Heroic Abduction (11 page)

He placed a hand on her waist and drew her hard against his chest. His other hand cupped her head, and he threaded his fingers through her silky, pale strands. He angled her head back and exposed the white column of her throat.

Her breath caught, and her cheeks flushed, but not a word of protest came from her as he lowered his mouth to that tempting expanse of skin. He placed his lips on her rapidly beating pulse, closed his eyes, and inhaled her sweet scent. The tip of his tongue laved the area, and she shivered. Yet she still did not push him away or say anything to indicate she wanted him to stop.

The points of his teeth grazed her skin, and she let out a low moan. Her arms slid around his waist, a further sign of her acquiescence.

He bit down. Claimed her. Took her in the rudimentary fashion of his ancestors. Marked her for the universe to see.

Mine. All mine. For eternity.
And death to any who thought to bring his damsel,
his mate
, any harm.

“Show no tolerance for insults or slurs.”
– A Mercenary’s Guide to Prosperity

“Rise above the taunts of the less enlightened.” –
The Unofficial Guide to Heroism

What possessed Betty to tell Dyre’s father she’d marry him? Why didn’t she stop her hero when he came at her with an intent look in his eyes? A very un-hero-like look. A look that said, I-am-about-to-do-something-very-wicked-and-fun-to-your-body.

Oh hell yes!

The air practically crackled with tension. She knew her body sizzled. It waited. Wanted …

His eyes practically glowing, Dyre came to claim her without asking or soft words. He took her, and he bit her.
He marked me!
And despite the man screaming in the background, disowning him once again, she loved every damned minute of it.

It was the sexiest, and probably most defining, moment of her life. As soon as Dyre’s teeth pierced her skin, beyond the brief pinch of pain, she felt something, a zing, a spark. She couldn’t quite explain it. All she knew was it felt right, perfect, and most definitely erotic.

Her body hummed with arousal. She moaned as she rubbed herself against Dyre.
My husband.

Holy shit, my husband!

As if she woke from a dream, Betty’s eyes went from languorous to wide open. Her body stiffened, and as he raised his head from her neck, which throbbed where he’d snacked on her, vampire style, she whispered, “We just got married.

“Indeed we did. We are bound for life.” Was it her or did he sound smug?

“Ungrateful whelp. I can’t believe you—” His father’s harangue cut off midsentence as Dyre reached out and shut off the communication channel without a word of goodbye, bathing them in silence. It also gave them privacy.

Now was her chance to give him hell for doing it.

Instead, their lips hit in a clash of teeth and panting breath. He kissed her with passion and purpose. He took command of the moment. Forget coaxing her lips open, he forced them, thrusting them apart so that his tongue might delve into her mouth and tangle with her own tongue. He teased her with thoughts of what else he could do with his decadent mouth.

As her knees weakened, the arms he had wound around her tightened, holding aloft her sagging frame, not that his firm grip would let her fall. They were both right where they wanted to be, together, finally alone, and with no excuse to keep them apart. So what if they now had an eternity to come together? They both needed the closeness
now
.

Forget finding a bed or a soft spot, or even pausing to properly strip. His strong hands gripped her shirt at the back and ripped. Never once breaking their torrid kiss, he peeled the tattered fragments from her upper body. But while she was bared, her heavy, naked breasts, aching and sensitive, rubbed against his attire.

She mewled in protest, her words barely coherent as she struggled to form them through ardent lips that wouldn’t let go. “Too many clothes,” she protested, although it sounded more like “Mmph, an clod.” He still grasped her meaning.

The cloak he’d worn on the space station fell to the floor in a puddle of fur. A ripping sound preceded the feel of his scorching skin against hers. Two shirts down, only pants to go.

Their lower garments remained, as for the moment she luxuriated in the new sensual sensation of his chest against hers. Hairless and smooth, but ridged with muscled planes, his upper body provided a decadent friction for her puckered buds while his ragged breath showed how much their kiss and contact affected him. She affected him. What a heady feeling.

