Ardor's Leveche (16 page)

That means one man, one woman for each of us.”

She smiled slyly. “I don’t like women but if I must have only one—”

“You know what I mean!” he said, his tone thick with warning. Playtime was over—at least for the moment—and it was time for serious intent.

“You don’t like men?” she teased, her eyes twinkling.

Very slowly, he ripped the sheet from her breasts. The sound of the material tearing goaded them both.

“You want me to prefer a man to you, wench?” he drawled.

She lifted her chin. “You think there’s a man out there who can give you what I can, Reaper?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.” The fabric tore a little more. “There are some pretty boys roaming around amongst my troops.”

Ardor’s mouth was open, her blood boiling where the backs of his fingers touched her bare flesh. She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling, and when he wrested the sheet from her, she grinned at him.

He was sitting astride her hips, his hard cock pressing against her belly, his bare chest a delight for the hard pecs flexed when he moved. His weight was delicious and it was sending spirals of heat through her lower body, putting pressure on her clitoris and making it ultra-sensitive.

Gabriel was breathing as hard as she was and even as his hand closed around the globe of her left breast, he itched to ravage her like a warrior of old.

“What’s stopping you?” she asked, easily reading his thoughts.

He had read the reports Prince Cair Ghrian had filed at Command Central on the men who had been made Reapers on R-9. He had flown to Seabhac to meet with others like him so he knew the way the laws had been lain down for his kind. Once he took 88

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this lovely wanton lying sprawled beneath him, he would never dip his shaft into another. They would be bound together for life and the prospect sobered him.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Didn’t you not want me before this, warrior?” she asked. “Weren’t you the one who said he’d fuck me and forget me?”

Gabriel winced. “Aye, but I hadn’t thought it through,” he admitted.

“Have you now?”

He was on fire with wanting her. His damned cock was nigh to bursting and causing him untold anguish as he sat atop her. He not only passionately desired the woman, he needed her, feared he’d burst into flame if he didn’t have her.

“Have you?” he countered.

“Get your cock in me before I change my mind and go looking for another mate,”

she chided him.

“Like I’d let you do that,” he said.

He stretched out atop her and claimed her mouth, working his tongue past her lips in a gentler, more thorough way than she had taken his. The thick hair covering his chest tickled her nipples and she gloried in the delicious feel. His kiss was heady and it sent Ardor’s senses to reeling for this man was a potent son of a bitch and he was showing her he was in control.

And that wasn’t to be tolerated—at least not yet!

She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him until he could barely move. Her strength had tripled, quadrupled, with the transference and she was showing him just what a handful she was going to be. Her fingernails clawed into the fabric of his silk shirt, ripping it down the back and discarding it as easily as though it was tissue paper.

“Scratch me and I’ll spank your ass until it’s as red as a cranberry,” he warned, feeling her hands on his shoulders.

“We’ll save that for some other time,” she said with a grin.

“I’ll remember you said that.”

Ardor laughed and put her palms to his cheeks. “Take me, warrior?” she asked, her need pulsing at him from her eyes. “I want to feel you inside me.”

This was no simpering miss beneath him, he knew. There was no modesty between them, no pretending. He wanted her, she wanted him. There was nothing more to say about it.

He knew there was taking a woman hard and taking a woman
hard
. The first way was rape. The second was lustful thrusting. He knew if he took her in the frenzy he wanted to take her, they’d both end up sore and bruised, if not seriously hurt. He didn’t want their first time to be a wild mating of bodies but a mating of souls. He wanted to make sure she was bonded to him for eternity.

“Lie still,” he said and pushed her arms down to the floor again.

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“I don’t want to—”

“Shush!” he insisted.

Moaning at his command, Ardor ran her hands down his chest and flexed her palms over his taut pecs. “You just gotta be difficult, huh?” she questioned.

