CONCEPTION (The Others)

by McCarty, Sarah

  “I am forbidden to spill my seed other than for your pleasure. Not by my own hand, or by another’s, can I be delivered relief from the desire you create. In this way I honor you.” He tapped her lip with the tip of his penis. “Stick out your tongue.”

  As she did, slowly and suspiciously, he told her, “You will not move through this. You will remain still and obedient, and accept my tribute with the respect it should be given.” He rested the head of his cock on the tip of her tongue. “Do you understand?”

  She nodded. His cock fell to her chest. He let it linger on her breast a moment, dark to light, hard to soft, male to female. He took her hand and brought it to him. “Replace my cock.”

  Her hands slowly wrapped around his sensitive shaft, each finger feeling like a red-hot flame as she brought him back to her mouth. His cock looked huge as it rested in her hands, even bigger as it settled on her tongue, almost obscuring his view of her temptingly perfect mouth.

  “Keep your mouth open,” he warned as her lips instinctively closed around the tip. She shot him another glare that was belied by the shiver that took her from head to toe. His mate burned with this act of submission, the flow of her desire perfuming the air around him, filling his balls with the seed she anticipated. He pumped his cock faster, tightening his grip, rushing his climax, eager to fill that hot, anxious mouth with his come, to mark her again in a way that would broadcast to all to whom she belonged. He stroked harder, twisting on the upstroke, rewarding her obedience in the face of her hungry anticipation with a small taste. Her eyes closed and her body shuddered, setting those delectable breasts into an erotic shimmy. The memory of how they’d looked coated with his come sent a shudder down his own spine.

  “Open your eyes, Edie mine.” She did, slowly as if in a daze, the lids remaining lower than normal, signaling her liking of this. “Watch me.”

  Her heavy-lidded gaze dropped to his cock. Her breath caught and staggered.

  “You will learn to do this for me in time,” he told her, grunting as her teeth grated the sensitive head as she nodded. His balls pulled up tight and the base of his spine tingled. His climax could not be delayed long.

  “Do not move,” he ordered.

  She stiffened. Her breath drew in and held as he pressed forward. She opened her mouth wider. The restless shift of her hips spoke of her need. The spicy edge to her scent told how close she was to coming. He pushed deeper, until the sensitive head of his shaft hit the back of her throat. He held his cock there, enjoying the caress of her muscles as she fought her need to gag, satisfaction blending with lust as she followed his orders over instinct and did not pull away. He backed off, releasing a shot of his seed on the retreat, groaning as she moaned but didn’t move, just let his come coat her mouth as her gaze clung to his, a plea in their smoky blue depths. His cock dropped to her chest. He touched the corner of that sweet mouth, took the smear of come, pressed it between her lips and gave her the permission she required. “Swallow.”

  Her lips closed around his index finger, and her lashes fluttered down in delight as she swallowed. More satisfaction nudged aside his frustration as she gasped in a hard breath and eyed him warily as the hormones in his come whipped through her system. He was her mate. No other could give her what he could. She would accept their union.

  Her scent took on a desperate edge, the unique aroma signaling her need and agony, calling to everything in him as he grabbed her ankles, the strength of her summons driving him crazy. In two quick moves, he turned her so that her legs were over his shoulders and her pussy was level with his face. For one moment he just stood there, breathing deeply, imprinting her scent with all its nuances into his being. Everything about her was a pleasure. Everything about her made him insane with emotions he did not understand. With the last of his reason, he ordered. “Do not come yet.”

  As much as he would love to wallow in her scent, drink her dry of her essence, his control would not survive that. With the tip of his tongue, he separated her labia. She whimpered, and her juices creamed his chest. Her little clitoris stood swollen and aching, peeking out from beneath its heavy hood. He could see the throb of her desire in its distension. Edie was very close to coming. Very needing of her mate’s attention.

  He stepped in, forcing her higher and opened his mouth over that pleasure point. Her flavor filled his senses. His beast roared its pleasure. He welcomed it, embracing its power and its demand. She would accept the joy he could give her. She would see where she belonged. “You may come now.”

