Now or Forever (6 page)

Unbelievable.

Her cloak slid to the floor. It might have been him shoving at it. It was probably more the way she shrugged it off while her hair enwrapped him, surrounding him with a curtain that felt exactly like it looked. Silken. He had to brush strands of it aside to reach her waist. Slide his fingers up the sides of her little square bodice. Slant them inwards...and then...

Holy shit.

Len lurched at the first touch, each palm experiencing absolute perfection as he framed and explored and cupped. She had perfect breasts. Pert. Sizeable. Topped with little nipples that stabbed at his palms as he massaged and enjoyed. Her little bodice top was attached with a string about her neck and one about her waist. Neither one did a thing to hamper him. The bodice seemed crafted for ease of access. Len scrunched it into a twist of material down her front, dividing and displaying, and...wow. The view of cleavage hadn’t lied earlier. She was perfect. And he couldn’t get enough. His fingers massaged and held and adored. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. To a groan-inducing level. She may have felt the same since the moment his groan separated the suction of their mouths, she arched backward with some really sweet-sounding cries that rebounded off the cabin walls. And they ended with little, panted pleas for more.

As if he needed the encouragement.

Len was already sitting up, bringing his mouth to one of her perfect nipples, and at the first lick she turned into shuddering woman and feminine whimpers. Her fingers raked through his hair, clenching almost to the pulling point as she alternately clutched him close, and then tried to squirm away. And he wasn’t allowing that. Every part of this was so enjoyable, his chuckled more than once, putting cold air atop the erect nub of flesh he’d created. That bodice made a great handhold, too. Especially for bringing her down with him as he reclined again. This was beyond fantasy land. It was right in there with first orgasm heaven.

And he’d been right about her legs, as well. She had really nice, firm, muscled thighs. Gymnast fitness level. They were gripped to both sides of his hips, latching her in place so she could do some sinuous movements specifically targeted to his groin. Holy hell. She was good. Every motion of her body seemed calculated to drive passion higher. Send temperatures higher. Sweeter. Enhancing the moment of entry into a driving need. Bone crunching want. Hip thrusting carnal requirement. And that just got him the grind of metal zipper against his cock, and that was ceasing.

Right now.

Len kept her balanced with one hand about the rope he’d made of her bodice while the other flipped his waist button loose. The zipper wasn’t an issue. It practically unzipped itself as he yanked his fly apart, releasing one straining hard rod. Guess those cotton briefs were a good idea, after all, because there wasn’t anything between his cock and complete succor now...except about a thousand some-odd gossamer layers of material. Damn these stupid harem pants!

He used to think they were cute. Right now they were the equivalent of jail. Maximum security prison. Solitary confinement. Without food and water. Shit. Shit. Shit. Everything on him was primed and loaded and ready to delve into warmth, and moist, and wet-dream-level tight. And those trousers of hers were in the way.

“Oh babe. Help me. Babe. Help. Babe.”

He matched each word to a hip lunge, gaining swirled cotton-candy feel where he needed tight chasm. Liquid warmth. Coiled valley.

“Hmm...”

She was peppering his face with kisses, scraping her lips on stubble he hadn’t been able to shave off. And sending little murmurs with every kiss. While her fingers were twisting his nipples into pleasure-pain status.

“Trousers?”

The word was a guttural groan, as his free hand started searching along her waistband while the one holding her aloft shook so badly, her breasts jiggled. And that was even more eye candy that ramped the heat level and zapped the air. This was hormone hell and testosterone tease. He might as well be pinging through the cabin like a ball in a pinball machine. The entire place felt like it was starting to go in one big spin. And that’s when she moved a hand and finally started helping.

No. Wait. She wasn’t helping at all.

Her pants fastened at the back, and once the laces were untied and pulled, it worked like a lock or something. Ingenious design. Once he knew how it worked. The material just opened up, separating the legs of her pants into two halves. Len didn’t need another clue. He released her bodice so he could shove both hands at material, bunching it to either side of him. That gave him access to grasp her hips and grab handfuls of what hadn’t just looked like a perfect ass. But then she latched onto his rod and put everything into hyper spin level.

And his choked growl didn’t do a damn thing to stop her.

