The Hunt: Complete Edition

by Anne Marsh

  “No,” she protested, squirming in his grasp.

  “Hold still,” he warned.

  “Make me,” she dared. Did she think that he would not? What were the males like where she came from?

  “Spread them.” His leg kicked her own apart. “Do as I say, little femi,” he growled when she resisted.

  She looked up—cautiously—and eyed the heated press of male bodies surrounding hers. Their sibilant, hissing language was likely as unfamiliar to her as the abovelander’s harsh tongue was to the demons. The implants Pharon had insisted on made it possible for him to understand her, but she would not have that advantage. Of course, he intended to leave her with no advantage at all.

  She would learn faster that way.

  ***

  He bent her ruthlessly over his arm. The sharp crack of his palm sent heat blossoming across her cheeks. Methodically, he paddled both sides of her ass until she wanted to grab and rub the stinging cheeks—and then plunge her hand between her thighs and massage her engorged clit until she screamed.

  Without stopping, he asked: “Is your pussy wet? I smell cream.”

  She creamed more, both embarrassed and aroused.

  His large hand shaped her ass almost casually, tracing the seam. “Spread your legs more. Let me see for myself.”

  The blacksuit parted, as it was designed to do, beneath his stroking finger, exposing her flesh to his view.

  She hesitated, curiosity welling alongside the desire. What would he do if she refused? Would he be deliciously inventive, or as disappointing as all the other would-be lovers she had encountered in the course of her thefts? He answered her unspoken question with a sharp stinging slap on her juicy sex.

  She howled, arching up into his hand, dark crimson shards of pleasure shattering through her. Oh, this was a male who did indeed know how to punish—and to please. He landed three more stinging blows. The graphic sounds of her own panting filled her ears, along with the juicy sound of her sex. Close. She was so close to orgasm. She could feel it building in harsh spasms from her very core. He could make her come like she had never come, with just one more stroke of his talented fingers.

  Pleasure dazed her.

  “Down here,” he said, forcing her chin up until she met the eyes of the males surrounding them, “you obey all of us.” His voice was a low growl.

  “Yes,” she hissed.

  He nodded. “We are agreed then.” What had she agreed to? He was standing her up, but her sex was so wet and juicy that she almost came from the simple motion. She rubbed her thighs together. She no longer cared who was watching or where she was: she had to come, had to give into the spasms.

  He grabbed her chin between his hands. “Do you know which season this is?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. Good. She wasn’t sure that she could have strung two words together. Instead, she focused on the desire humming through her and let his words wash over her like a delicious surf. “It is the summer season,” he explained. The males around them moved closer. “We may be Pharon’s demons, set to guard his mines against the thievery of your kind, but we burn during these months. Even as the sun rises higher in the abovelands and bakes the sands to a glowing hotness, it heats us. It heats our blood, our bodies. We burn.”

  He slapped a hand around the thick, hard stem that pushed upwards from his loincloth. “Our flesh burns,” he warned in a low, dark voice, “and there is very little ease belowground. We must wait until one of your kind is foolish enough to seek us out, to seek out our treasures and to pilfer. Then,” a slow smile spread across his face, “then, we do find ease from the burning. We find it here.”

  His thick fingers parted her soaked flesh, but it was not his fingers that stabbed deep inside her sex. No, the digits she rode so frantically belonged to one of the other males crowding the tunnels. Oh, damn. They were sharing. One by one, they stroked and teased and penetrated her soaking sex as her captor held her open for them all.

  With a scream, she finally came in great spasms, riding the fingers in the tunnel for all to see.

  Chapter Three

  She should have visited the mines sooner. Certainly, she intended to visit them again. And again. This male gave a whole new meaning to the phrase getting it good. Nevertheless, as any talented thief knew, plausible deniability was the key. Sure, he’d found her trespassing. And it didn’t look good. But she hadn’t actually stolen any stones.

  Not yet.

