fingers curled around her upper arm, but she shook them off. “Really, Mr. Regis, is this my property or not?” His sickly smile gave her a first flicker of unease. Then sounds, muffled shouts and sharp cushioned explosions sounding rather like fists pounding bread dough could be heard from inside the emporium. Again, the lawyer reached out to pull her back. She shot him another glare, and then from the corner of her eye saw something large hurtle through the swinging doors to crash at her feet. “My word,” she murmured, peering down at the person who’d landed in a sprawl in front of her new establishment. Before she could step back, a burly man wearing a towel tucked into his belt swung open one side of the doors and tossed a hat onto the man’s broad chest. Merry paused to stare down, her gaze taking in the homespun shirt washed to the color of mud, worn trousers and scuffed boots. Had he filched jerky from the counter or insulted another patron? Without giving her so much as a nod, the man rose on his elbows. “Dammit, Jake,” he bellowed, “I didn’t even get a chance to finish my drink.” Her fascinated gaze swept the length of him, the dark hair that brushed his shoulders in ragged, curling waves, the tanned skin and harsh angles of his heavy brow and chin. A handsome man, no doubt, when he wasn’t dusting off a floor, but that wasn’t what made her stiffen, drawing her spine straight and her chin high.
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Even from the ground she could smell the whiskey emanating from him. She cast Mr. Regis another withering glance, saw him wilting against the hitching post and turned to the doors, giving the burly man with the stained towel a look that had him quickly backing into the dark interior. Merry pushed through the doors, never so satisfied when she heard the dull thud and coarse curse that sounded from the man on the ground behind her. She swept into her “emporium”, took in the long oaken bar with the array of liquor bottles stocked in the cupboards behind it, the numerous tables filled with men drinking from mismatched glasses—then raised her gaze to the sturdy set of stairs that rose to the second floor. Shock took away her breath. Women wearing corsets without a single shirt to hide their undergarments or their creamy bosoms leaned over the balustrade to gape down at her. All conversation halted as everyone turned toward her. “Miz Winslow, come away from here,” Mr. Regis pleaded beside her. “I own a saloon?” she asked in a soft voice. “Yes, ma’am. D-didn’t quite know how to tell ya,” he stammered. “The women…?” “Work above stairs. Now you understand why I tried to spare you.” “I own a saloon?” she repeated stupidly, not quite taking it all in. “Yes, ma’am.” He drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped sweat from the top of his balding head. “Now I know how this looks…” “My aunt paid for my tuition, paid for my trousseau when I married, even offered a bit of dowry…” “Miss Millie made a tidy sum from this place.” He cleared his throat. “Everyone in the territory knows about it. Yes, ma’am, she could afford to send you money.” “I won’t be doling out licorice to children or chatting with the women when they bring their eggs to sell…” Merry swallowed hard. “No, ma’am. Fact is, no decent woman around here will have a thing to do with you—you being the niece of Millicent Hannigan.” Merry drew a deep breath. “She’s that reviled?” “I’d prefer to say notorious. She may have owned a whorehouse, but she was good woman.” “She’s notorious because of the saloon?” “No, because of what happens above the saloon. Now why don’t you come along back to my office and let me draw up those papers.” Merry listened as he cajoled, but all the while her gaze flitted about her house of ill repute, wondering at the wickedness that must occur within its walls. The room seemed to grow quieter around her, the air thickened. She placed her hand against her 129
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tightening belly as her imagination painted lurid pictures of the nature of the wickedness that took place in the darkened rooms above the noisy saloon. Only a woman of the lowest sort would even contemplate… A slight, mewling groan passed her lips, because she was seriously considering the ramifications of owning such a place. Her reputation would be forever besmirched— beyond any hope of redemption. She’d be utterly ruined— —and completely free. Merry drew a deep breath, filling her nostrils with the sour aromas of whiskey, spilled beer and stale sweat, and immediately felt giddy. All the resentment built up inside her over the years as she’d tried her best to please her teacher and her husband’s mother suddenly floated away. “Mr. Regis, I won’t be selling this place,” she said softly. “You won’t?” he asked, his eyes bugging. “You’re not one of them temperance women, are you? You’re not gonna burn the place down?” “Of course not,” she said, with a breathless laugh. “My livelihood resides with these walls. Problem is, sir, I’m ill-equipped to take on such a responsibility all by myself.” Relief poured off him, easing his tense features. He squared his shoulders. “You’ll be needing a manager, then. Someone to run the place for you. You needn’t ever worry your little head—” “I’m thinking I need a teacher,” she broke in. “Someone who can show me every aspect of this business.” Her mind made up, she gave the sweating man a direct look, the one Mother Winslow would have used on the coal man had she thought for a second he cheated her. “Those men—the ones who offered to buy my saloon—do you think any of them would be willing? For a price?” The solicitor’s eyes widened. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. This isn’t Philadelphia. Working close to a man, day and night, when good women are scarce… Well, I wouldn’t recommend it.” She arched one eyebrow. “I’m not asking for your advice. I’ve decided to stay and take the reins here.” “But this is a rough town, and this place…um, it’s not fitting for a lady. In fact, I’m sure you don’t really understand what you’re asking.” “I assure you I have an inkling,” she said, filling her voice with the same crisp starch she’d given him in his office. “If I’m going to run the most notorious place in the territory, I have a lot to learn.” She narrowed her gaze. “Give me a name, Regis. Arrange a meeting.” He opened his mouth as if to argue more, but she lifted her chin, firming her lips. He shook his head slowly, but finally looked at her—at her—instead of her clothing or her gender. For the first time, his expression held not a single note of condescension. “Arrange a meeting,” she repeated firmly.
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A slow grin stretched his broad moustache. “Well, fact is, ma’am, you just met one of ‘em. You stepped right over him coming in the door.”
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Chapter Two The room was barely larger than a cupboard, the air inside stifling, or maybe it was just the woman sucking all the wind from his lungs. Nathan Boone stood so close her skirts billowed around his legs, dragging against his calves. Her sweet, flowery scent filled the small, cramped space, drawing him like a bee to honeysuckle blooms. In the flickering candlelight, her plump lips glistened with moisture beneath the edge of her lacy veil as though she’d just licked them. “Did Mr. Regis tell you what I want?” she whispered. “He did,” he replied just as softly, trying his damnedest not to growl like a hungry bear too near a tempting honeycomb. Calvin Regis had caught up with him at the hotel, just after he’d dunked his head in a basin of cool water. Once he’d explained what Merry Winslow wanted, Nathan had been tempted to tell them both to go to Hell. However, the fact she wanted him even after the first impression he’d made had him curious about the woman who thought she could fill Millie Hannigan’s shoes. So, he’d washed up, changed his clothes and presented himself at Merry’s office door. He hadn’t expected her to agree so readily to his suggestion about where they should start her education—perhaps she’d been unnerved admitting a man into a room that served as both her office and her bedroom. “He told me you’d never accept my offer,” Merry Winslow said, “that you don’t need my money.” “That’s the truth. I made a small fortune selling my claim to the Brewster Mining Company—and I haven’t accepted your offer yet.” “He also said you’ve been spending your money freely in my saloon since the day you proved up your claim.” “Isn’t much else to do around here,” he said, not feeling the least bit guilty about the lie. “As soon as you agree to sell it to me, I intend to invest in this establishment.” Her lips crimped. “Are you going to use our time together to remind me endlessly of all the reasons why I’m not suited for this business?” Her irritation amused him. Maybe there was more of Millie in the niece than she knew. The thought made his chest ache. “I won’t waste my time talking to you, Miz Winslow,” he drawled. No, he had other plans for her. The way she’d made Calvin shake in his boots and the straightness of her spine affected Nathan in a most peculiar way. His whole body felt enflamed each time her sharp-edged tongue cut him. He wanted to know whether it would soften when stroked by his.
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“Still, you haven’t accepted my offer,” she reminded him. “And you haven’t heard my counteroffer yet.” Her breath huffed out and her small round chin lifted. “Is there a reason you insisted on negotiating inside a closet? And why we’re whispering?” “Well, ma’am, this isn’t exactly a closet. I have something to show you. Although, I’m wondering why you agreed to meet me here…in the dark.” “Not something a proper widow woman would do, is it?” she said, with a hint of defiance, her lips pouting slightly. His gaze remained on those lush full lips. “Not that I have a lot of experience with your brand of womanhood, but it does strike me odd.” “You challenged me.” Her shrug lifted narrow, straight shoulders. “Maybe you thought I didn’t have the courage.” His gaze came back up to her face. “I hoped you would.” Nathan wished he could see through the damn veil. Her eyes would tell him exactly what she was thinking— although her lips and posture had already told him an awful lot about the woman who’d caught his attention with her breathless “My word” when he landed at her feet earlier that day. At the time, her words and the tilt of her head had betrayed a tantalizing curiosity rather than shock. Her reaction had stirred an attraction he hadn’t been able to shake. “So what’s your counter to my offer, Mr. Boone?” Her prim words seemed at odds with the deepening slide of her voice. A smile tugged the corners of his mouth upward when he realized his enjoyment of their conversation wasn’t one-sided. “I’ll teach you what you need to know about this business, but only if you agree to follow my instruction, without hesitation.” “And if I balk?” “Then you have to agree to sell me this fine establishment for the price I’ve already offered.” Her soft, feminine snort pleased him. “You think I’m naïve—that I don’t know what happens in the rooms up here.” “If I’m wrong, then you’ve lost nothing.” He held his breath, giving her time to chew on his words. Once she said yes, he wouldn’t let her back down, because now the saloon wasn’t the only prize he sought. Another more satisfying challenge presented itself. One he never would have imagined from Millie’s descriptions of the woman she’d known only through her correspondence. Merry Winslow’s lips pursed as she considered his challenge. He wondered if she knew the invitation her lush pout issued. Finally, she took a deep breath that lifted her gently rounded bosom and raised her gloved hand. “I agree to your terms, sir.”
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Pure animal heat surged through Nathan at the sight of the slender hand waiting for his to enclose it. His mind leapt ahead, thinking of another pleasurable grasp he longed to accept. Then he remembered the calluses on his palm and hesitated, not wanting to snag the delicate fabric of her gloves. Instead of sliding his hand alongside her fine glove, he fingered open the button at her wrist and tugged it off. Merry Winslow’s chest rose on a sharp gasp, but she didn’t pull away her hand. She allowed him to carry it to his mouth. Nathan had never kissed a woman’s hand before, would have laughed if he’d seen another man do it, but her scent and the smooth-as-cream feel of her soft skin had him pressing his lips to her knuckles. He couldn’t help sliding his tongue along the little bumps just to get a taste. “Mr. Boone!” “Nathan,” he whispered, letting go, “and keep your voice down. The show’s starting. Turn around and get rid of that veil. You need to see this.” She hesitated, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Gonna let me win this bet so soon?” Another soft snort and she reached up to lift her veil, giving him the first full glimpse of her face. Merry Winslow’s wide eyes were a dreamy blue, like a summer sky in the high country. Spaced wide and fringed with gold-tipped brown lashes, they blinked up at him. A faint flush of pink painted her cheeks a rosy color any of the working girls would have admired. A rather square, short nose didn’t detract from a face he’d call pretty rather than flashy. He cleared his throat, trying to get back to the “business” at hand. “Turn around and have a look.” “I’ve seen the wall.” “Let me surprise you.” Her glance swept down his body—so quickly, he thought he might have imagined it. Then she turned slowly in the cramped space, her hip grazing his groin before she’d made the full circle. She ignored his indrawn breath and kept her gaze on the wall in front of her. Wondering whether her touch had been deliberate, he reached over her shoulder and slid up a little wooden circle nailed to the wall to reveal the peephole. Merry leaned toward the wall, peering through, and inhaled sharply. “I’ll douse the candle so you can see better,” he said, his awareness of her deepening scent and soft, shallow breaths increasing as darkness enfolded them both, with only the light from the bedroom beyond their niche to illuminate Merry’s features.
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Exposing a second hole, he bent closer to her shoulder to look into Daisy’s bedroom. “Must you stand so close?” Merry whispered. Nathan grinned. “How will I explain what you see if I don’t watch too?” He couldn’t quite catch her softly muttered retort, but grinned as she fidgeted against him. Then she grew silent except for her shortening breaths as she watched. Daisy lay sideways on her bed dressed only in white drawers that reached below her knees and a corset cinched tightly over a short chemise. Her legs draped over the edge of the bed as a brawny miner leaned over her, kissing her naked breasts above the edge of the corset he’d worked beneath them. The man still wore all his clothes. Daisy held his head between her hands and guided him from one nipple to the other, her eyes closed tight, a throaty groan erupting from her open mouth. Daisy was typical of the women Millie had chosen from the many applicants who applied to the emporium—a buxom blonde with a girlish voice that lulled a man into thinking he led the dance. Nathan had chosen Daisy’s room because the woman had the knack of seeking her own pleasure with her customers. Soon enough, Merry would figure out that not all the women were as aggressive or adept. Tonight, Daisy served his purpose as Merry Winslow’s wide, unblinking stare took in every detail of the nasty nature of the woman’s profession. The miner lifted his head and grinned at Daisy, who rose on her elbows and lifted her eyebrows in a brazen challenge. The man backed away and nearly busted every button on his shirt as he pulled it off and opened his pants. When he approached the bed again, Daisy held up her hand to warn him away and slipped off the bed. She approached him, her shoulders back, her nipples winking above her corset. As she neared him, swaying her hips, she scraped a fingernail along his naked arm, then his back and walked in a slow circle around him. The miner reached inside his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it up and down. As she came around in front of him again, Daisy sank to her knees, her eyes widening and her hands cupping her cheeks in mock surprise. “Oh my, Johnny! I missed dinner tonight and thought I’d starve.” “Daisy, you can take a lick or two of this sweet thing,” Johnny said, his voice deepening beneath her praise. Nathan judged the other man’s cock about average length, but the fuss Daisy made had him almost believing she’d never seen anything quite so satisfying in her life. Nathan laughed softly and turned to Merry. Her curious gaze watched every practiced lick of Daisy’s tongue as the other woman trailed down the length of Johnny’s cock and back up the sensitive top. Johnny groaned like a wounded bear when Daisy opened her mouth and swallowed him whole.
