The stone ground was covered with thick, woven rugs with rough designs on them. They were, I’d experienced, slightly abrasive on your feet but they were a heckuva lot better than the stone.
I studied the space.
With night having fallen, the candlelight dancing, the silks and satins gleaming, the torchlight from outside glowing against the sides of the tent, I noted that in my world, this would be an exotic and romantic setting. Comfortable. Inviting you to relax, lounge and, if you were lucky enough to be with someone who mattered, engage in other activities that were a little more energetic and a lot more fun.
So it sucked that for me this tent, this whole world, was my torture chamber.
On that thought, the flap to the tent slapped back. I jumped and my determination to get a few things straight slipped as I watched the Dax bend low and enter the tent.
I sucked in breath.
He straightened, walked in two steps and stopped, his dark eyes on me.
Gone was the paint, he hadn’t painted himself since that night.
But still, he scared the shit out of me. I forgot how dark he was, how sinister, how savage and how huge. It couldn’t be said the tent was enormous but it was the biggest tent I’d ever seen and there was room to move, room to breathe.
With him standing in it, his forceful energy invading, his huge, powerful body on display, his brown skin gleaming in the candlelight, the tent seemed tiny.
Another direct hit to my determination.
He moved toward the foot of the bed and as he made it there, I threw up a hand and stated firmly, “Stop.”
He stopped. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me as he moved and he didn’t then, not even to look at my hand.
“You and me,” I went on, pulling up the courage to speak to him, the first words I’d said to him since that awful night, I gestured between his big body and my own, “we need to talk.”
He stared at me.
I pointed between us again then lifted my hand and flapped my fingers in lame sign language to indicate talking, “Talk. You and I are going to talk.”
He looked at my hand then back at me but he didn’t speak nor did his impassive expression change.
All right, moving on.
I pointed to myself. “My name is Circe.”
Nothing.
I leaned in and repeated slowly, “Cir… ce.”
More nothing.
I pointed to him, “You are King Lahn. Dax Lahn.” I pointed to myself. “I am Queen Circe. Dahksahna Circe.”
His hands went to his hips and I tensed but they just rested there. He still did not speak nor did he tear his dark brown eyes from mine.
Hmm. I had to assume he got that and sally forth.
“We,” I gestured between him and myself again, “have to get a few things straight.” I had no gesture for that and knew he would have no way of knowing what that meant. Then I pointed to the bed. “Here and…” I pointed to the flaps of the tent, “out there, you and I have to sort our shit out.”
His hands moved at his hips, my eyes dropped there and I saw he had yanked some hide ties loose.
Oh shit.
My body tensed and my eyes flew to his. “You and me,” more gesturing, “need to find a way to come together.” I clasped my hands together in front of me.
His hands moved lower down the sides of his hips and he pulled more ties so his hides loosened at his waist.
Shit!
“Okay,” I said softly, scooting back, “this is exactly what we have to get straight.”
Another set of ties loosened and his hides fell to the ground.
He was already ready to take me.
Shit!
I scooted back to the pillows at the head of the bed and lifted a hand up toward him. “Before we… carry on, we have to find a way to talk. Understand each other.”
His eyes dropped to where I was kneeling on the pillows then he turned, stepped free of his hides and calmly strode around the bed.
Fuck. Fuck. Shit!
He made it nearly to the corner of the bed at the head, completely casual about his erect nudity, something which I was not casual about because the man was huge and this meant all of him and I was not liking where any of this was going.
I scuttled to the foot of the bed and kept trying. “Please stop, sit and try to listen to me.” I pointed at him then cupped my hand at my ear and then pointed at myself.
He changed directions and strode back around the bed.
I scampered to the middle of it, my arm out, palm up to him. “Please,” I begged on a whisper.
Mistake. Colossal mistake.
His arm snaked out so fast it was a blur. His fingers wrapped around my wrist and with a forceful tug that wrenched my shoulder and made me cry out, I was across the bed and up, my torso plastered to his, my legs dangling, feet skimming the bed and his arms were around me, caging me in.
I tipped my head back to look in dark eyes that were gazing down at me. Then I curled my fingers into the hard, warm muscle at his shoulders, exerting enough pressure hopefully to make my point and I whispered over my hammering heart, “Please, Lahn, listen to me.”
He didn’t listen to me. Oh no. He didn’t do that.
He shifted his torso so my legs swung to the side then he fell forward, his mammoth weight landing on me.
I was winded but I was not beaten.
That, that right there, was why we needed to get things straight.
I arched my back, shoved at his shoulders and shouted, “Seriously, big guy, we need… to get… a few things… straight!”
His hand trailed my side then went between our bodies.
I lost it.
On a frustrated, furious cry, I struggled.
This surprisingly worked. I managed to push him back, slide out from under him and nearly gain the side of the bed before I was caught at the waist and pulled back.
I whirled and fought.
I managed to use my nails to score his skin, opening up two thin, short streaks that beaded instantly with blood just under his shoulder and that shoulder rocked back as I froze in shock that I’d managed to wound him. Then he gave me his full weight, tipped his head down to look at the scratches and, fuck me, when he looked back at me there was something in his eyes I did not like and whatever that something was made him grin like he was supremely pleased.
