Branded Possession (The Machinery of Desire Book 3)

by Cari Silverwood

  Again, she hissed.

  “I’m glad I killed that fucker who tried to fuck you,” he whispered to her neck, not expecting a reply, because at the same moment he’d put the side of his hand between her teeth. Her tongue rested docilely against his skin. He smiled and pressed his hand a little deeper.

  “Is your cunt ready for me?”

  She grunted, protesting with mumbles that made her tongue lash over his hand – soft and warm. It was a protest he could love...especially when he imagined putting a clip on her tongue and tying it to the floor while he fucked her.

  His cock kicked upright a tad more.

  He was getting ahead of events.

  Slow.

  Massaging her, playing with her body, smoothing hands down her, over her, under her, when he forced her to all fours. All this was necessary, all serious business on the road to breaking her.

  His deep grabs of her shoulder muscles with his teeth made her bow her spine and gasp. He grabbed more of her, biting a path to above her plump ass cheek. After he dragged the suit completely off of her, from her sticky skin, his hand slid to that ass cheek. Sticky, wet, filthy girl.

  Naked girl. All of her his to play with and not just to interrogate.

  He might be getting a little carried away but stars above...

  He found her cunt, wedged the fingers of his right hand between those sodden lower lips. The heat beckoned him to put more than his fingers into her.

  “Checking you for weapons. I never know with you, smart thing that you are.”

  “I’m not –”

  “No? Not armed with anything lethal? Are you sure?”

  He covered her, still fully clothed but letting his cock grind up into the valley where her ass divided. It wanted to fuck her, hard. So did his head. Denying both those parts of him was impossible.

  “Don’t move. Stay.” The word came out more gutturally than the last time he’d said it. If she moved…if she did, it’d give him a perfect excuse to do bad, bad things.

  Head down, she swayed in time to his thrusts that went nowhere.

  When he ceased to move she kept panting, mouth slack, eyes shut.

  “Are you thinking it’s wrong to like what your torturer does to you?”

  “I’m just...tired,” she rasped, her eyes still shut, her mouth licked by her straying tongue...and her cunt? When he sat back and checked it, yes, glistening.

  The thrill of undressing her to fuck her was not the same as the thrill of undressing her to extract information.

  “Liar.”

  Hand on her butt, Ryke pushed a finger into her, gliding it slowly inward on her thick moisture. Then he watched for her response, waiting until she ducked her head and inhaled jerkily, until he felt the crush of her pussy muscles.

  He laughed.

  If he didn’t get her clean now he’d be fucking her with her dirty as a whore who’d been with men all day, especially when he added his own grime to their collective dirtiness.

  Feverish of eye, holding himself in check, with a gigantic hard-on denting his pants, he leashed her and towed her off to find a shower. He found one the size of a command center with the plumbing still connected, though the water took forever to arrive. He stripped and poured a torrent over them both from the antiquated shower heads. If the heads were phallic in appearance, it was no shock after the lounging room.

  He had her bend over at the wall while he pulled out the accuator buried in her ass, then washed her again, thoroughly enough to make her aware he could stick his cock in her ass at any moment. He’d removed it to stop himself. Trigger the accuator and she’d be dribbling down the wall having orgasms, or on the floor, or anywhere he positioned her, while he plowed her in every orifice.

  Tempting, but a bad strategy, today.

  The blue towels that’d been left hooked on the walls were scratchy and possibly fossilized, but of stern fabric. They didn’t fall apart when he threw one around her and soaked up the leftover water. He patted her dry, did her hair first, then redid it and her tits while she pouted and glared, and looked as if she wanted to run. When he was finished, they stood in a shallow, half-inch deep puddle, though most of the water had sluiced away down golden drains.

  Steel, white, and gold in here and nothing had corroded.

  Droplets on the metal leash made it shine as if studded with gemstones. He jiggled the line of links and the droplets flew. Gio pouted still, with lips as fresh and red as newly bought flowers. He dragged her to him, reeling her in like a hero of old might catch a monster on another planet. Those sweet lips became so close and tempting.

