Barbour, Carolina - Watch Me, Desire Me (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Watch Me, Desire Me

  Harden scoffed and rolled his eyes. Saxby didn’t understand why.

  Gage said, “Harden had to convince me to do this task. I admit reluctance at first, now seeing you I believe I must thank him for convincing me.”

  She didn’t know what she expected. She stared as the two men embraced. Their lips touched. Gage wrapped his arms around Harden to draw him closer. She heard men enjoyed men, but this was the first time she witnessed such. She watched intrigued as Gage and Harden shared an intimate kiss.

  Harden broke the embrace, saying, “We are here to please the lady, Gage. Stop being a tease or it will be a long time before I can give the lady my attention because I will be too busy appeasing that insatiable need you have to be fucked.” He slapped Gage on the butt. “I do believe ladies come first,” he said as he moved back to lift Saxby in his arms and carried her to the bed. He paused, bent over, and came face to face clearly amused. “I do believe we are going to enjoy ourselves.”

  Harden paid homage to her breast. Gage moved beside him and joined his partner. They were attentive, licking, suckling, and biting her sensitive nipples until she felt her body betray her. She felt her sex swell and liquid flow between her thighs as her arousal peaked.

  Harden winked at her as Gage spread her thighs. Saxby inhaled as the first invasion took him to her womb. His cock full mast stretched her to the limit of acceptance. The feel wasn’t unpleasant, took getting used to because she never felt such or handled so. Gage’s plunges were greedy, intent to consume her whole, a continuous forge of driven power.

  Gage set a rhythm that sent his erection repeatedly pounding inside her. The power of each stroke rocked their bodies in tempo of a stormy sea and crashing waves each time the hardness delved to the depths. Each consummation more demanding than the next, Saxby could do nothing but cling to Gage and allow him to take his pleasure.

  This was all new to her. The pulsating need, fire that ignited between her thighs, or primal awakening she experienced for the first time. She struggled to fight the growing lust building. She could not allow herself to feel or want.

  Shamefully, she rose into the next thrust. Her fingers dug into his buttocks, pressing Gage closer to feel more. A strangled cry tore from her lips. “Please—” Her words died away, as she had no idea what she pleaded for. She knew her body screamed for release and the desire to capitulate to the hot demands of the cock stroking inside her.

  “Ah, the lady pleads for satisfaction,” Gage said, grinning.

  “Please,” Saxby whispered again.

  “Then you must say the words,” Harden said.

  Ashamed for wanting, riddled with guilt, she turned to face the windowpane where she knew Milo watched. She understood what he wanted. “Watch me…desire me,” she said holding his stare.

  She wasn’t sure, had Milo nodded? She had no idea why and didn’t care as a firm hand held her still. She squeezed her eyes in anticipation of finally, blessedly, having the heat rummaging strongly through her pussy squelched.

  When she heard Gage moan above her, his hold intensified, and his body shudder just before he jerked free and spilled over her belly she realized what happened. Again, she was nothing, a portal for a man’s release, and her own want denied.

  Saxby rolled away, curled forward, and hugged her knees. She watched Milo, who stared at her with an accusatory gaze. He witnessed her lust. His expression smug told her Milo knew she wanted to feel something in the arms of a stranger. It did not matter this was the first time.

  Saxby ignored her conscience, the emptiness inside her, and eyed Milo with contempt. She continued to face Milo as Harden spread her thighs, and entered her from behind. She remained passive, void of feeling, as he took greedily and plummeted selfishly.

  The men dressed, readying to leave her. Saxby listened to their movements, idle chitchat they exchanged, concentrating on the mundane things they said to keep from focusing on the obvious. She wanted to find fulfillment in another man’s arms. She prayed to Oslei for forgiveness, and then damned herself for wanting.

  * * * *

  Milo lay in bed and watched Saxby, his hand worked feverishly beneath the covers, as he yanked and pumped his flaccid penis. He prayed to feel his manhood rise, the strength of a male once again, a show that he was still a man.

