He had been lying on top of her legs as he had ministered to her, but when he wanted to move down her body, he found that she had crossed them beneath him at some point, and seemed disinclined to allow him to open them to himself.
Without a word, he simply reached beneath her with both hands to grab the part of her body that was no doubt still in the most distress, squeezing cruelly, fingertips digging into the bruised flesh as she gasped and heaved beneath him, her legs naturally falling open. He took the opportunity to tuck one of his feet between hers. From there, he was able to use his own legs to keep hers wide open as he dragged himself down her body, deliberately rubbing his coarse body hair over her most delicate area, made even more so by his recent possession of her, and bathing himself in the stream of their juices that still dripped out of her.
Ebby couldn't believe what he seemed to want to do, judging by the position he was arranging himself in. He couldn't possibly be going to put his mouth there, could he?
But then he put an arm across the backs of thighs that bore the livid marks he'd subjected her to, holding them back to expose her to him even more fully.
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them—before she knew she was going to say them. "No—please—don't!"
He raised his head, and she wished she'd never seen the evil grin he gave her. "I will do anything to you that I please, little one, and there will never be anything that you can do to stop me from doing so." With that, he put both hands to holding her legs up and apart as he eagerly dipped his mouth between her legs, lapping greedily up the inside of one swollen lip and down the other, avoiding the places he knew she most wanted—or rather didn't want—him to touch, for the moment. He suckled and nipped here and there, even licked her little bottom hole, which made her squeal and try to wrench herself violently away from him, although she barely moved at all.
Then he began from the bottom—literally—flattening his tongue against every bit of her that he could and dragging it slowly up her groove, not stopping as it became even more sopping wet at her entrance, not even at her clit. Although, he noted that the stifled sighs and moans she tried unsuccessfully to conceal from him had increased in frequency and volume as his soft wet tongue had coursed over her there. He took his time making it all the way to the top of her lips, where he nibbled at her a bit, scraping his hair covered chin over points lower that made her squeal, making the return trip with just the tip of his tongue, instead, to concentrate the sensations.
This time, he did stop—not at her clit, but at her opening, literally drinking in and lapping her up before continuing to slip further down and press against her little flower. She was panting heavily from the rest of his efforts, but she still tried to protest at that.
It was easy to tell what she responded to the most—the repetition of his tongue exploring her cleft boldly for long, torturous moments or the times he thrust his tongue into her, just to make her yelp and struggle to get away from it. He was gratified to realize he could drive her—at least a bit—past her stubborn resistance in both of those ways, but it was when he finally began worrying the little knot of nerves he had avoided as long as he could—perhaps too long—that she nearly went off like a rocket.
Apparently, she was further down the sensual path than he had calculated, so he didn't spend as much time there as he'd planned. He wanted to keep her needy and lustful, but not so much that she came too soon. He wanted her aching for him and what he could do for her, because before there would be the ultimate ecstasy that he hoped to bring to her, there would be more pain. Ultimately, he wanted what he had deprived himself of before—that first exquisite clench of her little cunny around him and then the subsequent nearly as strong ones that would make him shoot his seed whether he wanted to or not.
And he would make himself such a student of what raised her passions that he'd have it from her—each and every time—from now on.
Dear God, she wished he would stop touching her! Large parts of her never wanted him to stop, but her voice of reason—what there still was of it—wanted her to break down and beg him to stop again.
But she wouldn't.
She couldn't.
She was so much at war with herself, she didn't really know what was going to come out of her mouth when she opened it, so she tried to remain as quiet as she could, but she was failing badly on all fronts.
This time, though, when he turned her onto her tummy, she knew exactly what was coming, and the humiliating words tumbled out of her mouth in a mortifying stream that she managed to keep at a whisper, but not soft enough that he didn't hear it.
"No—oh—please—no—don't—please!"
In a humiliatingly short amount of time, she found herself right back where she'd been once before, with her head pressed into the soft mattress and her bright red tail in the air.
"Oh, yes, Ebby," he whispered into her ear as she could feel her own body giving way to him slightly against her will merely at having been put into this very submissive position. Her own desires had been brought to a fever pitch by his demanding fingers and lips on her nipples, to say nothing of that nosy tongue of his that found almost every single spot in that terribly private place that drove her mad—very nearly beyond her ability to resist. "You are mine, and this is exactly where you belong—beneath me, presenting yourself to me to be bred, literally dripping with juices that are going to help me plant my seed in you."
His mouth was hovering over the sensitive spot where neck became shoulder as he growled, "And you want me to do exactly that. Even though you know now that it's going to hurt like the devil, you still want me to do it to you because your own body makes the pain feel so good to you. How hard that must be for you to accept. You crave my cock forcing your greedy little cunny open, my barb sunk unbearably deep into that very sensitive spot inside you, and my knot nearly splitting you open. But, because you're my omega, your body, instead, locks us together as you spasm uncontrollably in the most intensely painful pleasure you'll ever experience in your life while I pump my sperm into you and your own body clamps down on me to hold me right in the very best spot—the place where it's most likely that my seed will succeed in taking root in your womb."
