Falcon’s Captive (8 page)

“You’re no innocent.” Even with her head turned from him, she knew he was staring at her. “This is no virgin’s body. Because it knows what it’s capable of.”

Much as she wanted to retort that he couldn’t possibly understand what she was experiencing, she couldn’t force the denial past her lips. Her cunt was coated with proof of her arousal. More than that, he’d earlier gathered some of her seemingly unending fluid and had spread it over her asshole. Some of her juices remained on his fingers and were now drying, adding a roughness that lightly scraped her flesh—flesh he showed no sign of leaving alone.

“You think I’m wrong?” Catching her nipple between thumb and forefinger, he kneaded it while she squirmed and tried not to moan. “You’re getting ready to tell me I have no idea what I’m talking about?”

“Let me go!”

“Why do you keep saying that when you know it’s not going to happen?”

Ever?

She was still gathering the courage to ask when he suddenly and firmly gripped her mons. Not giving her time to comprehend, he shook it.

Sparks from an inner bonfire shot down her legs and into her pelvis. Sobbing, she again tried to sit up, only to collapse when he pressed down on her breast. His hold on her mons tightened. Her breath hissed. Her mouth opened and then closed.

He had her.

“I don’t have to tie your legs, do I? As long as they’re bent under you, they’re useless. More to the point, your pussy is exposed. Open to me like a gift.”

She’d never gift him with her sex, damn it! If he thought she wanted anything to do with—

“Ah my wild one, what an exquisite creature you are. Full of the need for sex.” A finger, maybe his middle one, led the way to her slit.

Gasping again, she acknowledged her flaming cheeks and throat. She, who’d never thought of herself as a sexual object, suddenly had no other identity. Most disconcerting, she didn’t want anything except this—and him.

“Is there anything softer,” he said with a bit of awe in his voice as he slid his finger into her. “Anything that affects a man more?”

With the invasion, she trusted him; not just trusted, but knew deep inside that he wouldn’t hurt her. Whatever his intent, he wanted no part of injury or cruelty. She’d always been told that the enemy had no humanity to them, but here she was within the enemy’s grip and more alive than she’d ever been.

Granted, the strong masculine finger working its way into her flooding channel had a great deal to do with what she was experiencing, but even in her befuddled state, she acknowledged it was more than that. Not just a man, but
him,
this stranger who called himself Nakos of Ekew.

“Soft, like the feathers of a small bird, like the first grass of spring.”

His voice was music, flutes and other wind instruments. At the same time, she heard something that reminded her of heartbeats, a quiet drum perhaps. She vaguely comprehended that his palm still covered her breast and was stroking and massaging it, but next to the clawing hunger in her pussy, the
abuse
didn’t matter. She couldn’t keep track of everything he was doing, just that he’d brought his entire hand into play. His gentleness seemed right. She should want no part of it, but too many nights and tears lay between her and the last time a man had touched her as a woman.

She wanted one thing. Wanted it not from Raci, who was no longer part of her world, but from her captor.

“I can’t—by the spirits, I can’t…”

“What can’t you do, little one?” he whispered. Something, maybe a knuckle, rolled over her clit.

“Ah!” she fairly screamed. Her fingers fastened onto his arm, and she used him to lift her back off the ground. Still off-balance, she clung to him, depended on him.

Something firm again walked over her clit. At the same time, his finger remained in her, covering her in proof of his existence. Throwing back her head, she dove into sensation. “I can’t—”

“Take any more of this?” He flattened his hand over her cunt. Owned it.

“No, no! Falcon, please, help me!”

“Falcon?”

I
t was too late for Jola to take back her words, too late for anything except this moment. As she blinked Nakos into focus, she comprehended that he’d released her breast and wrapped his arm behind her back so he could help her sit up. She felt cradled by him.

Vulnerable and invaded.

“I don’t know what I was saying,” she blurted. “Let me stand, please.”