  Milo seethed inwardly. The selfish little bitch was responsible for making him useless. He peered at her with disdain knowing she would know what it felt like never to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh. His instructions to each man who fucked Saxby were precise. They could use his wife like a whore. She was to receive no satisfaction. Never. Milo felt no remorse to know Saxby suffered. She deserved nothing more.

  He watched Saxby flee from the room in tears.

  Good riddance, he thought turning away to stare into nothingness.

  * * * *

  Saxby quickly cleansed, scrubbed her body until her skin felt raw. She dressed, and then hurried to her husband’s chambers knowing he required her presence after each session. The last thing she wanted to do was face Milo, and worried there was no way around it.

  She entered the room and took one look at the way Milo’s head lolled to the side and knew he consumed the grainroot.

  She walked to the bed and stared down at the empty cup wondering who gave Milo the potion. Did it really matter? If Milo didn’t request the elixir, he would refuse it.

  Saxby worked her teeth over her bottom lip. If Milo suffered more than he revealed to her, she wondered why. Megatha’s words entered her head, Perhaps ‘tis because he wishes not to confide in you. A sense of angst surfaced, Megatha might be right, and the thought made tears fall and roll over her cheeks that she angrily wiped away.

  Saxby watched Milo a minute before adjusting his head to a better angle to keep him from getting a crook in the neck. She pulled the covers up to his chin enclosing him in warmth to fight off the chill in the room when the fire burned down to embers. A chaste kiss, planted softly on his forehead, before she left the room and sought out her own chamber and the welcomed solitude.

  Saxby didn’t feel any disappointment that she and Milo hadn’t talked. Secretly, she preferred it this way. What did Milo really gain from the conversations? She wished she knew. Or, more likely, what is it that he wanted her to admit? That she enjoyed bedding strangers. Truth be told, if she were honest with herself, occasionally her body yearned for what a man could provide. She was human and very much alive, and having anyone except Milo touch her did not appeal to her. She needed the emotional connection to her husband to feel fulfilled.

  Besides, the strangers did not give, and instead, pilfered. The outsiders Milo paid handsomely to please her never did. She speculated it was intentional, but having little experience with such intimate matters there was no way to be sure. All she knew was they used her body, gorged their fill, leaving her feeling as if she missed something.

  The encounter with Gage was physical, yet he left her feeling lustful with need. How could that be if he wasn’t Milo? Saxby sighed in frustration. Nothing made sense concerning her experience or lack of it in sexual matters. She admitted confusion.

  She loved Milo. She was a hundred percent sure of this. What perplexed her were the urges another man awakened inside her to want satisfaction. Prior to Milo’s accident, when they were together, she always felt something was missing as she laid feeling lonely even though she slept in his arms. Now, after the men’s attention she understood the yearning as the need for physical gratification.

  The idea of self-love came into Saxby’s thoughts. She had touched herself, and her conscience had eaten away at her. That was wrong; Oslei’s doctrine forbid such.

  She almost laughed at the ridiculous notion wondering why she judged herself harshly after what she did with those men. Surely, self-love couldn’t be a greater sin.

  She was already condemned to the fires of damnation for bowing to Milo’s wishes. Was there a worst fate?

  Aye, perhaps, she considered remembering Juden VanZand
t was coming.

  Chapter 5

  When Juden reached the area where Keaton died, he dismounted. He walked to the very same place where the Kelts attacked, he got five arrows in the back, and his son lost his precious life.

  He kneeled down in the grass and brushed his fingertips over the ground, feeling the indentions in the earth, sensing the essence of death lingered. It was unusual for him to retain a scent pass the time the essence should have waned, but Juden doubted if the remembrance of Keaton’s murder would ever leave him. It was everywhere, inside him. He felt as if he was drowning in Keaton’s memories, in his very soul.

  Staring at the area, he moved about, further to the left, lifted his head, and inhaled filling his nostrils with the air. The sensations of danger—past and present—hovered, looming making the hairs on his neck tingle.