  Very carefully, he caught the nubbin between his upper and lower fangs. Before she could do more than gasp, he gently bit down, piercing the plump nubbin the tiniest bit. Her scream was muted but her convulsions almost tore her out of his arms. He held her close, cupping his hands under her buttocks as she jerked with the strength of the climax rolling over her. A few drops of blood flowed into his mouth, encouraging his possession. He clamped his lips around her, nursing her orgasm on from one wave to the next. The bitterness underlying her flavor reminded him of what still had to be done. One more pulse, one more breathless scream, and then he released her.

  He lowered her hips, the lingering spasms of her orgasm rippling against his palms. With a regretful kiss, on the straining bud, he ducked his shoulders out from under her and let her slide down his body, her tender pussy skating the ridges and hollows of his torso, leaving behind her own mark. One he welcomed. As her hips hit the bed, he leaned over her, braced his left arm alongside her head, cupped her swollen pussy in his hand and whispered in her ear, “You are mine.”

  The shudder that took her body at his claim ended between her legs. She was so aroused, with three strokes of his finger she was ready to come again. He held her there on the edge of orgasm with his nail on her clit, one twitch shy of shattering, and opened the bedside drawer with a thought. Cold metal settled in his right hand. He stepped forward, forcing her calves up over his shoulders, splaying her legs high, wedging her between the mattress and his body. Her legs quivered under the strain. Her breath came in short, tight pants, but she didn’t object, just stared at him with an air of acceptance that soothed a bit of his prowling rage.

  The thick gold hoop lay in his hand, catching the faint light in the room. He tilted his palm. The light danced across the ancient joining words, magnifying the strength in the carvings, in the tradition that was older than his parents’ memories. A tradition that had lost favor in recent joinings. He closed his fingers over the ring. Too many things had been lost lately. Too many traditions abandoned along with that most precious commodity—hope. He concentrated on the hoop, warming it to his touch, imprinting it with his energy, whispering the joining words in his mind, his lust and joy rising with every syllable. The correctness of the decision settled amidst the turmoil. This was his mate. This was right.

  His “Do not move” came out more growl than speech as he slipped his hands under her soft hips. His palm shaped effortlessly to her thigh, as if created for no other reason than to please this woman. Edie tensed as he pinched the hood of her clit between his fingers, jerked as his nails sharpened and clenched on the delicate skin. He felt carefully, finding the spot he wanted, close enough to the nerve bundle that the weight would be a constant stimulus, but not so close as to create irritation. Before Eden could process his intent, he pierced the layers of skin, squeezing her clit between his thumb and index finger at the same time, milking it hard, hurtling her into climax. She arched high off the bed, her scream a mix of pleasure and surprise. He did not block all the pain of the piercing, letting some of it blend with her orgasm, knowing it would drive it higher, wanting this moment forever engraved on her memory. Deuce waited for the last shudder to settle to a quiver.

  “Watch.” She shook her head. He leaned in, curving her spine, tipping her hips inward, compelling her with thought as well as command. “Watch, my heart.”

  Her lids lifted slowly. Her tongue slid over her lips, wetting them with lingering seduction. He opened his ha
nd. The ring glowed from within, pulsing with the energy he’d fed it. He opened the hoop. Edie’s eyes widened and flew to his. He held her gaze as he threaded the hoop through the opening he’d made. Her hips bucked as the thickest part stretched the piercing. The swollen bud of her clitoris leapt under the pressure. Her scent saturated the room. She was such a miracle.

  Deuce held Edie in place with his hands and leaned back, lapping the sensitive nub, sending pleasure chasing her shock. Her scent lured him lower, seducing him to linger longer than he had intended. She tasted of blood, woman and heaven. Of perfection incarnate. The hoop brushed his cheek. He gave it a nudge, treating her to a sample of the delights to come. She bucked up into his mouth, her moan as enjoyable as her responsiveness. He kissed her weeping folds gently, lovingly before rising over her, easing the pressure on her back. The hoop lay heavy and large against her delicate pussy, dominating the area.

