Feral (13 page)
Authors: Sheri Whitefeather
He put the remote on the nightstand and propped the pillows on the bed. “Should I make some popcorn?”
Was he kidding? She couldn’t be sure. Just in case he was serious, she said, “I’m still full from dinner.”
“You’re probably still full from what I gave you, too. Cripes, that was amazing.” He got in bed and patted the space next to him. “And now we can see it in high definition.”
She crawled in beside him, and he hit the Play button. The video started with Jenny lifting the rose from her bodice and awkwardly removing her gown.
“You look beautiful up there,” Noah said. He glanced over. “You still do.”
She scooted closer to him, and he reached for her hand and held it. They were actually cuddling in bed. Granted, there was a sex tape involved, but it was still a cozy way to be.
The video continued: Noah examining her corset while he talked about his first blow job. Then, all too soon, the marriage discussion arose, and on the screen, Jenny and Noah were gazing at each other with emotion in their eyes.
“This is the boring part,” he said.
It was far from boring, but she withheld her opinion. If she expressed how romantic she thought it was, she feared it would shatter their current closeness. He was still holding her hand.
They kept watching, and when they kissed in the video, she nearly sighed. They made an engaging couple: an inexperienced blonde in old-fashioned underwear and a passionate beast.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said.
There they were, as big as life, Jenny on her knees, and Noah pulling his cock out of his pants.
Oh, goodness. She got concerned. “This better not show up on the Internet.”
“I’d never put it out there.”
“But someone else might. What if your camera gets lost or stolen? Or a curious cleaning lady comes across the CD in your apartment?” She wouldn’t put it past a groupie, either, but she didn’t want to mention him bringing other women home.
“Don’t worry. I’ll erase it from my camera and destroy the disc after we’re done watching it.” He angled his head. “Damn, look how sweet you are, stroking me with your hands.”
Because she couldn’t quite shake the other women from her mind, she dared to ask, “Was I better than the whore?”
“God, yes. You were better than anyone.”
Her pussy reacted to his praise, all aflutter beneath the girly petticoat.
He lifted their joined hands and motioned to the TV. “Check you out. Kissing my balls and nuzzling my dick like a little kitten. Damn, this is turning me on. Ah, there. You went for it. My cock between your lips. This is so hot.”
Burning hot.
The memory pulsed like fire. In the video, Noah was destroying her coiffure.
He continued to comment. “I love how your hair was tumbling around your face. It felt so soft and silky between my fingers, so tangled and pretty.”
It remained just as messy. She hadn’t tried to smooth it, nor did she intend to. Would he tug on it later? Would that be part of the bondage?
On camera, Jenny’s eyes were closed, and in real time, her blood hummed, streaming through her veins. “This is making me crazy.”
“How crazy?”
“I want you to tie me up and fuck me.”
“Not yet.”
“Then I want to touch myself. I want to lift my petticoat and stroke my clit.”
“That’s naughty, sweet girl. But you need to behave. I want you focused until the end. I want you to see how sexy it was when you swallowed all that milky-white come.”
She squeezed her thighs together. Not fair. He was talking dirty while her other self was gripping the base of his shaft and sucking deep.
“What did it feel like to have my cock in your mouth?” he asked.
She relived the sensation. “It was warm and hard and heavy, and when I glided my tongue over it, I felt every ridge and flare.”
He turned the volume up, intensifying the oral sounds: the wetness of her mouth, the friction of his skin.
The visual seemed to heighten, too: the bobbing of her head, the rocking motion of his hips.
It was all there, in living, blasting color.
“It’s about to happen,” he said. “This is where you open your eyes, and I spill into you. Watch, Jenny, watch.”
She was, and it was driving her mad.
A second later, TV Noah growled, and TV Jenny tossed back her head and drank from him.
The final frame went dark. He shut it off, and silence engulfed the room. Searing with need, she waited.
Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .
She glanced at his fly. It bulged at the seams.
Cock . . . cock . . . cock . . .