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Merry emitted a sharp gasp and lowered her lids. “Does Daisy know?” “That we’re watching? Yes, ma’am. Matter of fact, she likes it.” Watching her tense profile, he could tell she didn’t quite believe him. “Show’s not over,” he reminded her. Merry drew in a shaky breath and took another peek inside. “Does Johnny know?” Johnny pumped his hips, sliding his cock in and out of Daisy’s noisily slurping mouth. “Probably not. Only the women and few special customers are even aware these closets exist. Miss Millie liked to use them to make sure the girls were treated well.” “Do those special customers pay to watch?” “More than what Johnny’s paying for Daisy to suck him.” “Mr. Boone!” “Sorry if that sounded coarse, but you’re going to hear much worse—if you stay.” “I suppose you’re right. I’ll accustom myself, over time—my word!” Johnny’s head snapped back and he gave a low roar as he shot seed all over Daisy’s pretty upturned face. Daisy made a great show of licking her lips, trying to capture all the creamy lather, but Nathan couldn’t take his eyes off Merry’s trembling lips. “She likes that? To be used that way?” Merry slipped a finger beneath the collar of her dress as though it was suddenly too tight. “She likes the cash, but watch. Daisy always takes her pleasure too.” Daisy stood in front of Johnny and shimmied out of her drawers, then reached into her dresser and pulled out a long, glass phallus. This wasn’t part of Daisy’s usual repertoire, but something Nathan had arranged— special for the new owner of the Emporium. The urge to watch Daisy as she lay on the mattress and spread her pale thighs wasn’t nearly as strong as his desire to watch the expressions crossing Merry’s face. Her mouth gaped and her eyes grew round. Nathan felt his own desire rise, crowding against the placket of his trousers. Although a widow, Merry seemed an innocent, something he’d never experienced. Seducing one now was a tantalizing prospect. “Johnny,” Daisy said, reaching for his hand and bringing it between her legs to wrap around the clear glass cock. “Fuck me like it’s your big cock.” She spread the plump outer lips of her sex and pushed the glass cock inside, sliding it in and out, showing Johnny just how to twist it and how deep she liked it. Merry’s tongue swept out to glide in a circle around her mouth, her breaths grew ragged. “That’s for her pleasure?” “What do you think?” “It’s so…large,” she said, in a voice so low and husky he had to lean closer to hear. 136
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“Have you never felt something…large…inside you?” he said softly. She shook her head and the netting of her hat brushed his cheek. “My husband, well…he wasn’t…” “Wasn’t large?” “I don’t think so, but I never saw it.” Nathan grew still beside her, feeling a sickening anger wash over him knowing her husband must have taken her in the dark, likely never fully undressed. Merry Winslow had never been “improperly” loved. “Perhaps you need to compare for yourself. Just so you know.” Merry bit her lower lip and cast him a quick sideways glance. “You mean I should try a glass…member?” “No, try another man.” One corner of her lips twitched and Nathan began to wonder who was leading whom. “As part of my education?” “Only if you want to,” he said quickly. “But who would be willing?” she asked, her tone too perplexed to be real. “I don’t have the experience to give a man…anything like that.” Amused at her attempt to flirt, Nathan forced himself to keep his voice casual as though his question didn’t matter. “You’re already paying me for instruction, so why not use me?”
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Chapter Three In the scant light filtering through the two peepholes, Merry’s forehead wrinkled, betraying her indecision. “Um…can we wait until I’ve learned everything there is to know here?” He smiled, understanding how curiosity warred with her own rising desire and wilting morality. “Why not do both at the same time?” he said silkily. She blinked. “That sounds…efficient…but is that even possible?” He nearly strangled on his reply, torn between a laugh and a groan. “It might be a struggle, but we’ll manage.” He leaned closer to press his erection against Merry’s round bottom, half expecting her to protest against his advance. Instead, he felt her tremble as though her legs suddenly went weak. “Keep watching them, Merry,” he said, his voice beginning to grind like a rusty gear as his whole body tightened in anticipation. Daisy guided Johnny’s hand, helping him work the glass cock inside her as her hips lifted from the mattress, pumping to meet his thrusts. Her folds darkened to a deep rose, stretching around the large phallus. Wet, slippery sounds reached the watchers in the closet. “Like that, Daisy?” the miner asked, his voice strained. “Yes, Johnny. You’re the best. Harder!” Nathan slid a hand slowly around Merry’s waist, pulling her tighter against his groin, and then worked his other hand downward, smoothing it between her legs. Merry’s thighs clamped hard around his hand, halting his movements. Her back stiffened. “Want me to stop?” he whispered in her ear. “This is…embarrassing,” she said breathlessly. “I’m becoming very wet.” Nathan drew a deep breath, pleased she’d been so honest. “That’s desire, Miz Winslow. Have you never felt your body dampen this way before?” “Yes…but I was alone,” she said, her voice dropping so low he had to strain to hear, “and there wasn’t quite as much…moisture.” Imagining the widow sliding her own fingers between her slippery folds in the dark, seeking an elusive release, made his cock twitch and lengthen. Nathan grew certain her worthless husband had fucked her dry. “All that moisture lubricates your cunt. Makes you ready for me to come inside.” Her outraged gasp was contradicted by the trembling of her soft belly and the tightening of her thighs.
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“I can stop,” he gritted out. “Say it now and I won’t press you.” Slowly, Merry eased apart her thighs, one hand bracing against the wall. “I need to know what she’s feeling.” Nathan drew a deep breath, relieved he didn’t have to stop because he honestly didn’t know if he could without scaring her to death. With both hands, he drew up her skirts in front, bunching the fabric around her waist, then slid a hand down the front of her thin muslin drawers, enjoying the suppleness of the muscle beneath and the little tremors that danced across her belly. He slipped his fingers between her legs, finding the fabric warm and damp, and tucked the thin muslin into her folds as he searched for the little slit at the center. A breathless little moan tore from Merry’s throat and her back arched, pressing her shoulders against his chest. Her hand came up slowly and clutched the back of his neck. His fingers parted the fabric and slid into rich, creamy moisture pooling between her pussy lips. “Keep watching,” he rasped and strummed his fingers along her sex, enjoying the way it clasped and tightened. When he traced the edges of her folds to the source of the wetness, he circled slowly, drawing a tiny moan from the woman trembling in his arms. Daisy’s hips pumped up and down as Johnny pushed the cock in and out, faster now. “God, Johnny. Don’t stop,” she wailed. “Don’t stop.” Nathan stroked two fingers into Merry’s wet cunt and gently ground his palm against the hard nubbin at the top of her feminine folds. “Don’t stop,” she echoed. “Promise,” he gritted out, thrusting deep as he could reach. His fingers swirled in silky heat. Merry sagged against him, gasping, her fingers constricting in his hair. He bent his head, pressed his lips against her neck and continued fingering her, twisting into her slick heat as her hips began their first tentative pulses, mimicking Daisy’s frantic movements. Nathan couldn’t help grinding his cock against her bottom, rutting softly to ease the ache building there. “That’s it, Merry,” he whispered roughly. “Dance those hips for me. I’m coming deeper.” “Dear God,” she gasped. “I can hardly breathe.” “Shall I stop?” “Please, no.” Her bottom pulsed against his cock, then rubbed, nearly driving him out of his mind. He scraped her nubbin with the rough pad of his thumb and stroked inside again. Her whole body shuddered hard. “It’s my corset,” she said, breathlessly. “Want me to remove it?”
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“No, please. Keep doing that…don’t take your hand away.” Nathan smiled against her neck, liking the sound of her feminine desperation. “Still want me to come inside you?” “You are inside me,” she said, her voice straining higher. He nibbled her earlobe and paused to whisper. “My cock, Merry. Want my cock sliding into you?” “Oh God.” Her pussy clasped his fingers hard. “Please, yes. Do it.” Nathan cupped her chin and brought her face around to his. His mouth slid over her lips, opening to suck on them, then rubbing, working her mouth like he meant to work her pussy the first chance he got her back against a mattress. Teaching Merry Winslow the ropes might be everything Millie had promised. Merry drew in a deep, labored breath as Nathan slid his hand between their bodies and unbuttoned his trousers. She recognized the sounds of clothing sliding down, felt his thighs struggle against hers as he pushed the material awkwardly down his hips and then felt the heaviness of his cock press into her backside. She nearly moaned when he rucked up her skirts in the back, high enough that they bunched between her back and his hard belly and felt the thickness of his cock tap her buttocks. Amazed at her own temerity, she could scarce believe she allowed a man who’d introduced himself less than an hour ago to bare her backside, still clothed in muslin, in preparation for an illicit bit of sex. While she’d never done it like this, standing braced against a wall, she trusted he knew what he was about. The watchful glint in his dark eyes when he’d led her down the hallway to this observation room had been warning enough—but she hadn’t wanted to heed the message, being only too eager to begin her new adventure. That he cleaned up well, had likely dressed to impress her in a dark jacket that brushed the tops of his thick thighs, a crisp white shirt to replace the plain homespun and dark pants, only added to the attraction she’d felt when he’d first landed at her feet. Towering over her at her office door, his dark gaze landed on her lips and sent a frisson of awareness buzzing through her body before he’d seduced her with his wicked, sliding drawl. She’d wanted this, with him, before he’d ever tempted her to let him lift her skirts. Now he rooted his cock between her legs, nudging against the thin fabric of her undergarments until he met his thrusting fingers and guided himself into her moist, hot channel, shoving in shallow pulses as he inched inside. Lord, he was thick—stretching her as he worked his way up. Still, her body didn’t resist his invasion. Her inner muscles clutched around his shaft, drawing him deeper.
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As awkward as their position should have been, somehow she felt less embarrassed faced away from his knowing eyes. The veil had offered her some protection, but once he’d commanded her to raise it, his gaze had continually fallen on her. Now she could concentrate on the sensations threatening to overwhelm her rather than trying to protect herself from his canny observation. With her back to him, his sex thrusting up inside her, robbing her of breath, she could revel in the wickedness consuming her. She arched her back, pushing up her bottom to give him better access. His hands clutched her hips under her skirts, forcing her to bend as far forward as she could as he thrust upward, his lower belly and groin slamming her bottom. “What do you think, madam?” he gritted out. Think? He expected her to think? “About what?” she gasped, holding her face away from the wall as he stroked harder into her, reaching deeper than she thought she could bear. “Was your husband large?” “I’m not sure,” she lied. “Not sure?” His thighs widened, dragging hers apart until she straddled his hips, and his cock reached deeper. His hands moved from her hips, shoved up more fabric and slid over her belly and between her legs. Then he gripped her thighs hard and hoisted her up from the floor, angling her bottom closer, his hips coming under her as his thighs pumped them both up and down. Merry’s groan echoed his as he pressed deeper inside. “Was he, Merry?” he rasped against her ear. “God, no. Nathan, what are you doing to me?” This new position, as awkward as it was, allowed him to stroke deeper inside and freed his hands. His fingers clutched her hips hard and rocked her forward and back. His cock ground into her, building friction inside and out while he popped his hips up and down, jumping her hard on his cock until it was all too much. Heat spiraled outward from her womb, tightening the lips stretched so deliciously around his cock, plucking her nipples into the sharp beaded points that scraped erotically against her chemise. “Nathan, I can’t stand it. Please, please, end this.” “Watch Daisy, Merry. Watch.” She glanced into the room and saw Daisy clutching her thighs to her belly as Johnny hammered the cock into her body. Daisy’s hips lifted, twisting and circling on the cock, and then she keened loudly. Merry felt the heat curl inside her womb, felt a strong convulsing tremor ripple all along her channel, clasping hard around Nathan’s shaft, and then she too cried out, undulating her hips while liquid gushed from inside her, slicking her inner walls. She felt an explosion of sensation rip through her and flung back her head. 141
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“That’s it, sweetheart. That’s it,” Nathan rasped, his chest rising and falling harshly against her back. Gradually, his hips slowed, his thrusts gentled, providing comfort now while her heartbeats steadied. Nathan’s thighs shuddered, rocking them both. “Did I not satisfy you?” she asked, rolling her head on his chest to gaze at him sideways. “Mrs. Winslow,” he said, swallowing, then dragging in a deep breath, “my duty was to instruct. Now if you invite me to seek my own pleasure…” “It seems to me,” she said, struggling to find her breath, “that I should understand…how a man’s body performs, Mr. Boone.” “Perhaps we could take this discussion to your office?” “Please, sir. Let’s negotiate there.” In the space of a minute, Nathan lowered her, straightened her skirts around her and put his clothes to rights. He opened the door and carefully peered up and down the hall, then reached back and grabbed her hand. Together, they sped down the hall with unseemly haste. Merry couldn’t help the smile that stretched her lips or the giggle that erupted from her when he dragged her into the room, slammed the door closed behind them and tugged her into his arms. His kiss was quick and harsh—a mashing of lips and teeth—and she grew dizzy from lack of air and desire for him before he raised his head. “That hat has to go,” he growled, his hands sliding down from her waist to clasp her bottom. She reached up to pull out the pins securing the hat to her hair, enjoying the slide of her breasts against his broad chest. He plucked it off her head and sent it sailing. Then his fingers tugged at the bun at the top of her head and unraveled it. When her hair cascaded around her shoulders, his nostrils flared and his gaze heated. She reached up self-consciously, smoothing her hair. “Plain brown, I’m afraid.” “Prettier than beaver’s fur.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not one for flattering a woman, are you, Mr. Boone?” He lifted a wicked eyebrow. “I like a beaver’s fur. It’s cuddly, warm.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well then, I guess I won’t take offense.” “Would you rather I tell you how pretty you are, all mussed and pink?” “You needn’t turn my head with flattery—I’ve already let you have me.” “It’s not flattery,” he said, his expression growing serious. “And I haven’t yet had mine. You can still change your mind.” Merry ducked her head to hide her expression. What must he think of her? Was she wrong to show how eagerly she wanted to be debauched? He’d given her something her late husband had never even considered she might want or deserve. 142
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A callus-roughened finger lifted her chin. “Do you want me to stop, Merry? I don’t consider this part of our bargain.” She opened her mouth to tell him it was all happening too fast, that she needed time to think, but her gaze locked with his. Candlelight didn’t reach the shadowy hollows of his deep-set eyes, lending him a sinister appearance. Her heart skittered for a moment, then her glance lowered to his mouth. She’d barely had a taste of him, yet his lips were still blurred from their kiss, his bottom lip slightly swollen and oh-so tempting to explore. The undisciplined part of her, the one she’d finally unleashed only this morning, made her rise on her toes and press her mouth to his to savor the texture and taste of him. Whiskey mixed with salt and him. His mouth opened immediately and his tongue thrust between her lips, sliding over her tongue, reaching deep to stroke and glide, filling Merry’s head with visions of Nathan gliding over the tops of her breasts and suckling her nipples, just as Johnny had done to Daisy. Nathan’s hands slid up and down her back, his grip strengthening as he reached lower and cupped her bottom again, hard, pressing her closer to the thick ridge crowding inside his pants. Remembering the sight of Johnny’s cock and the way Daisy had pleased him, Merry’s doubts burned away and she felt suddenly eager to see what she’d taken so deep inside her own body. She tore her mouth from his. “I’d like to see you,” she said in a thick voice she barely recognized as her own. “Shall I undress for you?” he said, gliding moist lips along her cheek. “Please. Quickly.” His hands dropped away from her and he stepped back. Golden light from the oil lamp on her desk and the one candle beside her bed flickered over him as he stripped. His jacket landed beside his feet. His suspenders slid from his broad shoulders. When his crisp white shirt lay crumpled beside him, she lifted her gaze to follow the curve of the tops of his powerful shoulders and the thick, ropy muscles of his chest and abdomen. A light dusting of dark hair stretched between his flat nipples and arrowed down toward his trousers. She realized with a start he hadn’t worn anything beneath his shirt, no longhandled underwear, and she wondered if he’d bothered with any undergarments below. Feeling breathless as his hands hovered over the button at the top of his pants, she flattened a hand against her chest which only made her more aware of the shallow breaths lifting her chest and the heavy thud of her heartbeat. “Why did you stop?” she blurted out.