  His cock throbbed. Never again would she move without the memory of the joy he could bring her. Never again would another look at her and think her available. She was his Chosen mate. She bore his mark. It was as it should be.

  He healed the wound before heating the ring, chanting the permanence ritual, protecting her flesh from the worst of the heat, but not all. There was a great deal of feminine delight coming through the uncertainty swirling around her as the heat transferred to those ultra-sensitive nerve endings. When the hoop fastener sealed smoothly, and she hovered on the brink again, Deuce slid his finger through the center, for the first time ever, taking control of his mate in the ancient way. The weight, the feel, the way the ring glowed against her delicate flesh—it all pleased him deep inside. It was a hoop of substance. Worthy of a woman of substance. He tugged gently. Eden jumped a foot, the lightning bolt of sensation projecting outward, snagging his lust and tossing it higher. She caught her breath, and he caught her gaze. “You are mine.”

  He tugged again, a little harder, holding the ring out a second longer the next time. Her head thrashed side to side. Her fingers dug into the comforter as her body drew taut while fine tremors quivered down her legs.

  “Deuce!”

  “Come for me.” He jiggled the ring, ending with a series of sharp jerks as he thrust his finger deep into her grasping pussy.

  She came, screaming his name, filling the room with the scent and sound of her satisfaction.

  He brought her down gently, circling her swollen clitoris with soft as air brushes, maintaining his presence high inside her for a moment longer before withdrawing. When she sagged, he didn’t hold her, just let her feet slide down. Two discordant thuds punctuated her heels hitting the bed rail. Her hands went between her legs to touch the heavy ring. A small moan disrupted the staccato pants of her breath as she explored the prominent hoop. Deuce pulled her limp body to the edge of the bed. Her body was sated, but she still hungered. Only the slightest of direction from his hand was required before he felt her lips brush his balls. And then her tongue. The Maker, she had a sweet, tempting tongue. Too tempting.

  He stepped back. His cock dropped in front of her face, hitting the mattress with a soft thud. Eden opened her mouth, giving him a glimpse of her teeth and the hot wet promise of heaven. She welcomed him in with a delicate suction. Though everything inside him demanded that he fuck her hard, he gave her control. She was still in shock over the piercing, her mind alternating between delight and horror, as she experimented with the pleasures of the joining ring. He slid his index finger alongside hers, touching the warm gold, tracing the ornate carving of the joining words before hooking his fingertip through the thick hoop, letting the weight of his hand rest against her thigh, heating the metal as he encouraged her passion.

  “Take what you need, mate.” He cupped her head as she engulfed his aching cock in the tight heat of her mouth, suckling gently on the tip, drawing his orgasm from him in delicate sips that burned up from his groin until he thought the top of his head would explode. Time after time, when he knew he could not bear another moment, she demanded he give her that much more—more pleasure, more of what he was, taking him higher than he thought he could go, sapping his strength and his anger with the searing heat of her mouth. Tentatively blending her soul to the edge of his until his knees gave out and he collapsed on the bed above her, his cock jostling free, the last of his seed spilling on the side of her breast.

  He gasped as she moaned, cocooning the small splash in his hand, letting the warmth from his palm and his seed meld their flesh together. He met her tired gaze with his, conviction welling with the truth. “I will never let you go.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I think you cured me.”

  Deuce smiled at the sleepy, brave boast and gently lifted another section of Edie’s nearly dry hair to the heat coming off the fire in the fireplace. “That would be good.”

  Improbable, but good.

  He let the hair fall, watching it slide over her shoulders to flow like liquid gold as it puddled on the burgundy throw he’d spread on the white carpet. She adjusted her cheek on his naked thigh, her breath a tantalizing stroke along his balls. His cock stirred with renewed interest. She pressed a tiny kiss on the receptive flesh of his inner thigh as his gaze followed a natural path over her still peaked breasts, down over her stomach to the ring of gold that glowed between her labia. The shadows from the flames danced over her slim body in intriguing patterns, reflecting off the ring, glinting stronger at the edge of the deep carvings.

