The Nightwind's Woman (12 page)

“Think what you’d like to do to me,” she
said.

He knew what he’d like to do. He’d like to
wrap his hands around her throat and squeeze until her eyes popped out.

She laughed and her fingers became a brutal
clamp around his flesh.

“Squeeze like this?” she taunted.

Her hold was painful and it became more so
as she tightened it then twisted slightly.

He groaned. She was hurting him—intentionally
so—yet he could do nothing about it. He couldn’t move so he couldn’t buck her
off him. He was at the mercy of her hard, cruel clinch.

But just as quickly as the punishing pain
came, it went as she relaxed her grip and gently stroked him.

“Be careful of your thoughts, Kerrey,” she
warned. “Be very careful of your thoughts.”

She got to her knees, hooked her hands in
the waistband of his jeans.

“Lift that sweet little ass, pretty boy,”
she commanded.

He couldn’t resist her order. His hips
hiked up as though attached to marionette strings and as she began to tug the
jeans down his hips, he growled.

She laughed at the warning and continued to
work the garment down his legs, walking on her knees to the foot of the bed
until she could draw them from his feet.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she
said and her gaze on his cock was almost a living thing. He could feel it all
the way through his balls—tight and aching as they’d never been before.

Wedging her knees between his ankles, she
nudged his legs apart, bent over him with her palms flat on the mattress to
either side of his body then moved up between his legs until she was lodged
close to his groin. She hovered over him like the predator he believed her to
be with her full breasts hanging enticingly above him.

“You want to taste them, don’t you?” she
asked.

The words came out of him in a strange
voice he didn’t recognize as his own.

“Aye,” he said and the agreement sent a
shaft of shame down his throat.

“You want to lick my nipples.”

Again that strange, disembodied voice spoke
for him.

“Aye.”

“Nibble them. Bite them. Suck them deep
inside that sweet mouth.”

Ripples of desire flooded his lower body
and his cock jutted toward her, so thick and full it grazed her belly as she
hung suspended over him. He could feel a bead of pre-cum oozing onto her flesh.

“Let me show you what I want to do, pretty
boy.”

The words made him shiver and when she
lowered her body to his, slid her chest down his, he gasped for his cock was
pinned between them and the friction of her skin rubbing against his as she
slithered down him was exquisite torture.

But it was where she stopped on her
downward drag that sent his senses into overload.

“I want wood,” she whispered. “I love the taste
of good hard wood!”

Her face was directly above his crotch when
she took him in hand then wrapped her lips around the head of his throbbing
cock.

Gods how he wished he could speak now! He
thought as her mouth enclosed him but she wouldn’t permit that. She was drawing
on his flesh, licking him, running the tip of her tongue along the slit and he could
do no more than gasp in air. Lying imprisoned by whatever force she had cast
around him, he could not move yet he ached to. He wanted to thrust his hips up,
push his cock deeper into her mouth. He wanted to grind his ass against the
mattress, dig his heels into it to lever it from the bed. None of that was allowed
and the immobility was a torment he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy.

Her lips swirled over the head of his cock.
She poked her tongue repeatedly into the crease as she kept a tight fist just
under the glans. At the moment she placed her other hand under his balls and
started to massage him, his heart missed a beat.

Over and over again she took him just to
the brink of release then stopped. Each time he would groan with growing
frustration but then she’d started again. Held immobile, unable to prevent her
from tormenting him so cruelly, he had no choice but to endure her
ministrations until tears were rolling down either temple.

She withdrew his aching flesh from her lips
and held him still. Cocking her head to one side, she watched him for a moment.

“I know you’ve masturbated many, many
times, Kerreyder, but you’ve never fucked or been fucked so you have no idea
just how intense a true orgasm can be. Release?” She shrugged. “Aye, you’ve
experienced that but not inside the body of a woman whose cunt will milk you
even as you spurt.”

Her words sent shivers of pure lust along
his spine and into his cock. He was desperate for relief—painfully so—and would
have sobbed had he been able to. Frustration was turning him inside out and
need was building to the breaking point.

“Do you think you’re ready?” she asked. An
eyebrow quirked. “Ready to take control?”

He knew the moment she released the control
over his voice for his throat felt as though a blockage had been removed.

“Unpin me and I’ll fucking show you!” he hissed.

And then the restraint on his body was gone.
He didn’t think. He slammed his hands to her hips, dug his fingers into the
soft, pliable flesh and flipped her to her back, throwing a leg over her as he
rolled. Grabbing his cock, he probed at her opening several times only because
he was in such a hurry to cram himself into her. He wanted to hurt her, to
thrust so deep she would scream.

But the moment he entered her, she lifted
her legs, locked them around his hips and crossed her ankles to hold him in
place. Her ass came off the bed and she impaled herself deeper onto his
thrusting cock. He shoved his hands under her and flexed his fingers into her
the flesh of her ass.

And then went ballistic with lust, driving
into her so brutally, so savagely the bed beneath them trembled. The massive
headboard thudded loudly against the wall with each snap of his hips. His
entire consciousness was centered in his cock and the itch that was flooding
it, tightening his balls, making him ache and throb and…

Need
!

Her legs were cutting into him, keeping him
from taking a decent breath. Her heel was rubbing against the crack of his ass
with every push of his hips.

Grunting like a wild animal, he rammed into
her as hard and viciously as he could but she seemed to enjoy it. Her arms
wrapped around his arms. She sank her teeth into his shoulder. He felt a
trickle of blood ease down his chest but that only spurred him harder. His
thrusts became more powerful, quicker, slamming into her with wild abandon
until the itch began in his balls and spread like a wildfire down his cock.