  The golden-skinned male gathered her effortlessly into his arms, tying her wrists together and shoving her rappelling gear into a leather bag he slung over his back. Good. Although she could make it back to the ship without her things, she didn’t fancy the climb up without a rope.

  She pulled the blacksuit closed as best she could and he frowned. Playtime’s over.

  “I don’t even know your name,” she protested just on the principle.

  Information was a weapon, right? She could use all the weaponry she could find. She stretched luxuriously in his arms like a cat, rubbing her skin against the hot, dry skin of his captor. He hadn’t been kidding. She could feel the heat burning through him. His cock was a rigid bar poking her in the small of her back.

  She’d come; he hadn’t. What was he waiting for?

  “Mkhai,” he said shortly. Damn, he wasn’t even out of breath—and she was no small woman. If possible, he was moving even faster down the corridor.

  “Well, Mkhai,” she started and aimed a look up at him from underneath her lashes. Clearly, it was time to pull the sex card. If her brothers would stoop to it, she couldn’t afford to be picky. She’d left a detailed flight plan behind with the Director, but if the male kept her locked up long enough, the homing device implanted under her skin would activate and send out a distress beacon.

  Then all three of her brothers would come flying to the rescue and she could kiss goodbye to any hope she had of future independence.

  She eyed her captor. She’d enjoy kissing this one more.

  The corridor’s walls were smooth hewn, with strategically placed light spheres bobbing every twenty yards or so. Dark green veining marked where the places where topaz shot through the coarser, more common hardstone of Zeberget’s core. Mining carts filled with debris trundled by on a regular basis. Presumably, this meant predictable surface access as the carts must go somewhere aboveground to unload their cargo. If she had to, she could sneak a ride on one of them and avoid a three hundred yard upward climb. Her arm muscles would thank her for that one.

  Mkhai looked down at her, clearly sensing her curiosity and wanting to distract her. “Tell me your name, captive.”

  How charmingly warrior-like. She resisted the urge to kick his arrogance somewhere painful. Play along, Bennu. Be sweet. Be sexy. He’ll take you where you need to go.

  So, instead of explaining to him the current state of women’s rights in their galaxy (highly advanced, unlike some of the further galaxies where the males still regarded their females as convenient chattel and proposed chattel-like arrangements with them), she smiled coyly and said, “Bennu.”

  “Bennu,” he repeated thoughtfully. “An interesting name for a female.”

  Like she cared if he approved or not.

  They emerged abruptly from the corridor onto an overlook that dropped abruptly away at their feet. Hundreds of yards below them. Pharon workers entered and exited the tunnel points that honeycombed the enormous cavern. When Mkhai appeared, a ripple of apprehension ran through the workers. Dark eyes flickered nervously over him and then dropped away.

  Interesting. Her golden companion and his brethren were clearly the hired muscle. And, boy, they made a handsome addition to the mines. Since she hardly wanted to tip Mkhai off to her interest in the access points and loads of raw jewels headed aboveground, she settled for visually inspecting her companion.

  Gorgeous.

  Her nipples tightened beneath his interested gaze. Did he like that? Good.

  “Strip,” he commanded. He couldn’t be serious. Th
ey were on a damn ledge. One misstep and they would both plunge to their deaths. Apparently, he liked a little risk with his sexplay. So did she, but this went beyond prudence.

  His hands patted over her curves, looking for weapons.

  Let him look.

  He wouldn’t find anything that she couldn’t do without.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said, trying for a tone of camaraderie. “You’ve had your fun. Now untie me.” She waggled her bound wrists for good measure.

  Mkhai simply stared back at her, raising a brow. “I don’t think so. Let us explore this—fun.”

  He pulled out a long knife. “This comes off, now.” He slid the fine edge of the blade underneath her collar and tugged.

  “Look, buddy,” she said, “that knife isn’t going to cut through this fabric.”

  He looked intrigued.

  “And I don’t need to waste a perfectly good outfit, even if it does only come in standard issue black.”

