Her body felt weak and loose as he let go of her legs and lifted his head. She would have been content to curl up into a little ball and sleep the rest of the night away right there, trying to figure out just what had happened to her, but Raine was far from done with her.
He wrapped his arm around her back and lifted her from the bed. Her chest molded against his. Her arms were as loose as a rag doll’s as she wrapped them around his neck.
He walked until her back was pressed up against the wall. He looked at her with hungry, glowing eyes. Staring at her like this, it was easy to believe that he was exactly what he said he was.
Incubus.
The tip of his cock teased the opening of her pussy. One thrust and he would be buried deep inside.
But he waited.
His eyes were as hard as steel. She didn't need any magic powers to know that his desire was every bit as strong as hers. CJ knew want when she saw it. So why didn’t he just take what he desired?
He was waiting for her, she realized. He wanted her to give the word. To break her promise and beg him. To shred the last bits of her pride. He didn't just want to fuck her. He wanted to break her.
And god help her, she wanted it too.
“Please,” she said, when she didn't think that she could take the longing anymore. She felt so empty, painfully so. It was hardly a whisper. She could barely hear it herself.
“Louder,” he commanded. He had heard her well enough. Even if her voice was soft and broken, the thoughts in her head were loud and strong. Please fill me up. Please, please make me feel.
She bit into her lip hard. She'd sacrificed enough of her pride tonight.
Raine pressed her harder against the wall. The ridge of his cock slipped up and crushed against her tender clit. CJ cried out.
God, the want was too much. She wanted him inside. She would lose her mind without him.
“Please,” she cried out.
The grin that spread across his face was victorious. She was so wet that with a single thrust he pushed inside.
Dear god, he felt good, so very, very good. He used his arms to guide her up and down his shaft. The friction was hypnotic. He was bigger than what she was used to. She’d never felt so full. She curled her fingers into his back. Long cords stood out on his neck and his eyes hardened. He pressed her back against the wall for leverage as he plunged into her.
Sweat beaded on his brow. It wasn’t from exertion. She’d felt the strength in his arms. CJ didn’t doubt that he could lift her all day without complaint. No, he was feeling everything that she was. The pleasure that was overtaking her was overtaking him.
He sped his tempo and the tension inside her built again, slower and different this time. Every part of her cried out for the release to overtake her. Her head fell back.
Every time that she was certain that she was at the crest of pleasure he took her farther. Every stroke took past her breaking point. She’d never been plunged this deep into ecstasy before. She felt like she losing herself to something else. To some one else. To him.
His pounding bordered on savage. He brought his hand to the back of her neck to keep her head from crashing into the wall, and to keep her eyes locked with his. She was nearly lost in the sight of those extraordinary eyes.
Her moans had long ago turned to little mews, but she still didn’t orgasm. She’d never been so desperate for anything in her life.
He was doing this, somehow pushing her beyond her limits and keeping her from her orgasm all at once.
“Please, Raine. Oh god, please.” Her lips could barely form the words. They were little more than muffled whimpers, but he heard them well enough.
A brutal wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her arms slid from around his neck. If she hadn’t been pressed against the wall she would have slid to the floor. The pleasure was just too strong.
It was only after she floated down that she realized that he was just as tense as he had been before. He hadn’t come. Why? He was wound just as tightly as she had been. He’d been as close. She’d felt it.
“Soon, but not just yet,” he said. Of course. He could read her thoughts.
He set her down on trembling legs and turned her around. He bent her down and she had to prop her arms against the stone wall to hold herself up. Even that was not enough. Raine wrapped one hand around the curve of her hip to steady her.
He slid his cock down to spread the wetness from between her legs up to her ass. CJ gasped and tried to stand. He pressed his open palm on her back, stopping her.
“Give yourself to me, CJ. Give every part of yourself to me.”
The thick tip of his cock waited at the opening but she resisted. The last of her pride reared its head. It tried to rile the last embers of anger, but found that he had extinguished that fire.
“I’m scared to,” she said. It was the raw truth, and her voice shook as she spoke. She wasn’t speaking of the act but all that it meant. They both knew the significance of her submission.
“Belong to me.” His command was gentler this time but no less strong.
Raine felt the moment that the last of the fight went out of her. Inch by inch he pushed into her ass. The tightness closed around him and it was all that he could do not to push in hard and fast, but he knew that her body couldn’t take it.
She was weak beneath him, all of her energy spent. He had to hold her up with his hands to keep her from crumbling to floor.
She was his. This strong and beautiful woman was his. She had fought him well, better and longer than anyone he could remember. Her final submission had been beautiful. He hadn’t tasted the thrill of that victory in ages. They were worthy of each other. Ashira had chosen her well. He would have never been content with someone who had no spark or fight in her.
Her cries of pleasure had turned to gasping moans. She took more of him with each thrust until he was completely enveloped in her tightness. His balls began to tense. He sank in again and again, knowing this was it.
The air cracked with power around him. He knew what it meant. He had felt it the night that he witnessed Alan’s soul come back to him. Now his time had come.