“No.”

The single word settled against her heart and mind. She, who’d always embraced the land’s colors, saw only black and white with a deep red vein running through it. Her pussy muscles contracted repeatedly as if determined to keep him inside her. Wondering if she’d ever fully comprehend what was happening, she tried to look beyond her belly to her sex, but all she saw was his arm.

Diving deeper into her, he bent his knuckle, his fingertip sliding along the front of her pussy. She screamed. Wild, she tried to buck free only to collapse against him. The side of her head resting on his chest and his arm holding her in place, she made sounds like a newborn cougar.

“Your body wants me,” he muttered. “Don’t try to deny it.”

“I—can’t.”

He chuckled although there was something melancholy about it. Before she could decide whether to ask him why, he began to pull out of her. Although she repeatedly, almost desperately, tightened her inner muscles around his finger, he escaped.

“What?” she gasped, eyes burning and mouth numb.

“You don’t know?” That said, he laid her back down and straightened her legs.

The sudden end to the strain in her spine briefly held her attention. Then an undeniable throbbing drew her focus to her pussy. She lifted her pelvis toward him only to have him shake his head.

“I don’t dare touch you anymore.”

“What?”

His frown pulled her thoughts off her insistent and hungry body, reminded her of who had done this to her.

“You really don’t know much about a man’s body, do you? And yet you aren’t a virgin.”

“No.”

Judging by the look in his eyes, she knew she hadn’t satisfied his curiosity, but as long as the darkness engulfed her, she couldn’t say more than she had.

Did he have a wife or mate? Not long ago it wouldn’t have mattered. Now, although she needed to believe that his personal life had nothing to do with what existed between them, she wished she knew more about him.

But if she asked, he’d expect the same from her, and before they were done, she’d demand to know whether he’d killed Raci.

Raci, I’m sorry!

Desperate to escape her questions and the shadows stalking her, she swallowed. “Tell me about this man’s body of yours.”

“You really want to—”

“Yes.”

“It isn’t patient. It wants what it wants, now.”

Cursing herself for not having caught on earlier, she stole a glance at his crotch. Beneath his single piece of clothing, his cock strained. Huge and trapped, it demanded to be set free.

“You do understand,” he muttered as he cupped himself. “At least a bit.”

Riding instinct, she lifted her bound arms and stroked his tip through soft leather. Although he tensed, he didn’t put distance between them. “What’s that about?” he demanded.

“I’m doing to you what you’ve been doing to me.”

His expression a mix of skepticism and anticipation, he closed her fingers around his mound. “If you try to hurt—”

“You’re afraid of me?” Only a few seconds ago she’d been so lost within herself that she’d barely been aware of him. Now she felt stronger—not in control, of course, but more of an equal. “How can that be when you consider me a wild animal, inferior?”

“I never—”

“Yes, you did! Otherwise, you wouldn’t be calling me a Wilding.”

He glowered down at her. “We shouldn’t be here. I should already have you halfway back to my camp.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Although it would have been a simple matter for him to drag her hands off him, he didn’t, and the longer the contact continued, the darker his expression became. She understood. After all, his handling of her had taken her into a deep and personal place.

Her heart beat on, seconds stretching out until maybe a minute had passed and still he hadn’t responded to her question. Having him looming over her like this continued to intimidate her, and more.

“You belong to me,” he muttered. “What a strange feeling, knowing another human being—”

“You’re admitting I’m human?”
Belong?
Was he right?

“Maybe.”

Her hands were so on fire that when he pulled her off his cock, the burning reached all the way up her arms. She tried to jerk free only to have him settle her hands over her belly and hold them in place. They’d gone back to approaching each other as the enemy, danger and potential at the same time.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he told her. “I don’t want you touching me after all.”

About to again accuse him of being afraid, she decided to wait him out. There was something deeply arousing about being manhandled this way. She didn’t want her life to be in his hands, never that, but what if she turned her body over to his? Surely he’d take her, and in the taking she’d find release and relief.