Gabriel had never known a woman’s teasing during the sexual act. Most of the young girls he’d played hide the eel with before that fated day on the battlefield on Idimmu Prime wanted a quick tumble—a few squeezes of the pert melons, the skirts thrown up, eel slid in into the snatch, a few thrusts of the hips and it was all over except stuffing himself back into his britches. With Morrigunia, he’d had no control of the situation from beginning to end and felt more like a dildo than a lover. Pleasure ‘bots did nothing to make his blood run hot and all he’d wanted was quick relief—pull down the pants, attach the eel to the ‘bot’s moist, super-suctioning mouth, experience a few unconscious thrusts and it was all over except for feeling rotten once the ‘bot went away.

But he wanted far more this time than any of the previous situations he’d experienced. He wanted it right. He wriggled against her until she unhooked her legs from his hips and put her feet on the floor.

“That was you and not Raoul who pleasured me in the cell, wasn’t it?” she asked, her hands plucking at the floor as though she was striving to remain calm.

“What do you think?” he asked, reaching down to stroke a wisp of her hair from her cheek with a crooked finger.

“I don’t think you’re willing to share me with anyone and that includes gorgeous Major Breva,” she responded.

He arched a thick brown brow. “I’ve labeled Raoul many things over the years, wench, but gorgeous wasn’t one of them.”

“It was you,” she said. “I thought it was him, but it was you.”

“You belong to me,” he said simply.

Ardor sighed. “I’m sure you think so.”

His slow smile was predatory. Holding her eyes with his, he lowered his head and claimed the nipple of her left breast between his teeth, laving the stiff little peak with the tip of his tongue.

Ardor lifted her hands and threaded them through his thick curls. “You have a devilish mouth, Gabriel Leveche,” she said. Her flesh was rippling with goose bumps and heat was curling low in her belly.

He suckled her nipple gently—then a bit rougher—before moving to the right breast, not wanting it to feel neglected. From the reaction he received from the lovely woman reclining beneath him, he knew this breast was the more sensitive of the two.

Locking that information away, he moved up to claim her lips once more, delving into her sweet mouth to taste her.

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Her hands were massaging his scalp and she was wriggling her hips beneath him.

He could smell the heat of her passion oozing from between her legs and it made his pulse quicken. Shifting his body so he was lying beside her and not directly atop her, he slid one hand down her body to run his fingers through the crisp curls at the apex of her thighs.

Ardor pulled her mouth from his. “Take those damned britches off now, Reaper, or I swear I’ll rip them off you myself!”

“They’re leather, wench,” he said. “They don’t rip so easily.” He wagged his brows and it was the wrong action to do.

It was the wrong thing to have said if he’d wanted to keep his clothing intact. She bucked him off and though he tried to push her hands away, she hooked her fingers in the waistband of his uniform pants and tore them away from him in two quick rents.

Without batting an eye, she attacked his feet and pulled off his boots in two quick little drags.

Gabriel’s eyes flared. Not only was she stronger than he expected, she was quicker and she had a red glare in her eyes that told him she was through playing.

Ardor fell on him, wedging herself between his legs, spreading his thighs apart with her knees and before he could gainsay her had her cunt paused over the tip of his steely hard cock. He could feel the moistness of her upon that sensitive bulb.

“Let’s do this
my
way,” she said and impaled herself on the fleshy delight.

Drawing in a quick breath, the Reaper felt his tool sliding into a hot, velvet sheath that clenched around him with purpose. He felt as though he was being sucked up into her flaming body and the sensation sent spirals of lust undulating through his groin.

“No,” he said, jaw clenched. “You are
not
going to ride me, wench!”

Ardor laughed as he flipped her over and pressed as deeply as he could into her heat. “Got a problem with control, do you?” she trilled.

Her arms were around his neck. Her legs were draped possessively around his hips once more and she was binding him to her. Even though he was lying atop her, she thought she was in control and that irritated the man in him.

Without another word, he pulled out of her, watching her face shift into a mask of surprise.

“You want me, wench?” he asked, dragging his stiff cock along the folds of her cunt.

She still had hold of his neck and hips. “You know I do,” she said gruffly.

“Then we do it
my
way,” he said.

Once more she released his lean hips but arched her pelvis up in invitation. “Then get on with it before I lose interest,” she said, pretending to yawn.