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“Sorry,” he said, flicking open the button. “I was too busy watching you and wondering if I needed to get you out of that corset.” “I am a little winded, but please,” she said, waving toward his lower body, “continue.” Disappointingly, he started this time with his boots, toeing them off one at a time, then drawing off his woolen socks. As his hands returned to the waist of his trousers, her breath caught and held. He tugged down his trousers, wincing when they snagged. He reached inside and cupped his erection, then worked his clothing the rest of the way down his hips. When he straightened, she understood the deep sigh he let out. His cock strained upward, thick and straight against his belly. Much larger than Johnny’s—and even more impressive than the glass cock Daisy had stroked inside herself. Merry stared for a long moment, noting the ruddy color of his shaft, the purplish shade of the rounded head. It pulsed once, up and down, a little telltale jerk that she knew he couldn’t control since he stood so stiffly, waiting for her comment. “Please stay just like that,” she whispered, reaching for the buttons behind her neck, opening her dress slowly and awkwardly until the front fell forward, exposing the top of her corset and the gentle swell of her bosom. A few more tiny buttons and she slid the skirt down to pool around her feet. Her petticoats followed, and then she bent to unbutton her boots and slid them off, only realizing as she straightened that she’d given him a view of her breasts plumping above the restrictive corset. She flushed, wishing she wasn’t so absurdly shy. He stood with his cock bared and she still had clothing covering most of her womanly parts. “Let me unlace you,” he said, his voice sounding tight and husky. She walked toward him and slowly turned her back. His nimble fingers plucked the laces until the hard boning relaxed and the corset fell away. At last she could draw a deep breath. Then wearing only her chemise and drawers, she faced him. His glance swept her body, then met hers. Tension tightened his large, muscled frame. His hands settled on his hips as he waited. Merry pushed down the shoulders of her chemise, one at a time, lifting her arms out, but keeping her breasts covered with the fabric. She wished she’d thought to douse the lights before she bared the rest for his gleaming gaze. “Maybe you could turn around…” A tic pulsed along the side of his jaw, but his features softened and he stepped out of his trousers and turned. This view of his body did nothing to ease her embarrassment. His shoulders only seemed wider, narrowing to a trim waist. His buttocks were rounded, firm, and she had the strangest urge to cup them. “Are you going to change your mind, Merry?” he said, still facing away.
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“I’ll admit I’m a little disconcerted, undressing for you like this. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.” “Because your breasts aren’t as large as Daisy’s?” “Neither are my hips.” “I’ll like everything I see, I promise. I’m partial to slender women.” “Have you done this with many women?” “Enough that I’ve learned how to please a woman. Will you let me show you what I’ve learned?”
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Chapter Four “I suppose,” Merry said, drawing out her response in an attempt to tamp down the surge of excitement his words had generated. “But could we douse the lights first?” “Of course.” He strode to the desk without looking her way and turned down the oil lamp until the flame snuffed out. Then he walked to the bed and bent to blow out the candle. “Is it dark enough now?” Moonlight sifted through the curtains, but she breathed easier without the harsher light to reveal every flaw. She eased the chemise over her hips, taking down her drawers at the same time and at last standing naked before him. “I’m ready.” Nathan turned slowly and she nearly cursed because now she couldn’t see his expression, couldn’t know whether she pleased him or not. He held up his hand and beckoned her closer. Merry slowly closed the distance between them and slid her hand along his palm. Its rough texture sent a shiver rippling along her spine as she imagined how it would feel to have that roughness rasp her tender skin. Her nipples beaded, drawing painfully erect. Moisture seeped between her folds. She stood so near she could feel his warm breath gust against her cheeks and she breathed deeply to draw in his masculine scent. Near enough now to see his face in the shadows, she watched his nostrils flare and realized he probably savored the same things about her. Somehow, that knowledge helped ease her trepidation. His hand slipped up her arm, caressed her shoulder, then slid beneath her hair and cupped her head. He bent to take her mouth and slowly pressed every inch of his front against hers. With his cock snuggled against her, fine tremors shook her belly, her knees grew weak and she reached for his shoulders to steady herself, but she needn’t have worried. Nathan clamped an arm tightly around her back, taking her weight. At first, his kiss was tender, his lips rubbing hers lightly, tempting her to open. When she finally did, it was as though she’d opened a floodgate. His body shuddered and he drew her tighter against him. His cock ground against her body and his tongue shoved past her lips as his kiss turned brutal. Merry’s nails bit into his flesh and she strained upward, rubbing her body against him. It wasn’t enough, not nearly what her body demanded. She needed him inside her. She scraped her nails down his back and latched onto his buttocks, telling him without words she was ready.
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Nathan dragged his mouth from hers, kissed her forehead, then bent and scooped her off her feet. Half a dozen steps and he knelt on the mattress, lay her across the bed and came over her immediately. Merry didn’t hesitate. She opened her arms to embrace him, spread her legs wide to invite him inside and eased up her knees to cup his hips as he nudged her folds, then slipped the head of his cock inside. The muscles of his arms and back bunched and a tremor rippled through him. He drew a deep, ragged breath. “Merry…” His voice was soft as a sigh. She thought she understood how he felt. The primal urge to couple drove them here, but she knew their strong attraction and quickly blossoming affection made them wary of causing harm to the other. Nathan didn’t want to hurt or frighten her. The passion gripping his body radiated in the tension of his shoulders and thighs. Her trust in him gave her the courage to follow through. She could no more deny her nature than he could. “I’m glad Mr. Regis suggested you instruct me,” she whispered. “I could have no better teacher.” A short anguished laugh burst from him and Nathan leaned his forehead against hers. Merry’s melting warmth surrounded him. “I’m not sure who’s doing the instructing anymore.” “It must be you,” she said softly, “because I never suspected this…sort of activity could be so joyous.” “Don’t say things like that at a time like this. I’m holding on to my sanity by a thread.” She tilted her head and supped at his lips. “If I’d wanted something sane and safe,” she whispered, between soft kisses, “I would never have trekked all the way across the continent.” Her fingers slid through his hair and tugged his head closer. “I had no way of knowing…until you showed me…how much I need this.” “You shouldn’t tempt a man so sweetly,” he chided, feeling all his muscles start to clench. “I can’t wait any longer.” “Then don’t. Take me.” Nathan squeezed his eyes closed and shoved upward in a straight harsh stroke. Merry’s head ground into the pillow beneath her and her mouth opened around a loud moan. Her fingers tugged his hair rhythmically as her body convulsed. Nathan cursed, too far gone to take care with her body, too aroused now to be gentle. His thighs tensed, his buttocks hardened to rock and he plowed into her again and again. Merry circled her hips to ease him inside, screwing him deeper, her inner muscles clasping hard around him while her hot feminine cream oozed around him. With the woman unraveling, moaning, twisting beneath him, Nathan felt powerful, invincible. Her pleasure was his to command, his to give—his to own. 147
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With his breaths growing harsher, he plunged inside her tight sheath, pulled a little way out and slammed inward again, deeper still, his thrusts quickening, strengthening until he was pushing her up the mattress with each harsh stroke. Merry didn’t protest, showed no signs of distress, simply held him tighter while her cries grew thready and high-pitched. Nathan spread his thighs wider on the mattress, hooked his arms beneath her knees and followed her up the bed, crowding closer, tunneling his cock into her, pounding to the beat of his own heart. Her head thrashed now. Her breaths grew jagged, pained. Her torso curled tight as he brought her knees higher and hammered harder into her hot, silky cunt. He planted his hands on the mattress on either side of her shoulders, leveraging his weight so his hips moved unimpeded, stroking deep, hard, lengthening the strokes to feel every inch of his cock caressed by her slick, wet walls, again and again. Merry gave a shrill, keening cry and her body stiffened beneath his. A rippling convulsion caressed his shaft and Nathan couldn’t hold back his release a moment longer. He plunged deep, once, twice, then let loose, flooding her womb with his seed as her pussy tightened and eased, milking him softly until his hips slowed. A final shudder racked his body and he collapsed against her, unable to move as she eased her legs down alongside his. Her soft hands glided up and down his back, soothing him. Her lips pressed kisses to the side of his cheek and ears. Hot tears wet his skin. When his breaths evened, he straightened his arms to lift off her body, but she wrapped her legs around him again and held him close. “Don’t. Not yet,” she whispered. Since he had no will to leave her, he relaxed upon her, drinking in the scent of sex, her flowery perfume and the warmth she shared freely. “I’m crushing you,” he murmured against her neck. “I rather like having the breath squeezed out of me. Makes me dizzy.” He smiled against her hair. “Perhaps this is a drink we should distill and serve up in the bar.” “Isn’t this something we serve already?” “Nothing so strong as this.” “Is this not how it is for you every time?” she asked in a small voice. She wanted to know this was different, special for him. And it was. She was. “I’ve probably sampled half the women here,” he said honestly, his face still tucked in the crook of her neck. “But Merry, it was always a game, enjoyable, but never so intense.” He lifted his head and stared into her face. Even in the moonlight, he could see moisture pooling in her eyes. “Was this not your experience with your husband?”
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Her nose wrinkled. “I shouldn’t speak ill of him. He provided me a home when I had no prospects.” “Men weren’t pounding down your door back East?” he asked, disbelieving. I would, but he kept the thought to himself, needing to hear her answer. “I’m not fashionably pretty. Not special in any way. Homer was the only one who offered.” “Were you happy?” “I thought I was content,” she said, her voice catching on a slight sob. “Sorry, I guess everything is happening so fast. His death was months ago and I’m truly past my grief. I never loved him. I despised his mother. She followed him only weeks after his funeral.” Her lashes swept down. “She thought I wasn’t good enough for him.” “They were both fools.” They lay silent for a long time, their bodies still entwined. Long enough so that Merry’s tears dried and Nathan’s cock awoke and stirred to life again inside her. “Nathan…?” He kissed the tender corner of her neck and raised his head. “Yes, Merry?” “Why did the barman throw you out of the saloon?” He arched one eyebrow. “A misunderstanding. We have them often. It usually starts with his insulting my way with the women and ends with my comparisons of his mother to a certain farm animal—not that I’ve ever met the woman.” “You fight each other for sport?” “Like I said before, there’s not much else to do since I sold my mine.” She shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand men.” “That’s why you need me. I’ll provide you expert insight.” “I suppose,” she murmured. They fell silent again, this time gazing into each other’s faces—him skimming her cheeks with his thumbs, her combing his hair with her fingers. Before too many moments passed, the urgency building in his groin became impossible to ignore. “Unless you’re ready for another round,” he growled, “you’ll need to let me up.” Her calves rubbed his buttocks and slid down the backs of his thighs, but her arms continued to hold him close. “One more question first.” Her stillness alerting him, he said, “What do you want to know?” “How well did you know my aunt? We exchanged letters over the years, but I don’t really know anything about her.” Nathan drew in a slow breath, seeking to calm his ardor long enough to find the right answer. “I knew your aunt for years,” he said, hedging. “How well?” she asked, her voice even.