Her gasps accompanied every motion as she wrapped fingers about him and slid down, and then slowly corkscrewed her way back up with a back-and-forth motion. Again. And again. Each move was accompanied by the slide of her entire body. And...oh shit. She was going to get exactly what she bargained for, but in the wrong order, if she didn’t stop that.

Len shoved her hands aside with his right hand and rammed her down with his left. And then got blocked by the tightest, most vast obstruction in the world. And that’s where he stopped, his tip getting massaged by heat and construction, while the rest of him went into tensed disbelief.

No. No. This was even worse than bad.

“What?”

Her voice had the ability to raise gooseflesh. And send commands. And his hips wouldn’t obey the slightest thing as he kept doing little lunges that pushed more of him into her with each one. And it got tighter. Almost painful tight. And pleasure wide.

“Oh...babe. No. You’re a virgin?”

She nodded. Her eyes were solidly black. Totally deep. And endlessly enthralling. And his cock just kept pushing into her with little spurts he couldn’t stop.

“How can...that be? You’re too good and—shit. My ex-wife wasn’t even a virgin.”

“Is it wrong?”

“Oh hell, no. But I need...to do some preparing. Some...tongue action. Something to make it...less painful. Easier. And...oh shit! Babe! Don’t move!”

She’d locked her legs about his hips and slammed down, sending him right into depths of constrictive pleasure while a long, throat-tearing cry emitted from her throat. Her body encased him in tight sensation, wrapping him in walls that enclosed and kneaded. Taking him so near climax, he had to call on every reserve to halt it. He grabbed her waist and pinned her in place, shaking so badly, the chair beneath them rattled. Hell. He’d thought he shook earlier. No. That was but a prelude. This was such intense amazement, he started laughing through it.

Oh man. And he’d
fought
this?

She’d finished her cry and peered back at him, her face and upper body silhouetted by the dim cabin lighting behind her, while the waterfall curtain of her hair shielded them. Stan had been totally right. Len was one lucky guy. It was even hard to breathe, as if he’d been benching 300 lbs, and let the bar rest atop his chest. He’d never felt anything like any of this.

She wasn’t exactly obeying, either. She might be just sitting atop him, watching him, but her nether regions were working and milking and driving him mildly crazy. But he had it controlled. And that was what mattered. Len grinned and then he reached up and stroked a stray lock of hair of her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, babe. Is it bad?” he asked.

“What?”

“Uh...the pain.”

“Oh. I expected that. They tell me it eases...but. Um. You’re so big, Leonard.”

Well. Hell. With words like that she should have expected the reaction as it felt like he swelled, and that got him clamped even tighter, while her eyes went even wider, matching her mouth.

“Oh...Tassanee. Babe. Damn. I’m not sure I can hold...much longer.”

“Hold what?”

She didn’t know. Oh...
baby
! The emotion hit his head. Stung his eyes. And sent a riot of something effervescent bubbling through him. That sensation got him chuckling again. Which just had her clenching him deep within her again, and that just got him in gear.

“Okay, babe. I hope you’re ready.”

“For what?”

He was really getting fond of her confused look. Hell. He was already half in love with everything about her.

“This.”

He put both hands about her waist and lifted her, shoving his ass down into the seat to pull out at the same time. But he went back in with a slow, easy motion, giving her time to acclimate to his size. Length. Circumference. And giving him time to ease his way back into his own personal heaven. Oh man. This felt good. Soft and yet solid. Taut and moist. Tense and yet flexible. Nirvana. Paradise.

He repeated the move. Exactly. Again. And again. While the drone of the engine vibrated through the cabin, and the chair started squeaking in accompaniment. Again. Over. Pulling out of her haven only to shove back in. Again. And again. Until the rhythm was about as inevitable as breathing.

Her gasps had accompanied the first strokes, and then her little mews of delight. And by the time he was working her up and down like a piston, she was sending lengthy cries that gave him shivers. And that was all a prelude to when she jerked backward, yanking against his hold while she shrieked something that should have shattered the windows in this plane. Oh baby. This was incredible. Awe-inspiring. Heart-stopping.

