Cyberella: Preyfinders Universe

by Cari Silverwood

  He should’ve just taken her despite that stupid wish.

  But, he was a man of his word, he could be patient.

  “Tell me, what work do you plan to get?”

  “Ummm.” Her fingers grew paler where they clutched the glass.

  “Nothing? I wish I could take you on the ship when we go, but I plan to hire out for fighting. Mercenary fighting. Dresdek has gone to other districts to find some soldiers and crew.”

  He wiped his mouth with the big and fancy cloth napkin. First time he’d used one of those for years. Anything to woo her though. He could be couth. As long as it didn’t involve manicures.

  “I’m thinking AI device work. Cybernetics? So many people here are cyborgs or close to it. I could maybe open a shop down there?”

  “You’ll have a lot of competitors. Do you know enough? Do you have money for stock?”

  “I learn fast.”

  He thought back to the ship. She did. She had a strange awareness of what went where that transcended learning even, perhaps, but the people here would have years of experience. She’d likely go hungry if left to her own ideas. He’d have to leave her emergency funds. There were people he could pay to watch her. The hard part was finding the good and trustworthy ones.

  “Would you like to know anything about bondmating?”

  Her mouth set in a line. “I looked it up. It’s like forced marriage. We have that on Earth.”

  “Forced marriage? That doesn’t sound good. Bondmating isn’t forced...or at least not once past a certain point. Give me your hand.” He reached across the table, laid his hand in the middle and waited.

  “What?” She did that cute, one-browed lift that said she was worried yet curious, and she stared at his hand. “Why?”

  “Do it.” He opened his hand some more, turned it so it lay palm upward.

  Her sigh made him smile, but she placed her hand in his. The little shock of contact raced into him and went straight to his groin, but he was watching her. Her lips parted, her pupils widened. She had it too.

  After a few seconds where all she did was gape at him, her breasts rising and falling, he said softly, “I know you felt that. Admit it.”

  Everywhere his hand touched hers seemed to pulse and their clasped hands felt as if they expanded, taking up more space than was possible, telling him and her, irrevocably: this is how it should be.

  Her eyebrow status went from raised and startled to annoyed and frowny. She shook her head and her words were quiet but distinct. “No. It was nothing. We are nothing. You dream.”

  He tensed, tightening his grip on her hand.

  “Hey. Let go.” She tugged, her nostrils flaring, her lips white. “Let go of my hand, mister nothing –”

  The tipping point hit him. He did possess one of those. Rarely did this happen in battle or in life in general, but now...

  He snarled, shoved back his chair, while still holding her hand down then he hauled her forward across the table. Plates clattered to the floor. The wine bottle tipped, though he caught it and set it down on his chair. Then he stood and went around to her side while keeping her in place with that hand and the other across her nape. She spluttered protests and he ignored them.

  He was angry. Going berserk in battle was a known phenomenon but not really his way. He kept himself close, controlled, when fighting.

  Ella though. She’d broken him, broken his resolve to be nice.

  The cloth napkin drew his eye. He picked it up, wrenched one of her hands then the other to her back, and used the napkin to tie her wrists together. Though she cursed some more, he noted they were quiet ones. His temper had cooled. She knew people would hear if she screamed, yet she stayed quiet. It was as telling as anything.

  He flipped up her dress to her waist and swore a few curses himself at the sight of her flame red panties and the double swell of her ass straining at the cloth.

  With his legs jammed against the back of her thighs to keep her in place, still facedown across the table, he cut the sides of her panties with her table knife. That made her swear louder than before and writhe against his hold. The whole platter toppled from the table.

  “You! You cut them? What a waste.”

  “No, the food falling on the floor was a waste. You liked the underwear? Good. That will teach you not to be such a bitch about bondmating.”

  Panting, she said into the table, “You don’t even know what a bitch is.”

  “Female earth creature that’s in heat? That’s you.”

  Her ass was exposed like this. He stared down at her, shifted his legs so her own were spread even more.

  “I could feel your wetness through my pants. You’re such a liar, Ella.”

  “It was just... I was...”

  While she was still unnerved, he turned his hand palm upward, lined up his middle finger on her slit, touching the very center. Back and forth, he worked his fingertip between her pussy lips until it was barely through the entrance, then he slipped it in. Like sliding through honey, his finger went inside her to the max, only stopping when the skin between his fingers pushed into her. Her squeal was electrifying so he squeezed it in even farther while keeping her in place with his hand clawed into one ass cheek.

  “Stop, stop, stop. Wait.”

  But when he withdrew and slipped a second finger into her beside the first, she moaned and slumped into the table.

  “Holding hands was good, wasn’t it? I’m guessing from your noises that this is better.”

  He leaned down until he could see her one visible eye, see her focus on him and blink. She turned her face and licked her lips as if to speak.

  “You –”

  “What?” As he spoke, he jammed his fingers in and out and in again, and she coughed and shut her eyes. “Say it, say you’re turned on, or I swear, I will take your wetness for consent, and I will dishonor my word for the first time in my life and I will fuck you right now.”

  She squirmed on his hand, looking uncomfortable but her pussy clamped in and more of her slick moisture leaked out and dripped onto his palm.