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His jaws tightening, he hoped she’d understand. “Millie was my first.” “Your first what?” When he didn’t answer, her eyes widened. “Your first…instructor?” “Yes.” “But…she was so old.” “Millie was only forty-five when she passed.” Not too old for a young man who wanted to learn everything he could about a woman’s body and her heart, he added to himself. “We met when I was barely twenty. We became friends over time.” “Which is why you wanted this place?” “I spent a lot of time in the emporium.” This time her soft snort irritated him. “When it was warm, I worked hard at my claim, spending months on end in the mountains, alone. Can you blame a man for craving the company of a woman when the weather cooled?” “You’ve slept in this bed?” He remained silent, letting her think about what he’d said, hoping she could accept. “I guess I’m shouldn’t judge you. I slept with a man because he provided me a home.” “I feel at home here.” She was silent so long, Nathan worried he had disappointed her somehow. “Maybe I should go.” “My aunt left me this place,” she said thoughtfully, still not letting go of him, “even though she’d already given me so much. She could have given it to you and I wouldn’t have known.” “Do you think she did it on purpose? Hoping we’d meet? She did tell me once that I should guide you if you ever showed up.” “I’d like to think so. Not that I expect anything from you. You’re doing me a favor as it is.” Her gaze slid away. Nathan hated the distance yawning between them, thinking it strange he could feel that way when part of him was still buried inside her body. “Would you like this to be more than just instruction?” he asked, trying to reach her. “I’ve tried marriage,” she said carefully. “I don’t think I’m suited to the institution. But maybe we could be partners?” “Share the business?” Her gaze lifted to lock with his. “And this bed.” Relief sliced through him so strong he took a deep breath to steady himself. Then his eyes narrowed. “So long as you rely only on me for…advice.” Her lashes lowered and her lips curved upward. “Will you have me watch in cupboards to learn everything I need to know?” “I’m thinking more direct experience could prove more lasting,” he said, giving her an inward nudge for emphasis. 150
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Her shallow groan was accompanied by a blinding smile. “Is there so much more for me to learn?” He held himself still above her. “There is one thing I’ve been wanting to learn.” “What’s that?” “How you taste.” Her eyes widened. “You mean…” He scooted down her body and thrust his fingers through the short curls cloaking her sex, tugging gently. “More precisely, I’m wondering how we taste together.” He parted her folds with his thumbs. “Like Daisy did for Johnny? You’re sure that’s done?” He suppressed a wicked smile. “All the time, love.” Nathan bent his head and trailed his tongue along the thin edges of her inner lips. “I’ll let you try it later. Much later.” Merry let her hands fall to the pillow beside her head and gave herself over to more of Nathan’s gentle “instruction”. Lifting her knees, she tilted her hips as he urged her to do with his hands cupping and kneading her bottom. The slow, sweet laps of his tongue left her boneless, weak…exultant. His wickedly clever fingers slipped inside her to fill the greedy empty spaces of her being. As he stroked inside, sliding one, then two, then three thick calloused fingers into her, she delighted in the sensations he stirred, crying out when his lips closed over the rounded knot at the top of her folds and drew hard. As passion exploded within her, she acknowledged just how deep was the trust she’d given him, how profound she knew their relationship would become. Aunt Millie had bequeathed her not only a home where she could be as wild and unruly as true nature dictated, but she’d also given her a lover she meant to keep. As Nathan’s lips suckled her below, she moaned weakly, scaling the agonizing heights once more and letting go forever of her inhibitions and self-doubt. Her hips rose and fell. Her breaths shortened and rasped as desire curled, tightening tendrils of heat around her womb. There were so many wonderful things to learn on her way to becoming the most notorious woman she could be. She’d savor the journey and embrace the means to her liberation. Luckily, she’d found a man who could appreciate her wild, unruly nature.
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Chapter One Shina slowly brushed her fingers over the scarlet and emerald kimono. Green for her virginity and red for the blood she would shed in losing it. She would wear it only once, at her mizuage ceremony, when she would stand before her first patron, the one who had bid the highest at her virginity auction. After she had entertained him with music and dance, she would remove the jeweled combs from her hair and take off the mizuage kimono. Then her patron, a man she had yet to meet, would take her virginity, turning her from maiko to geiko, from an apprentice courtesan to a genuine courtesan. She could hardly wait. “You might as well put that away, because you won’t get a chance to wear it.” Shina whirled around. Orino, House Edo’s star courtesan, stood in the doorway to Shina’s room, a scowl twisting her pretty face, her manicured hands fisted on her slender hips. Shina squeezed her kimono. Leave it to Orino to destroy any shred of hope Shina had for her future. Then, realizing what she was doing, she quickly released the kimono, frantically smoothing out the wrinkles. Orino entered the room. “Did you hear what I said or have you gone deaf?” From where she knelt on the floor, Shina looked up into Orino’s sullen face. “I heard.” “Well? What do you have to say about it?” Shina carefully put the kimono back into her clothing chest. “I have nothing to say about it,” she said, although that wasn’t true. She just didn’t feel like arguing with Orino this morning. “I don’t believe you.” Orino knelt next to Shina, her sapphire eyes glittering maliciously. “Do you know what Mother told me? The men are so busy with maneuvers at the starport or with duties at the Ministry that it could be weeks, even months, before an auction is held for your virginity. And you know what that means,” she finished with a smirk. Shina sighed. Yes, she knew what that meant. She would remain, as she had been these last ten years since she was eight, Orino’s apprentice and unofficial slave. Then a spark of hope flamed in Shina’s heart. “The maneuvers can’t go on forever. The men will come back.” Orino leaned closer and smiled nastily. “Not if there’s a war.” Shina gasped. “A war? What makes you think there’ll be a war?”
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“It’s not what I think.” Orino scowled, as if thinking were the last thing she would ever consider doing. “My last patron worked for the Ministry of Defense. He said the Kjartans have no interest in peace. All they want to do is invade the Hegemony and make slaves of us all.” Shina frowned. It was possible. Ever since the Hegemonic survey ship had come across the Kjartan starship in the Borah system, rumors of impending war with the aliens had spread throughout the worlds of the Hegemony. The Kjartans were the first sentient race humans had encountered as they had moved out among the stars and the aliens continued to remain an alarming mystery. Having refused all communications since that initial contact, they had instead established an armada of warships around their colonies along the Kjartan–Hegemony border. Shina shook her head. There couldn’t be a war. A war could delay her ceremony indefinitely. “Maybe the Kjartans are as afraid of us as we are of them,” she ventured. “Maybe they’re not all that different from us.” Revulsion wrinkled Orino’s delicate features and she shuddered. “How can you say such a stupid thing! They’re aliens!” Then she cast another spiteful look at Shina “You’ll see. There is so going to be a war. So you might as well keep that mizuage kimono folded away. You’re going to be a virgin for a very long time.” However, before Shina could say a word in response, someone scratched at the door. “What?” Orino shouted. The door slid open and a round-faced servant girl with big green eyes peered in. “Excuse me, but Mother wants to see you both.” “About what?” Orino snapped. The girl flinched. “I don’t know. She just said to come. And to hurry.” Orino rose from the floor and rudely pushed past the girl. Shina quickly followed her. At the entrance to Mother’s chamber, Orino scrapped her fingertips along the shoji door. “Come in,” a voice called from inside. Orino brusquely gestured for Shina to slide open the door. Shina did so, swallowing the resentment that rose inside her every time Orino treated her like a slave instead of her apprentice. Mother, the owner of House Edo, was a plump, dark-skinned woman whose gray, kinky hair was pulled back in a bun. She sat on the floor in front of a low table. Next to her sat Master Taiko, House Edo’s major-domo. He was a tall, thin man with sad, gray eyes and a yellow, stringy beard. 154
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Orino bowed and knelt before them, as did Shina. Mother pointed to a piece of paper on the table. “That is from the Ministry of Diplomacy. They have requested our services.” Shina was surprised. In light of the tensions between the Hegemony and the Kjartan Supremacy, as they called themselves, one would think the Ministry of Diplomacy had better things to do than arrange visits to the Pleasure Quarters. “It must be for someone very important,” Orino said primly, confident it would be her who would get the assignation. Mother glanced at Master Taiko. “Yes, it is.” She cleared her throat. “The Kjartans are sending an emissary to initiate talks between their government and the Hegemony.” “A Kjartan?” Orino squealed, her eyes wide. “A Kjartan is coming here?” Mother nodded. “In a few days.” She cleared her throat. “And, apparently, the Kjartan Emissary has requested the services of a courtesan. The Ministry stressed that it was very important his request be honored.” Orino snorted, a most unlovely sound from one so lovely. “You can’t be serious, Mother.” Mother frowned at her “What do you mean?” “About honoring the Ministry’s request.” Mother stared at Orino as if she had suddenly grown another head. Orino threw up her hands in exasperation. “The Kjartans are aliens! Which means they’re not human. Which means they could be beasts or monsters or…” Orino delicately shuddered. “Or something worse.” Mother chewed her plump lower lip. “Well, I suppose that’s possible.” Then her face brightened. “But, just in case they’re not, we should be prepared to jump at the chance to service one. If we were to do so, we would become the most famous House in the Pleasure Quarters. And not just here on Avalon,” she said, her eyes wide and glowing. “We’d be famous throughout the entire Hegemony.” Orino lifted her chin. “Well, I certainly won’t do it. I won’t service that…that thing.” Mother waved a dismissive hand at her. “Calm down. You won’t have to.” Orino’s mouth dropped open. “I won’t? Then who…” She stopped and looked over at Shina, as did Mother. Shina stared back at Mother, then it hit her. “Me? You want me to do it?” “Well, not really,” Mother replied. “You’re still only a maiko. If it were up to me, I’d rather it be Orino.” Orino made a rude noise. Mother ignored her. “However, the Ministry has requested a virgin,” Mother went on, “and, since Setsuko’s mizuage ceremony, you’re the only virgin remaining within the House.” “Holy stars!” Orino cried. “It’s horrible enough that thing wants to sleep with a human, but to take her virginity? It’s disgusting!”
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Mother shrugged. “The Ministry has agreed to pay Shina’s virgin price in addition to the standard fee. That’s all I care about. Business has been slow, so we certainly could use the money. And we mustn’t forget what this could mean. Shina would be the first human to have sex with an alien. Think of the publicity we would get.” Orino whirled on Shina. “And what about you? How do you feel about servicing a beast?” “The Kjartan are not beasts,” Master Taiko interjected, his voice as reedy as he was. “Their technology appears as advanced as the Hegemony’s. If not more so. And, although we do not know much about their culture…” He stopped and smiled warmly at Shina. “It would appear, at least, that they share some of our desires.” Shina blushed and lowered her head. Taiko had made it known to her on several occasions that he found her pleasing. “I still think it’s disgusting,” Orino said, but it was obvious she was relieved it wouldn’t be her servicing the Kjartan. Mother looked over at Shina. “So, little one, what do you have to say about it?” Mother was acting as if Shina had some choice in the matter. How ironic, since she’d never had much choice about anything in her life. “I will do it,” she said.
***** “He’s here. He’s here!” The words echoed along the corridor outside of Shina’s chamber. Mother and Taiko fluttered nervously about her as they made last-minute adjustments to her hair and makeup. A servant entered the room, her hands clutched anxiously before her. “He is here, Mistress,” she said, her voice breathless with awe. “He is here.” “Yes, yes, I heard.” Mother curtly waved the girl away, who turned and left the room. Mother looked at Shina. “Well, are you ready?” Shina glanced at herself in the mirror. She wore her scarlet and green mizuage kimono, the one that just yesterday Orino had been so certain she would not have the chance to wear. Her long auburn hair was upswept and carefully arranged, the jeweled combs strategically set so that when she, or the Emissary, pulled them out, her hair would tumble seductively about her shoulders and down her back. Her face was made up traditionally with the bright red lips, the elegantly painted dark eyebrows and the artistically placed eye paint that brought out the brilliance of her russet-colored eyes and honey-dewed skin. Physically, Shina was as ready as she was ever going to be. She looked over at Mother. But was she truly ready? How could one possibly be ready for something so
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unprecedented? She was not only going to have sex for the first time, but it was going to be with someone from another world. An alien. Even now, weeks after the first sighting of the Kjartan ship, no one in the Hegemony had any idea what a Kjartan looked like as they had refused all visual communications. And what if Orino was right? What if the Kjartan was a beast? “Well?” Mother said, the impatience in her voice clearly evident. “Yes, I am ready,” Shina replied, hoping that the nervousness and fear in voice was not detectable. Taiko picked up Shina’s shamisen and he and Mother accompanied her down the hall toward the pillowing chamber. Shina kept her eyes locked straight ahead, but she was aware of the other women of the House staring at her from the doors of their chambers. Finally, they arrived at the end of the hall. The servant girl who had told them of the Kjartan’s arrival knelt in front of the large door to the pillowing chamber that was only used for very special personages who visited House Edo. “Open it,” Mother commanded. The girl slid the door open and Shina, along with Mother and Master Taiko, stepped inside. In the center of the room stood a human male in a blue and gold Ministry uniform. Mother deeply bowed. “Minister Perry.” The Minister’s sharp blue eyes stared at Mother as if she were nothing more than some bug he had discovered crawling across the toes of his shiny black boots. His piercing gaze swept over to Shina. “Is this the one?” “Yes, Minister. Her name is Shina.” Minster Perry frowned and shook his head. “Her name is of no concern to me. Just as long as she is a virgin.” Mother nodded vigorously, assuring him profusely that Shina most definitely was a virgin. The Minister hastily gestured for her to be silent. Then he turned toward someone in a corner of the room. “Your Excellency.” Shina started, for she had not noted the figure upon entering the chamber, hidden as he had been in the candlelit shadows. He moved away from the corner and toward her. The reason he had appeared to be nothing more than a shadow was due to the dark hooded robe he wore. He stopped in front of her. He was over two meters tall. She could see nothing of his face through the darkness of his hood. “Will she do?” Minister Perry asked. The Kjartan said nothing. Minister Perry apparently took his silence as agreement, because he turned and gestured for Mother and Taiko to leave the chamber.