Len slowed his movements to a lulling sensation, waiting. Watching. And just experiencing exactly what it felt like to know it was his efforts behind her ecstatic cries. And then things went even higher as she brought her head back down and looked down at him with those dark eyes of hers. And he could have sworn there were tears glistening in them.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

She nodded and the move brushed strands of her hair across his torso. So he started again, only this time, she was doing the driving. Len ran his hands along toned legs, reaching her ankles in order to reposition her feet, bracing her against the chair arms. That was so he could push her backward, pulling out and down as he did so. The return move had her sliding forward while he shoved back up, rejoining them. And it didn’t take twice.

And...oh hell.

She was a master in a beginner’s body. A siren. A seductress. A sex goddess. And every other creature guaranteed to take a man and sap him dry. Len had to grab her waist to hold her in place as her rhythm kept increasing along with the cries she gave, until she was screaming with enjoyment again. The sound filled the room, reverberating off the walls, and then it was impossible to stop one damn thing. Or even slow it. His body went crazy, bucking ceaselessly into her. Deeper. Harder. Her gyrations drove him crazy, until he was slamming into place again and again while the seat beneath them took the brunt of it. Squeaking and creaking as if they worked bolts loose.

Nothing ever matched this. The scope. The power. The absolute encapsulation of spine-cracking bliss. Len arched right off the seat, heaving in non-rhythmic spurts that finished pulling the right side of the seat free. Reality shattered. Warped. Everything he’d come to believe about vampires went with it. He was sobbing before he finished, his body completely drained. Emptied. Replete.

He dropped back into place. The seat lurched to one side before righting once more. And Tassanee was there. Waiting. Her dark eyes delving into his for the longest time while his ears resounded with heavy, thick pulse beats. And then a smile tipped her mouth as if she’d seen what she searched for. He didn’t imagine the patina of tears atop her eyes this time. Hell. He had to blink around his own emotion. And that’s when he decided that it didn’t matter when this ended, or if she yelled hate-filled words at him. Hell. He didn’t even care if she killed him. Because, right now...this feeling was worth whatever he had to pay.

Now or forever.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tassanee had been six when her parents decided she was pretty enough to offer to the king. Since she was their only child, they had the highest hopes for her. She couldn’t remember much before that time, but before her seventh birthday, she was on one path. Given instruction on dancing. Elegant gestures. Trained in musical instruments like the stringed
khim,
and the finger chimes. She’d been released from any sweat-inducing chores and pampered, her skin kept pristine soft and white, her hair oiled and perfumed, her body carefully scraped of any hair. And all for the
Preah Reach Pithi Chrot Preah Neangkol.
The Royal Ploughing Ceremony that was held each year to mark the beginnings of the rice planting season. Sacred cows would be sent across the fields, and just before dusk, the populace would have the chance to present their daughters before the king’s advisors. And if they passed inspection, they were taken before the king himself. All of it set up so if the girls were selected, they’d join the royal harem, gain immense honor for their family, and with that came financial gain.

Tassanee was twelve before it happened. She’d been brought to the ceremony since she was nine but failed to catch attention. Her father grew more and more disgruntled over it, despite her mother’s assurances. But all that changed in 1140. She was one of forty girls selected that year, and she’d been so pleased! It was the twenty-seventh year in the reign of King Suryavarman II. She didn’t realize that meant the king was an old man. And that he already had close to a thousand women in his harem. Or that all of them vied for musical and dancing talent, while each face seemed more beautiful than the last. What started as an excitement beyond belief turned quickly into an existence of never-ending tedium punctuated with evil-natured jealousy, gossip-mongering, and nefarious plots. And always there was instruction. How best to approach the king. How to move the body in order to incite sensual interest. How to prolong the bliss. How a man’s pleasure was to be achieved. Should she ever be lucky enough to be favored by his attention.

But then the king was killed, and it got worse every time a usurper came to the throne. Word would rush through the harem rooms to prepare. Dress in their finery. Work their hair into elaborate arrangements. Put on their arm bands and ankle charms. Display themselves. All so a stranger could walk through their ranks, pointing every so often. Pleasurable sounds and cries accompanied some of his selections, but sometimes they were screams of horror. Because he wasn’t just picking favorites. He was selecting the women to be put to the sword, as well.