Gladiator Wolf (Gladiators Book 1)

by Marteeka Karland

  Shaking aside that ludicrous thought, he stretched himself out before her. He inhaled deeply of her feminine musk as he braced her thighs apart with his forearms. Eyes closed, he savored her unique scent. Spice. Sun. Warm woman. Home!

  He must have had a strange look on his face because Miranda sat up on her elbows and looked at him questioningly. “Brand?”

  With that one last thought of her scent, everything else fled. Brandwulfr dipped his head to her sex and drank deeply. He didn’t pause when she cried out. Didn’t stop when she screamed beneath his tongue. Brandwulfr ruthlessly pushed Miranda to the brink only to leave her there before starting again. He didn’t stop until she was sweating, tears streaming down her lovely face as she looked at him with a beseeching expression and begged, “Please, Brand! Oh, God, please!”

  “Come!” he bit out. “Come hard and fast. For me! Come!”

  She screamed, bowing her back. A deep flush suffused her creamy breasts up her neck to the roots of her gold-blonde hair. Brandwulfr was certain the guards would be pounding on the door any minute, but no one burst in. So he stayed with her, his tongue on her clit, feathering the sensitive nub until she finally went limp.

  “Now,” he said as he crawled up her body, settling himself over her with his cock positioned to thrust home. “I’m going to fuck you until you come just that hard again.”

  “I can’t,” she whimpered. “No, please.”

  “No? Are you sure, Miranda? Be certain you don’t want me, because if you deny me, I’ll walk out of here and never touch you again.” That was a bold-faced lie if he’d ever told one. But he had the feeling he needed to push her, make her see she needed him as desperately as he needed her.

  She let out a little sob, her fist going to her mouth to stifle the sound. Finally she shook her head. “I’m not sure. God, Brand, I do need you. I need you so badly!”

  With her sweet surrender, Brandwulfr sank into her slick, welcoming heat. She screamed again, clinging to him as if he were her only lifeline in a turbulent sea. Her nails dug into his shoulders, holding him to her just as tightly as he held her. She was tight. So tight he had a moment to wonder if she was as innocent in body as she was in mind, but there was no barrier. Perhaps she hadn’t taken a lover in several months. He found the thought pleased him more than it should.

  Slowly, he began to move his hips, retreating only to plunge in again. The exquisite pleasure of it nearly made him lose his mind. Again, he kissed her, taking her screams and whimpers into himself. She met each thrust of his tongue with one of her own, each thrust of his hips with a roll of hers. Before long, their rhythm was synchronized, their movements like that of an erotic dance. With her body snug around his, his arms wrapping himself around her, it was as if they were one, as the universe meant them to be. The sun on his skin only heightened his senses and pleasure such as he’d never known suffused him, filling him with raw power and hunger for the woman in his arms.

  With a roar of passion, Brandwulfr began to pound into her tender flesh, demanding more and more, taking all she had to give him. At the same time, he made sure to hit her clit with every thrust of his hips, to find her nipple with his fingers and to pluck the sensitive peak until she cried out, her head thrashing on the pillow beneath her. Sweat slickened their skin, making their movements glide like the silk she’d worn. Brandwulfr prolonged the pleasure almost to the point of torture, needing to prove to this woman what he could do to her body if she let him.

  When her eyes opened, their blue depths sparkling with unshed tears, he focused on her alone. “Tell me what you need, love,” he grated out. “Tell me!”

  “I need—I need to come,” she whispered between jerks of his hips against her body. “I—Please, Brand. Please!”

  Picking up the pace and force of his movements, Brandwulfr gave her what she needed. Seconds later, her eyes rolled back in her head and her cunt spasmed around his throbbing cock. She screamed to the ceiling, her body convulsing beneath his like no woman he’d ever been with. All that beauty and quiet reserve was unable to contain the passion within her little body. Before his eyes, Miranda flew apart with her orgasm, screaming over and over, thrashing against him, clinging to him. It wasn’t until the last squeeze of her cunt that Brandwulfr let himself release into her. His roar matched her scream in volume and intensity, leaving no doubt what had been going on in her rooms.