The lake’s aroma still clung to her, making it easy to remember why she’d wanted to be in it. He’d been right to call her human. What he hopefully didn’t comprehend was that there was another layer to her, a primitive and raw one. He’d brought out that side with his hands and ropes.

“I’ve been a warrior long enough that I know what it’s like to both win and lose a battle.” His voice had taken on a hypnotic tone; either that or her hungry body had affected her ability to process. “Fortunately, I’ve never been badly wounded or taken prisoner.”

A life that revolved around opposing others was alien to her, yet when he changed his position so he was closer to her hips, instead of trying to shrink away, she slid toward him a little. His gaze intensifying, he studied her from the top of her head to her legs. She was being touched everywhere, turned on with nothing but a look—that and the hand over her wrists and fingers lightly brushing her belly.

“I’ve taken prisoners and hostages. All tried to hide their fear from me, but their eyes and bodies lied.”

Why was he telling her this?

“What they most hated was being helpless. Without his weapons and strength, a man is nothing. He loses his self-esteem.”

Nakos’s singsong tone hadn’t changed, which maybe was why she barely reacted when he ran his hand down her inner thigh.

“Their fear comes from the same place, that helplessness. Maybe, for a hostage, there is no difference between terror and loathing. Hopefully someday I’ll know, without having to experience it myself.”

She still didn’t understand why he was confiding in her. However, she had no doubt about the reason behind the rough and strong fingers stroking her soft and too-sensitive flesh.

“It’s different for the females we capture.”

A blip of awareness somewhere deep in her befuddled brain hinted that he was finally getting to the point, but he was touching her, sometimes stroking one thigh and then the other while her breath hissed and her legs inched apart.

She wouldn’t lift her pelvis toward him and beg, she wouldn’t!

“They know they have little value as hostages. As females, they’re seen as strong backs and the bearer of babies by their people, but they don’t help insure the safety of their tribe. They don’t hunt.”

“You’re wrong,” she blurted, undone by a thousand lightning strikes going off inside her.

“You don’t agree?” he asked as a finger separated her sex lips.

Him, everywhere. Everything.
Yet, pushed on by the sky above and everything it represented to her, she fought for sanity.

“Why am I wrong?”

“I never said—” she started but couldn’t think how to weave a lie together. “I know what you’re going to say, that you and the other Ekewoko warriors keep the women for yourselves. Turn them into…”

When he didn’t finish what she’d started, she accepted that there was no need because they both understood. Vanquished women became sex slaves. Much as she needed to concentrate on his hand, to anticipate, she couldn’t shake the chilling image of a terrified woman kneeling before him and begging him not to hurt her.

Barely aware of what she was doing, she closed her legs and dug her heels into the ground. He didn’t stop her from scooting away a little, but neither did he remove his hand, compelling her to cradle it between her hot thighs.

“What are you thinking?” His tone, although commanding, was low.

“About all the things I hate about you,” she threw at him. “Treating a woman like an animal—”

“I’ve never done that.”

Recalling everything he’d put her through so far, she nearly laughed. She didn’t, because heat refused to leave her thighs and her pussy pulsed with the need for his touch. He’d somehow suspended her between sanity and madness with maybe only one way of returning to the existence she’d always taken for granted: by having him fuck her.

“However, I’ve seen the change take place,” he told her. “I know the techniques sex slave trainers use.”

“And you reap the rewards once those
trainers
are done.”

His silence told her more than she wanted to know. At the same time, knowing she’d been taken by a man skilled in such things pulled her farther into the dark vortex swirling around her.

“Maybe this”—a nail glided over her clit, tearing a sob from her throat—“is something I understand simply because I’m a man. Maybe I didn’t need to watch a trainer.”

“No.” Who was that weak woman and would she ever find herself again?

“No? Why do you say that, Wilding?”