  “You look rebellious. Is that wise?”

  Her subtle swallow and the confusion chasing across her eyes made his heart and his dick ache.

  Remember. Slow, not furious, no more raising terrible fears in her. He kissed her tenderly. Pressing lip to lip, eating her mouth and neck very little, he left the faintest of red marks. He could be a gourmet of this woman – taste her, arouse her. He gripped her breast and the back of her head, pressed her to the damp wall then held her in place with a palm planted on her tangled hair and the other on her belly.

  By now her breathing was violent. So was his.

  He angled his head, kissed her once more, felt his cock bump into her belly and almost groaned. He drew away.

  “Pretty thing,” he murmured, curling her lip downward until he saw her small teeth.

  Being nice probably didn’t allow for chaining her spread-eagled to ceiling and floor with one of his fuckspears in her pussy while he claimed her asshole. Or at least, not yet it didn’t.

  Everything here was slippery. He needed to go elsewhere or risk breaking a leg.

  Next to the orgy-capable bed was a broad chair with deep upholstery and armrests. It was a good place to sit. He observed his obedient creature as she kneeled, then he held up his finger.

  “Open your mouth.” Her wide eyes before him while she sucked on his finger seemed to pull at him, all the way to his cock in an unbroken cord of pressure. “You...” He paused to gather breath and his wits. “...make me feel immoral by your very presence and considering what I’ve done in my past that is an achievement.”

  He removed his finger, not expecting a reply, but he got one.

  “That’s your doing.”

  “Oh?” He felt his amusement build.

  “I never planned to sit here nude.”

  Her petulance hit the right note for him and he chuckled and leaned in to say, “You’re right.” No more talking. He took a firm hold of either side of her head and pulled her down until his cock was twitching an inch from her mouth. “You’re going to suck this until I say to stop.”

  “Wait.” Her breath warmed the head of his cock.

  “No. No waiting.”

  He could feel her straining to pull away but it wasn’t full strength. A small farm animal could fight more than this. She opened her mouth and engulfed him.

  “Down, all the way.” Watching her head lower, feeling the burst of sensations as her moist lips and tongue applied themselves, he knew in that instant he’d never go back to interrogator and client.

  Re-establish the tone? It couldn’t be the same, not now. Not when he had himself exactly where he wanted to be – inches deep inside her hot mouth.

  He thought about plucking her off him after a few minutes of eye-watering, slick-sounding sucking and very little gagging. He really shouldn’t be making her gag, or forcing her, not if he wanted adoration. Fuck though it made his balls throb, made everything throb. Especially his dick.

  He dragged her up and almost off him then, reluctantly, all the way off. Then he watched her splutter. Tears decorated her cheeks and he carefully wiped them away with his thumbs.

  “Climb up. Sit on me.”

  She hesitated and he smiled briefly, wondering if she’d hate him too much if he punished her. This female’s wetness dripped from her. A small pool of it lay beneath her slightly spread legs and that made for an even more excruciating
decision.

  The intricacies of arranging for her to like him were so damn daunting.

  Maybe he should just grab her and shove her onto his cock?

  Maybe he should talk? After. Talk after.

  He couldn’t just stop threatening her immediately, that would be too abrupt. Lesser threats then. He leaned forward.

  He could make her like this, if he was subtle with those threats.

  “Put your hands behind your back and hold your wrists, if you don’t want me to tie them. Then tell me what the fuck you’re doing.”

  Chapter 13

  Put your hands behind your back. Goosebumps rose. Gio locked to his gaze, her exhaustion vanishing as adrenalin drenched her system. Such compelling eyes. The taste and feel of his cock remained in her mouth and she was bewildered by her own emotions. Yes, what her torturer had done to her aroused her and that was mortifying.

  Before this he’d been so distant that any desires had been like reacting to a machine. Now, it was definitely personal. He’d changed.

  Hands behind her back, or he’d tie them there? No point in resisting, was there?