Shit!
I unfroze and again gave it my all, just like that heinous night, grunting with the effort.
The problem was, even with the bastard knowing he was bigger than me, stronger than me, he gave it his all too and it became clear that if I wasn’t smart, and fast, he’d break bones if he had to.
God, I hated him.
And when he’d maneuvered me to my knees, my back to him, my wrists held in one of his fists pinned unmoving to my chest and I knew what was next, I reared back my head and shouted it.
“God, I hate you!”
His free hand slid along the silk at my belly and his mouth went to my neck.
“Kah Lahnahsahna,” he muttered.
I jerked (to no avail) in his arms, and screamed, “Stop calling me that!”
His fingers curled in, fisting the material at my belly, bunching it up and when he had it all up, his hand moved down.
I froze.
“Kah Dahksahna,” he whispered against my neck.
“Fuck you! I’m not your queen!” I snapped, my hips finally moving to avoid the path of his hand.
“Kah rahna Dahksahna,” he murmured and his hand slid into my panties.
My hips stopped moving.
“God,” I whispered on a jerk of my arms that did nothing to loosen his hold, “I freaking hate you.”
His fingers glided between my legs.
And that was when it hit me his touch wasn’t clinical. It wasn’t removed. He wasn’t shoving me face first into the bed and taking me from behind like I was nothing but a warm vessel to receive his seed.
His touch was gentle, light, sof
t.
Oh shit.
His finger glided light as a whisper over my clit.
Oh shit!
“Lahn,” I whispered.
“Lahn,” he repeated, pushing his hips into my back as his finger started to circle in what was very clearly a caress. And dear God, I couldn’t believe it but it was a nice one. It was a sweet one. And my body, damn it all, recognized it as such.
What on earth was happening?
“Please.” I kept whispering.
“Please,” he repeated after me again, still circling his finger with a gentle touch.
“Don’t,” I begged.
“Don’t,” he repeated and my eyes closed slowly.
God, was this happening to me? After all he’d done, was this really happening to me?
His finger asserted just a wee bit more pressure.
My head automatically fell back to his shoulder as a tiny spiral of pleasure unfurled in my belly.
Yep, this was happening to me.
I jerked my hands again, whispering, “I won’t.”
“I won’t,” he whispered back and his deep, rumbling whisper spiraled through me too.
His finger started circling faster, a little harder, a lot better.
God.
I turned my head, his lifted and I pressed my forehead into his neck and I fought against that spiral of pleasure that was unfurling. But I didn’t win. It unfurled, then it grew, then it spread.
“Lahn,” I breathed as the continued workings of his fingers forced the last bits of tension from my body.
“Lahn,” he murmured and circled faster.
Oh, that felt nice.
“Circe,” I whispered.
His hand at my wrists tightened, pulling them into me as his finger pressed deeper.
“Circe,” he whispered and my hips bucked.
Yes. I liked that.
“Circe,” I said again and he pressed his hardness into my back and circled even faster.
“Circe,” he repeated softly and I whimpered as that spiral in my belly whirled out-of-control.
“Yes,” I breathed.
I felt his lips a whisper from mine.
“Yes,” he muttered.
Oh God.
My hips moved with his hand, grinding down, seeking more from his finger and he didn’t keep it from me. He gave it to me and I took it, I reached for it, and it started coming.
My eyes flew open and when they did, his dark ones, not looking detached, not blank, not impassive, but heated and turned on and God, could it be? Totally freaking sexy.
His finger pressed deeper and circled faster.
Oh yes.
I gasped, “Lahn!”
“Circe,” he whispered against my lips, I drew in a ragged breath and moaned against his as I came. Hard.
And while I was doing this, he let me go and shoved me down into the bed, ass in the air. He pulled the panel of my nightgown up, ripped my panties away, separated my legs with his knees and drove inside.
My head flew back.
Oh yeah. Hell yeah.
“Yes,” I breathed, without a thought, my body thinking for me, I reared back into his thrusts.
He leaned forward, reached around and cupped my breast in a rough hand as he pounded into me, jerking my hips back with his other hand.
“Kah Lahnahsahna,” he growled.
“Oh yeah,” I moaned.
His fingers found my nipple and tugged, that hard tug slashing through me like a hot knife, trailing fire. “Kah Lahnahsahna.”
“Kah Lahnahsahna,” I whimpered, pushing back, meeting him thrust for thrust.
His hand left my breast and both spanned my hips, hauling me back, giving me all of him and I took it, invited it, stretched for it.
Amazing.
So amazing, my head flew back again and my arms reached out straight.
He saw it, reached forward, his hand circled my throat, he pulled me up to my hands and kept driving into me, his hand gliding up to cup me under my jaw. The hold was gentle, tender even. And it was possessive, claiming.
King Lahn was fucking his queen.
Oh shit, fuck me, but I liked that too. All of it, every inch of him pounding into me, his hand at my jaw, me on my hands and knees before him.