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“But we need to discuss—” Mother began. Minister Perry pushed her toward the door. “Not now.” Taiko barely had time to hand Shina her shamisen before the door slid closed and she was alone with the Kjartan. He continued to stand motionless before her. “May I offer you some tea, my lord?” He remained silent. Shina wondered if he understood Hegemonic Basic. She went over to the tea set which had been placed on a low table near the wall. Whenever she was nervous, she found that doing something with her hands helped to ease her anxiety. As she walked, she moved her hips in the style she had been taught. She had no idea what effect it would have on a Kjartan, but walking this way was supposed to suggest to a patron the fluidity of a courtesan’s hips during the act of love. She knelt before the tea set, carefully placing her shamisen next to it. The Kjartan continued to stand in the center of the room, though his head had turned to follow her. Despite her apprehension, performing the tea ceremony helped to calm her. It wasn’t until she was pouring the tea that the Kjartan finally walked over to her. She looked up, trying not to be intimidated by her inability to see his face. She raised a cup to him. “Tea, my lord?” He tilted his hooded head, like a bird eyeing a worm that had pushed its way up through the soil. “What does it mean?” Shina drew in a sharp breath and put the cup back on the table. He spoke to her in Hegemonic Basic, but his voice was unlike any she had ever heard. Melodious, yet with undercurrents of dissonance, as if one were listening to an orchestra warming up before a performance. “You speak Basic,” she said. “I learned your language. It was not difficult.” “Then, perhaps someday I may also learn your language.” Shina liked learning new things. “I do not think so. Your language is simple. Soft,” he sneered. “My language is hard. It would be quite impossible for such a one as you to learn it.” Shina kept her expression composed, but inside she was livid. She wondered if he was referring to her as a human or to her status as a courtesan or to the fact that she was a woman. “What does it mean?” he asked again. Shina took a breath to calm herself before answering. “What does what mean, my lord?” “Shina. What does it mean?” “I do not know, my lord.”
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Shina was not her birth name. It was her House name, given to her when she came to House Edo as a child. Shina had barely remembered what her birth name had been. Mother had wanted House Edo to reflect as much of Old Earth Nipponese culture as possible, so all the women of the House bore such names. As for the meaning of her name, if it had one, Mother, upon giving it to her, had never revealed it. The Kjartan said nothing for a moment, then spoke again. “And why do you call me that?” “Call you what, my lord?” “My lord. Why do you call me that?” Shina stared at him. She had been instructed to address all her patrons in that way as it never failed to stroke a man’s ego to be called a lord, even if he were the lowliest clerk in the Ministry. “I call you that in acknowledgment of your status as Emissary to the Hegemony. Does my use of it displease you?” “On Kjarta, there is only one Lord. He who must be obeyed. To call another by that name is to seek death.” Shina blinked in surprise. The Kjartan leaned closer, his eyes peering out at her from the shadows of his hood. Alien eyes. “But you may use it when you are alone with me,” he said. “If it pleases you, my lord.” He moved back, saying nothing in response to that. “And what is your name, my lord?” Shina asked. “My name is bestowed only to my equals. It is not gifted to inferiors.” Shina struggled to keep her face serene, but she clenched her hands. Did he consider all humans inferior or was he again referring to her status as a courtesan? Before she could ponder it further, he surprised her by lowering himself to the floor. “Proceed,” he said, his face still hidden by his hood. “With what, my lord?” “With your rituals. That is why I chose House Edo. The flower and willow world, is it not? We have no such things on Kjarta.” “No willows? Or flowers?” Shina looked around at the flowers arranged about the pillowing chamber and tried to imagine a world without such beauty. The Kjartan followed her gaze. “Pollinating plants, yes, we have those. But they are not like your flowers.” His hooded head turned back toward her. “If we had such soft, worthless things on our world, we would do away with them.” Shina stared at him in shock. Is that what he wanted to do to humanity? And his face? Why was he keeping it hidden? Was he trying to intimidate her? Shina picked up her shamisen and tucked the instrument against her. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he troubled her by refusing to reveal his face. She
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plucked the three strings and, for the next hour, between rising and dancing to the accompaniment of recorded discs, she sang the songs she had been taught as an apprentice courtesan—the ko-uta, the “short songs” and the naga-uta, the “love songs”. But as she sang and danced, questions raced through her mind. Did the Kjartan have music on his world? He had said there were no flowers, had even stated that he considered such beauty worthless. Did that apply also to dancing? And to music? And did he even understand the words she sang? The songs Shina sang were love songs. Did he and his kind even love? And what did he think of her voice? Mother had told Shina that she had a sweet voice, if a trifle soft. What did she sound like to the Kjartan? And did he consider her singing as worthless as the flowers he appeared to disdain? He certainly gave her no sign of what he thought. He only sat, silently, watching her from the darkness of his hood. At least Shina assumed he was watching. For all she knew, he was asleep. “When I see the moon,” she sang, plucking the last plaintive notes from the shamisen, “bygone things like floating clouds return. Does autumn come to me alone?” The song and the music slowly died away. Shina lowered her shamisen onto her lap. “Those are our rituals, my lord,” she said. “Except for the fucking.” She started at his use of the coarse word. “We prefer to call it pillowing, my lord.” “Pillowing,” he sneered. “I prefer fucking. It is a hard word. Not soft.” “Yes, my lord.” “Good. I am glad you agree. That is wise of you.” Then, fascination warring with dread, she watched as he slowly lowered his hood. Shina stared in surprise for his face was far from that of the beast Orino had been so certain he was. His features were similar to that of a human male in his early thirties. The nose was long and straight, the mouth wide with full sensual lips. Thick black hair flowed down his broad back and over his wide shoulders. His skin was a rich bronze color and, in the candlelight, seemed to shimmer with highlights of gold. He was an alien but he was far from a beast. In fact, he was quite handsome. One of the most attractive males Shina had ever seen. However, there was enough about him that was out of the ordinary to highlight his non-Earthly origins. Particularly his eyes. The alien eyes that had stared at her from the darkness of his hood. They had no pupils. The Kjartan’s eyes were solid orbs of flaming gold and looking into them was like looking into the heart of a volcano. Like looking into hell itself.
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“You fear me.” The Kjartan leaned closer, his seemingly blind, sulfurous gaze boring into hers. “You should.” Even as the blood pounded in Shina’s throat and her heart fluttered in her chest, resentment flared within her at his words. “No, my lord, I do not fear you,” she lied. His lips pulled back across his strong white teeth, but the expression on his face could not be described as a smile. His eyes were too alien for that. “You lie,” he said simply. Shina shook her head, careful not to disturb the jeweled combs in her hair. He mimicked her. “A gesture signifying negation or in your case, discrepancy.” He made a sound deep in his throat that sounded like laughter. “No matter. Lie if it pleases you.” He leaned closer, a heavy musk now apparent about him. “We shall fuck now. My hardness. Your softness. We will bring them together and see what we can make of them.” “Yes, my lord. But I would like to tell you a story first. About the willow and the oak.” He frowned. “A story? Is it part of your rituals?” She nodded. He gestured imperiously. “Proceed.” Shina placed her shamisen on the tatami-covered floor and folded her hands in her lap. “Sometimes, when the wind blows hard, the oak—” His golden eyes narrowed. “What is this oak?” “The oak is a plant. Like a flower. But it is not soft. It is tall and strong and hard. Like you, my lord.” “And the willow?” “The willow is like me. Soft.” “I see. Continue.” “When the wind blows hard, the oak stands firm, refusing to bend, determined not to be conquered.” The Kjartan’s golden eyes glowed. “I like this oak.” “Yes, my lord,” Shina said. “However, if the wind blows too fiercely, the oak, because it refuses to bend, is conquered by the wind. It breaks.” He stared at her with his pupil-less eyes, but a deep crease furrowed his broad forehead. Clearing her throat, Shina continued. “The willow, on the other hand, greets the wind like a lover. It yields and does not break. Though soft and fragile, the willow is not conquered. It remains to greet another day.”
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The Kjartan gave her a hooded look. “I cannot say that I understand this story of yours or what is its meaning.” Shina suppressed a smile. His reaction told her that he, in fact, did understand it. He just did not want to accept it. “It is only a wisdom among my people, my lord.” “Enough of your people’s wisdom. Remove your garments. We will fuck now.”
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Chapter Two Shina inclined her head and rose from her knees. She slowly removed the combs and jewels from her hair and the kimono from her body. It had been arranged so that she could remove it herself. The kimono slid to the floor, a jade and scarlet heap. Underneath it, she was naked. The Kjartan stared at her, his expression unreadable, “Come closer,” he said. Shina went over and stood before him where he sat on the tatami-covered floor. He reached up and touched her breasts. “These swellings. What are they?” “They are breasts, my lord.” “And what is their purpose?” “Don’t your females have them?” His sulfurous eyes blazed. “I will ask the questions.” “Yes, my lord. They are used to suckle our young.” He slowly ran his hands over her breasts, his calloused palms grazing her nipples. Shina bit her lower lip, suppressing a moan as her nipples quickly stiffened under his touch. “These breasts are soft,” he sneered. “Yes, my lord.” Shina’s throat tightened as he continued to slowly caress her breasts, molding and pulping them between his large hands. Then he squeezed both of her rigid nipples. “But these are not soft. They are hard.” He pinched them again. Shina moaned. His golden eyes narrowed. “Do these breasts cause you pain?” Shina swallowed thickly. “No, my lord,” she gasped. He went back to kneading and caressing her breasts, but soon he focused primarily on her nipples once he discovered that pinching and tugging them caused Shina to make the most noise. “Do these breasts give you pleasure when your young suckle them?” he asked. Shina shook her head. “I have not yet borne any,” Shina softly moaned as the Kjartan rasped her throbbing nipples with his thumbs, “young, my lord.” He tilted his head as he regarded her. “Ah, yes. You are an untouched one. A virgin.” He pulled her close and clasped her firmly about the waist. “Let us see if the suckling of your breasts gives you pleasure.”
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He moved his tongue slowly across Shina’s breasts, the wet, rough surface causing her nipples to unbelievably grow even harder. The cleft between her thighs moistened and softened, tingling with a delicious heat. As the Kjartan thoroughly tongued her burning nipples delicious barbs of pleasure burrowed down to Shina’s melting loins. Her whole body burned and yet, strangely, she found herself shivering as if the air around her had suddenly turned cold. Finally, the Kjartan pulled away from her wet breasts. Shina, her face hot, the breath laboring in her chest, gazed into his eyes. He cupped her naked buttocks and molded them between his hot, rough palms. “You are so soft. Everything about you is soft. These swellings you call breasts.” He rubbed his hands over her rear. “Your body. Your skin. All so soft.” Shina thought she heard an undercurrent of disdain in his voice and she wondered if, perhaps, he considered her as inconsequential as the flowers he scorned. “And do you think me worthless as a result?” she said, unable to keep the anger out of her voice. The Kjartan’s firm lips crinkled with what looked like a smile. “Interesting. You are not so soft now.” He slowly moved his hands up and down her back, his fingers firmly tracing the hard line of her spine. “You have hardened like the oak you spoke of in your people’s wisdom. Let me see if I can soften you again.” He wrapped his mouth around her breast, his teeth gripping its firm plumpness while his tongue deftly swirled about the engorged nipple. Shina gasped and her pulse beat hard and fast. She leaned against him, thrusting her swelling breast deeper into his hot, wet mouth. The Kjartan’s tongue licked hungrily at her straining nipple as if he truly were deriving nourishment from her breast. Ripples of pleasure swept through Shina’s trembling body as the Kjartan leisurely sucked her breasts. Firm lips caressed, hard teeth nipped and his long tongue rasped slowly across her burning nipples, back and forth, chafing them, then sucking wetly. When he finally pulled away, Shina’s sex was sodden and swollen. His burning, golden eyes looked deep into hers. “Was that pleasurable, little willow?” “Yes, my lord. It was.” She dipped her lashes halfway over her eyes. “Was it pleasurable for you?” The Kjartan stared at her. “You have said that these breasts are used to feed your young.” Shina nodded, noting that he refused to answer her question as to whether sucking her breasts had pleased him. The Kjartan tilted his head. “But I tasted nothing. Except your skin.”
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“It is only when a woman has given birth to a child that her breasts produce milk.” “I see.” The Kjartan gripped one of her breasts. Leaning closer, he peered at it while he pinched her nipple as if expecting to see something trickle from it. “My lord?” He drew his gaze away from his scrutiny of her breast and looked at her. “My lord, what are the females like on your world?” His eyes narrowed until they were golden slits. Shina ignored that. “Do they not have breasts? Do they not bear young? Are they—?” The Kjartan lowered his head and wrapped his mouth around the breast he held in his hand. Shina shuddered as he fiercely lashed her nipple with his tongue. It throbbed and sharp, hot barbs of pleasure arrowed deep into her sex, which throbbed and moistened. Even as the Kjartan hungrily sucked at her breast, even as Shina threw back her head and blissfully closed her eyes, she was very much aware that he was pleasuring her so as not to have to answer her questions. His hands roamed possessively over her naked body and the heat of his skin, as he pressed her firmly against him, seared her own burning flesh. And it felt good. So very good. And Shina was soon lost in an eddying maelstrom of rising pleasure and her curiosity about him and his people was consumed by the pulsing arousal she felt under his strong, covetous hands and beneath his firm, demanding mouth. He finally pulled away from her aching breast. “No more questions, little willow. We will fuck now. That is your function, is it not?” Yes, that was her function. To give pleasure to her clients. Her needs were secondary, if they existed at all. Only her client’s needs were paramount. And it was not her place as a courtesan to question her clients or to try to fulfill her own desires, whether they were of a physical, or in this case, intellectual nature. Her place, her purpose, as it were, was to give her body in pleasure to those who had contracted for her services. She must remember that. “Yes, my lord. That is my function.” She looked into his golden, burning eyes. “I want you, my lord. I want to pleasure you and give you joy. Take me. I am yours.” The words were ritualistic, spoken by all the courtesans of House Edo as a prelude to pillowing. However, even as Shina said them, she realized she truly did want him. She went over to the pillowing mat and lay down upon it. Then she looked over at the Kjartan. He rose from the floor and came to her. He took off his robe. Underneath it, he wore what looked like a military uniform. It was black and made of what appeared to be leather, but Shina could see no clasps, zippers, buttons or any other way of removing it.
