Taken by Storm V3

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Please. I want you inside me. I need you there.”

  “Here?” He rimmed her, tormented her.

  Charlotte panted, stunned by the demanding pulsation he encouraged with his lightest touch. “Yes. Please!”

  The blunt head of his shaft nudged her entrance. She pushed back against him urgently. He chuckled and grasped her hips. “Stay still. Feel me.”

  Resting her forehead on her folded arms, she closed her eyes and obeyed. His hair moved against her breasts, his hands gently squeezed her hips and his shaft sank into her heat. Deeper and deeper he pushed until his hips cradled her bottom.

  He leaned over her then, moving his hands to her breasts. Instinctively, she tightened her inner muscles around his hardened shaft. He groaned. She did it again, smiling when he repeated the throaty sound.

  Dragging his hips back, he pulled nearly out. She braced for his first real thrust, tingling with anticipation. He sank back in at the same leisurely pace, frustrating her with his patience.

  She arched and squirmed, finally grabbing a handful of his hair. “Move, damn it. Stop teasing me.”

  He laughed, a warm, rumbling sound that played havoc with her overstimulated senses. “But I like teasing you. I love the way your body flutters around me and the sound you make deep in your throat.”

  One of his hands left her breast, descended along her body and settled between her thighs. His fingers gently stroked her delicate folds, already stretched tight to accept him. He pulled back and thrust deep.

  “Yes!”

  His middle finger found her clit and feathered caresses across it, making her wild. She arched and bucked, driving her hips up into each downward thrust.

  Harder, faster, she needed more. He thrust his full length into her and she shattered. Her core clasped him with violent spasms, unable to hold back her release.

  Panting harshly, Charlotte trembled as the pleasure receded. He was still hard inside her. She had just experienced the most powerful orgasm of her life and it hadn’t even triggered his.

  Her disappointment was short-lived as he rolled them to their sides, still buried deep within her. Extending one of his arms beneath her neck, he reached for her hand and interlaced their fingers.

  He guided her leg up and back, hooking her foot in the bend of his knee. His hand glided across her torso, demonstrating the advantage of this position. From her breasts to juncture of her thighs and back, he created tingling sensations. He worked her nipples into tight, aching buds then stroked her other bud with skillful persistence.

  She trembled. “I’m going to…come again if you don’t stop teasing me.”

  “I want to feel your pleasure.”

  “You already did.”

  “Do it again.”

  He pressed against her aching clit and she surrendered to the spasms of pleasure coursing through her. Again and again he stroked her, dragging every last shuddering contraction from her body before he moved his hand.

  Tal adjusted their position again, rolling to his back and pushing her upright. She sat on his lap, undeniably aware of his thick length impaling her.

  “I still can’t touch you like this,” she pointed out, looking back at him.

  “No, but you can take me.”

  He lifted her hips with his hands, showing her what he meant. Arching backward, she braced her hands against the bed and slid up and down on his shaft. The angle was different and she controlled each tantalizing stroke, a combination that soon had her gasping.

  Flexing her legs and rocking her hips, she took him deeper, harder. He moved with her, into her, but didn’t try to assume control. Tension coiled, heat flared, and each downward thrust made him moan. She tightened around him, caressing his length as she increased the tempo of her movements.

  His fingers dug into her hips and he thrust hard, his body shaking as he released his seed.

  Trembling on the verge of another orgasm, she started to relax in defeat when his hair wrapped around her. Brushing her nipples and stimulating her skin, the unexpected caress pushed her over the edge.

  He supported her until the last tingling spasm faded away. Then he eased her back across his chest and rolled them again to their sides. His body nestled against her back, his palm gently cupping her breast.

  “Any other positions you’ve been contemplating?” she asked in a sleepy whisper.

  “They are more easily demonstrated than described.”

  * * *

  Pushing back from the library table to cross her legs, Charlotte read the Ontarian Code of Ethics for the third time. So simple and yet so profound. If a world, any world, actually adhered to such a standard, it would be Utopia.

  Tal walked into the room and Charlotte smiled. For the past two months, they’d worked each day to hone her skills as a catalyst and spent each night in each other’s arms.

  “What are you doing?” He slipped onto the chair across the table from her, his gaze softly caressing her face.

  “When was the last time you read the Ontarian Code of Ethics?”

  “I don’t need to read it. Memorizing the Code of Ethics is part of the education of every Ontarian child.”

  She tapped her finger against the document Vee had translated for her. “In the Traditionalist Sect and the Reformation Sect?”

  “I don’t know how they educate their children.”

  She let his bitterness slide. One issue at a time. “I was astonished by the wisdom in this document then I remembered what Vee said the rest of these books contain.”

  “Clarifications of the code,” Tal said thoughtfully.

  “Yes. It’s tragic.”

  “If you agree with the codes, why are you saddened by them?”

  “Because of this.” She motioned to the floor-to-ceiling shelves of books surrounding them. “Hundreds of thousands of Clarifications. Individual interpretations of universal ethics. I find it tragic that something so pure, so rudimentary, would need to be clarified.”

  “Is it different on Earth?”