He walked over to the closet and came back with four pieces of silky rope. It was rougher than the flowing ties she’d expected, but still soft enough not to chafe her delicate skin.
Or so she assumed.
“Spread eagle,” he told her. “Then draw your knees up and plant your feet flat on the mattress.”
She got into the required position, and since her underwear remained in place, it created a twisted sense of modesty. Her legs were open, but she wasn’t exposed.
He secured her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. The rope didn’t hurt, but the knots were expertly bound, and she realized that he could do whatever he wanted, and she was helpless to stop him. But the biggest danger was how desperately she thrived on the fear.
He crawled into bed and bared his claws. Jenny actually gulped. “What are you going to do with those?”
“Just hold still. Very, very still.”
She didn’t move a muscle, not even an involuntary twitch.
Using one pointed tip like a knife, he sliced the ties on the front of her corset. The stiff fabric parted, slowly, like cracked armor, and her breasts popped out. The air in her lungs rushed out, too.
“There,” he said. “The start of Beauty’s unveiling.”
She tried to imagine how she looked, strapped to a castle bed, with her corset deliberately ruined, but she couldn’t quite fathom it.
“Do you want to see yourself?” he asked, as if he’d caught wind of her curiosity. “I can show you.” He gestured to the other side of the room, making her aware of a tall mirror encased in a wood frame.
The freestanding unit was on casters. As he rolled it over to the foot of the bed, it bumped across the polished stone floor.
“It’s called a cheval mirror,” he told her. “This one is from the same era as our fairy tale.” He angled it so her reflection encompassed the glass. “What do you think?”
She didn’t know what to say. Between her blow-job-swollen lips, disheveled hair, bared breasts, and bondage restraints, she looked like an eighteenth-century sacrifice. It was only a matter of time before he lifted her petticoat and had his way with her.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asked.
A trickle of moisture escaped from between her thighs. His little joke enhanced the thrill.
She replied, “He isn’t a cat. He’s a shapeshifter.”
Noah sat beside her on the bed, putting his half-feline reflection in the mirror. He looked poised and polished, but hungry and invasive, too. “So he is.”
He climbed on top of her, and the weight of male muscle taunted her senses. If she’d had use of her arms, she would’ve flung them around his neck.
He lowered his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth, grazing the pink bud with his teeth before clamping his lips around it. He shifted to the other breast, repeating the rough foreplay and alternating back and forth.
She moaned, and he purred his enjoyment, the erotic rumble vibrating between their bodies. Fanning his hands on either side of her, he attacked the quilt with his claws, and the harder he sucked, the deeper the cuts got.
“They’re going to make you pay to replace that,” she said.
He lifted his head. “Are you scolding me?”
“No, I was just—”
“Trying to hurry me along?”
She nodded. The ache in her nipples was zinging straight to her pussy. “I want you to fuck me, like you promised.”
He flashed his signature smile, lethal and sharp. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
No doubt about that. He descended on her breasts again and the ache was almost too much to bear. Pleasure mingled with pain. The pull of his mouth got stronger and stronger.
He resumed his assault on the bed, and by the time he stopped, her nipples were red and raw, and the mattress itself had been used like a scratching post.
Dazed, she kept quiet, especially since he was reaching for her petticoat. Finally, he was going to lift it. Finally—
Riiiip.
He clawed the ruffled hem and pulled it apart with his hands, shredding the lace and tearing the garment in two. Jenny lay there, bound to a slashed-up bed, with her undergarments tattered and her heart racing. Completing the job, he tugged the corset and shorn petticoat out from under her and discarded them onto the floor.
“Do you still want me to fuck you?” he asked.
She nodded shakily, anxious for him to remove the remainder of his clothes and thrust into her. But he chose another form of wicked fun.
He untied her right hand and said, “Get yourself ready for me. Do it in front of the mirror.” He sat beside her once more. “So we both can watch.”
