by Kara Fey
Damn her! Fuck. Damn. She was the one who’d raped his brother. And now she was comparing them. Remembering the feel of Kiel’s cock stretching her, of straddling Kiel’s hips like he was a prize stallion bucking beneath her. Her memories and emotions pounded through his skull. Lust. Worry. Anger. Frustration. They all buzzed around in his mind, pulsed through his body, sped up his heartbeat -- to match hers.
Hell. He’d been around women his whole life. Hundreds of women. Thousands of women. None had affected him this way. Not one. Their energies had merged, fused into one in that corridor. Only one explanation made sense, and it didn’t thrill him. This beautiful, vengeful, arrogant, future queen of the House of Moons was the chosen one. His bond-mate. And all she could think about was fucking his brother. That knowledge alone fueled his ire and sealed her fate. When he was through with her, Kiel would be nothing but a distant and weak memory.
Tired of pretending, Padraic opened his eyes. Unfortunately, the antidote he’d taken wasn’t perfect. Like a shard of glass, a sliver of light passed through his eyes, sliced into his mind. But he could see her. She’d stripped down to tight black pants that showed her ass to perfection and a sleeveless white silk undershirt that clung to her breasts and outlined her peaked nipples. Charla, First Daughter of the House of Lore, Princess of Anthea, his mate. A mate who, at the moment, was pacing the floor next to him like a caged Rhion beast who scented fresh meat.
Or a lover in heat.
The pain in his head receded. A quick glance around the room confirmed his suspicions. Extravagance dwelt here. Plush green silkwoven rugs muffled her footsteps. Soft glowing lights tracked grooves of copper color in the arched ceiling. The room’s only furnishings were a blood red, feather stuffed lounge chair big enough for two, two chairs at a small table, and the bed, which he currently occupied.
Small. Efficient. Cheap. And one of thousands, all exactly alike. His princess wasn’t stupid. And she still didn’t know he was awake. Time to get some information.
Still somewhat disoriented, Padraic waited for his will to gather, to form the cohesive whole he needed to Shadow her thoughts. He was patient, focused, willed his magic to cooperate…
Nothing happened. Somehow, while he’d been pretending to black out, she’d shielded her mind. He’d have to push, hard, to get through the new barriers. Or distract her.
A moan of frustration escaped him and Charla was immediately at his side. “Are you all right?”
“No.” Hell no. Soft as a feather’s touch, her hand rested on his chest, burned his flesh, and sent his body into instant overheat. He hurt. Clenching his teeth, he resisted the urge to throw her down on the ground and rut, and opted for sitting up instead. Charla shoved him back down, her nipples hovering within reach of his mouth. Lifting his neck, he strained to taste one, but she moved.
“Don’t move. The bots will make you dizzy for a few more minutes. I’m sorry.” He must have pissed off multiple gods because when she sat up her hands moved to his abdomen. The muscles there clenched in sweet agony. He remembered her hands on his body, removing his clothes. How he wanted those hands stroking his cock…
“It’s not the bots.” Daring to meet his gaze, she gasped at the desire he knew she saw there. Although his body was on fire, his magic was surprisingly quiet, watching and waiting for a chink in her mental armor. “How long will my magic be gone?”
“I’m not sure. A spin. Perhaps two.”
Two spins to play with her before she realized the truth. Blue as the ocean, her eyes stared down at him, asking questions he wouldn’t answer. Soft and wet, her tongue darted out to lick her lips in an invitation he couldn’t resist, didn’t want to resist, for at least one spin. Hopefully two.
For two spins he could satisfy his craving for her, as long as he resisted the danger of a full bonding. Two spins of total carnal bliss. If he could convince her to stay here, to let him suckle her breasts, bury his cock in her body, and stroke her until she screamed. For two spins he was going to break every rule his society laid down for a Shadow Master.
Aye, it was time to seduce her, to take what he wanted and bury Kiel’s memory forever. When he was through, he’d take his insolent baby sister, Kamara, and get the hell off this God-forsaken station.
