by Tina Donahue
Never had she seen a more virile male.
Soft laughter poured from him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Look at yourself.” She gestured to the countless mirrors.
Zeke ignored them. “I’d rather look at you.”
Good answer, even though she looked like hell. On a sigh, Liz murmured, “I want more than that. What are you waiting for?”
“I refuse to rush.”
He proved it, kissing her with great gentleness as though they had all the time in the world. His fingers circled her nub, touching and teasing it periodically. Oddly enough, his sweet kiss and restrained touch excited Liz more than if he’d given in to pure lust. Her body tensed with anticipation. She shuddered each time his fingers made contact with her clit. Before long, the tension between her legs became unbearable, an itch she couldn’t scratch, didn’t want to shake. Zeke knew, no doubt reading her reaction. This time, he didn’t let up. He deepened their kiss and rubbed hard, his pace fast. Liz tore her mouth from his, crying out and gulping air, her orgasm billowing through her.
Before she could adequately fill her lungs or quiet down, Zeke settled on the bench at her side, then directed her onto his lap to straddle him.
Still panting from her climax, Liz cradled his cock in her palm and guided the plump head to her slit. Her body welcomed his immediately, needy of his cock. Zeke pushed himself up and into her, sinking deep inside.
God, God, God.
Was there ever a more wondrous feeling than being filled by a man you loved, having him as close as he could possibly get?
Liz didn’t think so.
Zeke was so blessed, his rigid sex strained against the confines of Liz’s sheath, forcing her body to accommodate his.
She did so gladly, welcoming the incomparable pressure. Working her fingers through his damp hair, she angled her mouth and captured his. He thrust his tongue inside, taking immediate command of the act, his previous gentleness gone.
Good. Liz didn’t want gentle. She needed him to fuck her raw.
With his hands cupping her buttocks, Zeke coaxed her to pull up.
Liz obeyed. She fell into an easy rhythm—up and down, up and down—her cunt nearly releasing his cock only to slide over it once more.
Zeke broke their kiss. His head lolled back on his shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbed with his hard swallow. Liz kissed, then licked the prominent bump.
Laughter rumbled from him.
“Feel good?” she breathed.
“Not as good as this.” He brought one hand from her ass and stroked her clit.
Liz moaned, long and loud, at the pleasure rolling through her. It was an effort, but she forced herself to concentrate on Zeke, increasing the pace of her pumping, coaxing him toward climax.
The water splashed loudly from tumbling over the rocks, the tub’s whirlpool effect and the movement of their bodies. The noise couldn’t compete with the brazen sounds they made. Coarse. Wanton.
Liz came on a prolonged moan. Zeke followed, his bellow filling the room.
Together, they came down, trembling with the aftereffects, clinging to each other as though they feared the best was over. That this couldn’t last.
Trinidad reclined on the sofa, her right leg bent at the knee. She’d stretched out her left leg, the tip of her spike heel digging into the carpeting. The position exposed her cunt fully, while the office’s bright lights illuminated the faint moisture that glistened on her cleft. A shameless invitation for a man to take and use her.
She seemed not to notice or care about her indecent pose, or that Carreon had unceremoniously pushed her off his lap and left the sofa at Ernez’s worried expression. His comment that Carreon needed to take the call.
Roberto was still on the phone now, waiting for his boss’s response to a report that defied reality and belief.
Carreon tried to concentrate on what he’d heard, but couldn’t. He kept picturing Roberto using his pliers and other tools on Zeke, making him bleed, pulling one agonized scream after the other from him. In the past, those images might have calmed Carreon. Not tonight. His pulse pounded and his belly rolled. Rarely had he felt as shaken. It took all of his will to remain calm.
“How long will it take you to get the information to me?” he asked Roberto.
“Victor’s downloading it now.”
“Send it to—” Carreon stopped, not knowing the club’s private email address. He turned to Ernez to ask for it.
