by Kali Argent
She wanted it, but she didn’t have the patience for any of it.
Her breasts tingled, aching to be touched and fondled. Her nipples stiffened into tight peaks where they rubbed against his chest, and her heartbeat throbbed between her thighs as her pussy clenched greedily.
Pushing the scraps of fabric off his shoulders, she dragged her fingernails down his biceps, not hard enough to cause any damage, but just enough for him to feel it. She did the same to his chest, raking her nails across the smooth skin, delighting in the way thin, red lines welled to the surface.
Trick’s head fell back, landing against the door with a thud. He didn’t say a word, but the noises coming from him spoke volumes. When she scratched hard enough to sting, he groaned. When she used her tongue to soothe the burn, he growled. His muscles flexed beneath her touch. The veins in his forearms pulsed, and the cords in his neck strained.
Placing a hand in the center of his chest, she leaned in once more, trailing her lips along the stubble that adorned his jaw. “Don’t move.”
The order issued, she lowered herself to the floor to quickly and efficiently remove his boots. Then, she dragged his leather pants down his legs, encouraging him to step out of them so she could discard them to the side.
Eyes closed, lips slightly parted, body bared to her gaze and vibrating with need, he was fucking gorgeous.
And he was all hers.
His erection jutted from between his thighs, long, thick, and curved slightly upward. Taking him in hand, she marveled at the way she couldn’t quite close her fingers around him. His length flexed within her grip, and a single drop of clear liquid beaded at the tip. Completely enthralled, she dipped her head, swiping her tongue over the crown.
The way Trick groaned and slid down the door a couple of inches made her feel…powerful. She did it again, and again, drunk on the way he responded to her every touch. Careful to keep her fangs covered, she lowered her head farther, intending to take only the head between her lips. The moment she did, however, Trick grunted and arched forward—the action clearly involuntary—and pushed half his length into her mouth. Once he’d realized what he’d done, he tried to pull back, but Aziza was having none of it.
Grabbing his hips, she pulled him forward, encouraging him to move, to take what he needed. What they both needed. Thankfully, he seemed to understand, because after only a moment of hesitation, one hand tangled in her hair, pulling and pushing, guiding her into a rhythm he liked.
He thrust and retreated, sliding his cock over her tongue and pushing to the back of her throat on every inward plunge. When he arched again, pushing the hard length between her lips, she tilted her head slightly, letting one of her canines scrape along the top of his shaft, giving him just a hint of that pleasure-pain he seemed to enjoy.
The hold on her hair tightened as Trick jerked back, pulling free of her mouth. Worried she’d either frightened or hurt him, she looked up, preparing to apologize, but the feral look in his eyes staid her tongue.
“If you keep doing that,” he said, his voice gravelly and heavy with lust, “this party isn’t going to last long.”
Understanding, she stood, watching him intently as she made quick work of shedding her own clothing. His reaction was subtle, but the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with the chilled air in the room. The scent of arousal hung thick between them, overpowering everything else, and she inhaled, breathing him deeply into her lungs.
Her head spun, chasing away sense and reason, stripping away all civility. Needing him like she needed her next breath, she launched herself into his arms, using the momentum to spin them so that her own back pressed against the door. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly as she pulled herself up his body to lock her legs around his waist.
Fire raged through Trick, burning away any notions he might have had about tenderness and courtesy. The hand around his cock both provoked and soothed, and when Aziza bowed away from the door, pulling him into her slick heat, he thought he’d died.
Hard and fast, thundering toward dangerous speeds, his heart slammed against his ribcage. His throat closed, making it difficult to breathe, and every part of him felt stretched too tight, as if he might burst out of his own skin at any moment.
He thrust once, twice, his movements uncoordinated but tempered. The effort it took to hold back darkened his vision at the corners, and blood roared in his ears as he struggled for every modicum of control.
Fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his head back sharply, and Aziza growled when he met her gaze. “You can’t hurt me.”
Not that he wouldn’t. Not that she believed him to be a far gentler soul than he was. She wasn’t questioning his strength but reminding him that she was more than capable of handling the violence he worked so hard to leash.
Trick shouted—whether in triumph or relief, he wasn’t sure—and let go. He stopped thinking, stopped worrying, and drove into her clenching depths with abandon. It was what he’d always wanted, what he’d always craved, but he’d always been too polite to unleash on another person, let alone a woman. He would have never treated a human woman so roughly, not because he was afraid he’d hurt her, but because he knew he would.
Aziza accepted every brutal thrust and savage kiss with relish and demanded he give her more. Her fingernails scored his back, and when he tried to pull away from the kiss, she growled and bit his bottom lip. She rocked and undulated, meeting every hard plunge with primal enthusiasm.
Being with her was like making love to a storm—wild and savage, powerful and untamed—and he reveled in every second of it.
When her pussy tightened around him, squeezing him to the edge of pain, he slammed his fist against the door beside her head and roared as his orgasm was ripped from him. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt, more intense than any climax he’d ever experienced, and he doubted it could get any better.
Then, Aziza forced him closer, sealing her mouth against the side of his throat, and pierced the flesh with her fangs.
Lights exploded behind his closed eyelids, and he gasped, drowning in a wave of euphoria. His hips began thrusting of their own accord as he rubbed against her, desperate to feel any part of her he could. Faster and faster, he sank into her and retreated, taking her just as roughly as the first time until he spilled himself deep inside her once more.
Sated but slightly unsteady, he sagged against his mate, anchoring her to the door with the weight of his body. If she minded, she didn’t say anything. Extracting her canines from his neck, she licked at the mark a few times, then hummed happily as she nuzzled against his temple.