With that, he surged into her—more slowly than he had previously, but still filling her up almost abruptly, making her gasp with it as he stretched a passage that was even tighter than it had been from his prior use of her—swollen, not to mention quite sore—around him again.
But then, as he seated himself within her, she gave a long, low sigh of pure pleasure accompanied by a deep shudder, and he nearly crowed with pride.
And, for Ebby, the battle was truly lost in those seconds. Not that she wouldn't still try to resist what was happening to her—she would. But she would do so with the knowledge that she had already been utterly defeated.
"Good girl," he encouraged, thrusting forward a bit then pulling back to set himself deeply into her as she howled and tried to get away from the intense, sharp sting, but he held her still, easily finding and tweaking her nipples to distract her a bit, then, as he could hear the bliss building in her once again, his fingers descended on her distended clit.
Ciaran knew the moment he had her beyond a doubt—when she first began to rock herself into his thrusts, to relax beneath him and accept him into her body, despite the pain—and because of it.
Her softening towards him spurred him on, and he pressed himself as far into her as he could as the bottom of his manhood began to swell, widening her relatively untried flesh.
Ebby was panting and having a hard time with it—he seemed even bigger this time, or perhaps it was her already irritated flesh.
"Please—please—no—it hurts!"
He wet his fingers in her slick to bring them up to her swollen nub, slipping them over the top and around the sides. Her breath caught loudly as he continued to tease her, and he felt her body gathering itself around him as he forced her closer and closer to her climax, her small body taut
as a bowstring beneath him.
"That's it," he said out loud as he began to pump himself powerfully within her. "There's nothing you can do to stop it now. It's going to feel so much better than it did. Relax and accept it. This is your place, beneath your Alpha, taking what I give you—what you crave. This is your destiny, and I will make certain that you fulfill it."
When it happened, there were no words to describe it. Ebby was beyond words, anyway, beyond thinking and in a world of twisted ecstasy. The bliss eclipsed the discomfort for long, blindingly white hot moments of agonizing pleasure that it seemed were never going to end—at least, not before she expired from it. Even the pain of contracting around the base of him only added to the experience, being pierced by him, and utterly filled and seeded—it was intensely satisfying on more levels than she had known existed—frighteningly so.
It would be easy for her to succumb to an addiction to such complete and total satisfaction. It was intrinsic to her nature for her to need and want that kind of deep, primitive connection with him—her Alpha. In those mind and body melding moments of pure paradise, it seemed entirely right that he should have complete command of her, to bestow pleasure and pain to her as he saw fit and to fill her—at every possible opportunity—with himself, his seed, and his children.
This time, they remained knotted for much longer as they both continued to spasm euphorically. He couldn't seem to get his fill of touching that velvety soft skin, his hands running over every inch of her, although his fingers always returned to stroke her clit lazily. He kept her right where he wanted her—continually riding the crest of peaks that never seemed to diminish in the least as she clenched him almost hard enough to stop his movements, such that he released a constant river of spunk as he rocked into her rhythmically, not leaving her until he had very nearly emptied himself into her.
Chapter 4
Ciaran rolled to one side, his body still trying to surge into her as if he would never get enough of her, and he didn't think he would. He wanted to get up and clean the both of them—as he had before—but he wasn't at all sure he could stand up at the moment.
Ebby was lying where he'd left her, not even making any kind of attempt to cover herself up. He found her usual modesty to be terribly endearing, if misplaced with him. He could hear her breathing, which was at least as ragged as his still was, and her eyes were closed.
All of a sudden, he remembered that she was still bound and reached up to release her, although he did retie her hands in front of her, after which he had massaged her shoulders. He knew firsthand that being bound—in any position—made one's joints ache. None of his actions brought any response from her. Her eyes remained resolutely closed throughout, as if she couldn't be bothered to acknowledge anything he did.
He did manage to get up and perform the same ablutions as he had before to himself then turned to her. She allowed him to manipulate her limbs in any way he wanted, her only sign of objection a slight stiffening when he touched the cloth to her privates.
But it was what he saw on the pillow beneath her head that he knew hadn't been there previously—a dark splotch that indicated she was crying.
Ciaran had no idea what to do about a crying female, but then, none of the ones he'd encountered—not that there had been very many—had been his crying female. "Are you hungry?" he asked, thinking perhaps he might get away easily if he could just discover something that he could fix for her.
Mindful of what he had said about him considering that not answering was being disobedient, Ebby answered tonelessly, but in such a strained voice that he knew she was trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears, "No, thank you."
"Cold?"
"No, thank you." A little sob escaped at the end, but then she squelched it ruthlessly. She wasn't at all interested in having him know that she was crying, but she couldn't seem to stop.
"Tired?"