  After the shower, he’d piled up coat and clothes on the big bed, and in that pile were holsters with knives and at least one gun. He’d not expect her to try.

  Maybe, maybe. Her leg muscles tensed, twitched. Then her bravery wobbled and failed her.

  No, she couldn’t. He’d catch her, surely? She’d never used any of their weapons.

  Run. Don’t run.

  Which?

  Give in for now. Use your brain and outwit the fuckhead later.

  Feeling like a bug he’d stick a pin in if it didn’t behave, hyped up to the max by possibilities, she placed her hands behind her and gripped her left wrist. That put her breasts front and center, naked as before yet more prominent, and he was looking.

  She should’ve tried for the gun.

  “Why?” Ryke repeated. “I gave you an order.” The blue hidden deep in the ravines of his facial scars flared in bright shreds.

  He came here infrequently, had that blueness like his brother... Why? Everyone had whys today.

  Facts teased her.

  She shook her head, closed her eyes for a second to rearrange her thoughts. Telling him he scared her was not going to happen.

  “I don’t want sex.”

  Ryke pointed downward. Between her legs.

  Liquid had dripped from her. She reddened in a rush of heat.

  “Your objection is noted and a lie. I can see you’d love to be fucked. Should I punish you? Stick a fuckspear in you and watch you squeal? Or would you rather...” His voice became satin-cloaked menace “...have my cock?”

  Those words made her shiver, made her nipples tighten, and made her want to...god, want to stick herself on a cock – probably his since it was before her face.

  The urge to put her tongue between her lips arrived, so she curled in her lower lip and nabbed it with teeth. Be still. Him in her, his thick shaft forcing inside...

  Want blossomed in her cunt and twisted her mind.

  This desire wasn’t rational.

  She inhaled shakily, strangling her wrist with her fingers. This wasn’t right.

  You don’t fuck your torturer and like it.

  “Let me make it easier for you.”

  She knew what was coming, by the shift of his thigh muscles and feet, by the shadows as his arms reached for her waist. Foreboding transformed into lust.

  She didn’t move, instead sitting still and meek, with her arms at her back, even though she was about to combust.

  She betrayed herself.

  As he lifted her and positioned her above his cock, a cock that still shone from her mouth being on him, she put her knees to the outside of his legs. The penetration, she surely felt the warmth before he touched her, before it poked at her, squeezing into her entrance.

  She’d spread her legs. She’d opened her thighs without him even asking.

  “Look.” He wrapped her hair in fist and levered her head forward. “Look at us fucking.”

  The force he used sent her arousal soaring. Her reaction was unmistakable. She looked at the joining of their bodies.

  She needed that excuse – the force.

  Without force it was her choice and it could never be that. She didn’t want it to be. Not with this man. Not Ryke.

  He slid another few inches and reached full depth, and she was left seated on his thighs, with the throb of him overtaking reason.

  Anyone else...

  She moaned as he rocked into her then speared in, for she rose and fell on his lap, opening wider and instinctively following the rhythms of sex.

  When he shoved her down with his hands then grabbed her ass cheeks in iron-hard fingers, crushing her flesh, bruising her, she sobbed. The pain burst in and fused with his possession. If she whined and screwed herself down onto him, feeling the wet suck of her pussy as he kept going, in and out, hurting, owning, it was... it was...

  Thoughts disintegrated, becoming tracks that led nowhere.

  Fucking left no room for thinking.

  Forgetting where her hands should be, she embedded them in his shoulders.

  She’d fucking sobbed. Embarrassed, overwhelmed, she let him turn her, rearrange her so she faced away, so he could touch her breasts, her clit, and he stirred her there, massaging, pinching. Soon the heights of orgasm were reached and she was about to come, except that he cursed loudly, and halted.

  Panting, she bowed over him, her hands on his knees, hoping for more. Begging was impossible.

  He stood and carried her to the bed, pinned her under him, face-down. He penetrated her, slammed in and held her there while he sorted through the pile of clothes to the left of her head.