The young man’s face was dark with fury at the wound on his hand. However, animal lust flared in his eyes as he regarded Trinidad’s slit. Carreon considered what their mating would be like…an enraged and emasculated male taking a she-devil who was intent on delivering more pain, her long black nails scoring his back, drawing blood, while he hammered his cock into her hot, snug cunt. With those images flooding his mind, Carreon snapped his fingers to get Ernez’s attention.
Instantly, the young man turned to him. Carreon handed Ernez the phone. “Give Roberto the club’s email address and download what he’s sending. I want to see it.”
He needed proof of what Roberto had claimed. It couldn’t be true. Wasn’t possible.
Dutifully, Ernez returned to his desk and delivered the address. Trinidad studied his ass as she ran her forefinger over her clit. Carreon saw amusement, rather than desire, on her lovely face. Her expression turned to quick indifference as Carreon curled his fingers around her wrist and pulled her hand from her cunt.
If he’d annoyed her by doing so, she didn’t show it. Wise move.
“There’s a mirror in the john.” He inclined his head in the direction of the bathroom. “Bring it to me.”
She glanced that way, but didn’t move.
To hurry her along, Carreon bent her hand backward. Not enough to cause true pain. Merely the right amount to get her attention and acquiescence.
She stood.
He tightened his grip and brought her wrist to his mouth, kissing the inside of it. Gently, he murmured, “Don’t make me wait.”
Trinidad’s eyes glittered with the danger in his words. She gave him a smile, then strolled toward the bath as if she had all the time in the world, her behavior reminiscent of a rebellious teen. A “fuck you” in each unhurried step.
Carreon doubted pain would guarantee her obedience, at least in the long run. She’d promise anything to stop the hurt, and once it was through would revert to her true nature. Threatening her family wouldn’t do the trick either. She clearly had no use for or sentimentality toward them. The more Carreon pushed, the more recalcitrant she’d become. As stubborn as Liz had grown when she’d finally realized it hadn’t been love he’d felt for her, but need of her gift, her submission to all he demanded.
Again, Carreon recalled what Roberto had told him. The thought brought another rush of worry, along with renewed rage. A growl of frustration escaped his throat.
“The download’s slow,” Ernez said, anxiety evident in his tone. “The file’s huge. It’s going to take several minutes.”
Carreon didn’t comment.
“I’ll try to hurry it along,” Ernez promised.
Trinidad exited the bath. She held the mirror—a circular model in its own gold stand—between her thumb and forefinger, letting it swing with the movement of her arm.
She walked with the grace of a princess or a ballerina, her sweet breasts trembling with each step. Just shy of him, she stopped. However, she didn’t offer the mirror.
“Give it to me,” he ordered.
She extended her hand just a bit, still making him reach for it.
Carreon moved close and ran his fingers up the inside of her thigh. Her lips parted on her lewd moan, telling him she clearly enjoyed his touch. Slipping his hand between her legs, Carreon ignored her cleft and concentrated on her anus instead. His fingertips circled the tight ring. Trinidad’s mouth fell open in appreciation.
“The mirror,” he said as he withdrew his hand, giving her a choice. If she obeyed hi
m, she’d know pleasure. If she didn’t…
It would be a pity to mar one inch of her delicious flesh. However, a man had to do what was necessary to insure deference, no matter how fleeting.
As though she understood his unspoken intent, Trinidad handed him the mirror.
Carreon turned it so he could see his ear. The ice he’d held to it earlier had washed away most of the blood, while her healing touch had mended the wound with the skill of a drunken surgeon. His earlobe was misshapen, the skin puffy and red from the injury and the ice. Perhaps the poor result was because she hadn’t had enough time or opportunity to perfect her gift. If she used it repeatedly, as he’d forced Liz and her father to do, that might strengthen what she had.
It was Carreon’s only choice at the moment, his only hope. What Roberto claimed to have seen couldn’t possibly be—
“It’s ready,” Ernez said, interrupting Carreon’s thoughts.