I liked it so much, my back arched, my head tilted further back and I came again. Harder. Crying out loudly, it was that fucking good.
I heard him growl then his hands went to my ribs, yanking me back, pounding savagely now, he kept at me until he drove in deep and his groan of release was nearly as loud as mine.
Shit. Holy shit.
Shit!
He moved slowly, in and out, as his hand slid around my ribs. He kept moving, leaning forward, his hands moving up, cupping my breasts. Then carefully, he lifted my torso up so I was straight, impaled on his cock, he was so long my knees didn’t hit the bed, only his cock and hands supported me.
Dear God.
One hand crossed over to the other breast and held on while his other hand went to our connection where his fingers slid in, his palm cupping my sex.
Then his mouth was at my ear.
“Circe, kah rahna Dahksahna. Circe, kah Lahnahsahna,” he growled in my ear, his voice a fierce rumble, his words a declaration.
“Um…” I whispered, “okay.”
Shit! What else could I do?
He emitted another growl that slithered across my skin like silk then I felt his tongue move from the back of my ear, down my neck to my shoulder.
At this, my body trembled in a full on shiver.
Then he lifted me off him, turned me roughly, shoved me to my back in the bed and then he came down on top of me.
I barely got a chance to adjust to my new position before he twisted, reached down, yanked the sheet up to our waists then came back to me. He hauled me nearly fully under him, tangled his heavy legs with mine, his arm curving almost fully around my body, his face at the side of my head, his mouth at my temple.
I felt his weight settle into mine and I lay immobile, waiting.
Um. I wasn’t sure. Did we get things straight?
When he said nothing and his breath evened out, I called, “Lahn?”
His arm gave me a powerful squeeze. “Trahyoo,” he ordered firmly but softly.
Definitely an order though I had no idea what he said.
“Uh… okay,” I whispered and got another arm squeeze that took the breath from me.
Time to be quiet.
I stared into the candlelit tent.
All right, did that just happen?
I felt his breath stir the hair at my temple, his heavy weight, his body’s warmth.
Yep, it just happened.
I needed to go somewhere and think. I needed to figure out how in the hell I let a man I didn’t know, a man who had raped me seven times (essentially), a man I didn’t like, make me come twice.
I needed to get away from him.
His weight settled more firmly into mine at the same time his arm tightened.
He was asleep. His arm tightened around me in his sleep.
Damn.
Okay, I wasn’t going to get away from him.
So, I needed to wake him up and find some way to communicate there was no way I was going to be able to fall asleep with his weight on me.
I figured he wasn’t going to like being woken.
And I was figuring that the second before my eyes drifted closed and I fell asleep with his weight on me.
Chapter Six
The Marketplace
Our mouths were close, my fingers were wrapped around the side of his neck and the fingers of my other hand had slid into his hair at his scalp under his long ponytail.
His head was tipped back, his breath mingling with mine, one of his arms was wrapped tight around my waist, the other hand curled around the back of my neck.
I was riding my king and I was doing it hard. I wasn’t going fast; I liked the feel of him too much. So much, I wanted to savor it.
“Mayoo,” he growled an order I didn’t understand.
“I don’t understand you, baby,” I whispered breathily into his mouth, his arm squeezed, jerking up and slamming down.
“Mayoo,” he stated fiercely and I got him.
“Okay,” I whispered, going faster, my eyes closed, his fingers at my neck tensed and my eyes opened.
“Linas,” he demanded, I took a wild guess and stared into his eyes, going faster, driving down on him, my fingers tightened into his neck, I tried to hold his eyes but I couldn’t.
My head tipped back, my lips parted and I gasped softly as I came.
He kept me moving with his arm around my waist and after my sweet orgasm swept through me, I focused and took over again. Watching him as I kept moving on top of him, I saw the burn deepen in his eyes, felt the pressure of his fingers increase on my neck, his arm around my waist got so tight I couldn’t breathe and on a downward stroke, he held me so I was full of him, tipped his face forward and groaned into my chest.
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
I did it again.
I had no choice, he woke me with his hands, they were gentle but effective and I was primed before I was conscious so I gave it up again.
Gladly.
Shit.
What was happening to me?
His head tilted back, I looked down at him and it was like I saw him for the first time.
And seeing him looking up at me, his eyes still warm on my face, his cock deep inside me – God, no joke, as insane as it was, I thought he was the most unbelievably handsome man I’d ever beheld… in a dark, savage, totally hot way, of course.
I was about to inform him of this (not that I could do that), when suddenly I was in the air then flat on my back. He loomed over me on a hand in the bed and his other hand cupped me roughly between my legs, his long middle finger invading.
Then his elbow bent, his torso dipped and his face was in mine.
He shoved his finger up higher and I gasped.
“Kah Lahnahsahna?” he asked, I stared and his finger shoved deeper, so much deeper, my entire body jolted upward. I couldn’t say it hurt, in fact, it didn’t. I was still sensitive and it felt freaking great, but…
The Golden Dynasty f-2 Page 6