  He moved swiftly, running toward a small alcove nestled between trees. Towering pines, tall grass, and lush foliage surrounded the ground making it an advantageous place for a person or people to hide and have a wide view of the area where the Kelts attacked.

  He dropped to the ground, laid his palm flat to the earth and struggled to breath, feeling the overwhelming deceit and betrayal of many, so intense, Juden trembled.

  Juden sniffed, and dropped his canines feeling the pointed teeth slip pass his upper lip. He sensed the things he missed the day of Keaton’s death. He stored the physical makeup of the men responsible for his son’s demise.

  The empathic ability was a gift and a curse. Emotions he often did not want to feel eased inside his body. Strongly, taking root, fear and pain washed over Juden in a rush. The magnitude of emotions threatened to suffocate him. He found it difficult to breathe as Keaton…Kelts…the murderers, mental impressions of others swirled about in an eddy of emotions, the strongest being that of his own grief.

  The infidels stunk of cowards. He would find the bastards and force them to confess who gave the order to have his son assassinated or die trying.

  He walked back to Blu, mounted, and motioned for his guards to move forward. All his men maneuvered their horses to surround Juden, one on each side, and two in the rear to watch his back.

  Juden remained silent a long minute until one of his guards, Faison, spoke. “What do you think, Juden?”

  His mother assigned Faison to him once she realized his life was in jeopardy, she disregarded her own safety and insisted her long and trustworthy guard be appointed to him. Faison accepted the commitment, and, as with his mother, became a constant at his side, as a protector and friend.

  Juden rubbed his chin, and reflected. “My anonymous enemy count is at least four. I intend to find them, not caring if it takes me an eternity, I will scour the earth and hunt the bastards down.”

  Faison nodded in agreement. “Where do we go first?”

  Juden did not immediately respond. Ever watchful, his eyes shifted about and scanned the area before he faced Faison. “Their scent leads toward the direction of the Northern Territory.”

  If his revelation surprised Faison, it did not show on his face. “You think to Dandelion?”

  “Perhaps,” he murmured.

  “Mayhap it explains why Lord DeCapri has insistently sent messengers to request your attendance.”

  Juden shrugged, unresponsive.

  The sound of the mount’s hooves made crunching noises as they left the grassy knoll and entered the pebbled trail, which led them from the forest, along the outer edges of the gulley, where the trees were sparse and the sun the brightest.

  The sun made Juden squint, as he adjusted to the light that burned and made his eyes feel gritty. He favored the night. As a variant, he could stay out in direct daylight, and manage the intense glare and ignore the irritant.

  He would travel to the Northern Territory where few variants dwelled. This side of the River Gorge had some true bloods, but no complete clans existed. The Days of Unrest occurred years ago, after the rule to eradicate his people became law. It was a period where his kind considered parasites, no more than infestation like the horrible disease that evaded the Northern Territory wiping out many humans. Mercilessly, men, women, and children were hunted and slaughtered.

  When he came of age, his mother told him about the Days of Unrest. She explained how she escaped by bundling him in cloth, stole a horse, and rode day and night. She didn’t dare stop long enough to eat, rest, or sleep until she reached the shoreline of the River Gorge. There she convinced a man to take them across the sea to the villages of Duns Laire, his grandfather’s home.

  Duns Laire resided the furthest from the Northern Territory, a place so distant the area considered a separate entity. It was no longer under the King’s rule because variants refused to follow a human’s rule.

  When the battle for survival of variants that lived in the Northern Territory before the Days of Unrest reached Duns Laire’s borders, the people rose in arms to protect their own. A war between variants and the others waged and continued for many years until the King died, and the heir to the thrown presided over the Northern Territory immediately withdrew the edict and made it legal to prey on variants and the rebellion ceased.

  Juden looked across calm sea that stretched miles before him until the landscape disappeared in an endless ocean of blue. The water clear and calm now once flowed, red with the blood of many during the Days of Unrest. It was rumored so much life was lost the water and white sand shores turned crimson. Juden pondered the things his mother told him briefly before turning his attention away from the distaste of the past.