Gabriel grinned at her and shoved his cock as far as it would go into her hot box, chuckling at the hastily indrawn breath that brought those long, sensuous legs back around his hips to squeeze him so hard he knew she’d not let him pull out again.

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The rhythm he set was sure and unhurried—out a little ways, in as far as he could push inside, out a little bit more, then in again until she loosened her tight grip of his hips. She was breathing hard and each in and out motion brought a deeper scarlet glow to her pretty eyes.

Ardor found herself filled as she’d never been before. This man taking her was more than amply endowed and his cock was as hard as she could ever remember feeling one be. He was grinding into her with each thrust—swirling his tool inside her and eliciting such an overwhelming desire in her loins it was all she could do not to grunt with each of his lunges. She was staring into his eyes and as the scarlet spark began flickering in those amber depths, she grinned broadly, clenching her fingers in his hair to bring his mouth to hers.

The kiss was a heady delight that sent them both into a spasm of escalating motion—he thrusting harder and fast into her, she lifting her hips as far from the floor as possible to meet his every push. As their tongues dueled, teeth nipped at full lower lips, the sensitive peaks of her breasts abraded by the wiry hairs on his chest, sweat slicked their straining bodies and the scent of their lovemaking became an aphrodisiac that sent shockwaves of passion rippling through them both.

Their climaxes came at the exact same moment, both harder and longer, and more delicious than either of them had ever experienced. Gabriel dragged his lips from hers and threw his head back to howl his release as he heard her trill of pleasure exploding from her parted lips. The pleasurable little squeezes, the intense little pulses wrapped around and flinched around one another until Gabriel thought his heart would burst.

The pleasure seemed to go on forever until he finally collapsed atop her, spent and drained of energy.

Ardor wrapped her arms around him and held him to her, wanting nothing more than to lie there and cushion his hard body to hers. She relaxed her legs but her hold on him never lessened. His head was upon her breast, his gasping breath blowing little fingers of delight over her sweaty flesh. Their hearts were thundering in unison and within a matter of moments, both were sound asleep.

* * * * *

It was the coldness of the floor that finally woke Ardor—that and the discomfort nagging at her spine she thought from the heavy weight still lying atop her.

“Reaper?” she questioned softly and smiled at him as he lifted his head.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, smiling down at her.

“I’m a bit uncomfortable here, lover,” she told him.

He was up in a bound that told her he’d been awake a long time. He held out his hand to help her up. “Your back hurts?”

“With a vengeance,” she replied, wincing.

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“You need the tenerse,” he said, and retrieved the syringe. “I will warn you, it stings.”

Ardor flinched only a little as the fiery liquid spread through her neck. “It’s not so bad.”

“Huh,” was his comment.

She looked up at that glorious warrior’s body—all hard planes and crisp wiry curls and rippling muscles. Unaware her gaze had stopped at his crotch, she put out her tongue to lick at her dry lips.

“Stop ogling my eel, wench, or he’ll decide to go swimming again,” he warned.

She slowly slid her gaze up to his handsome face. “And that would be bad because…?”

“Get your lazy ass up, woman,” he said.

She grinned and lifted her hand to slap her palm into his, impressed with his strength as he drew her up to stand beside him.

“Is there something I can wear to keep you from ogling me?” she asked, looking around the lab.

“I prefer you naked but there are some Med Cen pajamas over in the cupboard,” he said, folding his arms over his naked chest. He was standing there with his legs spread, his cock jutting slightly from between his legs.

She padded over to the cupboard and opened it, taking out two pair of the baggy garments. When she turned around, she was stunned to see him already dressed, a black silk uniform shirt tucked properly into a pair of black leather pants. Even his bare feet were covered in shiny leather boots.

“How did you do that?” she asked, her voice filled with awe.

“It takes a lot of concentration to rearrange the molecules and I don’t do it very often—not from scratch, especially, since it drains you. It’s easier if you’re already wearing clothing but there again, it takes a lot out of you. I’ll try to teach you but Morrigunia says not every Reaper is capable of learning how to do it.”