* * *
In an instant, the atmosphere changed from curious to carnal. His thoughts were too chaotic for her to read, or guess at, but his desire pounded through her skull like a storm pounded the surf. She had no idea what he thought or believed. All she knew was that he was lying in bed naked, cock hard as a rock beneath a soft silk sheet, watching, waiting for her to reveal her plans. Her intentions. Her desires.
Planning required thought. And lust so completely ruled her body that she had very little energy left for that particular mental activity. Charla couldn’t move, was fascinated by the play of his muscles beneath her palm where it rested on his stomach less than a handspan away from his thinly veiled shaft. She shouldn’t touch him at all, shouldn’t want to rip the sheet from his body and hold him in the palm of her hand, taste him. Her body shouldn’t remember what it felt like to allow a man’s touch while she rode him, yet somehow, it did.
Of its own accord, her hand moved toward his chest, feasted on the texture of his skin, the warmth of his flesh. More than she needed her heart to beat, she needed to taste him. Haunting and seductive, the thought whispered to her… Just one taste.
Charla shook her head. And then what? She’d be no closer to tracking down the bastard slaver who thought he owned her. She’d still have no way to get off this ship to rendezvous with her own. And this male, this perfect male, would still be forbidden. Looking at him sent a sharp stab of desire through her so she closed her eyes.
“Padraic?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s your Rider?”
“I’ll tell you, for a price.” Hands fisted in her hair, he pulled her mouth to his. She could breathe again. Her fourth kiss.
Ecstasy beckoned with the thrust of his tongue into her mouth, and with the palm of her left hand resting lightly on the moon dagger strapped to her thigh, she allowed his embrace. Charla held nothing back. The taste and texture of his tongue intrigued her. Wanting more, she closed her mouth around it, sucked rhythmically to match the tempo of his fingers that now plucked and played her nipples through her thin shirt. Goddess, he was good at making her writhe with need. How many other women had felt his expert touch?
Charla released his tongue and pulled away. Other women. The stark reminder couldn’t have come at a better time. They came from different worlds. As much as she wanted him, there was too much at stake to waste time here. Duty before self. That was a mantra the elders had pounded into her head every day of her life.
Even though she ached and her core dripped with invitation, Charla tensed her muscles to stand. Hard as iron, his hand clamped down on her thigh, refused to let her leave his side without a struggle. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, for a price.”
Temptation… and Charla was dismayed to discover how weak she truly was. “What do you want?”
“Two spins.”
“What?” The man made no sense, but still, her legs refused to move, refused to carry her away from the greatest threat to her soul that she’d ever faced.
“For two spins, I want you to forget you’re the future queen. I’ll demand your total surrender to my touch. I’ll stretch you with my cock and make you scream with pleasure. And when the two spins are over, I’ll take you to your ship. You’ll tell me about my sister and then you can return to Anthea and I’ll go my own way.” The entire time he spoke, his hand stroked her thigh, incapacitating her ability to think.
“I can’t do that.”
Padraic’s smile sent a rush of adrenaline through her system, made her pulse race. “Yes, you will.”
Goddess, how could she resist that offer, that body, that cock? No one would ever know. “No.” She had a duty to her queen. She’d taken his clothes so it would be
harder for him to run, not to ride him.
Padraic’s hand wandered from her thigh to her waist, then higher to squeeze her breast. He pinched and pulled her nipple, sending a fresh wave of heat to the place between her legs. Sitting up in the bed, he crowded her with his body heat, his scent. Smooth and magnificent, his chest was a hand span from her famished lips. “Come on, Charla. You know you want to spread your knees wide, slide your cunt down my cock, feel me buck inside you. Let me taste you, suck your clit.” With every description, vivid images of the acts appeared in her mind, like a movie she couldn’t turn off. “I can make you scream.”
She should be reaching for the dagger strapped to her thigh, but for some reason she was frozen in time, unable to do more than imagine… and feel. It took every effort just to remember to breathe, to fight the urge to shove him down on the bed and ride him until she passed out. Her cunt was so engorged it was almost painful. And still she couldn’t move, couldn’t stop imagining the way his tongue would feel inside of her.