  Her gaze followed his. Embarrassment, trepidation and pleasure flashed across her face before she buried her it against his hip, her nails digging into the muscle as she wrestled with her reaction to the piercing.

  “Why did you do it?”

  He ran his hand down her hair, the waves turning to spirals toward the ends as the strands dried, catching on his fingers. “I am not always as civilized as I would like.”

  She did not lift her face. The moistness of her breath sent goose bumps up his leg. “Meaning?”

  “The Chosen are very possessive of their mates. The rings are a traditional marking.”

  One given up except by the most possessive, but she did not need to know about that. She would find his mark easier to accept if she thought it a common practice.

  “It won’t come off, will it?”

  “No.” Nor could it be cut off by anyone but him. Along with the ancient joining words, he’d carved in the strength of his wishes. Eden shifted, her white teeth sinking into her lower lip as her movement disturbed the ring’s position.

  “It’s very distracting.”

  “It is as it should be.”

  “You did it because I tried to leave, didn’t you?”

  “Your actions precipitated the marking sooner than it would have been.”

  “But you intended to ‘mark’ me all along?”

  He pulled her up his body until her cheek rested on his forearm. He did not hide from her gaze as he answered her question. “Yes. Beneath our layer of civility, all Chosen are prey to baser instincts. When it comes to you,” he touched the corner of her slightly swollen lips and confessed, “I am more so than most, which is why it would be wise for you not to challenge me again in the future.”

  “I didn’t challenge you. I left.”

  “By leaving you deny all that is between us.”

  “You want me to be some sort of puppet?”

  “I want you to be my mate, to share your hopes and fears with me as well as your joy.”

  She had nothing to say to that. He grazed his knuckles across the fat hoop, pulling her closer as she shivered, her arousal rising along with his, as it should between mates. He kissed her forehead, not wanting to see her expression as he asked. “Do you truly object to wearing my ring?”

  “Honestly?” Her gaze searched his, not allowing him to hide from her.

  “Yes.”

  “I was pretty much primed for a ring on my finger.”

  He arched his brow at her. With a thought, he sent the hoop swinging. “Wh
ere would the pleasure for you be in that?”

  She hitched herself higher, her thighs shifting against his as her passion spiked. Her fingers intertwined with his larger ones. Her hand felt so small in his as she pressed his knuckles into the ring. The wet folds of her swollen tissues opened around his flesh, accepting him into their moist embrace.

  “Nowhere near where it is,” she gasped.

  Her honesty humbled him. She didn’t have to give this to him. With her mind closed he could only guess at how she felt. She could lie to punish him for his insistence on the tradition, but she didn’t. Wouldn’t. No matter what the Coalition had done to her, they had not touched her inner core, which was as pure and as decent as the Maker could create.

  He brought her hand to his lips, kissing the back before catching and holding her gaze. He turned their joined hands slowly, deliberately, so that the remnants of her pleasure teased his nostrils. His tongue touched the back of his hand, precisely over the spot where her scent was strongest. Her eyes closed. She bit her lip as if in pain.

  “You need to let me go, Deuce.”

  “Why?”

  “So Jalina can be safe.”

  “You will explain.”

  She tensed and then seemed to sink into him. “If I get away, convince them she died, they’ll stop looking for her.”

  And start experimenting on her again. She didn’t need to say it for him to understand.

  Her gasp alerted him to the fact that he was squeezing her hand too tightly. He relaxed his grip. “That is unacceptable.”

  “My grandfather, Clay…” She pushed her hair off her face. “He’s a very powerful man with a lot of connections, but no one other than he knows about Jalina. If I can get back, get close, I can put an end to it all.”

  There was only way to put an end to Clay Lavery’s obsession. “You plan to kill him.”

  “More than plan, I intended to succeed.”

  To protect her daughter. He could not fault her courage, just her plan.