  Cheek turned, she waited, watched, unwilling to move or talk or do anything that might interrupt whatever he planned. Every so often she squirmed into his cock.

  “Leash,” he murmured.

  He attached it with a click of clasp. He tied her hands with something – so tightly her skin burned and though she whimpered she stayed still, eyes shut, feeling him inside her.

  He’d nailed her to the bed with that.

  God, would he move?

  Only when he had her immobile with both body and bondage did he withdraw to probe her cunt with thick fingers, opening her, biting her ass and even her pussy lips. Then she did beg. God, yes she did. She writhed and begged and wished she could stop her words from being said. But it was done.

  He grunted. “Good.”

  Then, only then, did Ryke position himself behind her and fuck her.

  Every fraction of his cock was felt as he rammed it into her. Ryke attained jackhammer force. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” He shoved her across the bed, burying her head in quilt.

  That gasping couldn’t be her. Or the groans. “No.” She whispered the word, choked it out, meaning yes, meaning no as well. Her drool had wet the bedding.

  The slap of flesh on flesh was loud and broadcast the violence he used.

  He would wreck her, yet she spread her legs wider. At that, he only pressed her legs further apart then reached under her. He brought her to the brink, riding her slower, calculating, teasing. His other hand pressed down on the small of her back as he thumped in his cock, in short yet explosive thrusts that robbed her of air.

  His fingers circled, circled, pressing at her clit, and she sucked in a moan and held it, brain stuck on pause as she tried to move but couldn’t.

  Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t...

  She strained, then blanked as she bucked into orgasm and was still spent and lost from sanity when he fucked her into his own climax. Cum filling her. His muscles and hands sliding over her.

  The spill of cum from her pussy was left to happen, when he lay beside her and turned her to spoon into her back. She left her eyes closed.

  Her wrists and arms remained tied, until he deigned to release them at her softly said request of Please...my arms?

  Dreamily sinking, panti
ng, with his breath stirring her neck, his kisses and bites also, she remembered her plan.

  For she’d opened her eyes. Gun.

  It was before her nose, inches away. Holstered, gleaming metal.

  She almost recoiled, her ass muscles tensing. She wasn’t brave enough for this.

  He slid off the bed to do something; she heard his soft steps dwindle in volume.

  Thinking was her forte but if she waited and thought, she’d not do it.

  The only solution was to grab, so she grabbed and scrambled off the bed, landing with a stagger and almost falling as she spun to aim the weapon in Ryke’s direction.

  She found him turning too. Fast then slower when he saw what she held.

  “This is not a good idea, Gio.”

  “No?” Her hand shook, and so the gun shook and then she sneaked a look at the trigger and saw a button or two near it. A yellow one blinked softly.

  Was it even ready to fire?

  She laid her finger on the trigger and aimed it at him where he stood, hands spread. She assumed an expression that was meant to say I know what I’m doing. “We need to talk.”

  “Yes, yes we do.”

  Chapter 14

  “You know you can’t shoot me? You can’t get out of the residence anyway without the king’s sigil,” Ryke informed her in a measured voice.

  Gio tilted the gun and one eyebrow, then her mouth. “You sure?”

  Though her hair was damp and tangled, the overhead lights reflected hints of gold. She was a purely erotic sight to Ryke – her perfectly pink areolas pointing the way to her breasts. The surge of hips, the cuteness of her navel, and the flush on her belly and face from sex. Debauched bitch.

  Reluctantly, he tore away his gaze. Her question?

  He shrugged. “Mostly.”

  “I’d cut off your hand.”

  He snorted. “Neat solution. There’s still my brother who’d kill you, and the rest of the Underdeck, and our favorite enemy up above.”

  “Yes.” Her whole body seemed to slump into despair before she recovered. “Badh would kill me?”

  “He’d send you back up. He’s actually not keen on killing. Of course Judge Omrad would get you, or the king’s advisor, Gyle, or some other faction.”