"No, thank you," she responded softly.
"Well, I know I am, but then, I spent the day fighting." And the night fucking, he thought, but wisely didn't say.
It was murmured so quietly that he almost missed it, "So did I."
That brought him up short, reminding him that she had not simply been a token in the skirmish they had fought today, she had been an active participant, and he was nearly livid. What if something had happened to her—she could easily have been killed in so many ways!
Suddenly, he found himself rock hard again, utterly unable and wholly unwilling to deny himself the ecstasy he knew he could find by burying himself between those thighs.
He was at her again in an instant, strong arms holding her still—holding hers crossed over her chest and out of his way—for his penetration from behind as she quickly abandoned the pretense that she wasn't crying and began to actively fight him. It was too late by far, of course. And she didn't have much left in her with which to fight him, anyway.
He was already there, poised at the entrance to her soaked pussy, and she was horrified to realize that she could feel her resolve slipping away in favor of those overwhelming, rapturous feelings he inspired within her, usurping control of her body and soaking her mind in that alarmingly potent combination of arousal and pain that her body only seemed to want more of every time he took her.
She cried softly at the loss of herself as he wrapped his arms around her and took possession of his omega, acute soreness already mingling with the way his imposing length scraped along her sensitized sheath, feeling every inch of him occupying her and making her groan with it through her tears.
The sound of her crying affected him the way no other had, and as he opened his mouth to try to soothe her, a sound he'd never made before rumbled out of his chest. It was more than a hum but less than a growl, closer to a purr than anything else, but not really that, either.
But when he made it, he felt the tenseness that had been present as she struggled to accept his presence within her unwind noticeably. So, he did it again, for longer this time. It didn't really take any effort on his part to produce, and he wasn't beyond utilizing any possible tool he might need in order to get sons on her.
Against her will—as everything in her life seemed to be happening today—her muscles began to unbend. She couldn't hold herself stiff any longer, and what's more, she quickly began not to want to. The hands that had been holding her wrists as he had driven himself into her had let go of them in favor of more interesting territory as big palms squeezed her breasts hard, pinching the impudent nipples he forced into prominence, twisting and rolling them and pulling them away from her body.
It didn't matter that her hands were free, though. He was too strong, and she was too small and too weak to resist the primitive call of her mate.
Her breath sizzled into her lungs as she felt as if she was drowning in wave upon wave of sensation. Ciaran kept up that low purr as he sank the curved spur at the end of his cock unerringly into the heart of that special spot. The stark, searing sting caught her unawares amidst the pleasure, and her arms flailed helplessly, but he gathered them against her body again with his own.
"No, babygirl. There is no escape, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better. There is nothing for you but this. Even when you're finally pregnant—if the physicians say I can—I will continue to mate with you as often as I can, as if there isn't already a child in your belly. Every time I take you, the bond between us will strengthen, and you will find it harder to resist." He snapped his hips forward and purred at the same time, causing that delicious blend to bump her desire even higher.
He had sensitized her to the point that—even though all of this was new to her, and her body was naturally sore from overuse—everything he did just seemed to make the ecstasy that much more acute, that much harder to deny.
Ebby still struggled, especially when the pain overcame her and took her breath away, as it did again when her entrance was again forced to be grossly distended but still sealed around his thick, heavy knot. But then the bliss returned full force as
he pulsed within her, holding her still for it, not allowing her to interfere in any way.
She knew what was going to happen, and it was a pipe dream to think she could prevent it. Indeed, any acts of resistance—mentally and physically—only seemed to spiral her need out of control. It was if she would have to learn to surrender herself to him in order to retain any autonomy at all, but Ebby wasn't at all sure that she could do that.
But neither he nor her own body were giving her any choice in the matter.
The culmination was at least as devastating as the last time, perhaps even more, and she was horrified to realize that—despite the incredible paradise he was bringing her to, she had begun crying again as soon as her body began milking him, partly from the overwhelming intensity of the feelings and partly in defeat as her body and mind were bathed in sensations of utter—unwanted—satisfaction.
Ciaran purred—and growled a bit—at her, which seemed to soothe her upset some, so he kept it up, even after he'd separated them, letting his instincts have full rein as he held her against him, crooning to her and stroking her as she softly sobbed herself to sleep in his arms moments later.
He had been absolutely truthful with her when he said that there was nothing for her but to be covered by him. Her life quickly came to consist of little more than the four walls of his tent, and Ebby quickly thought she was going to go crazy in several ways. At first, she was certain that she was going to go mad from being held physically captive as she was. She had always been an active person, but now she couldn't so much as scratch an itch.
It was very hard not to be able to move, and for the first few days, all she did—when he wasn't there—was sleep and cry as his sperm dribbled out of her, dampening the bed beneath her bottom, crying harder when she realized that it was no longer the remnants of him taking her that was doing so, but her own body weeping for him to do just that, instead.
Red's Mate Page 5