  “You said you wouldn’t do sex. You swore that. This is sex already.”

  “No. It’s not. Tell me, are you turned on?” He kept his tone even, though his heart was beating crazily.

  “Bastard!”

  “Ella...”

  “Fuck.” She groaned. “Yes. Damn you. I am.”

  “Hah. Thank you.”

  Having her like this, tied and down on the table was giving his cock notions of grandeur. Some fasteners would pop soon.

  “I promised no sex but that I might stick something other than my cock in you. When I was nice, I wasn’t inserting things.” He tsked. “Nice wasn’t working. Now I’m being mean. For some reason...” He wormed his fingers in a half circle and pumped them in and out, steadily. “I think you prefer mean.”

  She stayed silent, her eyelids squeezing down and fluttering. She huffed and groaned quietly when he went deep and stayed there, curling his finger up high and shoving hard enough to slide her forward an inch.

  “Well then. Now we both know. Mean it is.”

  “No.” But the word was shakily uttered.

  “Oh, yes.”

  He stood straight, took up her torn panties and shuffled them between her lips and knotted them around her face. A perfunctory gag but it was pure justice to use those sodden things in her mouth when she’d declared she wasn’t aroused.

  What to do now? This wasn’t planned. If he hadn’t given his word, he’d be fucking her hard right now. That promise was coming back to bite him. If he couldn’t do it, he was going to make sure she felt his pain.

  “Come.” He pulled her to her feet with a hand around her arm then guided her into the darker room. Sunset was coming soon. He turned on the lights and studied Ella, gagged and waiting. He really had little need except to handle her, to touch her. After leaning on the sofa back, he raised her chin with the edge of hi
s hand. “I don’t want to scare you. I just have this incredible need to, at the very least, touch you. Being obstinate will not prevent the bond between us from forming.”

  From the look in her eyes, and the way she tongued the gag, she wished to speak.

  “Hmm.” He kissed her without mercy, grinding his mouth on hers and forcing her to submit, nipping her nose, holding her head back to get access to her neck and biting her there. He pulled down the front of her gown and bared her breasts.

  Then, only then, when she was red of face and neck, and her legs were shaking, when she was near to melting in his arms, he wriggled the gag from between her lips. While she regained her ability to speak, he picked apart the knot.

  “What did you wish to say?” He tweaked his mouth. “Take care. No more insults. I think I have you at a disadvantage now.” When she only sucked on her lower lip for a while, looking unsure, he added, “I think you enjoyed that. Let me say this. Lying to me, from now on...the penalty is that I get to fuck you then and there. Of course, I have to catch you doing it, but I think I can. So be careful.”

  It was a new rule and outside their agreement. He waited. No argument came. Perhaps she was too flustered? More likely the bondmating urge had her in its vice. He knew what it could do, had seen many of his friends succumb. The heat of it thrummed through your blood at times, created chaos in your head, made you unleash a fuckfest to end all fuckfests. He was ready. Knowing what would happen would help him to withstand the force.

  Ella must have little idea of what was coming.

  It would be enthralling to watch her fall to her knees, her mind blown as passion took her to the brink and beyond.

  He almost asked her if she’d enjoyed being mastered by him, as he’d just done, but it was too early. Her mind would be a mess of contradictions.

  “Your words?” He gathered her dress at the side, drawing it to her waist, baring her and making his mouth go dry at the wonder of her body. He’d never tire of seeing her, even the simple slope of her hip and waist. He caressed her there, marveling at her softness, then he raised his head and met her eyes. “What did you want to say?”

  After opening her mouth again, she shook her head, looking dismayed, perhaps at her own cowardice.

  “I’m going to untie you in a minute, so I can take off your dress.” He cocked his head. “You’re going to be naked for the rest of the day. My word is true. I won’t fuck you unless you lie. Okay?”

  She nodded, swallowed. “Yes.”

  He’d shocked her, doing this. Torgeir studied her again. Good. Something had needed changing. So far he didn’t regret this. He nodded then took her arm again and steered her to the side of the sofa. He left her standing there, facing out and frowning, while he piled up some pillows at the end nearest her. He said no more words and only pushed on her, making her fall backward under his control, with his hand on her stopping her from truly falling.

  She ended up lying with her head and back on the down-sloping ramp of pillows, with her butt on the armrest and her legs bent at the knee and hanging over the side. Her tied wrists were under her back and she couldn’t rise or get free without his help.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

  He pushed the skirt of the red dress to her waist, then he parted her legs with his hands on her inner thighs.

  “Keep your legs open. I want to see you.”

  She obeyed without question, though she craned up her neck for a moment, searching his face, as if what he was about to do was written there. He wanted to cheer at this victory, at her obedience, but he said nothing. Instead, he kneeled between her legs, letting them rest on his shoulders.

  Seeing her swollen and aroused, with a hint of his red marking showing on her labia, yet not being able to mate with her – if he didn’t come in his pants while doing this, he deserved a medal. His plan for the rest of the week would please him, though. After this, he was going to keep her on the edge and punish her if she came. He wanted her to know she was available to his touch at any time, that he could handle her when he wanted. He wanted her so aroused she moaned when his hand merely threatened to touch her.