He pushed the mirror at Trinidad and left her without a glance. Seated at the desk, Carreon stared at the video. The still shot showed the hall outside his stronghold’s safe room, just beyond the metal detector and full body scanner so no one ever entered his hiding place armed. After he’d had his father assassinated, Carreon had made certain no one would catch him off guard. Neither his enemies, nor his own men.
He directed the mouse’s arrow to the play button, his thoughts repeating what they had earlier. It can’t be true. It just can’t.
Unsettled, he clicked the button.
Nothing happened. All he saw was a shot of the empty hall. “What happened to the sound?” He should be hearing something.
“You need to turn it up.” Ernez pointed to the volume control.
Carreon put the sound at one hundred. All that produced was a steady hissing noise. “Is it broken? Why isn’t there any—”
“Liz!” Zeke’s voice shouted from the recording. “Liz, it’s Zeke. Your father’s with me. He’s all right.”
“Dr. Munez is still alive,” Roberto had said during his call.
The doctor’s voice sounded next on the tape. “The door might be shut,” he said. “If it is, she might not be able to hear any—”
Munez’s words stopped. He and Zeke finally came into view at the end of the hall. Carreon leaned up in his chair. Zeke had his arm wrapped around the older man’s waist, helping him to walk. Munez was limping badly.
The tape didn’t show what Zeke saw beyond the door. Carreon recalled every bit of the scene. Liz on her side near the fireplace, her face swollen and purplish from lack of air, mean bruises on her throat. Dead. Dead. Dead. Carreon had felt the bone in her throat snap beneath his fingers.
An anguished howl escaped Zeke as he and her father hurried into the room, out of camera range. Unmoved, Carreon listened to Zeke’s cries, his foolish pleas for Liz to be all right.
She wasn’t. Would never be again. He’d left her fucking dead.
“Go away!” Zeke’s voice shouted, no doubt to her father. “Leave us alone.”
“Put her down,” the older man said.
“No.”
Munez made a pained noise. “Do as I say.”
“Why? You think I wanted this to happen? I love her.”
Carreon’s jaw tightened at Zeke’s declaration. His fucking audacity in claiming Liz when she’d belonged with her own people. With him. Doing exactly what he said. Not defying him in the least. He gripped the arms of his chair.
Munez kept speaking. Carreon caught the last of his words. “—down. Let me do what I must.”
During the next minutes, Munez murmured to his daughter, telling her of his love. “Come back,” he finally murmured.
No, Carreon thought. What he wants is impossible. It can’t be true.
Not wanting to hear any more of the old fool’s sentimentality or Zeke’s sorrow, Carreon fast-forwarded the video, then stopped and gaped at the screen.
Zeke left the safe room first, followed by Liz.
No.
Repeatedly, Carreon had insisted to Roberto that Zeke must have carried or dragged her lifeless body from the room.
On the recording, she walked on her own. Pausing, Liz glanced behind herself. Her face was no longer swollen, nor a sickening mauve color. The bruises Carreon had left on her throat were gone. She looked as though she hadn’t died…as though he hadn’t killed her.
He had, damn it.
Following close behind Liz was her father, no longer limping.
Had she healed him?
Had her father done the same with her? How could that be? Before Carreon had left his safe room, he’d searched for her pulse. There was none. She hadn’t been breathing.
This isn’t possible.
He backed up the video to play the parts he’d fast-forwarded over. For a moment, there was only silence or static, then Munez’s voice.
“My dear sweet daughter, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to have to do this. It’s not fair leaving you with this burden. I warned you about our gift. I told you there were things about it that you didn’t understand. Now, I have to show you.”
Again, the video fell silent.
“Show her what?” Carreon growled, wanting the man to speak.
Munez’s voice continued finally. “Come back.”
“What are you doing?” Zeke’s voice asked. “What’s happening? She’s gone. There was no pulse. She can’t be healed. Why are you doing this?”