Her cheeks went hot. She’d wanted to stroke her clit earlier, but she hadn’t envisioned anything quite like this. “I’m already ready.” Surely he saw that she was glistening in her own juices.
“Do it anyway.”
Jenny gazed at the sexually haunted woman in the glass. She moved her hand down, pressing her fingers against her clit.
“That’s right,” he said. “Rub it nice and slow.”
She followed his command. She lifted her hips and tightened her rear, too, since that was how she normally pleasured herself in bed, but it was a dizzying sensation with her legs tied open.
“Now put your fingers inside and show me how sticky you are.”
A knot of desire pulsed at her navel. She went deep into the walls of her vagina and produced the moisture.
He played yet another game. “Smear it on your lips and lick it off.”
She tasted her own juice, and the tangy flavor burst on her tongue.
His eyes darkened and his nostrils flared. “I want some,” he ground out, before he put his face between her legs and made her
seriously
wet.
seriously
wet.
Mouth-to-pussy wet. Man-tormenting-woman wet.
Jenny moaned, and he retracted his claws and spread her inner folds with greedy fingers, opening her all the way.
She looked in the mirror and tunneled her free hand through his hair, releasing the ponytail at his nape. The tawny-streaked strands shimmered in the antique glass, as bright as lunar-kissed gold.
At that magical moment, he seemed like a cursed prince, and she seemed like the maiden who was destined to save him.
His voice winged across her skin. “What letter of the alphabet do you think this is?” He made a motion with his tongue, writing something on her labia.
“I don’t know.” All she knew was how amazing it felt.
He licked out another letter, then another. He stopped after the fourth one. “Still can’t tell?”
“I can’t concentrate.” Her mind was seductively jumbled.
“It was my name.”
He repeated the process, and now that she knew what it was, she recognized every sizzling stroke: N-O-A-H.
She said, “I’m going to keep the rose you gave me.”
“Keep it where?”
“Pressed between the pages of a book.” Wasn’t that what smitten girls did with special flowers?
He put a different spin on it. “I should buy you a dirty book to use.”
“Whatever you want.” She pitched her pelvis toward him, trying to get closer. He was swirling her clit, around and around. “Do your name there.”
“Like this?”
“Yes.” Just like that. Beast almighty. The next time she put her mouth on him, she was going to spell out her name, too, letter by wet letter, all the way across his big, hard cock.
“Again?” he asked.
She gasped out an unintelligible response. An orgasm bubbled beneath his touch, lifting her higher and higher.
Closing her fingers, she pulled on his hair. She’d imagined him tugging on hers as part of the bondage, but she was doing it to him.
She watched in the mirror, and with his mouth fused to her cunt, she let herself go. The climax hit in undulating waves, her ass taut, her back bowed.
No time to recover. Blocking the cheval, he sat up and stripped off his clothes, filling her vision with his fully erect penis.
He pounced, slamming between her legs and thrusting all the way inside. She tried to dig her nails into his back, but he grabbed her wrist and retied it to the bedpost.
No free hand. No freedom at all. He was the king of the castle, and she was his prisoner. The thrill of danger returned, pulsing deep and fierce within her core. The joining of aroused flesh created a slapping sound. The rise and fall of his chest crushed her breasts, renewing the ache in her sucked-sore nipples.
Boom. Boom
.
Boom
.
.
Boom
.
Her heart drummed against his, and she panicked about falling in love with him. That it was truly happening.
Now? Like this? The bonds grew tighter as he moved. Fighting her feelings for him, she squeezed her eyes shut.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
She opened her eyes, and his primal gaze burned straight into hers. In the next instant, he captured her mouth, and while their tongues sparred, he increased the pace.
A brutal rhythm with an immortal man.
A supernatural being.
The voracious kiss ended, but the feral fucking continued.
Her pussy swelled and contracted, every nerve ending welcoming the hard, thick length of his cock. She thrashed, caught in a fireball of pleasure, wanting it to stop, wanting it to last a lifetime. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead, dampening her hairline. He was sweating, too, his skin clammy.
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