The orgasm shook him to the core as it burst
from him. The slickness of her cunt, the tightness of it fluttering around him
as she squeezed him with her inner muscles made the release so powerful he
thought his head—or at the very least his heart—would burst from the force. It
went on and on as she milked him—just as she’d told him she would—until the
very last shudder was taken from him and he stilled. He trembled violently,
threw his head back and made a loud hissing noise that disturbed him. It was
the sound a valve made just before the machinery blew asunder.

He collapsed atop her like a rock with his
head and heart pounding, his fevered blood racing cruelly through his veins,
his breathing a labored gasp as he strove to drag air into his depleted lungs. Sweat
covered him from head to toe and both calves were cramping for he had the soles
of his feet plastered tightly to the high footboard. His shoulder throbbed
where she had bitten him.

Her legs were still secured around his
waist, her hands roaming over his sweaty back. She was speaking to him in the
old language—the language that his mother spoke when she cast her spells. The
words wound their way into his ear and traveled along the neural pathways of
his brain and he knew she was sowing seeds there but he was too drained, too
shattered to care what magic she was weaving around him.

“I want you again,” he said, not surprised
by his words. He was fairly sure she’d planted the notion in his mind.

“You will always want me, pretty boy,” she
whispered in his ear.

“No I won’t,” he snapped.

“You will,” she said. “I was your first and
you will always remember me.” Her fingernails played across his shoulders. “You
may not like me but you will crave me like a starving man yearns for a banquet.”

“No,” he said as emphatically as he could
but he knew he was lying. He would want her despite hating her with every fiber
of his being. He would take her against his will. He would let her use him for
whatever evil lust she had in mind for he was beginning to discern something
strange, exotic and mayhap shameful she wanted to do to his body. The magic she’d
whispered in his ear had taken root.

She hadn’t raped him. That was true. She
had seduced him—mayhap forcefully so—but it had not been rape. He almost wished
that she had raped him for then he could say he’d had no part in the outcome
that had followed. But it had been he who had torn into her with such gleeful
wicked intent and he was sure he had hurt her although she certainly hadn’t
seemed to mind. There was no doubt in his mind he would hurt her again and she’d
enjoy that just as much.

And she was right about something else.

His cock was raw but he didn’t care as he
moved off her, jerked her up and flung her to her belly, snagging an arm under
her waist to hike her ass from the bed and jacked her to his hips. When he
entered her this time, he did so with teeth clenched and eyes narrowed.

This time it was his teeth in her shoulder
as he held her still for his thrusts.

* * * * *

For over a week he slept in her
bed—although if truth was told neither of them did much sleeping. He fucked her
on every surface that would hold them and some that hadn’t. Two tables and a
dainty divan had broken under the weight of their frenzied lust. He’d taken her
in the garden and in the solarium. He’d taken her on the front lawn in full
view of her servants—every one of them male—and in nearly every room of the
palace. He had ridden her hard in the stable. Both of them had bruises and more
than a few abrasions. Teeth marks riddled his shoulders and arms and even his
thighs. The bitch was a biter but he didn’t particularly care.

He did care and got fiercely mad each time
she slapped him for she had a heavy hand and seemed to take great delight in
leaving her livid palm print on his cheek. He retaliated by pulling her hair,
wrapping it around his wrist and yanking her head back almost to the point of
snapping her neck. She didn’t care. She liked his rough manhandling. Thrived on
it.

Each time he took her he could feel the
power within him growing. It had been released—along with his cum—that first
night and had continued to grow exponentially with every time he rammed into
her hot cunt.

She taught him how to use those powers just
as she taught him how to use a woman, how to pleasure one and how to keep one
so besotted with him he could do no wrong in the bitch’s eyes. He was anxious
to put her teachings to use for he was more than ready to conquer the female
population beyond the scope of Tine.

And he was growing tired of her.

Of her scent. Of her body. Of her clinging
arms that held him prisoner long after the glow of the sexual encounter had
faded. Of her voice. Of her looks.

Of everything about her.

He was ready for the next woman.

And the next.

And the one after that.

Over six million years—and tens of
thousands of times of finding himself locked in Naamah’s imprisoning arms—later,
he was ready for his Blood-mate to arrive for he had begun to tire of sex. He
no longer found it enjoyable or entertaining. It did not keep the loneliness or
the depression away. He could do without pouring himself into a female’s body
but he was finding it harder than hell to keep the despair at bay.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“And now here you are,” he said to the
sleeping woman on the bed.

He closed his eyes, willed her to wake, and
when she opened them, her beautiful green gaze met his. He rose from the chair
and went to the bed. Unhurriedly he sat down beside her on the mattress and gently
reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“How are you feeling?”

“What did you do?” she whispered, searching
his eyes.

He smiled.

“I healed you, dearling.”

“My heart?” she asked. “You healed my
heart?”

“Listen,” he said.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion,
then as the faint sound of her heartbeat grew loud enough for her to hear, her
face relaxed and her lips parted.

“You put my heart back in rhythm,” she
said, her voice filled with awe.

“And it will stay thus,” he said. He could
not stop himself from reaching for her hand, taking it between his. “I will
always take care of you, McKenzi.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed
the underside of her wrist.

She was watching him intently—her gaze
never straying from his face. He willed all fear of him, all unease to leave
her. He didn’t replace it with anything else just simply took away her anxiety
at his nearness.

“Wh-what time is it?” she asked.

“Close to ten of the clock,” he answered. “At
midnight, your world will change entirely.”

Disquiet flashed through her eyes. “How?”
she asked. “How will it change?”

“You and I will Join,” he said.

Her gaze faltered, jerked to the left then
came back to his. “What does that mean?”

He leisurely, tenderly stroked her hand. “You
will become my bride.”

Her eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

“You are my Blood-mate, McKenzi,” he said softly.
“We were destined to be husband and wife. I will love and honor you, see to
your protection and render unto you the blessing of forever time.”