“Because I love her too,” Munez said. “I have to bring her back.”
Chapter Five
Nude and well loved, Liz lay at Zeke’s side on his bed, one hand curled near her chest, the other resting on his belly.
The tips of her fingers and palm were wonderfully warm, the weight of her hand proving to him that she still existed…she lived. There shouldn’t have been any doubt. Even so, each breath she took seemed a continuing miracle to Zeke. He fought an urge to gather her closer, as if that would convince him everything was all right and would continue to be so.
Hours earlier, he’d battled his doubt by not allowing her a moment’s peace from his insatiable desire, somehow believing that his love alone could restore her to what she had once been.
No, dammit—what she still is.
Uncertainty pressed in on him again. Zeke shoved it away, forcing his thoughts to return to what he’d shared with her.
After having taken her in the tub, he’d helped Liz to her feet but didn’t direct her out of it. “Drape your arms over your head.”
“Why?” she’d murmured.
In answer, Zeke nuzzled his face to her neck. Her skin was moist, slightly salty and oh so soft. He suckled it gently. She moaned in pleasure. He whispered, “You ask too many questions.”
“Sorry…but why?”
“I have no idea. You’re probably too curious.”
She laughed softly, the sound mingling with the water gurgling around their knees. “No, I mean why do you want me to hold my arms over my head? Do you have any idea how heavy they are?”
A thread of fear ran through him then, chasing away his previous arousal and contentment, making his skin prickle. He recalled how she’d fallen asleep or passed out in the Jeep.
“Have they always been that way?” he’d blurted. “Are they heavier than usual now?”
She regarded him as though he were nuts. “What?”
Zeke pushed back his panic and tried to sound reasonable. “Are you tired from your orgasm?”
“Yeah…aren’t you?”
He should have been. However, his passion for her, his fear that she’d somehow disappear, leaving him alone, kept Zeke far too alert. Without her, he couldn’t exist, would refuse to go on. Earlier, Zeke had been more than willing to leave his people and this stronghold forever if it meant staying at her side. Away from here, he’d had no idea where they might have gone or how he could have protected her from Carreon before they reached their ultimate destination. However, he would have moved heaven and earth to do so. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” She sagged against him, her body dewy and warm from plumes of steam rising from the tub. She made a throaty sound that any man would interpret as satisfaction.
Smiling, he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding on to her as he leaned down to get the soap.
Liz brushed her lips over his shoulder and suckled it briefly, then asked, “What are you doing?”
“Bathing you.” Once he’d worked up sufficient lather that smelled faintly of lime, he ran his soapy hands down her back, not stopping until he’d reached her ass. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, separating them, and ran his slick forefingers over her anus.
Her breath caught.
“Good?” he murmured.
She clutched his biceps and whimpered in response.
Nice.
Zeke eased her hands from him and studied her reaction as he lathered her breasts, his thumbs dragging over her nipples. Liz’s head fell back. Several strands of hair clung to her throat while the rest of her mane dangled over her back. Golden light rained down on them from behind the mirrored ceiling, the illumination softened further by the mist, so warm and inviting. She’d already closed her eyes and now parted her lips, looking like a woman one step shy of ecstasy.
Determined to delight her, Zeke focused on her pussy. He lathered her delicate curls, the same chestnut shade as her hair, and ran his fingers down the length of her slit.
She moaned.
A wondrous sound that told him far more than words ever could.
He washed this part of her well, too long in fact, then concentrated on her precious little clit.
Her breath stalled as he finally stroked it. For seconds, Zeke lavished his attention on her nub, then ran his fingers down her delicate folds to keep her from too much arousal, not wanting her to come immediately.
She groaned.
“Something wrong?” he whispered.
“You’re not rubbing my clit… You keep missing it.”
“Do I?” Giving her no chance to answer, Zeke touched it once more, stroking, manipulating, teasing.
The delay in doing this had accomplished his goal, making her even more sensitive to his carnal touch.