While Betty always showed the world her confident, sassy self, her inner woman, the one who wanted to feel beautiful and worthy, blossomed. She knew she wasn’t as slim as some of the other girls. Not as feminine or delicate. Dyre didn’t seem to care. His arousal pressed against her, hard and insistent. His mouth was a passionate reminder that he wanted her. And his mark? His throbbing mark on her skin was a testament to the fact that he saw something in her, something worth having. Someone worth keeping. In spite of his father’s objections, heck in spite of her initial objections, he’d taken her as his,
until death do us part
.

To be so desired and wanted thawed something in Betty, an aloof part of her heart that she’d kept guarded and hidden. It creaked open for him and flooded her with warmth. And arousal.

His hand slid up her leg and rubbed between her thighs, cupping her sex through her pants. He rubbed while she squirmed, pressing against him, looking for satisfaction. But too many layers separated their bottom halves for her to find relief.

She let her hands fumble at his waist, seeking the enclosure to his trousers. He had a simpler solution. Bye, bye pants, and hello corded thigh pressing between her legs. He didn’t seem to mind the wetness of her pussy as she rubbed against his muscled leg. On the contrary, he encouraged it, his hands at her waist aiding her in sliding. She gasped, the friction on her clit almost too much to bear.

For once, they didn’t speak, no barbs, no promises, just decadent pants and moans. It provided an erotic backdrop for the decadent tangle of their bodies and lips.

The rough, calloused pads of his fingers skimmed from her waist over her rounded hips, the sensation so light it tickled. His leg moved aside, and she couldn’t help but moan in protest then moan in satisfaction as fingers took its place. With light strokes, he let his digits explore the moist shell of her sex, dipping into her honey and then rubbing around her swollen clit. She arched her pelvis forward, silently begging for more.

Touch me. Touch me with intent.

He got the hint. He pinched her nub, and she cried out. He paused, and she opened her eyes to see his own blazing and gazing at her.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and gruff.

“More,” she managed to say. “Do it again.”

Was it possible for his eyes to glow as if lit from a fire within? He surely heated things up a notch as his finger returned, pressing firmly against her clit, stroking, rubbing, pinching.

Betty keened in pleasure as he worked her. Her hips undulated without volition as she strove for the pinnacle hovering just out of reach. Faster and faster he circled her sensitive nub while she clung to his shoulders.

She cried out when his finger left her aching clit, but he wasn’t done with his torture. He slid a finger then a second into her damp sex.

“You are very tight,” he growled.

“The better to squeeze you with.” She gasped as a third finger joined the first two.

“I must have you. I cannot wait.”

And that was a bad thing? She couldn’t help a husky chuckle, which transitioned into a sucked-in breath as his fingers slid free and the tip of his very hard cock probed at her.

Mmm, this would be a tight fit. Without warning, he hoisted her and pressed her back against the view screen on the wall. A touch chilly, it provided an interesting contrast to her feverish skin. As a matter of fact, the ease with which he lifted her and her extra curves made her hotter. Wetter.

It seemed only natural to wrap her legs around his hips, spreading herself for him, the wet opening of her sex brushing against the wide tip of his cock. His very hard cock.

His muscles strained as he pushed in slowly. Too slowly. He stretched her. Teased her. Made her dig her nails into his shoulders until with a cry of frustration she took control. With a squeeze of her thighs around his body, she forced him in, took him to the hilt, and oh my, he was big--and perfect.

A tremor rocked through her as his long length pulsed within her pussy. He held himself rock still, his forehead leaning against hers, their breath melding, their bodies joined. He didn’t move at all but couldn’t halt or hide the reaction of his shaft. It radiated heat while his racing heart and jagged respiration spoke of his lust, a lust he fought to restrain if the cords at his neck and closed eyes were any indication.

He fears losing control.

But that was exactly what she wanted. To feel so sexy and desirable that he couldn’t contain himself. She wanted him to pound her hard and fast, overcome with a need for her.

She whispered, “Oh, husband, time to make me your wife.” Was it her words or the fact that she tightened her channel around his length? It didn’t matter. Something unleashed the savage in him, the wild and alpha alien who’d teased her since day one.