  His body felt wrung out, as if he’d finished a long-fought battle and needed rest. Only different. It was a...contented feeling. The sensation was so foreign to Brandwulfr, it took a moment to fully comprehend it. It stunned him speechless.

  Knowing he had to be heavy on her he rolled over, taking Miranda with him. Her limp body sprawled half on top of him, her arm over his chest. She didn’t move to reposition herself more comfortably. In fact, she lay as if dead, and Brandwulfr had to reassure himself she had survived the cataclysmic sex he’d just experienced with her.

  “You okay?” The funny thing was, he found it mattered to him. He needed her to have been just as affected as he’d been.

  “I think so,” she murmured. “Just give me a minute. I’ve never... That was...extraordinary.” She breathed out the last word as if in wonder. Most women he’d known, if found in her position, would have played it down. Admitted it was good, but maybe yawned and fell asleep. Not his Miranda. She looked up at him, those big blue eyes of hers filled with wonder, never censoring herself. She didn’t have to say anything else. The look was enough.

  With a troubled sigh, Brandwulfr tucked her head beneath his chin, stroking her back until her breaths were deep and even in sleep. He still had an hour or so before they could leave. He’d thought to make her cleave to him, to want to stay with him enough to leave her home. Seducing her to get her to come with him had seemed like the perfect option. Now, he had to wonder who had won this match. Him...or her.

  Chapter Eight

  Miranda woke with a cry, an orgasm ripping through her. Brandwulfr’s arms were tightly around her, one hand gripping her ass as he urged her to move on the leg between her thighs. Awake now, craving the intense pleasure more than her next breath, Miranda dug her nails into his biceps as she took over the rhythm, grinding her needy clit on his muscular thigh.

  He didn’t stop once her pleasure ebbed, either. Rolling over to cover her, Brandwulfr slid his cock inside her with effortless ease, her intimate moisture easing the way for him.

  “Ah, little human,” he groaned. “You feel better than even the sun.” She had the feeling he thought she might still be sleep-drugged and hadn’t meant for her to hear that, but she had her wits about her. Mostly. She suspected that, had she truly been in her right mind, she wouldn’t have accepted his touch so eagerly.

  “Brand,” she sighed, offering him her neck. He lowered his head to place open-mouthed kisses there, trailing up her jaw to find her mouth. Miranda sighed, sliding her hands over his back as he moved above her in a slow, languorous rhythm.

  He rolled them over, never stopping his movement inside her, his arms still wrapped tightly around her. The new position shocked her with an unexpected thrill. Could she control the pace of their lovemaking? As if he’d read her mind, Brand urged her to sit up, sliding his hands from her breasts, down to her waist, then finally settled them on her thighs. As usual, he scraped his nails over her skin as he went, the act strangely erotic and, she suspected, uniquely Brandwulfr.

  The position was a new one for her, and it took a few moments to get the hang of how to move in order to give herself the maximum amount of pleasure. Unexpectedly, Brand helped her, guiding her with his hands how to move, how to please them both.

  “Brand,” she gasped. “I need…” She trailed off, her instinct to move her hand to her clit. Before she was even aware of it, her hand moved toward her sex, but she froze just above it, unsure. She wasn’t a virgin, but the few times she’d had sex had been in the dark with lovers her father approved of. Men who were prospective husbands. None of them had been remotely i
nterested in her pleasure. Now, she silently vowed never to allow that disrespect again.

  “Go ahead.” Brand nodded, indicating the hand that rested on her belly. “Take what you need. Do what feels good, love.”