  The defensive edge to his tone made Charlotte look at him closely. She shook her head. “No. If anything, it’s worse. I just finished reading this one. The Ontarian Standards.”

  He pushed back from the table and crossed his arms over his chest. Why was he taking this so personally?

  “You find it objectionable?”

  “Well…” She hesitated. If she spoke her mind, he would no doubt disagree. But what sort of future awaited them if they couldn’t be honest with each another? “The entire thing is represented as a massive Clarification of the second code.”

  “I shall offer my power to the greater good.”

  She nodded, fiddling with the smooth cover of the thick document. “Right. Then it lists pages and pages of Standards for everything from admission into certain schools, to prerequisites for employment, to compatibility for prospective life mates.”

  “All of which are necessary to further the greater good.”

  Her brow arched in silent challenge. “And everyone abides by these Standards?”

  “Of course. Some of them were established hundreds of years ago. They are time-honored traditions.”

  “I see,” she muttered. Okay, she was about to make him really angry, but she’d never been able to stomach hypocrisy. “According to the Standards, I’m unsuitable for the study of and an eventual career in what you call code management.”

  “You’re a catalyst. That is the only career you will ever need.”

  Charlotte shoved her chair back and stood. “I want to study law. Code management sounds very much like what I was going to do on Earth.”

  “It’s out of the question.”

  “Oh really? Some hundred-year-old Standard says that only Ontarians with photographic memories are suitable for code management, and I’m just supposed to accept it?”

  “Each Standard has been tested for its validity.”

  “How does one contest the validity of a Standard?”

  He leaned forw
ard, resting his forearms on the table. “What is this really about? Why are you attacking the Standards?”

  Her laugh was harsh and short. “I just read this nonsense. I haven’t had time to devise an ulterior motive.”

  His eyes darkened. “The Standards are not nonsense. Millions died protecting the sacred traditions. My mother and sisters were murdered because we will not bow to the Reformation Sect.”

  Fury radiated off him, startling Charlotte. Tal had never lost control of his emotions before. She started to apologize but stopped. Why should she apologize for her beliefs? The Ontarian Standards were antiquated relics of a time long past. She didn’t want to fight with him but she wasn’t willing to be a doormat.

  “Have any of the Standards been revised in your lifetime?”

  “No,” he admitted stiffly. “It would compromise the integrity of the traditions.”

  “Have any of the Standards been revised since…the massacre?”

  He scooted to the edge of the chair, his lips compressed, his hair tightly coiled. “You know the answer. Why are you provoking me?”

  “I’m not trying to provoke you. I’m trying to understand the world you dragged me to.” She grasped the curved back of the chair in front of her. “How did the massacre change life on Ontariese?”

  “The changes were countless, the pain never-ending.”

  “What were some specific changes that took place as a result of—what happened?”

  “How can you ask me that?” He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “What do you want to hear? We took drastic measures to protect ourselves. We organized an army and transformed the leisure colony on the day moon into the City of Tears, a brutal outpost for the training of solders. We focused our technology and our Mystic abilities on defense.

  “We consolidated our cities and rationed our resources. We basically reordered our society within the structure of the sacred traditions. We encouraged—no, we campaigned—for their women to join our sect. Some became so desperate they stole women away. We created the social alliance and—”

  “With all of these changes, it never occurred to you to revisit the Standards and other precedent-setting litigation?”

  “The Standards are a vital part of the sacred traditions. They have been honored since time began.”

  “They also create ranks and distinctions that rival feudalism.”

  Charlotte shook her head. How could such an enlightened being be so narrow-minded? He probably didn’t understand her reference and she was too agitated to explain. She tried one last attempt at reason.

  “Just because something has always been done a certain way doesn’t mean that’s the best and only way it can be done.”

  He rose slowly, his features freezing into an expressionless mask. “That is the governing philosophy of the Reformation Sect.”

  Without another word, Tal stormed from the room.

  * * *

  “Daddy! Daddy, I have missed you!”

  Lilt dar Joon swung his son up into a firm embrace but his gaze shot to his brother. Dez lounged in the doorway, a smug smile curving his thin lips.

  “This is a surprise,” Lilt said to Lor. “Mage Rin told me you wouldn’t be allowed to leave the Conservatory until after the next Choosing.”

  “Uncle Dez sneaked me away,” Lor said in a conspirator’s whisper. “I was meditating in the sacred caves, beyond the Mystic shields surrounding the Conservatory, so Mage Rin doesn’t know.”

  “And will Mage Rin not be angry when he discovers you have been ‘sneaked away’?” He directed this question to his brother with his eyes.

  “Mage Rin will never know,” Dez said. “I created the illusion of an obedient apprentice deep in meditation and I will have him back before anyone is the wiser.”

  Lilt struggled to keep his tone even. He didn’t want Lor to sense the fury boiling within him. “You agreed to leave Lor out of this. You will not use my son. I will not stand for it!”

  “No,” Dez drawled. He strolled across the room and sank into a chair near Lilt’s desk. Draping his leg over the chair’s arm, he smirked at Lilt. “I agreed that I would do nothing to harm your son or to compromise his success at the Conservatory.”