Padraic ripped her shirt open, then threw it across the room. Torture would have been more merciful than his hot mouth just hovering over her naked flesh. His next words seared her as his hot breath wafted over the crest. “Don’t fight it. For two spins, you’re mine.”
Like a starving beast, his mouth clamped down on her nipple and suckled until she moaned. Before she could recover the will to protest, he unzipped her pants and splayed his hand over her abdomen. Diving fast, he flicked her clit with his middle finger over and over, matching the rhythm of his tongue on her nipple.
Hot and fierce, her body’s demands rose to a fever pitch. The memory of the Seeding Ritual rose to overwhelm her senses. She remembered riding the Seeder’s cock, stroking her own clit, head thrown back as she approached release. But suddenly the image in her mind changed, and it was Padraic she rode. Except he wasn’t chained like her Seeder had been. He was bucking beneath her, rising up to pull her breast into his mouth as she took him. His hands were kneading her ass, pulling her buttocks apart, stretching her cunt even wider over his massive cock.
Charla shook her head in an effort to clear it and looked down at the man seducing her senses. The sight of Padraic’s dark head feasting, his mouth on her breast, of his hand stroking her clit thrilled her, made her want more. Goddess help her, if he didn’t fuck her soon she was going to explode.
Aye, she knew what she wanted. And it was radical, blasphemous, treason. Skin on skin, naked writhing bodies. That’s all she could think of. Coherent thought seemed to have gone up in smoke when he set her body on fire. Nothing mattered but filling the painful emptiness between her legs.
Tired of waiting, of allowing him to control her, she shoved his shoulders backward and followed him down on the bed. With shaking fingers she stripped, straddling his hips. She couldn’t stand to see the knowing grin on his face, so she closed her eyes as she positioned herself over his erection. Tormenting herself, she sank down over the head of his cock, just the tip, no more, then stopped and opened her eyes.
“Is this an invitation?” Padraic’s hands glided over her thighs, her hips, and rested in the curve of her waist, burned into her flesh with the same intensity his gaze burned into hers. Blue locked on blue, both hungry and desperate.
“No.” Her chest was tight.
He lifted his hips, stretched her a little more. “I won’t stop.” Ever.
Ever. Magic pulsed behind the word, squeezed her heart and clenched her deepest core as she slammed her hips down to take all of him. She didn’t want to stop. But despite their personal desires, she had her orders, her duty, and he had his. For two sweet spins they would both pretend otherwise.
Aye, she’d burn in hellsfire for this.
But she wanted him willing.
Willing! Goddess help her, yes. Free to touch, to stroke, to caress her flesh with those strong hands. The thought of a man’s weight on her body was exhilarating. For so long she’d been in control. For years she’d been bowed to, revered, and feared. Now, one man’s touch, his kiss, had warped her purpose, clouded her judgment, and stolen all good sense. Aye, she’d enjoyed it completely.
And she didn’t care. “Kiss me again.”
Chapter Five
Padraic didn’t need a second invitation. Tongue thrusting deep, he pulled her down hard, so her mons rubbed the hard muscles of his abdomen. The soft skin of her ass was a temptation too perfect to resist. She tasted like honey, and wildflowers, and something else, elusive and perfect, he couldn’t define.
Gently at first, he pulled her legs wider, lifted his hips up from the bed, and drove his cock against her womb. Her pleasure filled his mind, every secret desire laid bare before the power of his magic. Uppermost in her thoughts was the need to be dominated, ridden, thrown down and pumped into with reckless abandon.
The visions in her mind pushed him over the edge. He rolled her onto her back and rammed home in one powerful lunge. Free now to roam and explore, he tore his mouth from hers and nibbled a path of soft bites to her left breast. Charla dug her fingers into his hair, pulling him to her, and arched the hard peak beneath his lips, silently pleading with him to feast there. He teased her, flicked and swirled his tongue on the mound until she whimpered beneath him, until the delicate hands buried in his hair turned frantic.
He sucked her nipple into his mouth, deep and strong. Instinctively, her hips rose, pulling him deeper. Padraic’s cock bucked in demand to move where he lay, buried to the balls. Charla stopped breathing for a moment, then moaned when he placed a hand on each knee and spread her legs so wide they nearly touched the bed on either side of her. Drowning in her scent, in her taste, he released her nipple, then pulled it back into his mouth. Rhythmic and demanding, his tongue and his cock stroked a matching beat on her body. He wanted to play, to taste, to learn every secret curve. He wanted her begging for release, screaming as he took her.