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However, as she had been taught to, Shina was about to rise from the floor to help him remove his clothing, but he gestured for her to remain where she was. She watched, fascinated, as he moved his fingers over his clothing. Almost magically, seams appeared across the uniform and it fell, slowly, from his body onto the floor. He was naked underneath it. Then he stood, silently, in front of her. Since he made no additional movement toward her, Shina could only assume he wanted her to look at him. And looked she did. His shoulders were wide, his chest broad and as thickly muscled as his arms. The stomach was hard and flat, the waist slim and the legs long and strong. His skin was devoid of hair, even around the groin. He had a penis similar to a human male, but it was longer and thicker and ridged from the crown to the base. He had no testicles. Or at least none that Shina could recognize. There was some kind of bulge beneath his penis. She had no idea what it was. All in all, in spite of those differences, he looked no different than any other man. That is, if a man were also a living god, for he was truly the most magnificent male Shina had ever looked upon. He sat next to her on the pillowing mat. “Where is your opening?” “My opening?” Then, realizing what he meant, Shina parted her legs and slid her hands over her hairless mound. As was the custom for all the courtesans in House Edo it had been shaved. “It is here, my lord.” Again, curiosity blossomed in Shina’s mind. How different were Kjartan females from human females? His eyes narrowed. “A slit? How am I to enter you there?” Shina suppressed a smile. “It can be done, my lord. And I can assure you, it is more than just a…slit.” He leaned over and, lowering his head, sniffed between her thighs. Shina had been taught never to feel shame regarding her body, but it was somewhat disconcerting having the Kjartan sniffing her as if he were trying to detect whether she was a piece of spoiled meat. He pulled away and then, using both his hands, gently drew apart her sex and peered down at it. Running his fingers slowly over the tender lips, he glanced over at a vase of flowers on a table near the pillowing mat. “It resembles those flowers.” “What?” Shina looked at the flowers. “Oh.” She looked down at her sex, her throat tightening as the Kjartan continued to caress the sensitive skin. “Yes, I suppose it does resemble a flower.” He raised his head and looked at her. “I will taste it.” 166
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Adjusting himself on the pillowing mat and easing his head between her legs, he reached out with his tongue and slowly licked her. Shina moaned. Holy stars! His tongue felt so alive, the way it slithered up and down her nether lips. He meticulously explored her, the tip of his tongue delicately defining the edges of her quivering lips while, with the flat broadness of it, he slowly laved her with long, leisurely licks. Shina squirmed against the pillowing mat, her heart pounding, her breath ragged. Then she cried out when he eased his tongue inside her. When he had filled her with his tongue, he slowly moved it in and out. Shina’s throat tightened and she threw her legs apart. The Kjartan’s tongue was so agile as it wriggled deliciously inside her. She could not imagine any human male doing this to her with such skillful attentiveness. Then, gripping her hips to hold her still, the Kjartan thrust his tongue deeper into her. The hard planes of his handsome face rubbed against her mound, massaging her pleasure bud, while his tongue twisted snakelike within her. With a strangled cry, Shina lifted her hips and ground her clit against his face. She squeezed her sex about his tongue, prompting it to squirm deeper. Reaching down to where he gripped her hips, she pulled his hands up her body and guided them to her breasts. He tugged and pinched her swollen nipples. Shina mewled and twisted against the pillowing mat. The Kjartan licked her faster, his dark head moving between her thighs, his tongue swirling about her burning clit. She deftly rolled her hips, grinding her mound against his ravishing tongue. “Oh stars! Oh holy stars!” Shina’s orgasm surged through her, wave after sizzling wave. The Kjartan licked the wetness streaming out of her, occasionally stabbing his tongue between her engorged lips. “Little willow.” Shina looked dazedly up at him. The wetness of her sex glistened on his lips. “Yes, my lord?” “Was that pleasing to you?” “Yes, very much so.” Although still a virgin, this was not Shina’s first orgasm. Part of her training as a courtesan had involved knowing how to give herself pleasure. But the climaxes she had given herself were a pale facsimile of the devastating pleasure she had just experienced from the Kjartan’s long, agile tongue. “Was it pleasing to you, my lord?” “The taste of you was…unusual,” he said.
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Shina glanced at his groin. His penis, she saw with both trepidation and excitement, was fully erect. Her eyes widened as she stared at it. As part of her training to become a courtesan, Shina had taken part in what was known as minarai, or learning from observation, which meant that she had sometimes watched Orino service some of her patrons. Orino had known Shina was watching, of course, but the patrons had not. As a result, Shina had seen all kinds of male sexual organs; some long and thin, others short and fat, and some that had been so enormous as to make her heart race imagining such a huge thing inside her. But never had she seen one as long and as thick as the Kjartan’s when it was erect. He followed her gaze down to his fiercely jutting penis. Then he looked back at her. “We will fuck now. Shina licked her lips. “Yes, my lord. But, before we do, I have a question.” His golden eyes blazed. “I do not know whether you are brave, stubborn or exceedingly foolish. You continue to ask questions when I am certain that I have made it comprehensible to you that it is I who will ask the questions.” He drew the tip of one long finger over her breasts, flicking her stiff nipples. “Very well. I will let you ask your question.” “Why do you wish to pillow with…” She stopped at his frown. “Why do you want to fuck a human?” She did not expect him to answer. However, she could not stop herself from wondering and, thereby, asking. “I was sent here to obtain information about humans,” he finally said. “In our experience, participation in the mating rituals of a sentient species leads to valuable data about that species.” Shina’s eyes widened. “Are you saying there are other alien races in the galaxy?” The Kjartan’s eyes narrowed until they were golden slits, and his lips drew back, revealing strong white teeth. “You are clever, little willow. Too clever for your own good. No more questions. I will fuck you now.” He moved his body over hers. His muscular chest rubbed across her tender breasts and his hard thighs pressed against her legs. Shina, however, was thinking about what he had said. Was it possible? Were there other sentient races in the galaxy? And if there were, were they allies or enemies of the Kjartans? “Little willow.” Shina looked up at the Kjartan. His sulfurous eyes stared down into hers. “Attend me.”
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“Yes, my lord.” She reached down and guided his cock to her mound. “You may enter me there,” she said once she felt the tip of his cock pressing against her nether lips. The Kjartan slid slowly inside her. Shina moaned as his huge, ridged penis massaged her moist, tender walls. The feel of him inside her was electrifying. “Your opening is very tight,” he growled. “I did not expect this. It is…very pleasing.” He stopped when the tip of his cock pressed against her hymen. “Is this it?” he grunted, his voice so thick Shina could barely understand him. “Is this what I must break?” She swallowed hard. “Yes, my lord.” “And it will hurt?” “Yes,” she whispered. The Kjartan said nothing. But instead of thrusting hard as Shina had expected, he eased inside her. Then he pulled back, waited a moment, and pushed again, going a little deeper this time. Tears welled in Shina’s eyes, but not from pain. They came from the attentiveness the Kjartan took not to rip her virginity from her. She had not expected such thoughtfulness from him. He moved deeper, then, a rich thrust, a sharp pang, and it was done. She was virgin no more. “It is done?” he murmured against her throat. Shina nodded, the throbbing ache within her strangling her words. Then, remembering who and what she was, maiko no longer but a fully fledged geiko of House Edo, she whispered the traditional words marking the culmination of the mizuage ceremony. “I am yours, my lord. Possess me.” The Kjartan moved inside her and soon eased into a smooth, rhythmic thrusting. Shina sighed as she flowered beneath his potent thrusts. She pressed her face against the hard flesh of his shoulder and shoved trembling fingers through the thick, dark hair that flowed down his broad back. The Kjartan grabbed her slim thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist. Then he lowered his head and hungrily licked at her breasts, his tongue wetly rasping the stiff nipples. Shina dug her nails into the Kjartan’s broad back. He groaned and lifted his head from her wet breasts. Growling deep in his broad chest, he buried his face in her neck and nipped at her throat with his teeth. Shina twisted away when the nips became bites. The Kjartan looked down at her. His golden pupil-less eyes burned and the sharp planes of his handsome face were twisted with what she clearly could see was
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unbridled lust. He drew great, gasping draughts of air into his wide chest. His massive cock, hot, thick and hard, was still inside her, stretching her deliciously. Then he flexed his hips and rammed his cock into her, the stiff stabs making her gasp for breath. Shina lifted her hips, matching him stroke for scorching stroke, thrust for blistering thrust. Her blood simmered and her breath came in stiff, tight gasps. Then she felt her inner muscles clamping hard around the Kjartan’s fiercely driving cock. She gave a long, shuddering cry as she shattered into a glittering cascade of bliss. “Oh holy stars!” The muscles of her undulating sex gripped his long, ridged cock and she clutched blindly at him as wave after wave of her climax rippled violently through her shuddering body. Then, as her orgasm slowly died away, the Kjartan pulled himself out of her. She looked up into his alien eyes. “I have not yet been pleasured,” he said. “What? But I—” she stammered. “It was well enough for you, it would seem. But it is not enough for me.” “Then tell me what it is you desire and I will do it.” He regarded her for a moment. “You are certain?” Shina hesitated. She suddenly felt as if she were about to dive into a river where, beneath the surface, strange shapes swam. “Yes, I am certain,” she said. The Kjartan’s smile widened. Then she saw, fear like a barb in her chest, that he was not smiling, but baring his teeth, two of which had grown long and sharp and made her think of the fangs of a serpent. She cried out, instinctively twisting away. “What is wrong?” he asked, his deep voice thick with arousal. “What are you doing?” His eyes flared. “It is called the tujal.” “The tujal? What is the tujal?” “I will bite you. Here.” He stroked the space between Shina’s shoulder and neck. “The fularn will enter your blood.” “The fularn? What is that?” “The closest translation into your language would be the ‘elixir of bonding’.” “And what does this…this fularn do?” “It paralyzes the female so that the male can fuck her.” Shina was horrified. “And that is the way your people have sex?” His expression hardened. “That is no concern to you. Question me no further on it.”
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“How do you know this fularn will even work on me? I’m not a Kjartan.” Then an even more frightening thought occurred to Shina. “How do you know it won’t kill me?” The Kjartan smiled wider, his lips stretching over his sharp teeth. “I don’t.” Shina stared at him in horror. She could scream for help; Taiko would be within the chamber in an instant. He would not hesitate to come to her aid. Even if it mean risking a diplomatic incident. But if she did call for help, it would displease not only the Kjartan, but Minister Perry and Mother, and with their displeasure would most certainly come her expulsion from the Pleasure Quarters. No, she could not risk that. Shina had no desire to work in the plasma factories or sell her body at the starport. Both were a fate worse than death. She had to take the chance that this fularn or whatever it was would not harm her. The Kjartan was not all that different from a human male. She could only hope it was the same with Kjartan and human females. “You’re not going to eat me, are you?” The Kjartan threw back his head and laughed. “No, I will not eat you, little willow. We are predators, yes, we Kjartans. But we do not eat sentient beings.” Shina felt some relief, but not much. “All right,” she said, praying she would not live, or die, to regret this. “Go ahead.” “You are brave to agree to something you fear may harm you.” His strange golden eyes bored deeply into hers. “Are all humans so brave?” Pride surged within Shina. “Yes, we are all so brave.” The Kjartan stared at her. Then, lowering his head to Shina’s neck, he murmured, “We shall see.”
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Chapter Three His teeth pierced her skin. Shina shuddered. He bit harder, his fangs sinking into her flesh. His cock stirred against her stomach, growing as hard as his teeth in her throat. Coldness moved through her flesh as if ice water were flowing into her veins. The fularn. Shina tried to swallow in a thickening throat. The idea of being paralyzed while the Kjartan had his way with her both frightened and excited her. He removed his teeth from her throat and raised his head from her neck. She looked down at his groin, her eyes widening. Beneath his erect penis, another was emerging from the bulge she had noted earlier. The Kjartan, noting where she stared, looked down at his second penis. “Ah, yes, my molach. It emerges only during the tujal, after the fularn has been injected into the female.” “Two?” Shina gasped. “You have two? But why?” “That is no concern of yours. It is a shame you have only this one opening.” He stroked her mound. “Flexible as it is, I do not think it will take both my molach and my sulach. And it will lessen the pleasure for me, your not having an opening for my molach.” He nudged Shina’s legs apart. She noted that, although she felt languid and indolent, she was still able to move. If anything, the fularn only seemed to heighten her senses. The slightest touch inflamed her skin. The Kjartan firmly grasped her hips and slid his first penis inside her. Incredibly, it was even thicker and longer than it had been doing their previous lovemaking. The other penis, his molach, which was just as long and thick, rubbed along the crevice of her buttocks. As he adjusted her body to go deeper inside her, the head of his molach pressed against her anus. He stopped moving and looked down at her. “What is this? You have another opening? Why did you not speak of this?” He pushed his molach deeper between the crevice of her buttocks. Shina tensed, expecting to feel pain as the Kjartan’s second penis moved deep into her rear. She was surprised when all she felt was a growing, pleasurable sense of fullness within her. “Yes, this will do.” He pushed his second penis deeper into her. “This smaller one. It is very tight.”
