Intimidator (19 page)

He looked up at her, and winked, then he lowered his head and dabbed at her clit with his tongue. The flutter that shot through her made her jerk, then go
mmm
in appreciation, especially since he drew his finger along her seam, gathered her moisture, and wiggled that finger up inside.

He kept his tongue busy, working in closer, sucking on the tiny nub to make it engorge, and she couldn’t help watching, enthralled.

His mouth on her…especially when he put it over her pussy like he was going to swallow her entirely.
Man.
She clutched the back of his head with both hands, grinding on him gently.

He pulled away and wiped his mouth. The clamp reappeared in his hand.

“I love your mouth on me there,” she ventured, pouting. She circled her hips, hoping to distract him, hoping to delay.

“And I would love to see you come as I eat your pussy, but I want you to sit on me. Today, I want to watch your eyes as you come while I’m inside you. And first, we need this.” He dangled it high.

Determined man. But it was part of his ritual. She sucked on her lip a moment, eyeing the clamp and scowling. Then she sighed and sidled forward. She pushed out her mons, frowning as he
V’d
his fingers, isolated her clit, and stretched aside her lips. Even she could see that her clit was more engorged. The things he’d done with his tongue. She needed more of that.

When the clamp approached, she flinched.

He grinned at her reluctance. “This goes on the less sensitive part of you. My human anatomy lesson says you have that.”

“I won’t look.” She covered her eyes with both hands.

Once more, he pushed her thighs apart, then she felt him pinch a part of her clit, and hard metal slid around it. By then she was examining the ceiling. Tree bits, tree bits…he’s not about to –
eep.

The pain was small and ratcheted up for a moment then he freed her.

With his hands on the back of her thighs, Stom kept her legs still. He studied her clit and its decoration. Her wetness shone on his fingers and he ran a finger along her cleft, until he found and nudged at her entrance.

“Now you look like my pet.”

When he reapplied his mouth to her, the suction threw her back into that recent body memory. Orgasm approaching rapidly.
Damn.
But pain niggled, held her back. The bite on her nipples, the small tight sting on her clit. Too much input. Defying the pain, the heat of pleasure built. The craving swelled. The slide of his fingers in her wetness then curving up inside her, forcing apart her walls, sent her arching, groaning.

While his tongue flicked on her, he slipped a third finger inside. His thumb played near her clit, around and around, stretching her, wet with her juices and his mouth. His hands held her still for his wicked, wicked tongue.

“I can’t. I can’t –” She panted, squealed, hands clawing into his hard muscled back. When she looked down, frantic, she saw red scratch marks on his skin.

More slippery licks encircled her clit, close to where the clamp held her fast in its jaws.

Her pussy clenched onto his three fingers and she screamed a little, digging her fingers into his muscled shoulders, as if he were the only life raft in the face of a tsunami. She shuddered into an unrelenting orgasm. The echoes ran on until she at last collapsed, exhausted, onto his shoulder.

“
Can’t
seems to mean
can
for you.”

Sarcasm?

Still catching her breath, through half-lidded eyes she looked down at him. The man was as smug as could be. His erect cock poked up between his thighs, clearly begging her.

She toyed with her lip. “Can I have you in me? Please?”

“Up.” He slapped her ass once and encouraged her to stand properly. Then he hoisted her onto his thighs with her legs spread as wide as they could go. His cock, she felt it poke her there, slipping, an inch away from nirvana. She so loved the feel of a man’s cock going in after a climax.

“Push yourself onto me.” He held her gaze, unblinking. “Don’t look away.”

With his hands guiding her, she lowered herself until the tip of his cock slowly entered her. Blunt, with that softness over the hard, sliding, her moisture lubricating the glide. Inexorable.

“Ohh.” She arched her head back, thrust out her breasts, and wriggled. She’d looked away.

Yet he only cradled her, supporting her as she leaned back, grabbing a handful of hair so she had to arch a little more. “Keep going.”

“Am.” She grunted.

An orgasm only made her hunger to be filled. His cock widened her, pushing in, further, ever inward. She sat lower and lower, feeling every amazing inch of him.

“When we are done. Your arm will be fully red.”

