Gargoyle's Mate (11 page)

Chapter Eight

The blonde held back the gag threatening to wrack her body when the smelly green creature finally spilled his seed into her mouth, after what seemed like hours of fellatio. She looked forward to the day when she could be permanently done with the horny being, but it couldn’t happen until he agreed to the last part of her terms.

“You are great,” his gruff voice croaked out.

“Thanks,” she muttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Normally she loved giving head to a man, needed it as a source of sustenance, but this was no man, and the slimy fluid he’d ejected in her mouth made her stomach turn.

He could
at least disguise
his grotesque form
, she thought, taking in his green wart covered skin. Most gremlins preferred taking the more agreeable human persona. Fer, however, called himself a traditionalist.

Traditional
, my ass
, she couldn’t help but think. He just uses the term as an excuse to be utterly disgusting.

As if to punctuate her thoughts a loud gaseous sound emitted from the portly life walker, producing an odor which made her want to hold her breath indefinitely. He didn’t even have the decency to excuse himself.

“So we have an agreement,” the blonde said, scrambling to her feet to put distance between her and the combination of dreadful smells emanating from him.

“Of course.” His lascivious smile displayed a mouth of yellowed, fang-like teeth. The woman averted her eyes, unable to look at the many gaps where some of the stained daggers were missing.

She wanted to beam over his agreement, but thought better of it. If he knew just how much his favor meant to her there would surely be additions to his laundry list of sexual demands.

“Good. I’ll meet you tomorrow evening at our scheduled time to give you all the information.” She was glad she had the foresight to choose a public location for their next meeting. At least then he would be forced to take a more pleasing form and maybe keep his beefy hands to himself.

The blonde picked up her clothing, ecstatic in the knowledge her plan had come together so easily, almost as it had over six hundred years ago with the Fledgling suicides. She grinned in remembrance of how easily she’d lodged the seed of hatred in the human/Fledgling communities, turning a once peaceful co-existence into one of disdain and fear. Her ‘accidental’ meeting with Krail’s mate was truly inspired. She’d watched the fair-haired beauty for many months, loathing her aristocratic appearance, the childlike innocence with which she accepted people. How could Krail have loved such a pathetic creature when he could have had her instead? True, there was the pesky thing about needing Fledglings to ensure longevity and to produce heirs, but it was no reason to end a two-hundred-year relationship over.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Fer wheezed, bringing her back to present with a hard jolt.

“I have things I must attend to elsewhere,” she said in her normally breezy tone which fooled many about her true nature.

“Well, I think you’d just better clear your calendar because the only plans you have for the next few hours involve me and Goliath here.” He laughed, cupping himself. His ample belly jiggled in response.

She almost chuckled at the misnomer. There was nothing Goliath about the shriveled piece of flesh that usually hid under the folds of his skin. The laughter died within her swiftly when he began to stroke the pathetic pulp.

“Come and give Fer some of what you do best, my little succubus.”

***

She’d bide her time, waiting for the right moment to strike. Krail had mated with the Fledgling, mating and breeding two children from her, which left him free of concern over a shortened lifespan. He didn’t need the woman any longer; she’d told him as much – pleaded, in fact – hating herself for begging him to come back to her. Would he listen? She grimaced as she recalled his total rejection. It was then she realized the only way to remove the hold the Fledgling woman had over him would be to get rid of her altogether. She knew Krail’s suspicion would immediately turn to her if his mate met with a mysterious end. No, she needed to dispose of her in some other fashion.

She’d secretly attended the annual mate choosing ceremonies, an event highly awaited and visited by various human communities and Protectors alike. It was at such ceremonies when of age Fledglings would choose their life mates from the eligible group of Protectors. No matter the nation, no two ceremonies were held on the same day, allowing Protectors to travel to each event in the hopes of being selected. Fledglings were said to know their mates by the special mark they bore. When they were in the presence of their intended it would throb fiercely. Because so many gargoyles came to the ceremonies Fledglings would take their time meeting each Protector until the right one was found, some would give a simple kiss for certainty.