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Shina could not believe it. Both the Kjartan’s penises were now deep inside her. One in her sex, the other in her rear. She moaned deep in her throat as she sinuously moved her body beneath his, reveling in the feel of both his rock-hard cocks inside her. “You are not paralyzed?” the Kjartan asked, his voice betraying his astonishment. Shina smiled. “Apparently not.” “But that is not possible. You should not be capable of movement.” His golden eyes narrowed. “Very well, little willow. Since you are able to move, let us see how far into the tujal you will go.” He flexed his powerful hips and began thrusting both his molach and sulach into her quivering body, and as he mercilessly fucked her, Shina pushed back onto the burning shafts of both his molach and sulach; the one thrusting moistly and forcefully into her sex, the other sliding smoothly and muscularly into her rear. As for the Kjartan, his body shuddered as he drove himself into her. He had not shown nor expressed any passion during their pervious lovemaking but the tujal, it seemed, was something altogether different. His fucking of her was wild and bestial and, instead of remaining silent as he had before, he loudly grunted and growled, his breath ragged and harsh. Shina could only imagine what it must sound like to Mother and the others. But no one disturbed them. No one came in. Then, with an echoing shout, his molach and sulach beating deep within her sex and her rear, Shina felt him jetting forcefully into her. She looked up at him. The veins in his strong neck were distended, the lips drawn back over his large white teeth and his face was twisted with the crushing force of his powerful orgasm. He stared down at her, his golden eyes burning like the inside of a sun. “Little willow?” “Yes, my lord?” she whispered. “The tujal has not broken you.” “No, my lord,” Shina said as she slowly arched her back, pulling him deeper into her. “It has not.” He slid his thickly muscled arm beneath her body, pulled out of her and rose from the pillowing mat. Once he was erect, he carried her to the wall and pressed her against it. He adjusted her body so that both his cocks were once again inside her sex and her rear. Then, with her trapped between him and the wall, he began fucking her again. “Now, little willow,” he groaned huskily. “You cannot move.” Shina wrapped her arms about his neck, her fingers gripping his thick black hair as he vigorously thrust his molach and sulach into her. It was true. She could not move. But that only made the pleasure more intense. The fact that she was completely at his mercy. “Harder,” she gasped, “harder!” 173
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The Kjartan pounded forcefully into her body. “And will you continue to bend, little willow?” He lowered his head toward her breasts. “Or will you break?” “You will have to—” Shina shuddered as he hungrily sucked her breasts, his rough tongue licking moistly at her stiff nipples. “You will have to… Oh holy stars…find that out for yourself.” He raised his head and looked keenly at her. “So be it.” He moved his mouth back to her breasts, his teeth nipping at each of her hard nipples, his tongue slithering over her swollen flesh. Moaning with need, Shina arched her back, pushing her breasts toward his mouth. Her body trembled and warmth radiated up her skin, arousal and desire flooding her senses as a dark, animalistic pleasure possessed her and she wondered if any human female had ever known such savage delight. The Kjartan pressed her harder against the wall, thrusting into her so fiercely that Shina exploded into a cataclysmic orgasm. She screamed and beat her fists against his strong, broad back. He slammed his hard cocks into her. Her body bounced off the wall with each plundering thrust. His grunts and her moans filled the air as they fucked with fierce, animalistic passion and each ramming assault of his molach and sulach drove Shina’s arousal higher and higher until every nerve ending in her body screamed with pleasure. Then, with a convulsive tremor that she felt deep within her own trembling body, the Kjartan jerked hard against her, nearly crushing her against the wall. He shouted words she did not understand and skewered both his cocks into her. Shina clung to him as his moist mouth slid over her throat and shoulders, his wet tongue soothed her heated skin, his large hands squeezed her swollen breasts, his strong fingers pinched her stiff nipples. Once he was done climaxing, which took quite some time, he slowly pulled both his cocks out of her and stepped away from the wall. Shina leaned against it, her body quivering, her breath rasping, the blood pounding in her veins. Moistness seeped down her thighs, both hers and the Kjartan’s. Even though her mind was muddled with pleasure, she could not help but wonder if the Kjartan’s semen was similar to that of a human male. She looked down at her thighs. The wetness she saw on her skin didn’t look any different from that of a human male’s seed. She’d seen enough of it during those times when she had observed Orino with her clients and some of them had spent their seed onto her naked body. “Have you broken, little willow?” Shina focused her attention back on the Kjartan’s fiercely handsome face, his burning golden eyes. She slowly shook her head, though she had to admit that only the wall was keeping her from collapsing into a heap onto the floor.
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The Kjartan smiled, his strong white teeth glimmering in his bronzed face. He picked her up and carried her back to the pillowing mat where he laid her down upon it. Then, without a word, he quickly thrust both his molach and sulach back into her swollen sex and rear. Shina moaned deep in her throat. Holy stars, she couldn’t believe it! Surely he must be completely spent by now. Any human male would have been. But apparently he was not. Her body quaked from his renewed and powerful fucking of her. He looked down at her, his golden eyes flaming. “Break,” he growled. “Admit that we Kjartans are too much for you humans.” Shina shook her head, her hair flying wildly about her face. He pressed his mouth against her ear, his breath hot and harsh. “Then know this, little willow. The tujal can go on for what you humans call hours. Even days.” Shina shivered, but not from fear. It was from the thought of him pleasuring her like this for days. She looked up at him. “So be it, my lord.” He growled deep in his throat, and flexing his hips, pressed her hard against the pillowing mat, his molach and sulach pounding into her. Shina raised her hips to meet his hard thrusts, and their shuddering bodies—his hard and muscular, hers soft and yielding—coupled fiercely in a fury of lust. In fact, after the fularn wore off, Shina begged him to bite her again. He did so, his fangs sinking deep into her neck, the fularn surging through her heated blood. And as the Kjartan fucked her and hungrily sucked at her swollen breasts, his tongue rasping over her burning skin, his teeth biting her rigid nipples, his cocks skewering her soft body, Shina swiveled her hips to meet each of his thrusts, conscious of nothing except the rapture rising within her. And when the Kjartan climaxed again, Shina climaxed with him. Violently, agonizingly, blissfully. And he, his golden eyes burning, his breath rough and hot, demanded that she break. And she, her heart pounding, her body shuddering, shook her head and refused. And he, growling menacingly, bit her again, injecting her with more of the fularn. And he continued to fuck her with his molach and sulach until, overwhelmed as she was from having orgasm on top of searing orgasm, Shina finally lost consciousness.
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Chapter Four Shina slowly opened her eyes. Dazedly, she looked around. Soft daylight streamed through the slats of the window. She was in her chamber, on her sleeping mat. What had happened? Where was the Kjartan? The door slid open. Mother walked in and, when she saw Shina was awake, hurried over and lowered her bulk to the floor. “Are you all right?” she asked, taking Shina’s hand in hers. “Yes, Mother. I’m fine.” The older woman shook her head. “That animal! I never should have agreed to this.” “What has happened? Where is the Emissary?” “He’s not here. He shouted for help when you fainted. When we got to the chamber, Minister Perry and I had to restrain Taiko. He thought the Kjartan had killed you.” “And the Emissary?” “Him?” Mother snorted. “He was babbling some gibberish about willows only bending, never breaking. He was quite upset. He thought you were dead too, I guess.” Shina tried to imagine the Kjartan being upset about anything other than her asking him questions he didn’t want to answer. “When we told him you weren’t dead, that you’d only fainted, he didn’t want to leave.” Mother’s upper lip curled. “Probably wanted to keep fucking your brains out, but Minister Perry rushed him out right quick.” She shook her head. “I never should have agreed to this.” “But why? I’m a courtesan. I was only doing what I’ve been trained to do.” Mother pulled the covers from over Shina. “That didn’t give him the right to do this to you.” Shina looked down. Bruises marbled her naked body and, reaching up, she felt bite marks on her neck and shoulder. Then, recalling how she had gotten them and the Kjartan’s passionate fucking of her with his molach and sulach as they had engaged in the tujal, she climaxed, moaning throatily as she did. Mother stared at her. “Holy stars, child, what did he do to you?” Shina smiled. “He didn’t hurt me, Mother.” Then she told the older woman about the tujal. Mother slowly shook her head after Shina was done. “And you think it was something in the…what was it?” 176
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“The fularn.” Mother frowned at the strange word. “You think that’s what made you so responsive?” Shina nodded. “He said the fularn paralyzed Kjartan females. But it didn’t paralyze me. In fact, it heightened my pleasure.” Shina sighed, her body tingling from the memory. “It was…unbelievable.” Mother eyed her. Then she leaned closer and lowered her voice. “And did he really have two?” “Didn’t you see them?” ‘No, I saw only the one. And that was monstrous enough.” “Yes, Mother, he did have two.” Mother sucked air through her teeth. “Holy stars! Two of them! And you took them both.” She shook her head again in amazement. Someone scratched at the door. Mother quickly covered Shina with the blanket. “Come in,” she shouted. The door slid open and the green-eyed servant girl entered and gave Mother a piece of paper. She took it and dismissed her. The girl, however, did not move. She stared wide-eyed at Shina. “Get out of here before I sell you, you worthless thing,” Mother growled, waving her away. The girl turned and scampered out of the room. “Don’t mind her. You’ve become something of a legend in the Pleasure Quarters,” Mother explained. “House Edo has received so many requests that we’re booked up until the end of the year. And the majority of them have been for you.” “Requests for me?” Mother nodded. “They’re all curious about you. The first human female to have sex with an alien. Orino is very jealous of how famous you’ve become.” She looked down at the paper in her hand and, as she read it, she frowned. “What is it, Mother? “It’s from Minister Perry. The Kjartan is returning to his homeworld to continue negotiations between the Hegemony and the Supremacy there.” Mother blinked in surprise. “He wants you to go with him.” Shina’s breath caught in her throat. “What?” Mother nodded. “Apparently he’s refused the Hegemony’s offer of an official representative. He says he will take only the little willow with him.” Mother tilted her head. “What does he mean by that? Little willow?” Shina only shrugged, but inside she was smiling. Mother tapped the paper with a thick finger. “The Emissary’s giving you a patron gift in addition to the payment the Ministry made for the mizuage ceremony. Hmmm, this is quite a large gift. He must have been quite pleased with you.”
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Shina blushed and bit her lower lip to order to stifle a moan as she climaxed again. Mother went on, oblivious to what had just occurred. “All total, minus the House percentage, it’s more than enough to pay off your indenture slip.” She raised a thick eyebrow at Shina. “Well, little one, it looks like you can go with the Kjartan to his homeworld or anywhere else in the galaxy, for that matter.” “But I’m not a diplomat. I’m only a courtesan.” Mother shrugged. “I’ve known my share of diplomats. You can’t do any worse.” Shina looked over at Mother. Was it possible? She was, after all, free. Free to go wherever she wanted. Free to do whatever she wanted. She could stay at House Edo as an independent courtesan. Or she could transfer to one of the other Houses in the Pleasure Quarters. Or she could, if she wanted, move into the capital proper. She didn’t even have to remain a courtesan if she so desired. But the Kjartan Emissary had asked her to accompany him back to his homeworld. To be the first human to ever visit an alien world. To finally find out what the Kjartans were like. And, most of all, to be with him. Then Shina frowned. She didn’t even know his name. He had told her he gave his name only to those he considered his equal. Did she really want to go to a world where she would be considered inferior to everyone around her? There was another scratch at the door. “What?” Mother bellowed. The same servant girl who had given Mother the message entered the chamber. If it was possible, her green eyes were even larger. Mother turned around and looked at the girl who continued to stand gawping at her. “Well, what is it?” she snapped. “He’s here, Mistress.” Mother frowned. “Who’s here?” “The-the-the—” “The who?” Mother shouted. “The Emissary. He-he wants to see Shina.” Mother leapt up from the floor. “The Emissary is here? Again?” She shot Shina a sharp look. “Don’t just lie there, child. Get up and have this worthless thing help you get dressed. I’ll go and see that he’s offered some tea.” Mother swiftly moved her bulk toward the door. “Or whatever it is he drinks,” she muttered as she left the room. Shina rose from her pallet. She went over to her closet and was delighted to see that all of her apprentice kimonos were gone and had been replaced with the kimonos allotted to a full-fledged courtesan. A thrill of pleasure swept through her as she ran her 178
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hands over the beautiful fabrics. She finally chose a bronze and gold kimono that would highlight her coloring. The servant girl helped her put on the kimono and arrange her hair. Then, sitting at her table, Shine quickly applied her makeup. As a full-fledged courtesan, she no longer had to wear the heavy makeup she worn as a maiko. Just as the girl finished tying Shina’s obi, the door to her chamber slid open and Orino strode in. Shina rose from the table and faced her. Orino’s lovely face was, as usual, set in sullen lines. But Shina also thought she saw something else in her sapphire eyes. A grudging respect, perhaps? “Mother tells me that not only are you no longer a maiko, but you’ve also earned enough from this assignation to pay off your indenture slip to the House.” Shina nodded. Then she pointed to a fan on a nearby table. The servant girl picked it up and handed it to her. Orino brusquely gestured for girl to leave the room. Once she was gone, Orino turned back to Shina. “What will you do now?” Shina blinked. She had expected Orino to mock her for having had sex with an alien or to express her customary resentment regarding any of Shina’s accomplishments. She certainly had not expected what appeared to be Orino’s genuine interest in her future. Shina ran a finger over the edge of her fan. “I don’t know.” “Is it true the Kjartan has asked you to go back with him to his world?” “Yes, it would appear so.” Orino nodded and took a step closer. “You should go.” “I should?” Orion shrugged her slender shoulders. “Why not? It would be a grand opportunity for you. You’ve be even more famous than you are now.” Shina stared in surprise at Orino. Then it dawned on her. With Shina out of the way, Orino would remain the star courtesan of House Edo, which would continue to reap the benefits of having been the first House in the Pleasure Quarters to have serviced an alien. A small smile played about Shina’s mouth as she contemplated remaining at House Edo, for there was no doubt in her mind that she would now outshine Orino as the sun outshines a candle. However what once would have delighted her, finally surpassing the haughty, conceited Orino, no longer held any appeal to her. “Yes,” Shina replied. “It would indeed be a grand opportunity.” Orino visibly relaxed at Shina’s words. Then, lifting her chin high, she gazed disdainfully down at her former apprentice.