He gave details? Now? She tried to reply but he’d fully penetrated her, and her butt rested on his legs. Nothing else mattered. With that mesmerizing her, language wasn’t happening. Her eyes rolled up and her intended words came out as a breathy moan.

Her moan turned into a sharp intake as Stom used his brutal grip on her body to withdraw then thrust upward. The nipple clamps and the one on her clit jerked and wobbled, which made her gasp yet again.

His hand found each clamp and tugged on them while he built a rhythm of small thrusts, slapping against her ass and thighs.

An orgasm hit her, rumbling through, flattening her mind for a few precious seconds. When she opened her eyes, she found him watching.

He kissed the hollow at the base of her neck. “I could do this a hundred thousand times and never grow tired of seeing your face.”

She mumbled and tried to cuddle.

“Not yet.” His eyes were bright.

Though she whimpered a protest, he stood suddenly, and arranged her so she was on hands and knees on the bed. The clamps swung merrily.

“I should’ve made these bells,” he growled, giving the clit one a tweak before he mounted her from behind.

His cock sliding in…
Fuck
.

The slam of him against her butt made her decorations swing some more. The weights jerked. She sucked in a groan, reveling in the tugging at her nipples and clit, feeling exquisitely female, wanted, and fucked.

Sensations multiplied as Stom put his hand to her pussy and rubbed her clit, rotating his finger. She bowed her spine, presenting herself for even easier access to her man. His thrusts grew more violent, the last few positively rough and vicious. She squealed, clamping onto his cock, tight. The swell of his cum far up inside her triggered another mini-climax.

His hot breath on her ear, made her smile in satisfaction. She blinked away sweat, happy to wait a while, with his weight on her and his chin on her neck. After one kiss, he pulled her onto his lap and petted her.

“Am I changed?” she whispered, searching his eyes, amazed that she finally had this man to herself.

“Almost. Not quite. I think I need to fuck you again so we can get the last bit shaded.”

“What?” She peeked. Her arm was all red in a dark red spiral. “Liar.”

“For that,” he bit the side of her neck, snarling making her squeal again, “For that I get to tie you up too. Defying me is punishable by tying up and fucking.”

“Perhaps I should defy you more often,” she mumbled into his chest.

“Devil girl.” He squeezed her and laughed. “Before I do that. I plan to look at you while we eat some of the delicacies they brought me. And drink some of the finest Feya wine the Preyfinders could find here. Which means a Chablis, strawberries, and cheese from Australia, and some chocolates from Sweden.”

Willow guffawed. “I wondered.”

“I’ll take these off now, but keep them for those special times when I need a pet.” Stom stroked the side of her nipple, and smiled. “I might have a lot of those times.”

“Mmm.” Disagreeing with that was not happening.

Then he removed all the clamps, kissing her gently on the sore places when she flinched. With her hands resting on his shoulders, she watched him. A quiet sense of both awe and wonder cloaked this moment. How had she ever gotten this lucky?

When she pottered back from the kitchen with the platter of food and the wine, she found Stom answering some Preyfinder message that only he could hear. He nodded and said something like, they’d be fine, and that if they really needed him, he was available.

“Nothing,” he said to her, dismissing the message. “They don’t need me.”

Good. This day should be theirs to cherish.

Sitting on the bed with Stom, naked, drinking ice cold Chablis from a goblet at ten in the morning was so different from what she’d expected from her life. Tears trickled down her face. She sniffed.

“I hope those are happy tears?” When he pulled her into his side, she shrugged but let him study her and track the tears with his forefinger.

“They are.” She smiled, her mouth twisting. “I always thought I’d be forever with Ally, alone, trying to sort out life by myself. She isn’t a lot of help on some days.”

“And this is better?” he asked softly.

“Oh yes. Much. Now I have you.”

When she looked up shyly he bent and kissed her, a sweet, almost chaste kiss. Not sexual passion, but a simple kiss that spoke of, perhaps, the love he’d not yet mentioned.

Then he held her for a long time. The silence between them was an easy one, as if they’d known each other for many years.