Words flowed from her mind to be absorbed by the ground and air. Even when she forced herself to stare at him, she couldn’t find her voice. How could she, as long as he kept touching her clit? Mewling like the newborn cougar she’d likened herself to earlier, she arched her neck so she stared upward and not at him. Her fingers dug into her belly, leaving indentations, and his hand defined her world.

Where had gentleness gone? What had happened to the slow glide along her heated tissues? Those she could stay on top of, almost. Those she understood, nearly. But the finger suddenly jammed deep inside her had turned harsh. It prodded and commanded, moving more quickly than she’d thought possible. His breathing become hard and quick. His finger rode her, creating a deep burning sensation that plowed through her.

Every time he buried himself in her up to the base of his finger, fear swept over her, but her sex was swollen and drenched and accommodated him. Through a haze, she realized he was no longer holding her hands in place. Relishing the relative freedom, she scratched her belly and pinched the taut skin over her pelvic bone. Pain dove into her only to collide with the pleasure radiating out from his hand. The sensations swirled, taking her with them.

Caught in the middle, she hissed and sobbed and whipped her head from side to side.

Suddenly she stopped thrashing, her body frozen by something she didn’t comprehend. She fought the untold sensations rampaging through her, determined to hold them back. She was still fighting herself when the pressure against her opening increased. Mesmerized, she closed her fingers around her breast and waited, learned.

Yes, two of his fingers were now inside her. They lay there unmoving and yet full of promise and challenge. This new fullness demanded something from her; she just couldn’t comprehend what it might be. Maybe it was the feeling of being invaded, of not knowing how to expel him, or if she wanted to.

Then, as she’d known he would, he again began moving inside her. Both fingers worked as one, slipping deep and deeper still, pausing, retreating a little only to push on.

“Ahh, ahh,” she heard herself cry. She clamped down on her breast, pinching it. Her head started thrashing again. Even though her temple pulsed, she picked up the pace.

Think about what he’s doing. Prepare. Be ready.

But did she want to anticipate? Maybe it was better and certainly easier to float in the middle of the storm he’d created. Once again he gave no hint of the gentleness he’d demonstrated earlier, and her pussy wept with each thrust. Her tissues gave way, then surrendered even more, flowing around the masterful fingers.

She sensed that he was leaning low over her, his back bent and the hand that was not between her legs braced against the ground. Damp heat slammed into her chest. His face was a blur, his body a dark mass over hers. And he was coming closer, his breath drenching her much as her flooded cunt soaked him.

“What, what?” she managed.

His response came in the form of something warm and wet settling over the breast she didn’t have hold of. She hadn’t yet acknowledged what he was doing when he sucked her mound into his mouth and closed his lips around it. His tongue pressed against her already hard nipple.

“Ahh!”

The fingers skewering her pushed home and held, pressure coming at her and staying, promising and taunting.

Swimming, much as she relished the experience, had never made her feel as weightless as she did now. Flying had been a part of her for as long as she remembered, a wonderful experience, but that, too, had nothing in common with the soaring, burning sensations swamping her.

Twisting under him, she scraped her nails along his forearm. Although he grunted, he didn’t try to shake her off. Still scratching him, she opened her mouth, but instead of saying anything, she licked her lips. Sometimes the wind at Falcon Land blew in tight, violent circles, sucking up dirt and leaves and throwing them into the sky. She was in a cyclone of her own making, hers and this man’s.

Determined to pull him into it with her, she spread her legs wide and bent her knees. A potent scent assaulted her.

Pushing her breast out of his mouth, he sucked in a breath, then grunted. “You smell of sex, of wanting.”

“You—made me.”

“I couldn’t force something you didn’t want on you.”

Although she wasn’t sure about that, at the moment it didn’t matter. Her legs continued to gape. Watching him pull in another breath reminded her to do the same. She was beyond modesty, beyond fear, ready to plunge.