  If he could achieve that, he would have won. She would never resist him again. Once they mated a second time, their bond would be unbreakable.

  He wrapped his arms around and over her thighs then reached down to open her pussy lips with his thumbs and...he waited. He listened to the small noises even that gained him. When she stilled and fell silent he went farther; starting at the lower end of her seam, he applied his tongue tip, gliding it softly along her opening then swirling it over her clit with a last flick. She strained upward, thrusting her pelvis at him, as if she could make him touch her more.

  He smiled, knowing she couldn’t see what he did. He kept his thumbs barely moving along the wetness on her lips, slow, then even slower, achingly slow, until they almost reached her clit. When brushing the button of flesh, he moved them down again. Soon, she whispered to him, just as he thought she would.

  “What are you doing? Please?”

  “Please what, Ella?”

  Her unhappy sound turned his smile into a grin. He’d been wrong. Even this first overture in the concert of her arousal, with his cock shoving hard at the seams of his pants, it was worth the agony, a million times over.

  Chapter 14

  Whatever his reasons, to Ella it became torture. Never before had she met a man who didn’t want to make her come as fast as possible so that he could do what he wanted to. Torgeir seemed to enjoy just hearing her groan and shudder. So delicate was his touch she sometimes wondered if she imagined it.

  “Please,” she whispered for perhaps the tenth time. Were her hands numb? She wriggled her fingers where they were pinned under her back and they moved well. The mild discomfort of the bindings at her wrists sank to the background. Every part of her mind was concentrated on what he did to her below.

  His tongue was the worst. He’d touch her clit, circle it, then not do it again in like, forever.

  She squirmed her hips, not courageous enough to clamp in on his head as she’d done. The bite on her inner thigh still stung and throbbed.

  “Hmm? What do you want? Tell me exactly what you want.”

  Oh god. The man had a masters in mind torture too. Saying what he asked her to would be a defeat.

  His mouth engulfed her clit and gave one tiny suck, then released it. She squealed, her toes curling, a shudder running from her taut abdominal muscles to those toes, Her engorged clit felt as if it had swelled some more and was throbbing in time with the bite.

  “Fuck,” she said, hoarsely. “Fuck.” She could feel his warm breath on her there. Her thighs twitched as she fought the need. The need for his tongue, his fingers, something. She gave in and croaked out, “What do you want me to say?”

  “Only what you want.” His thumbs began that repetitive circling and massaging.

  Since the time out at the table, she’d had nothing inside her. She’d never known she could ache to have something inside her.

  “I’ll only touch what you say you want me to, when you say it.”

  Okay. Okay. She could do this. Just to get him to let her up and do whatever. Something brushed her clit hood, briefly, and she bit back another moan.

  “Suck on me again.” She added please at the last second, thinking politeness might make him do it faster.

  “Where?”

  “For fu –” She swallowed. Be polite. “My clit.”

  When he began to suck on her in little tweaking sucks, she realized his tongue had been nice too. Eyes shut, her thighs already straining toward that sensation that seemed close to heaven, she gasped out. “Lick me too. Please. Please.” Begging had become what she did because, just because.

  His lips let go and she sighed, mind running down from that almost orgasmic high. Almost there. Why had she interrupted him? Then he licked at her, and around, and over, going at her as if licking her clit wa
s the only thing in the universe. But she couldn’t quite come. Too much sensation? Not enough? Fuck. She quivered on the edge of that explosion of mind and soul. Her muscles tightened, she strived to get her toes on the floor so as to thrust, and couldn’t reach.

  When she put her feet on him instead, shoving desperately, he turned and bit her again, making her squeak, leaving her whimpering.

  Something, she needed something...inside.

  Admitting that, saying it, no. No, no.

  The licking tormented her. “More,” she whined, wriggling, squirming.

  “More what?” He sucked on her, then stopped.

  So close. Ella groaned. She had to say it. “Inside me, please?”

  “What would you like inside you? Hmm?” He licked her, a slow swipe upward.

  Bastard, bastard. The ache throbbed from pussy to bite marks to clit and reverberated.

  “Your fingers?”

  The begging was getting to her. He was right. Hand holding had been revelatory but this, this was cataclysmic need.

  With no warning, Torgeir thrust something, a thumb perhaps, into her and she cried out at the intersection of dominance and her need to be fucked and whatever else was unraveling her mind.

  For once he forgot about more words and sucked on her clit, his tongue playing games, toggling back and forth, then he’d suck again. She slammed shut her eyelids, her eyes rolling upward.

  As she bucked toward his mouth, he increased the force of his grip around her legs. Words became nonsensical babblings. She clutched the pillow under her with her bound hands, climaxing, sure she was crushing him but unable to do more than arch and moan until the shuddering died away.

  She collapsed down onto the pillows.

  Sweat dribbled from her forehead and her throat was dry.

  “There.” A final lick below made her jerk.

  Too tired to do more than gasp and lie where he’d placed her, she studied him through the slits of her eyelids. He’d used her, in a way, made her come in spite of her words to him, or because of them.