This man surrounded her, warm, secure, keeping the bad out, being her barricade and her shield. He would be her friend too in time, she was sure. This was a reality so good, so solid, and so fucking incredible, that it made her afraid to rise. Absentmindedly, she manipulated his fingers and ran her hand back and forth along the muscles of his forearm. She had a weird urge to stay here with him on the bed, feeling that if she parted from him this might shatter.

There was evil in the world and she could bear the possibility of it leaping on her when the alternative was the weary life she’d borne until this moment. Now she’d found a man she could love until her last breath and fear nibbled at her.

Silly, but true.

“I used to think the same, Willow. I thought I’d die alone on a strange planet. I think even my bones were teeming with hate for the enemy. I would’ve bitten my way through a horde of them if my last weapon was gone and I only had teeth. I hated so much.

“What is this?” He traced the ugly scar on her forearm. “Something to do with Ally?”

“No. No, not at all. It’s from when I was a kid. A burn scar.” Of all the things for him to notice.

“Yes? You were hurt badly?”

She shook her head. “No. My parents though, they died. It was a house fire.” She couldn’t
not
tell him this, though it hurt. “I’ve often wondered if I caused it. People said I had a habit of messing with matches, lighters.” She gnawed on her bottom lip.

“That’s only a bad memory. You were a child. It was a terrible thing, but you must get over it. It’s the past.” His swallow and silence made it clear some thought had impinged. “Like my own past.”

“Yours is more recent. I told you, I have time. I can wait for you to believe you love me.
I
love you. That’s enough for now.”

“Thank you.” He stroked her hair.

She nestled in. Both of them had ugliness in the past, but hers, she’d gotten over it, mostly. It seemed as if he were on the verge of saying he loved her too, but even if he never did say those words, it didn’t matter because she knew he did.

“I’m happy, Stom.”

He sighed then slid off the bed.

Carefully he took away both their goblets and the food and set them aside. “I too am happy, because…” He grinned and wrapped his hands over her ankles where she had her legs stretched before her. “Because I can do this.”

He yanked her legs forward and climbed on top of her as she squealed. The leash, a scarf or two, and a belt, made quick bondage and he rendered her helpless then sat on her. From the lightness he was trying not to squash her.

“Now, what can I do with you?”

She giggled. “I can see you twirling your moustache like some evil villain.”

“A moustache? I will have to look that one up. Not in my language base.”

That was when the world exploded.

Glass shattered and tinkled and objects, black and tumbling, arrived in the room, flying across. Bottles? The utter shock of the next explosion rocked the house, and scattered all the tree bits and pieces into a whirling ember-filled maelstrom. Everything burned.

Even Stom. The force had thrown him up and off the bed. The temperature in the room had peaked quickly with the ignition of some volatile liquid. The room was wrenched into the worst possible state of fire and he became a man on fire in an instant. Her lungs strained for air. Instead she gulped down fire.

The house? Why had the house failed them?

Stom stood and struggled to walk to her but fell.

Aghast, she saw the flames eat at him, turning him black, turning him into a man-sized shape of sizzling charcoal and destroyed skin and muscle. And she lay there on the bed, screaming, writhing, tormented, as everything burned. The ropes burned, the scarves, the belt.

Her arms tore forward as one scarf snapped. Her legs bonds ripped. She was free.

Into the torrent of the rippling monster, the roaring orange-and-black foe, she stalked. The fire played on her bones and eyes, toying, making her die a thousand times over from the wretched agonies, but she made it to him, there on the floor, the hunched-over thing, and she dragged his coat to him and herself and she hugged him. To keep him safe. Like she’d tried with her parents.

She’d failed, yet again. His skin was making bubbling and crackling noises under her ear. He breathed in rasping lung-tearing groans but he was dead and she knew it. Nothing and no one could survive in this. Except her. She burned and yet she did not. The fire licked at her, dazzled her with pain, yet beneath it she could see her pinkness and the tiny hairs on her arm swaying as if in a breeze.

Now she knew how ugly life was; it had brought him to her as her salvation then torn him away from her. It had shown her what she was.

When they came, striding through the still-hungry fires in their suits and masks, she fought them, but they took her away from her love. She wanted to save him and couldn’t.