He wanted everything…
Once again claiming her mouth with his own, he slid one hand beneath her ass to lift her, grinding his hips in a slow thrust that made her crazy. A sudden burst of power hummed into the air, invaded his body with a thousand tickling fingertips of magic. With every shift of her hips, every soft whisper of her hair on the sheets, her soul called to his, a siren luring her mate. Charla’s magic roared to life and demanded an answer from his own in an elemental urge to become whole.
Padraic refused to answer that call. Her body called, and his answered. His soul was another matter entirely. Blood rushed to his cock with every thrust of his fingers, pulsing in time to her cries, her heartbeat, her magic.
“Padraic! Please!” Charla’s head thrashed from side to side.
She needed more, and so did he. Still deep inside, he stroked, sliding in and out, over and over, coating her folds with wet heat. His right hand flicked and rolled her nipple. She shivered as he blew a hot kiss over her, wandered a path of bliss along the side of her neck with his tongue.
In and out. He plucked her perfect nipple. Pulled it up until magic and lust flew straight from her nipple to her cunt. Charla arched her back, locked her legs behind his thighs and surged up to meet him, pulled him deeper. Relentless, Padraic blew into her ear. He shoved one hand between their joined bodies, flicking her clit once, just once, with his finger. She shivered. Again. And again.
She tasted like fire, passion, and power. Addicting and sweet. Like magic.
Unable to stop, he pumped into her tight wet cunt until she screamed and her inner muscles went into spasms around his cock.
Impatient to lose himself in her, he slid his hands beneath her and lifted her hips off the bed and pulled her toward him as she lay sprawled before him like a sacrificial offering to the gods.
Logic was overruled by his body as he claimed her, ruthlessly determined that she would never forget his taste, his cock stretching her, his need. He wanted to fuck her forever. Pound into her hot cunt over and over until she begged him for release. She was so hot, so tight. He watched her breasts
bounce as he rammed into her. Then her hands were there, replacing his, pulling, stretching, fondling her own nipples.
The sight nearly drove him over the edge.
Spreading her legs wider, he dove deep and stayed. Small circular movements were all he allowed. He pulled on her ass just enough to open her even more, slide in a little deeper, tease her other opening with the whisper of cold air and exposure.
Charla whimpered. Her cunt clamped down on his cock and wouldn’t let go. He pulled out a fraction, pushed again. Harder. He watched, fascinated as her hand left her breast, slid over the smooth stomach to her mons. She rubbed her clitoris, flicked over it, pulled. With every stroke of her fingers, her core rippled around him, her magic flared, and his answered, driving him closer to release.
Without moving her body, Charla set the pace with her hand. Padraic surrendered to his own lust watching her play. Unable to stop himself, he withdrew, and pounded into her. Harder and faster until her cunt milked him dry, stealing every ounce of his seed, and his soul, as he followed her over the edge.
He collapsed onto her and rested his forehead in the hollow of her neck. Fool that he was, Padraic already knew when these two spins were over he wanted to keep her.
* * *
Magic woke her, little electric shocks that jumped between her naked body and Padraic’s. Like a fierce wind rattling a rusty door, sneaking in around the edges, Padraic’s power surged and receded within him. She knew his magic was combating the bots still circulating in his blood. She ignored them. Just as she ignored the words that shimmered in her mind when Padraic touched her. Mind to mind, heart to heart, blood to blood. She didn’t know what they meant, but she instinctively knew what they would do. Steal her freedom… bind them together so tightly she’d lose her very soul.
“You’re awake.” Padraic’s deep voice rumbled through his chest and into her ear.
Lifting her check to look up at him, Charla smiled. “I’m exhausted.” And sore. And deliciously happy. The thoughts escaped before she could censor them, and she was grateful that his empathic abilities were hampered. As difficult as it would be for her to carry out her orders, she would. There was no alternative.