  It seemed scandalous to masturbate while atop him, but the added erotic sensation of both her own touch and his eyes on her sent a sharp spike of heat through her. “Oh!” The sensations coursing through her were sweet, wicked. She felt sexy, desirable. The way Brand looked at her was like no man ever had before. It was as if he saw something in her no one else could see. Maybe it was his wolf senses. She certainly seemed to possess lusts unlike any she’d ever thought possible in a woman. None of her friends expressed such pleasures in the arms of a man. She certainly hadn’t found them. Was this why so many Sky City women sought out the shifters as lovers? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she was fast becoming addicted to this particular shifter. And he’d only been in her bed a couple of hours.

  Her breasts bounced as she rode him, twisting her hips when he growled his approval. The little bud of her clit seemed to throb under her fingers, promising so much pleasure if she just kept doing what she was doing. Little zings of sensation seemed to burst through her whenever he moved beneath her, thrusting upward from time to time, as if to climb deeper into her sex. His gaze seemed to move from her eyes to her breasts as if he couldn’t help but stray to the moving globes. Occasionally, his hands would cup their weight, his thumbs rubbing lightly over the peaks.

  He thrust up into her harder when her movements slowed, urging her to keep moving. His eyes never left hers. As her passion built, so did Brand’s. With his building lust, his eyes took on that subtle bluish glow she’d seen in the arena when he’d been so angry with her father. Was she displeasing him?

  “Brand,” she gasped, “your eyes—”

  “Change with lust. With any strong emotion.”

  “But in the arena—”

  “Battle lust. Now, I just need you. Need you to come for me. Milk my cock, Miranda.” His voice was lower, gruffer. Sexy as hell. It was all she needed to push her over the edge.

  As her orgasm crested, Brand pulled her down to him, wrapping his arms around her securely, one arm over her back, the other hand on her ass, urging her to ride him. Miranda muffled her cries against his neck, licking and nipping his skin. He seemed to relish the contact, growling his approval as he moved his head to give her better access. With her last shudder, Brandwulfr gave one final surge upward, burying himself as deeply as he could, his seed erupting into her until he had no more to give her. Miranda was too stunned to move. And too exhausted. This man, who was supposed to be her enemy, a man who quite possibly hated her as much as he did her father, had just given her more pleasure than she’d had in her entire life.

  “Was that in payment for my aid?” Her voice sounded small, nearly forlorn. It was no less than she expected, but it still hurt. She wanted the best sex of her life to at least mean something more than a business transaction, but what more could she really expect?

  His arms tightened around her. “As much as I wish I could say it was, I don’t want to lie to you. I could, but I don’t want to.” He sighed before he continued. Miranda almost wished he’d keep silent. She was afraid anything he’d say would only hurt her. “This was much more than any payment I might owe you,” he continued. “I told myself I was simply passing time, but I fear there is more to my feelings than that.” He urged her to look at him then. “You’re not a bad person, Miranda. I didn’t want to see it, but you’re not. Even with all I’ve gone through, I can’t regret knowing you or the circumstances that shoved us together.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’ve never experienced anything like the last hour with you,” she said, her voice breaking on the last.

  “Me either,” he answered quietly.

  “I don’t wish you to stay in this place, Brand, but I’ll always think of you. I doubt I’ll ever forget this.”

  He stiffened beneath her, then seemed to force himself to relax. “Let’s just get to the temple. If we make it that far, we can worry about saying goodbye.”

  Miranda groaned as the last rays of sunlight filtered through the windows. As the big orange ball dropped behind a massive building in the distance, she rolled off Brandwulfr. They were about to start a journey that could get them both killed, and all she could think about was how incredibly good he smelled.

  “Did I hurt you?” As she stood, Brandwulfr sat up to brace his weight on his elbows. The look on his face was sincere, his brows drawn together as he studied her.

  “No!” she said, startled he’d ask such a thing. “I enjoyed every single second of what we did. I was just thinking sunset came far too soon for my liking. I wish we had more time.”

  He sat up, wrapping that silly sarong around his waist to knot it over one hip. “Come on,” he said with a smile, not acknowledging her wish in any way. Not at all unexpected given his circumstances. “Get dressed and let’s get this over with.” There was a determined set to his jaw as he said it. Miranda decided not to dwell overmuch on it as she rummaged through her wardrobe. Soon this would all be over. And he’d be gone. She didn’t want to spend her last hours with him as she had the last few days.