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“You made quite a lot of noise during your assignation with the Emissary.” Orino’s perfect nose wrinkled. “Most distasteful. You must learn to be more restrained in the future.” Orino turned and left Shina’s chamber. Once she was gone, Shina broke into a wide smile. She would have liked to see how restrained Orino would have been if the Kjartan had pleasured her with his molach and sulach. Then, realizing that he was waiting for her, Shina quickly smoothed down her kimono, adjusted her fan and, with her head as high as Orino’s had been, left her chamber. In the hall, Mother came toward her. “He’s in the reception room. Minister Perry is also with him. Just to warn you, the Minister is in a bit of snit.” Shina arched a brow. “Is he now?” Mother moved next to Shina and accompanied her down the hall. “Don’t let him intimidate you. He only sees you as a courtesan and, therefore, unworthy of such an honor.” Shina tapped her fan against the back of her hand. “I am a courtesan. And I feel no shame in being one.” Mother smacked her lips approvingly. “That’s the spirit. I’m sure the Emissary doesn’t want you to go with him just because you gave him a good pillowing.” Shina’s cheeks burned as did the cleft between her legs. “Actually, it was he who gave me a good pillowing.” Or, as he would say, a good fucking. Mother grunted at Shina’s words. They stopped in front of the door to the reception room. Mother slid it open and Shina stepped inside. Bright sunlight streamed through the large windows. Minster Perry stood to Shina’s left, a cup of tea in his hand. He slightly inclined his head, but she clearly saw his disapproval of her in his eyes. She looked away from him and over to the Emissary. Despite the brightness of the room, his golden eyes glowed just as brilliantly as they had in the candlelit pillowing chamber. He was once again clothed in his black uniform which fit his tall strong body like a second skin. He deeply bowed to her and a hum of delight shot through Shina at the honor he accorded her. She wondered if bowing was a Kjartan custom or one he had learned while on Avalon. Shina also bowed, just as deeply. When she rose from her bow, the Kjartan was staring at her as if she were the only person in the room. “You have recovered, little willow.” The sound of his voice, that odd combination of harmony and dissonance, sent another thrill through Shina as she recalled their heated coupling and the Kjartan’s repeated admonitions that she break.
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She supposed that since she had fainted, overwhelmed as she was by their searing lovemaking, she had, indeed, broken. She preferred to think of it as bending. “Yes, my lord. I have indeed recovered.” Except for the delicious stinging in her sex and rear. Out of the corner of her eye, Shina saw Mother beaming at her and Minister Perry frowning. “You may leave us,” the Kjartan said. “I will speak with her alone.” “Your Excellency, I think it best that I—” Minister Perry began. The Kjartan made a hard, quick gesture. “Leave us.” Minister Perry inclined his head. He gestured for Mother to accompany him out of the room. Before she left, Mother gave Shina a thumbs-up sign. Shina smiled. Once they were gone, the Kjartan raised his hand and made the same thumbs-up motion that Mother had made. “What does this mean?” “It means you’re doing a good job or you’re doing the right thing.” The Kjartan lowered his hand. “A good job? The right thing?” Shina nodded. “It’s also a sign of encouragement.” “And what was she encouraging you to do?” Shina hesitated. “To follow my heart.” The Kjartan stepped closer. “Your heart?” He reached over and placed his hand beneath her breasts. “Is not your heart here?” “Yes, it is there. But to follow one’s heart also means to do what one thinks is best for oneself. To do what will make one happy.” His hand moved slowly over the front of her kimono. “And what will make you happy, little willow?” Shina blinked, for she suddenly realized that never in her life had anyone ever asked her what would make her happy. She wasn’t sure how to answer. All she’d ever wanted, it seemed, was to get out from under Orino’s thumb. Now that she had accomplished that, she had no idea what she wanted or what would make her happy. “I don’t know,” she finally answered. “Did pillowing with me make you happy?” Shina smiled. “You said pillowing. Not fucking.” The Emissary returned her smile. “Fucking is a hard word. Pillowing is soft. Like you. But you are also strong, little willow.” Shina wasn’t so sure about that. However, it pleased her to hear him say it. “My lord?” “Yes?” “What is your world like?”
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He tilted his head. “It is a world like any other world.” He glanced around the reception room. “Thought not as soft,” and he turned and looked back at Shina, “or as lovely.” Shina blushed. “And the women? What are they like?” She had asked him about the females of his world before and had been soundly rebuffed, but she was unable to repress her curiosity about them. “The females on Kjarta are different,” he finally said. “That is all I will say about them for now. You will see for yourself soon enough.” He smiled at her. “Lay trust on my words. You will be a novelty among my people. A rare and beautiful novelty, little willow.” “I have a name, my lord.” He nodded. “Shina. But you told me that it has no meaning. Perhaps it means little willow.” “Perhaps.” Shina then took a deep breath. “And your name?” He stared at her for a long moment, his burning, golden eyes looking deeply into hers. “As I said to you before, my name is gifted only to those I consider my equal. Do you consider yourself my equal, Shina?” “I cannot say if I am your equal, my lord, for I still have much to learn about you and your people. But I do consider myself worthy.” He stared at her. “Jahaud,” he finally said. “I am Jahaud, scion of Sahaud.” Shina inclined her head. “Jahaud.” He smiled. “I can not say why it is, but it pleases me to hear you speak my name. Perhaps I should have gifted it to you before. To hear you say it when I am inside you— ” He stopped and his glowing eyes flared even brighter. Shina smiled. She placed her fan on a nearby table, reached over and ran her hands over the front of his uniform. Jahaud looked down at her roving hands. “What are you doing?” She frowned. “I’m trying to work out how to unfasten this…this garment of yours.” He glanced toward the closed door. “Minister Perry is waiting to escort me back to the Ministry. Before we leave for the Supremacy, there are things I must attend to. As much as I would enjoy it, we do not have time for pillowing.” Shina softly laughed. “We’re not going to pillow.” Jahaud’s glowing gold eyes narrowed. “Then what is it you want to do?” She looked up at him. “Have you ever been pleasured orally?” He frowned at her use of the word. “Orally?” She let her lower lip fall open. “Has anyone ever pleasured you using her mouth?” “Her mouth?” Jahaud’s frown deepened. “There is no purpose or reason that I can see in being pleasured by a female’s mouth.”
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Shina tilted her head and smiled mischievously up at him. “There may not be a purpose or reason but,” she let out a gasp of satisfaction when her roaming fingers managed to finally disengage the front of his uniform, “you will find that neither purpose nor reason factors into it. Only pleasure.” She peeled back the leather fabric over his groin. Jahaud’s penis, or his sulach, as he called it, sprang toward her. She was pleased to see that it was already erect. “Shina, what are you—?” Jahaud released a lengthy, drawn-out sigh that turned into a deep groan as Shina quickly knelt and wrapped her mouth around his long, thick cock. Although it was her first time pleasuring a male orally, she had had extensive training on how to do so, having practiced for hours on dildos and various pieces of appropriately shaped fruit. Therefore, she knew exactly how to lick and to suck, how to relax the muscles of her throat and how to pull the cock, no matter how long or thick it was—and Jahaud’s was certainly long and thick—deeper into her mouth. The actual experience of it, however, was a far cry from sucking and licking fruit or dildos. There was a taste and a smell, a texture and even a sound that was unlike any of her practice sessions. As Shina deftly rolled her tongue and worked the muscles of her throat, she took pleasure in the sounds Jahaud made as she vigorously sucked his cock. He shoved his long fingers through her hair, undoing the simple but elegant style she had shaped it into. He groaned deep in his chest, muttering and mumbling in what sounded like his own language as she sucked him harder. Soon his hips pulsed in time with the movement of her mouth until they were both in synch. His large hands tightened about her head, squeezing hard. Then he cried out, his voice a velvety roar as he climaxed. No fluid seeped down Shina’s throat. Apparently it was only the tujal that produced any semen, but Jahaud’s cock throbbed and smoldered in her mouth and it was all she could do not to thrust her hand up under her kimono and finger herself to an orgasm. Once he was done, Shina slowly released him, lavishing his cock with long, luscious licks as she did so. Then she looked up at him and was pleased to see that his handsome face was suffused with wonder, his golden pupil-less eyes flaring as brightly as the sun. He took her gently by the shoulders and raised her up from her knees. “I would never have thought that such pleasure could be experienced in this manner. It is as gratifying as the tujal. We must do this again.” He smiled. “And soon. It is my wish.” Shina gracefully inclined her head. “I would be more than happy to, my lord. And there are, if you so desire, many more ways that I can pleasure you.” Shina gave him a teasing smile. “I am, after all, a courtesan.” Jahaud shook his head. “You are more than that, little willow. You are the Emissary.” 183
ABOUT THE AUTHORS B.J. McCall Born a coal miner’s daughter, B.J. McCall now lives in California. Thanks to an older sister who was also a librarian, reading became B.J.’s favorite pastime. Reading a romance novel is B.J.’s perfect way to spend a rainy afternoon or a day at the beach. Her love of romance and science fiction came together in the Aktarian Chronicles. The creation of her futuristic world challenges B.J.’s imagination. Princess Tayra’s dress in Icy Hot, the first story in the chronicles, is a perfect example of her imagination at work. The chronicles are a work-in-progress. The phrase “do what you love” applies to B.J. She loves to write and each story is special. She hopes her readers will enjoy each and every one of them. Also by B.J. McCall Deep Heat Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis II anthology Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction IV anthology Icy Hot Short, Tight & Sexy Slumber Party, Inc. Things That Go Bump In the Night V anthology
Cynthia Rayne Cynthia’s first erotic book was written when she was thirteen. Of course, the most risque thing that happened in the book was a chaste kiss, but it was the talk of her middle school!
She is now a multi-published author. Cynthia is convinced that her muse is a wanton woman who is shameless in her desires but is forced to live them out through the written word. Cynthia is happily single and currently lives in Ohio with her black cat, Magic. She works for a state university full-time and writes whenever she can. In her spare time, she enjoys dating, shopping with her gay boyfriend, reading trashy romance novels, drinking an obscene amount of coffee, and going to movies. Also by Cynthia Rayne Bedrooms and Broomsticks Love, Honor and Obey
Katie Blu Katie doesn’t let the fact that she has lived in the same small town her whole life keep her from experiencing all life has to offer. A hopeless flirt, Katie has had her share of embarrassing moments and red hot encounters. She believes in living life to the fullest, and standing in her way just gets you run over. Katie loves to hear comments from readers.
Kate Hill Kate Hill is a thirty-something vegetarian New Englander who likes heroes with a touch of something wicked and wild. Her short fiction and poetry have appeared in publications both on and off the Internet. When she’s not working on her books, Kate enjoys reading, working out, and researching vampires and Viking history. Also by Kate Hill Ancient Blood: Cryptic Trysts Ancient Blood: Darkness Therein Ancient Blood: Deep Red Ancient Blood: God of the Grim Ancient Blood: Handsome Bastard
Ancient Blood: Immaculate Ancient Blood: In Black Ancient Blood: Infernal Ancient Blood: Revenge of the Court Jester Ancient Blood: The Blood Doctor Ancient Blood: The Holiday Stalking By Honor Bound anthology Forever Midnight anthology Horsemen 1: Dream Stallion Horsemen 2: Captive Stallion Horsemen 3: Highland Stallion Horsemen 4: Winter Stallion Knights of the Ruby Order 1: Torn Knights of the Ruby Order 2: Crag Knights of the Ruby Order 3: Lock Knights of the Ruby Order 4: Mica Knights of the Ruby Order 5: Blaze Midnight Desires Moonlust Privateer Raptvyn’s Rogue Windswept
Delilah Devlin Delilah Devlin dated a Samoan, a Venezuelan, a Turk, a Cuban, and was engaged to a Greek before marrying her Irishman. She’s lived in Saudi Arabia, Germany, and Ireland, but calls Texas home for now. Ever a risk taker, she lived in the Saudi Peninsula during the Gulf War, thwarted an attempted abduction by white slave traders, and survived her children’s juvenile delinquency. Creating alter egos for herself in the pages of her books enables her to live new adventures. Since discovering the sinful pleasure of erotica, she writes to satisfy her need for variety--it keeps her from running away with the Indian working in the cubicle beside her! In addition to writing erotica, she enjoys creating romantic comedies and suspense novels.
Also by Delilah Devlin Arctic Dragon Desire: Garden of Desire Desire: Prisoner of Desire Desire: Slave of Desire Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction I anthology Ellora’s Cavemen: Tales from the Temple III anthology Fated Mates anthology Jacq’s Warlord with Myla Jackson Lion In the Shadows My Immortal Knight: All Hallows Heartbreaker My Immortal Knight: All Knight Long My Immortal Knight: Love Bites My Immortal Knight: Relentless My Immortal Knight: Silver Bullet My Immortal Knight: Uncovering Navarro Nibbles ‘n’ Bits anthology Ride a Cowboy Silent Knight The Pleasure Bot Witch’s Choice
Jenna Reynolds Jenna Reynolds lives in the Midwest where the winters are cold and the summers are hot. Which is why her favorite seasons are spring and autumn. She enjoys reading and writing erotic futuristics, historicals and paranormals. She also loves reading and writing about strong, powerful Alpha males who are ultimately brought to their knees by the power of love. And by an abundance of hot, raunchy sex.
The authors welcomes comments from readers. You can find their websites and email addresses on their author bio pages at www.ellorascave.com.
Tell Us What You Think We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at
[email protected].
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
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