  Time to compromise, she decided. After all, it wasn’t as if a half-dozen of his best buddies hadn’t just seen everything she had to offer and more. She pulled the neck and the suit parted easily, the fabric sliding away from her body with a welcome rush of cool air. Mkhai hadn’t been kidding about the summertime heat; her blacksuit was set to automatically control her body temperature and keep her cool, but even the suit was having a hard time compensating for the temperatures.

  It was a relief to step out of the blacksuit and kick it away. Dressed only in thigh high boots only, she turned to face him.

  ***

  The little femi’s face lit up with a delicious greed. Mkhai could not tell, however, if her excitement was for the riches that surrounded them or for his own person. Hekate knew, he’d never laid hands on a female so deliciously sensitive or easy to arouse. And for her to appear during the summer heat appeared nothing short of miraculous. He would enjoy exploring every sensuous inch of her as he taught her not to thieve from the Pharon.

  Below them, the miners emptied the day’s findings into the small, motorized carts that would carry the cut stones back into the camps where the polishers lived. The huge piles of dark green stone were dull now, but Pharon’s craftsmen would polish and shape the stones until the jewels glowed with a liquid green fire unique in all the galaxy.

  His cock throbbed eagerly, reminding him that he had another lesson to teach his femi. His brothers had taken their share of his hunt, as custom demanded.

  Now, it was his turn.

  He pulled her into a recessed cave. The area served as a storage room, one of many that lined the corridors above the main mine shaft. Oddments of mining equipment filled the space, along with spare parts, and—fortunately for him—piles of the brown felting the miners wrapped around the stones to protect the precious surfaces from scratching on the journey to the surface. Good. The soft material would protect her skin as well; he found himself oddly hesitant to bruise her.

  Well, he smiled wickedly, other than her delightfully curved backside. That was fair game. The rest of her, however, he would keep safe.

  With a firm hand, he pushed her backwards—he was just coherent enough to notice that his captive did not fight the fall in the slightest, rolling with him to absorb the shock of their landing—and then he was pushing her legs apart.

  “Open up,” he breathed into her ear. He placed his hands on her thighs and moved them further apart. She hesitated, then gasped as her sex slowly parted, the lips parting like well-oiled petals in a smooth rush.

  Oh gods above. Pink and glistening, she was spread open before him like the haururu flower that bloomed in the abovelands. He caught the same rich, exotic scent as he inhaled deeply. Moisture ran from her sex, the small opening already fluttering in tiny spasms. He stroked a finger around her hole and she moaned, her flesh clinging to his.

  Mine.

  No more sharing.

  If his touch brought her no pleasure, he would not be able to bear the shame and disappointment.

  He left the tip of his finger hooked in her hot sex and bent his lips to the stiff clit begging for his attention. Moaning softly, she pressed her legs wider—no reluctance, no fear of the demon between her thighs. Satisfaction and something stronger throbbed through him.

  Why she did not fear him when so many others did was a mystery—but he no longer cared. He was merely grateful. “I will give you pleasure now,” he promised.

  She panted beneath him and, for the first time since he had been ruthlessly pulled from the vortex and formed for Pharon’s pleasure, Pharon’s needs, he felt powerful. In control. “Pleasure for my femi,” he vowed.

  She was a prisoner, his captive. Pinioning her hands behind her back with one of his, he spread her thighs wider with his shoulders and then he ate her. His tongue licked roughly, demandingly at the hard kernel of her clit. He suckled her without mercy, withholding the orgasm from her.

  “You will not come,” he ordered. “Not yet.”

  “Wanna bet?” She stared up at him, dazed with her arousal. Oh, gods, he loved the sight of her. But her words? He laughed darkly. Oh, that was a challenge that she would lose. He had spent a lifetime learning sexual restraint, sexual discipline. And he had all the night hours that remained to show her.

  ***

  This time, when Mkhai held her swollen, wet lips apart, he placed himself inside her.