  “And disregarding the orders of the Mystics will not compromise his success?” Lilt challenged.

  “Only if they find out, which they will not, if I get him back quickly. So stop arguing with me and listen—for a change.”

  Lilt lowered his son to the floor, cringing when the boy ran to Dez. Lor’s affection for his uncle frightened Lilt. Ambition drove Dez like a hurricane, destroying everything in its path. Lilt had no intention of allowing his son to be caught up in the storm.

  “Why is he here?” Lilt demanded.

  “Lor, tell your father what you told me.”

  Lor turned to face him, leaning casually against Dez’s leg. “I can make firestones burn,” he announced proudly.

  “Really? Mage Rin taught you this?”

  “Not Mage Rin. It was the mistress.”

  “Mistress?” He looked at Dez. “Is there a female Mystic?”

  “There is now.”

  “How did you know about this? I didn’t think you could penetrate the shields surrounding the Conservatory.”

  Dez lowered his leg to the floor and idly stroked Lor’s blond curls. “I can’t. I sensed Lor’s presence beyond the shields and decided to speak with him. What he told me was so interesting, I brought him here.”

  “You must take him back. I don’t want his training compromised. If they realize you’ve contacted him, they may not allow him back within the shields.”

  “They cannot penalize Lor because of me. It would violate their precious Code of Ethics. So long as the boy does nothing wrong, he will be fine.”

  “Take him back,” Lilt ordered.

  Dez’s eyes narrowed and fear suffused Lilt’s entire body. What was his brother thinking? Dez was planning something—no, plotting something. He took a step forward but Dez stood and turned toward the door.

  “Come, Lor,” Dez grumbled. “We must return to the Conservatory.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The day moon hovered on the horizon, framed by turquoise trees. Only slightly larger than its sister, the day moon orbited closer to Ontariese, making it appear twice the size of the dead night moon.

  Charlotte leaned against the gallery’s railing. Her fingers absently stroked the smooth, cool stone. A gentle haze softened the purple sky but the tranquil setting didn’t soothe her. “Do they allow women in the City of Tears?”

  Vee chuckled. “Joining the armed forces will not protect you from Tal Aune’s wrath.”

  She glanced at the Mystic standing beside her at the rail. “Do I need protection from Tal’s wrath? I just thought he would never speak to me again.”

  “Mystics strive for objectivity in all things. But this is the one area of training in which Tal Aune has been tantamount to a failure. He feels passionately about the principles on which the Traditionalist Sect was founded.”

  “So passionately that opposing ideas can’t even be considered?” She turned to face Vee, resting her hip against the rail. “The truth is, I haven’t even formed a concrete opinion yet. The Code of Ethics is one of the most moving documents I’ve ever read, but the Ontarian Standards is one of the most foolish. I need more information. I need time to study the history, to understand the cultural context and social evolution.”

  “Give Tal Aune time to regain control of his emotions and then explain this to him. There were legitimate reasons for the implementation of the Standards. And no one is more qualified to detail the evolution of the sects than Tal. Whether or not those reasons are still valid is a question for the TSC.”

  “What’s the TSC?” she asked softly, heaving a heavy sigh.

  “The Traditionalist Sect Council. They are similar to America’s Supreme Court.”

  She shifted again, leaning her bottom against the rail and glancing down alo
ng the gallery. “Then there is a process for contesting established Standards, for making changes to the codes?”

  “It is the Clarifications that can be changed, not the actual ethics, but yes, such a process exists.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Tal made it sound like the traditions had been written in stone by the hand of God.”

  She suddenly envisioned Charlton Heston cowering against the mountainside as a fiery finger carved the Ten Commandments. Charlotte let the rest of her tension melt away.

  If there was opportunity for change, then there was hope. She would listen to Tal’s explanations and see which of the Clarifications she found intolerable. She would analyze them in context and—

  “You already think like a code manager,” Vee said, giving her shoulder a gentle nudge.

  Forever broadcasting! “Sorry. I’ve been tied in knots since he walked out on me.”

  “That sounds rather dramatic,” Vee teased. “He walked out of the library.”

  She smiled. Vee had a meeting with Dro Tar in Frontine, the capital city, that morning. Charlotte had pestered him to go along but he refused, insisting she wasn’t safe beyond the shields. “When did you get back?”

  “While you were arguing with Tal.”

  “What did Dro Tar have to say? Why did she go to Bilarri? Is she part of the Symposium?” She prepared herself for his sidestep. He had certainly not wanted to divulge Dro Tar’s purpose earlier.

  She felt Vee slip gently into her mind.

  The Symposium has reason to believe Dez dar Joon can monitor even telepathic communications. I needed to give a full reporting but could not risk being gone so long or having my transmission intercepted.

  Charlotte focused, found the link Vee had formed and intentionally sent her thoughts directly to him for the first time.

  Is Joon able to monitor us now? Besides, what did Dro Tar tell the Symposium that Joon doesn’t already know? He seems to be two steps ahead of us on this one.

  The Mystic shield protects us as long as we speak mind to mind. Which you are doing beautifully by the way. The Symposium is combing the Wisdom of the Ages for anything that might help us stop Dez dar Joon.