  The present concerned him more, as he learned that the rebellion against his people might rise again, as some feared with the unrest between the Northern Territory and the border clans that resided in the other regions grew increasingly hostile. They wanted the variants to take a side, and he refused. The King didn’t like his decision. He didn’t care. What did concern him was if the King was foolish enough to try to force his hand by threatening his people to make an alliance.

  As far as he was concerned, Duns Laire was neutral, and the notion of interfering in other’s senseless battle didn’t sit well with him. It would be like separating a bunch of undisciplined children, all the bickering, back and forth, and the thought of playing peacemaker left a foul taste inside his mouth. He’d rather endure a nagging infested thorn eternally in his eye.

  There was history of alliances with some of the bog clans that he had to consider, and because of this, there was fear the variants might take sides and go against the Northern Territory if war broke out. That was highly unlikely because his grandfather put circumstances into play to forbid such, but few were privy to that information.

  “What are you thinking, Juden?”

  He looked at Faison before observing that the terrain of towering green trees, fertile foliage, and rolling hills turned to flat plains of clay dirt and dust with majestic mountains ahead. He’d been immerged in his own thoughts for a long time, and they bypassed the forest and headed toward the winding passages that led to his brother’s homeland.

  He considered what required Milo to seek his audience. He had no idea why, as he refused to give any of the flunkies his brother sent the time of day. It didn’t really matter why Milo summoned him. He traveled as he pleased and would respond to his request if he wanted.

  Curiosity got the better of him.

  The days it took him to recover from his wounds required he lay in bed. That left many hours to think about the vermin responsible for Keaton’s death and revenge.

  The time had come.

  He didn’t think it coincidence whilst Milo begged for an audience, the trails of murder led directly to Dandelion.

  “I’m thinking to give Milo what he wants even though I know sometimes people ask for things unknowingly, having no idea what is best for them.”

  Chapter 6

  Saxby struggled in the man’s grasp as he forced her eyes forward. She glared through Milo. She said the required words. “Watch me…desire me,” she hissed.<
br />
  She ignored Milo’s satisfied smirk, dropped her head, and focused on nothing as the men finished.

  Milo was out of control.

  He acquired three men this time. She wanted to refuse, beg off, but when she tried, Milo hung the pendulum of guilt over her head, and once again, she lowered herself to do her husband’s bidding. She suffered quietly through the pokes, probes, and use of her flesh.

  While the men dressed, she lay and simmered bitterly. The daunting truth hit home—she destroyed Milo’s ability to feel pleasure and in return, he ensured she never experienced it either. A fresh wave of nausea hit. She didn’t want to believe Milo played such twisted games, but deep inside she knew the truth. The men obtained did not come for her pleasure, as Milo would have her believe. They came for his amusement.

  She condemned him to hell on earth, and he intended to send her into the fires of Oslei in return.

  Milo beckoned her to come to him. She fled the chamber instead and ran blindly down the darkened corridor. She raced wildly like a frightened animal, turning this way and that, so disorientated she bumped into a wall.

  Saxby cried out when she hit the solid surface. Her arms failed about, striking at the barricade that shouldn’t be there. When powerful arms grabbed her, she froze, and slowly dragged her eyes upward. Startling a gasp, she shoved a fist into her mouth to keep from crying out as silvery eyes stared down at her. The irises glowed, burned through her, and left her feeling so mesmerized, it was difficult to turn away even though she wanted to.

  The man spoke, his low and throaty tone vibrated in the narrow corridor. “Lady Saxby, I presume?”

  Saxby tried to respond, dryness made her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth, and the cottony feel made her gag, instead.

  Juden VanZandt!

  Juden leaned closer face to face. His eyes constantly sparked with grey flashes. “Are you the mistress of Dandelion?”

  Saxby refused to answer. Desperate to be free, she did a stupid thing and tried to shove her knee into Juden’s groin and unman him.