  Bennu shuddered with the pleasure. His fingers had teased and tormented her, delivering an orgasm that had left her limp, drained.

  This was better.

  Thicker, fuller, sliding in and out with a sensuous rhythm that made her want to dance beneath the heavy weight of the male body that pressed her down.

  And yet he held her still. In. Out.

  His dark eyes glowing down at her in the dusky stillness of the cave.

  Otherworldly.

  She didn’t care. All she wanted was that orgasm that he held so tantalizingly out of her reach—and that he was strong enough to give her. This partner, she thought with delight before pleasure rendered her incoherent, this partner could make her come for hours.

  His eyes, though…. His eyes changed as his lower body in a faster, deeper rhythm, surging inside her with powerful strokes that claimed her, marker her as his.

  She pulled a hand free—she registered his surprise that she was able to do so, but, really, with three older brothers you learned wrestling moves—and stroked the side of his face. “Your eyes are glowing.”

  His eyes were glowing, a deep bronze-gold that lit up the room. He lifted himself up off her body, his hips still thrusting against hers. Pleasure uncoiled in her, more slowly this time.

  “Does it matter?” He answered her question with a question of his own. Damn, she hated when they did that. It always meant that the answer was a bad one. A very, very bad one. This wasn’t going to be a simple genetic manipulation or a technological enhancement designed to help him see underground in the mines.

  “Yes.” She squeezed her inner muscles around his hard cock, letting her pussy milk the thick shaft. Two could play at sexual domination, even if she was the one on the bottom. “Tell me, now, Mkhai or we’re done here. Answer the question,” she gasped. Oh, she wanted answers. Now.

  “Summer heat,” he said, moving faster, deeper.

  The other demons had had golden eyes—but none had glowed with such ferocity.

  She slipped her ass down their impromptu bed, and his next thrust was shallower. He cursed and his hands reached for her hips to steady her.

  “More details,” she demanded, thoughts slipping away from her. “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Mates,” he groaned against her neck and she froze, sanity flooding back to her. “Our eyes glow gold when we choose a mate.”

  “No,” she protested. She was here for hot sex and topazes—in that order. Demon mating was not on the agenda. Not tonight.

  Even as she scooted away, he flipped her over onto her stomach, her hands caught beneath her stomach. “There,”
he promised darkly, sliding the hot, thick length of cock deep inside her aching sex. “If I’m not good enough for you, you may pleasure yourself.”

  He rode her with deep, fast, rough strokes. One bronzed male hand held her shoulder to the pallet, the other slipping between their bodies to grab her hand and place it on her aching clit. Each hard thrust of his body forced her body into the pallet and against her own fingers.

  “Stroke,” he commanded. She knew four different kinds of martial arts. Even pinned beneath his demanding weight, she was not helpless. And yet the fiction aroused her, as did his graphic commands. And he knew it.

  “Gods, you like this,” he whispered into her hair. “Mate or no mate, you like this.” She could only keen with pleasure in response. His fingers and hers tangling together, stroking and tugging at her clit, massaging in deep circles around the pulsing point.

  The orgasm, when it came, ripped through them both.

  ***

  He was a demon in search of a mate.

  Apparently, the Director’s intel had been rather lacking in that regard. He’d mentioned unfriendly natives and venomous snakes; he’d provided tidal charts and weather forecasts that clearly indicated that the planet Zeberget was in the middle of a summer heat unlike any it had experienced before. What the Director had not known about—and, if he had and had kept the information to himself, she would kill him this time—was the fact that Pharon’s guards were a very particular kind of demon They were demons in heat, stoked to a blazing ferocity by the summer winds sweeping the world above them. Searching for mates to ease that fever.

  You didn’t mess lightly with a sexed-up demon. Nor did you steal from a protection demon. Combining the two was beyond insane. And yet Pharon had done it, like some sort of blithe science experiment. If she ever met the man, she’d have to consider gutting him.