He grasped her hips hard, his fingers biting brutally into her flesh. Sweet pleasure, the kind he had not felt in nearly a thousand years beckoned. Release beyond measure waited for him. He closed his eyes and let it come over him.
He shuddered and closed his eyes. Pleasure, as white and bright as anything overtook him. He gushed into her again and again. His growl echoed off the walls, primal and intense. Life came back to him in a rush of ecstasy. He could feel everything again in brilliant detail. The smooth texture of her skin sliding against his. The relentless hammer of his heart. The vivid sensation of his spent cock buried deep inside of her.
He wrapped his arm around he slid from her. She groaned with the loss, but that was the only clue he had of her emotions. He could no longer see inside her mind. But it didn’t matter. He didn’t need the goddess’s dark magic to know that she was satisfied and exhausted. He could feel it in the limp muscles and see it in her glazed over eyes.
He hooked an arm under her bent knees and lifted her up. She was still as light as anything in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled closer.
Raine smiled in satisfaction. He’d fought and won her. She was his. This was what he desired most of all. It had taken more than a score of decades, but he had found the one that he wanted.
He laid her down on his mattress gently this time and settled down beside her. She curled up against him. Her glossy black hair spread across his chest. His arm cradled her as she nestled her lithe body against his side.But he couldn’t let her rest. Not yet. There was one more thing that he needed to know.
“What is your real name?” he asked before her eyes could flutter closed.
She paused a moment. He felt her take in a deep breath, and let it out again.
“Celia Jane Dunn,” she said.
“A beautiful name, Celia.”
<
br /> She gave one last deep contented sigh before closing her eyes. Only a few minutes later he could feel her breathing fall into the slow steady rhythm of sleep. He let his gaze drift out the window to the illuminated drops of rain falling over the city he’d come to call home. He concentrated on the feel of her warm, contented body next to him, until sleep came for him as well.
Bound Mercy
Masters of Mercy #4
By
Rebecca Lyndon
Hannah Jacobsen set her to-go cup of coffee down on the long counter in front of her and glanced out the window. The sidewalk in front of the cafe was as busy as always. Fortunately, she didn’t recognize any of the faces.
She’d made it in time. But just barely.
Hannah pulled out one of the only remaining empty stools and slung her laptop bag and purse over the back. She placed her newspaper on the counter next to her coffee. That freed up her hands enough to fumble for her phone. She pulled it out of her pocket and checked the time.
Eight twenty-six.
Hannah hardly ever ran late, and certainly not for her morning routine. She always left her apartment in Oakland with plenty of time to catch the seven o’clock BART train. Leaving that early gave her more than enough time to walk the three blocks from the station to The Grind, get her coffee, grab a window seat, and flip through the front section of the paper before eight thirty rolled around.
But today was not lining up to be an average day. Her alarm hadn’t gone off, and she’d woken up late. Then she couldn’t find her keys. To top it all off, her train had been delayed. It was as if the world was conspiring to throw her off kilter.
At least there was still a seat at the window waiting for her. Thank heavens for small favors.
It wasn’t the trendy atmosphere or the four dollar cups of brewed coffee that made Hannah pass six other chain coffee shops every morning. It was the view.
Across the street, a massive four-story building cast its shadow over the cafe. The Arsenal was one of San Francisco’s oldest buildings and one of its largest. Its long, jagged brick walls dominated the whole city block. But Hannah didn’t care about century old architecture. Not really.
What she did care about—though she would never admit it to any living soul—was what went on inside that building. The Arsenal also happened to be the home of the Mercy Club, the city’s most notorious sex club.
It was her curiosity that had brought her to this cafe for the first time just over three months ago. It was her first day at a new job, a nice accounting position at a small nonprofit a little over a quarter of a mile away. All she had wanted to do was to drink a cup of coffee and get a glimpse of the place that she had heard so much about. That was it.
And that might have been the end of it—a single latte and a few forbidden daydreams—if, at exactly eight thirty, the door to the Mercy Club hadn’t opened, and he hadn’t stepped out.
Tall, with dark, short-cropped hair, the man who had walked out of the Arsenal that morning had taken Hannah’s breath away. Literally.
She cringed to think what an idiot she must have looked like with her mouth hanging open, staring at a random stranger’s broad shoulders as he crossed Mission Street. She’d hidden behind her newspaper the second he’d passed the window in front of her, and her heart almost stopped when he stepped into the cafe. She’d uttered a silent prayer that he wouldn’t notice her. As it turned out, she needn’t have bothered. He didn’t so much as glance her way as he ordered his coffee. Hannah sneaked another few peeks as he waited for it to be made, and one more as he slipped out the door.
It had only taken her a few minutes on her computer to find out who he was—Geoffrey Stark, part owner of the Mercy Club. Hannah had felt another sizzle run up her spine. Looking at his face, it was easy to believe the stories of erotic bliss that came out of there.
