Three Days of Dominance (5 page)

I’m so wet
. How could she, a tough-as-steel career cop, want to go belly-up before a man? This was dominance and submission, master-and-slave play. Only, it didn’t seem like a game.

Confusion welded her in place… All she knew was, looking up at Heketoro seemed right and fed some inner craving.

With both hands, he pulled the black shirt over his head, then undid a row of ivory buttons at the fly of his pants. His erection stood out like a pillar. Without taking his eyes off her, he slung the boots and then his trousers into a pile with his shirt.

She knew what he wanted, without words or gestures being used. The link between them was so potent she could taste him, feel her mouth settling over him and the slide of his cock going in and over her tongue. Her nipples ached, and her breasts grew heavy and swollen. But she couldn’t move, knowing she shouldn’t be doing this. He smiled a hard, unyielding smile. “Put your mouth on me.”

Her lips parted. The words broke down a barrier inside her—the last piece of her resistance vanished, and she let out a tremulous breath.

As she moved slowly forward on her knees, her breasts wobbled. She put her hands on the top of his thighs, reveling in the shift of hard muscle. Resting her cheek on his thigh, she turned her head to let her breath heat his erection, then smiled when Heketoro sucked in air sharply and his phallus twitched. She crept a hand closer, curving her palm under his balls. He sank one hand into the back of her hair, his fingers arching like claws across her scalp.

A bead of moisture squeezed from the tip of his cock. In one motion, she shifted, took the base of his cock in her hand and angled it down so she could take it into her mouth. Her lips molded around him, and he sighed as she let the length of him slip deep into her mouth nearly to the back of her throat.

With both his hands guiding the rhythm, she rocked her head, shallow for a while, then doing a few strokes that went deeper to the very back. She tasted the first hint of semen.

“Enough,” he murmured, pulling her away. The roughness in his voice and hands thrilled her.

She looked up at him along the expanse of his abdomen. The rightness of this posture, of kneeling, of taking him in her mouth pulled at her and sent lust coiling in her groin. He knelt and kissed her eyebrows and each eye, her nose and her mouth, as if this were some ritual. The scent of him mingled in their mouths—her tongue playing over his before his invaded her mouth.

What with the insistent pressure of his lips and the primeval mingling of tongue on tongue, she could hardly remember to take in air, with most of it stolen from him. He placed his hands under her thighs and pulled her onto him, easily lifting her weight until she sat with her legs spread open across his thighs. She felt his cock push in and tease her lower lips. Heat flared, curling around, making her wriggle. Oh, if he’d move a little that way, the head of his cock would be in just the right spot.

“Unh!”
There. Yes
. “Wait,” she choked out the word, her voice thick with the lust jumbling her thoughts. She’d remembered an essential.

She leaned sideways to crab her hand across the floor, found the condom wrapper where she’d dropped it, then ripped it open. Though he frowned, looking as if he thought she’d done something odd, he allowed her to roll the sheath down over his cock. As the last quarter inch unrolled, he bent and swirled his tongue across her nipple.

While still sucking, drawing her nipple up tightly between teeth and tongue as if it were a prize he’d captured, he lowered her onto her back.

“Ahh.” She bowed her spine, pressing her breasts up at him. Changing sides with his mouth, he flicked at her other nipple with the tip of his tongue. When she put her hands up to wrench him closer, he swiftly collected her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head.

For a few seconds, she struggled to free them, but it was as if manacles of stone had descended on her. Nothing moved at all—his weight and strength were too great. Surrendering sent first a tendril and then a cascading wave of liquid heat sizzling through her. He paused and waited with sinister patience until she stilled.

No, she thought. I don’t want this, do I?

The rapid rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed hard through her open mouth betrayed her arousal.

He smiled and lowered his mouth to continue his assault on her breasts with tongue and lips and nipping teeth. Pleasure and pain, predator and prey, and she knew so acutely which was which. She watched enthralled as he worked on her.

This was
nice. Too nice
. She groaned, arching again.
Giving in, this once, couldn’t hurt
. She smothered her misgivings.

He nipped and licked his way up the slope of her breast toward her neck and then rocked against her, his legs between hers, his cock slipping along her cleft in the liquid of her arousal. She felt deliciously trapped, caged with his flesh, the heavy muscles of his torso covering her, one of his arms propped at her side, the other reaching above securing her wrists.