“I do not care how handsome they are, I would not willingly bed one of those creatures,” a woman next to the succubus said.

The blonde shrugged in her cloak. The peasant woman had no idea what she was missing out on. Her loss.

“Every year all are in such excitement over this affair. I do not see why. The families are selling their own offspring to monsters to beget more monsters,” the woman continued, an exaggerated shiver running through her body.

She was jealous. The succubus could tell as much without her empathic abilities. She gave the woman a brief once over. Although pretty enough she would never be the kind to catch a Protector’s eye, even if she cleaned up.

Her waifish features were only accentuated by a dress in desperate need of a seamstress. Alabaster skin lacked the luster and shine of her own, and the hair – the dull brown reminded her of an alley rat. Its limp, tangled tresses looked as if they hadn’t seen a brush in the better part of a month.

“Apparently most do not agree with you.” The blonde indicated the group of women being escorted into the hall, each dressed in fine silks. The succubus grudgingly noted the cheers of the many onlookers.

“You are wrong my Lady, there are many who do not want to give their daughters to these - these men,” she whispered as an afterthought as if remembering the Protectors’ extraordinary hearing.

“So you say,” the blonde replied, cognizant of their abilities as well, but certain none of the gargoyles were bothering to listen to the crowd, not when their potential future mates paraded in front of them in their seductively beautiful out fits. She had let the woman disappear into the crowd but knew she could find her later when the festivities waned. She might serve a useful purpose.

From the corner of her eye she spotted Krail and his wife Laurel as they watched their two sons with hope-filled eyes. The two joined the other unmated Protectors while the procession of women stopped in front of each. Most women shyly kissed the gargoyles on the lips with a gentle peck while a few were bolder in their actions, pressing painted lips firmly against the men until they gave in to open-mouth kiss.

The blonde wasn’t interested in the antics of Fledglings, couldn’t care less about the stiff cocks evident in some of the men. She only had eyes for Krail, remembering how he’d once pressed demanding kisses against her lips. She liked it rough and boy, did he give it to her, often times leaving bruises that took a while to heal in spite of her advanced cellular regeneration.

Krail’s wife stood on tiptoes while she leaned in to whisper something to make him smile. He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. The succubus’ blood boiled at the sweet gesture, just another reminder as long as Laurel lived there would never be a place in Krail’s heart for her.

***

If anyone had told her a month ago she would be staying in a French castle with a handsome, wealthy, bachelor, Fatima would have said they were crazy. And if they’d said she’d be the man’s lover, well, she would surely be able to get them committed.

Four weeks had passed since her arrival at his estate, weeks of constant affection and mind-blowing orgasms. Just when she thought she’d learned all there was about sexual play Lorn surprised her with something new and more mind blowing than she’d last experienced. He’d become particularly fond of late night swims which ended in her shouting his name into the air, not caring who heard. They spent fewer hours in the labs and more in their bedroom which, when she could think straight, bothered Fatima a little. At this rate when the year ended there wouldn’t be much research to show for it.

It was another non-work day and she opted for yellow cotton capri pants and a tee sporting the words ‘Nerds do it Smarter’.

“Is this comfortable enough?” she asked after finding Lorn waiting for her in the foyer.

“Perfect,” he commented.

His gaze perused her shapely form heatedly and she blushed. Lately all it took was a look from him to get her juices flowing. She felt like an insatiable sex kitten. Had he done something to turn her into a nympho for his touch, she wondered. Did they make a drug capable of doing that? She dismissed the thought immediately; if such a thing were available every married man in the Western world would have a supply on hand.

“So are you ready to tell me where we’re going yet?” she questioned.

“And ruin the surprise?” He shook his head, taking her smaller hand in his own and leading her to the waiting car.

“You know you’re evil to put me through this sort of suspense,” she said an hour into their car ride to the city of Lyon. From there they would take Lorn’s private jet to Paris – which was all he revealed to her.

“I’ve been called worse.”

“I’m sure I can come up with my own choice names,” She pretended to think. “Like meany…or-”

“Lover,” he supplied. “Perhaps pleasure giver.”

