Dominic (9 page)

had left her to be mated in solitude by a fel ow warrior—a virtual stranger to her—until sunrise.

She heard a dragging sound. Dominic had hooked the tip of his boot under the footstool and yanked it closer to where they stood at the foot of

Carlo’s bed. As he moved, his groin was briefly reflected in the mirror, and she saw his second shaft—a vestige of his ancient Satyr heritage—which had

erupted from his pelvis, just above the original cock that speared from his thatch. Both were corpulent and painted a feverish red, with networks of

gnarled, dilated veins rooted along lengths that were crowned with shiny-smooth mushroom caps.

Fresh panic sizzled through her. At the first sign of Moonful, Carlo’s body had always changed in this way, too. Before.

But he hadn’t been this robust in size.

A furred leg intruded between her thighs. Lifting her left knee with his, Dominic swung it wide, planting his booted foot on the low stool to his left.

Her thigh rode atop his now, her bare foot dangling alongside his outer calf.

In the mirror, she watched his hand round the side of her bel y to thread lower through her nest of curls. Forking his two longest fingers, he parted

and pul ed back plump, flushed, fleshy outer lips to reveal ruffled inner lips of a much darker rose color. With the fingers of one hand he stretched the outer

lips wide, causing her inner petals to bloom until cool air found her core.

She’d never seen herself like this, yet she could not look away. It was obscene. Shocking. Titil ating. Carlo had left her wet, florid, and gaping.

Ready for the use of this man.

She glanced up to the mirror, saw he was staring at her there, his face raw and hungry. She grabbed his arm convulsively with both hands. Not in

an attempt to stop what he would do, but rather from a need to feel that she exerted some measure of control over it.

“Not yet,” she whispered. “You must find someone to go after Carlo. In his drunkenness, he might wander too far. It’s imperative that he be here

with us, especial y toward the end of things.”

But Dominic only dipped slightly, sending his larger, lower cock pushing between her legs from behind to plow its length along her furrow. There

was no indication he’d even heard. Perhaps he hadn’t. During the Cal ing, Satyr men sought fornication with an unswerving single-minded concentration.

The beast within him had taken over. The Human in him was for the moment beyond reach. And she was alone with him, bound to him. At his mercy until

morning.

Emma sucked in a quick, suspended breath when his smooth crown paused, finding the opening it sought. His damp fingers caught the fat knob,

quickly basted it in her juices, and then impel ed its slippery smoothness inward.

She watched her inner lips part for it, bestowing upon it a smal , moist kiss that was summarily stretched into a gasping, stunned, perfect
O
. As he

worked himself into her, the fleshy part of his hand at the base of his thumb rubbed at the knot of her sex, making it swel and throb. She began to feel faint

and realized she’d forgotten to breathe.

Without ceasing this work, his left hand came at her back, leading his other cock along the crease between the plush rounds of her bottom to find

the puckered star of her anus. Though he’d oiled her wel in preparation for this, his size was shocking, and a harsh puff of air left her at the quick bite of

his piercing.

Both of her entrances were dilated uncomfortably wide as they swal owed his crowns—the greatest of his girths. And then her openings were

closing around him to hug his plinths. She was given little time to adjust, for without pause, his iron lengths tunneled smoothly onward, opening her throats

like clenched, erotic fists gloved in sleek satin.

Emma bumped the back of her arm against the male ribs behind her. “Wait,” she said as she began to fear he might not fit inside her. “I’m not

sure…. You’re so…”

Dominic only grunted in response, a rough, lecherous, male sound. The musk of heated pheromones fil ed her nostrils as his corpulent, avid cocks

plumbed her in a series of ever-deeper lunges and retreats.

She clutched the bedpost, a maelstrom of pleasure and worry hammering at her ribs as the invasive ful ness increased dramatical y with each flex

of his hips. Reaching for calm, she consoled herself with the knowledge that it was impossible for this joining to harm her. The Satyr possessed the ability

to cause any female body to conform to their dual dimensions during copulation. Jane had explained this fact to her upon her engagement to Carlo, and

her wedding night with him had confirmed the truth of it.