Deeply seated within her, he rotated his hips, ground himself against her and into her. Oh yes. His fingers moved from her waist to cup her ass cheeks, digging into the flesh as he thrust into her without truly withdrawing. It shoved his already long cock deeper. It filled her, it stretched her, and it made her cry out as her whole body tightened.

It was beyond glorious.

She shattered. Her climax ripped through her, an undulating wave of pleasure that had all her muscles stringing tight then exploding. She might have cried out. Might have died for all she knew. In that ecstatic moment she wasn’t sure of anything other than she’d never felt such pleasure before—or so connected.

As if an esoteric bond existed between them, she could almost touch his emotions in that moment, his own frantic enjoyment, his fierce protectiveness toward her, and his …
affection?

Did she imagine it? Did it matter?

The flesh of her sex quivered and tightened as a second orgasm rolled over her. Dyre uttered an enthusiastic yell of her name as his cock expanded then spurted hotly, not that his own release stopped him from pumping. He continued to thrust, drawing out her orgasm until she had to gasp. “Enough, you’ll kill me.”

The rumble of his chuckle made her sensitized body shiver and clench some more. She mewled, her body a mass of woken nerve endings that couldn’t take anymore.

With decadent slowness, he eased his thrusts until he stood still. His forehead came to rest once more against hers, a tender moment. She peeked to find him staring at her, a gentle smile curving his lips.

After such intensity, Betty didn’t know how to react. Didn’t know what to say or do. Trust her stomach to speak for her.

It rumbled loudly, and she couldn’t help the heat that blossomed in her cheeks, which made him laugh. Wedding day, and great sex or not, he totally deserved the jab to his kidneys, or whatever organ hid in that area under his delectable purple skin.

“Questions are for the uncertain.”
– A Mercenary’s Guide to Prosperity

“Heroes don’t plan. They act.” –
The Unofficial Guide to Heroism

A smile stretched his dark lips as contentment filled him. Dyre couldn’t help it, even if his new mate punched him, called him a “romantically bereft dumbass” and then stalked off. The view of her naked rear end waggling was quite the sight, but the voluptuous view as she strode back, head held high and cheeks red, to grab at his cloak on the floor, which she swirled around her shoulders, proved even more entertaining. Not that he told her so. She’d probably attempt to hurt him again.

With a disdainful glare in his direction, and this time covered from neck to toe, she stomped off again. And he let her. Why not? Much had happened in the past few galactic units, events she needed to assimilate and accept. There was no rush. He had a lifetime to please his mate.

My mate.

A part of him should have been appalled at the method with which he’d gotten her to accept his claim. No gentle words or coaxing, no bed or soft music or flowery speeches. He’d taken her like a mercenary, rough, dominating, and old-school. No wonder she seemed miffed. He’d acted like a true Kulin warrior. He should ask for her forgiveness. But, he wouldn’t.
I don’t regret what we did.
Instead, a smug satisfaction filled him. Now he wouldn’t have to worry about her leaving or her trying to find another. They were tied for life. So what if she seemed less than impressed at the moment? Truly, how long could she stay mad at him?

Hmm, given her volatile Earthling moods, possibly a long time.
Perhaps I should follow her and talk to her. Show her this mating is a good thing for both of us.
His dick was more than ready to show her the benefits of their pairing.

With his own clothes a pile of rags, and nothing else to wear, Dyre was forced to return to his quarters nude, but he didn’t make it without mishap.

Zista waylaid him. Her yellow eyes perused him from head to toe, and a smirk crossed her features. “I would wager by your lack of attire the breeding went well.”

An unusual heat invaded his face. Surely, Dyre did not suffer from the human malady of embarrassment? He’d not read it was contagious. “Indeed it did. Although I believe my bride is currently less than impressed with her decision to join with me.”

“Bride?”

“Yes. She demanded I claim her. So I did, but I believe she now regrets her choice.”

“But you don’t?”

Again, he couldn’t help the smug grin that tilted his lips. “No. And, in time, I believe I can make her change her mind.”

“I’m sure she shall. It was a good solution. Betty is a head-strong girl prone to trouble. She needs a warrior capable of dealing with the messes she creates.”