“Ha! And risk giving you a bigger head than the one you already have? I think not.”

“What? I’m only speaking the truth. My mother was famous for telling my brother and I the truth could set us free.”

“Sounds like a very motherly thing to say. Do you think she’s right?”

She knew Lorn’s reference to his mother was not meant as an invite to discuss his past. However, if she wanted to learn more about him she’d have to take opportunities as they arose. In their time together he’d learned everything imaginable about her. At his insistence she’d shared all about herself and family, but still was no closer to unraveling him.

“You never talk about your mother. Tell me about her.”

For a moment he contemplated refusing. It was a chapter in not only his life, but Protector history most would rather omit. All knew they suffered because of his mother’s treachery.

“She was beautiful,” he began. He paused at the recollection before continuing. “When I was a small child, not more than three or four, she would sit me on her lap while singing. I can’t remember the words to any particular song because she was always singing in those days. I remember staring at her while she sang, thinking how pretty she looked. She had the fairest blonde hair and wore it loose most times. It was so long it touched her waist, and I used to love twirling my fingers in it.”

“She sounds lovely. Where is she now?”

He couldn’t keep the chill from his next words. “She died many years ago.”

“I’m sorry,”

He heard the grief in her voice. No doubt she related his loss to her own.

“Don’t be, she did it to herself,” he stated flatly.

***

By the time they arrived at the small airport for the forty-minute flight to Paris, Lorn had returned to some semblance of the attentive lover he’d become over the course of the weeks they’d known each other. When they were finally allowed privacy on the mid-sized jet his special treatment turned to full-fledged pawing. She swatted at his hands several times when he attempted to touch her more intimately than publicly appropriate. There was no stopping his brazenness as he knelt between her parted thighs, spreading them wide to encompass his girth.

“Someone could come out,” she protested, shooting cautious glances at the cockpit door.

“Not if they want to keep their jobs and their heads,’ he replied nonchalantly while raising the hem of her shirt, pushing the material over her bra-clad breasts. “You don’t need to wear this. Your breasts are perfect.”

“You’re just saying that so you can have your wicked way with me.” She gave in easily, there was no point in resisting. The front clasp of the flimsy garment released instantly under Lorn’s capable fingers. He let the offending material drop to her sides.

“Is it working?”

“What do you think?” She moaned when he sucked one nipple into his mouth until she arched into him. She cradled the back of his head and gave in to the throbbing slowly building between her legs. “I want you so bad.”

“Are you wet for me,
ma cherie
?” he asked around a nipple.

“Yes.”

“Good, because I’ve wanted to be in you since we left home.” He drew her up on unsteady legs as he spoke, sliding capris and panties off in one swoop. He quickly stepped out of his own pants before taking a seat in her abandoned chair.

“Come here,” he commanded quickly, with hands on either side of her waist pulling her over him.

“Sit on my lap.” He guided her into place, keeping her back to his chest. “Open wider,” he instructed, easing her over his swollen cock. At the first press of him into her core electricity shot through her body. There was no gentleness, just complete domination. He slammed into her.

“I have you, baby. Ride me,” he ordered, fucking her over him in long strokes until they were both panting. His hands held onto her hips as if securing her to him.

His thrusts became more frantic, hands easily spanning her trim waist. Her wet channel felt like heaven sliding tightly up and down his pulsating shaft. She ground down on him, allowing deeper penetration. Her breasts bounced steadily with their increased movements. Lorn reached around and between her thighs to stroke her aroused clit, strumming the nubbin with firm circular motions. The added manipulation had her crooning until her cries filled the cabin.

“I’m coming…Lorn!” she chanted, as her body contracted around his thrusting cock, igniting his own climax. He shot up into her over and over, his load exploding inside her in a thick rush. He gathered her to him tightly, burying his face in her neck.

“Dear god,” were her first coherent words.

“My sentiments exactly.” He held her in place while his body went through several spastic shudders. He nibbled on her shoulder gently.

“You know what this means?”

“What?” She cleared her throat, barely able to think.

“You are now an official member of the mile high club.”