  She’d just finished dressing when there was a loud banging at the door to the outer room of her suite. Persistent and angry, the pounding continued until she finally heard a man roar from outside.

  “Miranda! Open the goddamned door!”

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, sure all the color had drained from her face. “My father! Brand! He’s outside the door!”

  To her dismay, he merely shrugged. “You’re a sky dweller. Women buy our time. Your mother did with two of my brethren. Does he not know?”

  “He knows about Mother, but not me! He’s going to kill me!”

  That made him perk up, his eyes flashing as he focused on the direction of her father's booming voice. Where before he’d looked nearly relaxed, now he looked murderous.

  “I didn’t mean really kill me. It’s a figure of speech meaning he’s going to be furious!”

  “Because his daughter bought a slave’s time?” Brandwulfr looked at her with equal parts confusion and anger.

  “Because I brought you home. He expressly forbid me from being anywhere near you or the catacombs again.”

  “Me specifically,” he mused. “So he could sense my interest in you.” His grin was anything but pleasant. “Let him in. You have to know I’ll protect you.”

  “Brand, he’s my father. He’s not going to hurt me.”

  “Oh, I’m certain he won’t. Now. Let him in. The quicker this is over, the quicker we can head back to the under city and the temple.”

  “I’m not even certain the portal is there. What if I’ve gotten bad information?”

  “Only one way to find out. And I’d be no worse off than before. I can always just leave this place.” He glanced out the window to where the sun had last shone through it. Before, in the arena when he’d stepped into the sunlight, he’d acted almost as if he were worshiping it. The parts of the fight she’d seen, both men had been moving with nearly blinding speed. Did he get some kind of energy from the sun? Was that why all the fights took place at night? Had being in her room, where every wall was merely one giant floor-to-ceiling window of one-way glass, where even the ceiling let in the sun’s light, somehow filled him with strength? If so, he’d no doubt be more than a match for her father and any men he’d brought with him. He could escape and go wherever he wanted if things went bad. “Let him in.”

  With a shaky nod, Miranda crossed the room to the door and opened it. She had to jump out of the way as her father shoved the door open so hard it banged against the wall behind it. “What the hell are you doing with this beast here?” His question was roared, his fury obvious. “I told you the catacombs were off limits! Did you not listen when I told you he was using you? Likely, he’s planning to use you to escape. Do you not realize he’d as soo
n kill you as pleasure you? Killing is what he does!”

  “Father, he’s not like that, he—”

  “Silence! Go to your mother. If you have urges, she’ll find you an acceptable slave to help you work them off.”

  “Father!”

  “It figures one of your kind would let your mate fuck other men so you didn’t have to satisfy her yourself.” Brandwulfr’s sneer was so at odds with the tender way he’d treated her earlier.

  “Guards!” her father shouted, not acknowledging Brandwulfr at all. “Take the dog back to his cage! He’s never to set foot here again, assuming he survives the night.” Rudolph gave Brandwulfr a smile so full of malice, Miranda winced, her stomach churning. There was no doubt her father would have Brandwulfr killed.

  Three of the house guards entered the room, took one look at Brandwulfr and then each other. None of them made a move to take the wolf with them. Her father hadn’t seemed to notice.

  “I can’t believe you brought that beast into this house! You deliberately waited until you knew I’d be gone before you did this. How long had you been planning this?” He paced the room, growing more and more agitated with each second, his face growing red with his anger. “If this was some kind of rebellion, you went too far, Miranda! You may be my daughter, but you are still subject to my authority! My word is law! You live the life you do because I allow it! Know all the privileges you enjoy can disappear at my whim!” Never had she seen her father this angry. He’d never so much as raised his voice to her. Now, he looked at her with disgust, as if she’d sullied herself beyond cleansing. It hurt deeply. Not because she thought he was right, but because he thought he was right.