Nevertheless, for just a moment, hysteria battled reason. Perhaps a ful Satyr could not be safely mated to a ful Human. Had anyone ever tested

it? Though she knew her tension would only make things more difficult, panic made her tighten against him.

Oblivious to her mounting concern, Dominic had begun to murmur his appreciation of her body’s acceptance of his, speaking a mix of Latin,

Italian, and other more unfamiliar languages. Though she often couldn’t understand their meaning, the dark, salacious tenor of his words began to affect

her like a warm, stimulating aphrodisiac.

The hot fire of an earlier lust spiraled from embers and sparked back to life in her. And then her cry was mingling with his triumphant growl as he

final y slid home, going impossibly, incredibly deep in a…Long. Last. Velvet. Glide.

“Gods, Emma…Gods.” The words were an exhalation, a joyful benediction that sent a shiver of arousal through her. He kicked the stool away, and

his arms crossed over her, hugging her to him with a breast reverently cupped in each hand as though savoring the completeness of their cleaving. The

sun-warmed rock that was his body surrounded her with unyielding muscle, and his thatch gently cushioned the cheeks of her bottom. He was inside her,

as deep as a man could go.

“So ful ,” she whispered, turning her face into his throat. Lips brushed her hair, and then his hands were roving again, exploring the silky terrain of

her body, shaping throat, shoulder, breast, rib, bel y. With shaking fingers, she tugged the fal of her hair from where it fel between them and brought it over

one shoulder to drape her chest. His stroking hands took hers under them, twining their fingers so the silky strands caught among them. Then he taught

them to polish the gentle abrasion of her tresses over her nipples, and over and over, until they blushed taut.

A slow retreat began, suctioning both cocks from her. They returned again in a forceful lunge that had her gasping and going on tiptoe. Hands

grasped her hips, anchoring her. And then a second retreat and return and a third….

Falteringly at first, and then more surely, her body began to anticipate the actions of his and to sway with his rhythm. Her channels adjusted and

conformed to his overwhelming size. She relaxed into him, beginning to tolerate—even to encourage him.

At her ear, Dominic waxed on in a blend of guttural languages, tel ing her how much she pleased him. “It’s good. Fuck. Tight.”

Time passed—she knew not how much. Their groans entwined, spicing the air. At her back he was solid and dominating, pumping into her with

long, sultry drags. Every fiber of his being seemed focused on her, around her, in her.

That ruthless mouth of his rasped the sensitive skin of her nape, behind her ear, down the slope of her throat. And stil he spoke to her, using words

she couldn’t comprehend, uttered in desperate, needy tones she easily deciphered and echoed.

Her head lol ed on the cushion of his shoulder, and her hand caressed his beautiful, scarred, masculine jaw. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

The fingers of his gloved hand found the flushed, hardened knot of her sex, setting off more of those odd, warm sparks. Under his leathery stroke,

her clit gave a violent wrench. Her knees buckled.

Crumpling forward at the waist, she braced both forearms on the mattress before her. Strong hands came at her hips, supporting her weight and

protecting her child as he stood behind her, never pausing in his unrelenting rut.

And she let him do it. Wanted it. Craved it. Spread her legs and offered her ass up, begging for it. Her breath and his came in harsh mutual

expulsions as she yielded to his every visit. Her bottom met each rigorous impalement with an eager shudder of welcome. Her passages embraced him,

bathed his shafts with frothy, passionate cream and jealously clung to them when they tried to go.

With each withdrawal and thrust, her breasts were dragged across the mattress in a back-and-forth motion that teased at already tender nipples. It

was as if she were a wave and he the ocean tide, dashing her upon the shore only to tug her back and dash her again in an unceasing, erotic rhythm.

Forgotten was the fact that this was meant only to be a ritual that would prepare her body for a birthing. Forgotten were the reasons she was

al owing someone other than her husband to mate himself to her.