“I can’t move,” he confessed a moment later when his breathing had eased, and brain function had returned.
“Then, don’t,” Aziza whispered into his mind. She took his face between her palms, turning him to deliver a kiss that felt impossibly tender considering what they’d just done. “You’re right where you need to be.” Her grin turned wicked as she rolled her hips, coaxing his cock back to full mast with surprisingly little effort. “My mate.”
“Your mate,” Trick agreed, intrigued by how right the words felt. “Yours.”
“Mine.”
EPILOGUE
“Damn it, Brian,” Aziza growled. She’d have thought being beaten unconscious by Trick would have made a bigger impact on the asshole. In reality, all it had done was encourage him to turn his sights on weaker targets. “We don’t touch females without their permission, do we?”
Brian tried to jerk away from her, but all he managed to do was add extra strain to the arm she had twisted up between his shoulder blades. “She liked it.”
Snorting with disgust, she pushed his face more firmly against the wall of the corridor and jabbed him hard in the ribs with her knee. “Yes, I can tell from that handprint on your face how much she liked it.”
Unfortunately for him—but happily for Aziza—Brian had picked the wrong female to
harass this time. Why he’d even thought to try his luck with an Aleucian was beyond her. Choosing to lay his hands on the Director of Education’s sister was borderline suicidal.
“It’s the Racks for you this time, Brian. You’re going to have a long, long time to think about ways to be a better person.”
The Racks weren’t nearly as terrifying or medieval as the name implied. They weren’t cushy cells with a comfortable bed, either. No, the Racks were a series of anti-gravity chambers on Level 16, no bigger than a man-sized capsule. Normally, they were reserved for the worst of the worst, for people who had committed truly despicable crimes.
Maybe a little time in one of the deprivation capsules might provide the proper attitude adjustment Brian needed. Especially since nothing else seemed to be working to curb his destructive impulses.
“Zi?”
Glancing toward the sound of the voice, Aziza beamed. “Hello, nahan.” Her treasure. He liked when she called him that, and she never tired of saying it. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Headed there now,” Trick answered, returning her smile as he closed the distance to stand at her side. “Don’t forget that we have reservations tonight at nine.”
“I’ll remember.”
They had a lot to celebrate. Good to his word, Director Wyeth had come through for them with a deferment on Aziza’s reassignment. She had never imagined that Hope would become her home, but that was before she’d devoted herself to a human. Now, wherever Trick was, that was her home.
“Hey!” Brian shouted, squirming against the wall. “I’m still here if you haven’t noticed.”
Aziza rolled her eyes and kneed him in the ribs again. “I better get him down to Level 16.”
“Okay, sweetheart.” Trick tapped the underside of her chin with his index finger, lifting her head so he could kiss her. “I’ll see you tonight. Don’t be late.”
“It was one time!” She’d been held up because a fight had broken out in one of the dance clubs, and it had taken half a dozen guards to break everyone apart. Clearly not her fault.
“And they gave away our table.”
Okay, so that had been disappointing. While humans and guards alike could eat at any of the cafeterias for free, Hope also offered a variety of restaurants on every level where humans could dine for a price. There were only three places in the whole city that catered exclusively to Aleucians, and all of them were found on the upper, restricted levels.
It had taken her weeks to get a reservation at Eclipse this time around, and she knew how much Trick was looking forward to spending time alone with her. She’d be there on time, even if she had to let the city burn down around her to do it.
“I promise I won’t be late.”
“Yeah, still here,” Brian grumbled.
“Shut up!” she and her mate barked at him at the same time.
Apparently satisfied with her reassurance, Trick leaned in to kiss her again, just a slow, delicate brush of lips. “Tonight, then. Love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too.” Although she rarely spoke the words first, it was getting easier and easier to repeat them back to him.
She and Trick weren’t like other couples. She didn’t look to him to protect her, and he didn’t feel the need to rescue her from every perceived danger in the city. Trick trusted her to do her job and do it well, and she trusted him not to pick fights he couldn’t win. They were the kind of couple who could have a normal, almost romantic, conversation while she held some idiot pinned to the wall and think nothing of it.
So, no, they weren’t like other couples, but what they were worked for them.
Her gaze went to the marks on his neck. Even after months of being mated, those little scars still filled her with a deep sense of satisfaction. He was hers, and she’d destroy anyone who tried to come between them.
“Mine,” she growled. The thought had come so suddenly, she’d even startled herself by speaking it aloud.
Trick didn’t balk at her very possessive—and very public—declaration, though. He didn’t shrink back from the vehemence in her voice. He didn’t puff out his chest or posture or try to stake an equally dominant claim on her.
He just smiled, smug as hell, and nodded. “I know.”
It wouldn’t always be easy. Not everyone would understand. Some would condemn their relationship. Some would try to stand between them, but Aziza didn’t worry, not anymore. They’d face those challenges the same way they did all of life’s roadblocks.
Together.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
[email protected]
Born with a silver tongue and a pen in her hand, Kali spends her days crafting scandalous romances filled with flawed heroes and kick-ass heroines. When she's not writing, she can be found curled up in her favorite chair with a good book and a steamy cup of coffee.
Self-proclaimed introvert and supporter of the selectively social, Kali currently resides in North Texas with her insane family, including two lazy dogs and one tragically misunderstood cat.
Seriously, though, the cat is evil.
For More Titles by Kali Argent, Visit:
www.kaliargent.com/library