The next morning, she walked the same three blocks to The Grind, ordered the same four dollar coffee, perched herself on top of the same stool, and waited. And at eight thirty exactly, the door to the Mercy Club opened, and he stepped out. It seemed that Hannah wasn’t the only creature of habit.
She’s been coming for the view ever since. And she’d never once run late…until this morning.
Hannah was just settling down in her seat when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the woman next to her was staring at her. Hannah flashed the stranger a nervous smile, but the woman didn’t look away.
“I’m sorry. Were you saving this seat for someone?” Hannah asked, already starting to stand.
“Yes. I was saving it for you,” the woman said.
“I-I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
The woman shook her head. “Not yet. But I’ve come to know you very well, Hannah.”
Hannah froze. Her eyes widened as she looked the woman up and down. She’d never seen this person before in her life. She was certain of it. The woman was tall and thin and model gorgeous. And, even if she had somehow managed to forget such a strikingly beautiful face, Hannah would have never forgotten her eyes. There were the deep purple of amethysts, and, while it most certainly had to be a trick of the light, they even sparkled like gems.
“How do you know my name?” Hannah asked.
“It’s a long story, and, since you were so late this morning, I’m afraid we just don’t have the time.” The woman tilted her head toward the Mercy Club door. Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. “Oh, don’t worry. You haven’t missed him.”
Hannah’s legs began to tremble. “You’ve been spying on me.”
“In a manner of speaking.” The woman smiled.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Ashira, but that’s not what you want to know. You want to know why I’m here saving your seat. You want to know why I’m so interested in someone as unassuming as yourself. But mostly you’re dying to know what I’m going to do when Mr. Stark opens the door over there.”
Hannah reached for her bags. “I should go,” she said.
“Do what you like, but I really believe it is in your best interest to stay.” Her voice was light, almost hypnotic. Hannah found herself turning toward the woman when she should have been running away.
“Why do you say that?” Hannah asked.
“Because life is always so much more interesting when you decide to be brave. Don’t you agree?”
Hannah stared at the stranger across from her for a long moment before sitting back down.
Ashira smiled and patted her excitedly on the knee. “See, I knew I’d made the right choice with you. You’re more than strong enough for him.”
Hannah shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know. But you will. You see, I’ve been watching you for a while now. You come here every morning just to catch a glimpse of him. You want him so badly, and yet, every morning you pray that he won’t notice you.”
Hannah swallowed past the lump that was rapidly forming in her throat. “What are you, some kind of psychic?”
“Not exactly,” the stranger said with a smile. “I am the one that answers those prayers.”
Hannah’s mouth opened, but there wasn’t time for her to say a word. Just then, the alarm on her cell phone chimed.
Eight thirty.
Hannah hit the silent button and looked out the window. Right on time, the door swung open.
“Geoffrey used to be a soldier. It was a very long time ago, but in his heart he still is. That’s why he is so regimented,” Ashira said. “I know you’ve wondered.”
Hannah turned her head toward Ashira. “Please tell me what is going on. Who are you really?”
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try me,” Hannah said.
Ashira shrugged. “I am a goddess. A minor one. A disgraced one. But still, a goddess. And that man over there, the one that you’ve lusted after for three months now, he serves me. He can sense a woman’s every fantasy and desire. He can make them all come true. And I’ve been planning
to give you to him as present for a job well done. But I’ve been waiting for you to be ready. I’m still not sure that you are, but I’ve begun to fear that if I don’t give you a push you’ll never seize your destiny on your own.”
Hannah stared at Ashira for a second before a bubble of laughter escaped her throat. She couldn’t help it. It was too absurd.
She had no idea how this lunatic had come to know such intimate things about her. There was something odd about the woman. Maybe she was a con artist, or maybe she was psychic. Either way, it didn’t matter. There was one thing Hannah was absolutely certain that this woman wasn’t, and that was a goddess.
Hannah risked a glance out the window. Geoffrey Stark was still on the other side of Mission Street, walking toward the corner. If she was lucky, she would have just enough time to gather her things and slip out the door before he made it across the street.
“I did say that you wouldn’t believe me,” Ashira said with a shrug.
“You’re crazy,” Hannah said. She scooted off of her chair.
“Perhaps. But there’s only one way to see if you’re right.”
“And what’s that?” Hannah asked, slipping her phone back into her pocket.
“I stop granting your request for anonymity.” Ashira’s unnatural gaze strayed out the window. Hannah’s followed to where Geoffrey was standing on the corner, waiting for the light to change. “I could lift the veil and allow him to see you—all your thoughts, all your dreams and desires. I could let him see you for what you really are.”
“And what’s that?”
“The answer to all of his prayers.”
Without warning, Geoffrey’s face snapped toward her. Hannah gasped. Geoffrey Stark was staring at her.
No, of course he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. There was no reason he would be. Unless Ashira had done something to catch attention.
Hannah spun around to confront the deranged madwoman, but she wasn’t there. Hannah looked around the cafe, but Ashira was nowhere. She was gone. How could someone just disappear like that?
Masters of Mercy Vol. 1 - 4 (BDSM erotica) Page 9