Her world had shrunk to this one room. To this one glorious male. The entire purpose of her being had crystal ized into a single, ardent goal—the

quenching of this incredible fever that burned within her.

Then he deliberately withdrew any hope that she might achieve the decadent pleasure she desperately sought, pul ing his pricks so far from her

that she almost lost him.

“No!” she protested. Her bottom tilted up, seeking, yearning for another visit. He seized her hips, holding her away. Her empty passages were

desolate vessels crying for want of him. Her hands reached back and gripped the bunched, heated muscles of his thighs, trying to woo him closer.

But stil , his crowns only teased at her entrances, parting her mouths but not fucking them.

“Oh, please…
please
,” she whimpered softly, agonized by her fervent need for a finish. “Please, Dominic.”

At the sound of his name on her tongue, a primitive growl was wrung from him. He rammed deep, so deep inside her that his cock slit pressed an

open-mouthed kiss upon the lips of her womb. He fel over her, bracing himself on one forearm and cradling her weight with another arm wrapped low

under her bel y, careful of her child even in this.

Where his roots stretched her rings, she felt the hard pulse of the thick, veinlike duct that speared each of the undersides. He went completely

rigid, every muscle straining as he tautened toward…

A harsh, ragged groan came at her ear, an erotic sound low in his throat as hot semen blasted from him. Another pulse came, and with it another

more ragged groan and another vigorous spurt of cum. And another, flooding her tissues with his intoxicating passion.

Her hands mangled the bed linens, and her eyes squeezed tight as she sought to find what he had found, sensing it was close. He reached

between them and found her defenseless clit, pressing it against his slick rod and rubbing at it with a few curt strokes. The swol en nub twisted, jerking

with sparks of sensation.

With a startled cry, she exploded, tumbling with him into the hedonistic ecstasy of orgasm.

Yes! At last! This was what she’d longed for. What her sister regularly enjoyed with Nicholas. The sort of pure, flawless pleasure Jordan found with

Raine, and Juliette with Lyon.

Dominic’s breath heaved in his lungs in time with hers, and his beautiful, scarred body scalded her back as they swayed to the rhythm of his

coming. His bal s drew up against her bottom, clenching with each gift of seed and then releasing, only to clench again with the next. Long moments

passed, and stil her nether throats demanded his cum, milked and sucked it from him in fierce, molten bursts.

And al the while, she prayed this exquisite stretch of time would never end.

But eventual y their gasps of exertion slowed and then ceased to stir the silence that fel between them. In the aftermath, Emma drooped, cradling

her abdomen with one arm and resting her forehead on her opposite wrist.

She made a desultory protest as Dominic’s lesser cock slid from her rear with a squishy, muted pop. Behind her, she felt it retract into the haven of

his pelvis. As it was with al the Satyr, this cock which had arrived with the coming of the moon had now been satisfied with the single taking of her it had

just accomplished. Having disappeared inside him, it would not hunger again until next Moonful.

His remaining penis stil sojourned within the cradle of her feminine passage, thick and heavy and drowned in their mingled cream. Without

speaking, he leisurely dislodged from her. At his departure, a thin, viscous trickle of cum trailed along her inner thigh.

His fingers caught it and fol owed it upward between her legs, finding her gaping, ruffled slit and glossing it with the amalgam of their sluice. His

touch ignited echoes of her recent climax, sending them spiraling through her again. Two fingers slipped inside and gently sawed her as if he wanted to

feel where he’d been, wanted to feel her coming. She moaned softly against her wrist and pressed her thighs together, holding him, savoring it.

When her pulsing faded, the hand slipped away, and the bed sank as he sat next to her. She heard him remove his boots and then the thud of

them hitting the floor.

Her channel stil hummed with giddy pleasure. Having sampled what he could provide, it craved more of the same. She’d attained fulfil ment

through copulation before—twice, to be exact. But this, with him, had been an entirely foreign and delightful experience. The kind of soul-deep completion

she had quietly yearned for yet never found with…

Carlo! She’d completely forgotten him. She pushed to her elbows and then her hands, combing trembling fingers through her hair and scrambling