When he had her gasping in time with each slide of his cock, he pulled away to wordlessly direct her—by grasping a tight handful of hair, or with touches at her shoulder, until he made her go to her hands and knees. And then he stopped. As if this was a runway, she found herself exactly positioned on the carpet with a view to the front door.

“Do not move,” he ordered, leaving her there, softly panting, on hands and knees. Then he drew back and stood so she knew he observed her from above.

She reveled in the taste and smell of the juices in her mouth, the ache of her vulva, and the warm places on her body where he’d handled her. Despite feeling his gaze on her, she squeezed her thighs together and felt the pressure build in her clit.

Slowly he walked around her, trailing his hand in her hair, and she lifted her head and rubbed against him. He continued, fingertips brushing her shoulder, then one fingernail drawing a line down her spine and off the side. Finally, he stopped with his hands resting on her hips.

“Oh.” She breathed the word. Even before he touched her down there, she knew from the sounds exactly where he was—kneeling behind her. Her mouth parted, her bottom tilted up, as she waited, anticipating the press of his cock. Instead his tongue pressed on her clit. She groaned.

“Oh, my God. Yes.”

He licked upward along her cleft, then back again to her clit, and as he moved his tongue across, she felt his nose pushing into her. Again and again. Fingers slicked the liquid everywhere along the line of her bottom and back and along again. The tension built with each circuit. He slipped his fingertip into her anus, and she gasped out a whispered, “No.” Unsure why, for she didn’t want him to stop. “Ah. Keep—”

And then she forgot her words as his warm mouth covered her clit and sucked, and the finger slipped farther into her back hole.

Bent like a taut bow at ass and neck, shaking with the tension, she was wrenched to the crest…and engulfed in orgasm. For one long, shattering moment, nothing mattered except the juddering of her body. She panted through bared teeth, her head slowly lowering. While the waves of sensation still possessed her, she felt him push against her cunt. She whimpered as his cock breached the tight entrance. Her vagina rippled. Tip then shaft slid moistly in, until his body jammed against her, and then he slid out.

She shuddered and moaned as he thrust again and again, rocking her, slapping flesh hard against flesh. Sensitized by her own orgasm, every movement inside sent her higher and almost to the crest of another orgasm. She tilted her ass up farther, crouched lower on her arms. The extreme angle and the thud of his cock on sensitive tissue sent her insides humming tighter, spiraling into the moment, tighter. Mouth gaping open, she stopped breathing.

Ah
! The flood of climax tore into her, shredding her into a million pieces. He delivered a last thrust, crying out, throbbing within her. So aware was she of the size and shape of his cock inside her, she choked out a small sound, feeling the engorgement as semen pumped and pumped through it. They stayed there, melded together. She shut her eyes, simply wanting to be there, where she was, absorbing his heat and breath and sweat.

He pulled away from her a moment, and she thought he removed the condom, but didn’t want to move. Moving might make her forget all he’d done to her. On his return, he kissed along her spine, then wrapped one arm under her and gathered her to him as he lay down on his side on the carpet.

His chest heaved against her back as he caught his breath. Slowly their breathing synchronized until each inhalation of his was met by hers. Sweet tiredness washed through her, dulling her thoughts.

From somewhere down the hallway she heard the tap and scratch of Killer’s nails on the polished timber beside the carpet. Through the slit of her lids she saw him come toward her, before lying down a few feet away, head on paws, staring with that all-encompassing doggy trust in his eyes. No matter what she did, he approved.

It made those questions float to the surface of her mind again. The questions any sane girl asked of a man who’d just made love to her. Or, preferably, her other self told her wryly, asked
before
he fucked her.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“Heketoro,” he murmured back, kissing and licking away the sweat trickling down her shoulder.

“But
who
is that? Where do you come from?”

“I am a prince, of an Underworld.”

“Joking, huh.” ’Cept, she thought sleepily, it sounds like truth. She snuggled in closer to him. “I’ll find out. I have my ways.”

“You should sleep now.”

“Here?” she said, though even before she said the words she felt herself drifting away. Her last thoughts a baffled wonderment at what she’d done with him—like someone clutching a big new present at Christmas, one they’d not asked for. She never let go of control, never.

Oh, but Heketoro was so warm, and big, and he made her feel so safe…

Chapter Three

Morning—the sun leaked through half-curtained windows, and the stippled glass of the front door wrote strips of squiggled brightness on the walls.

Propped on one elbow, Heketoro looked down at Danii. She lay on her side, innocent, nude, and so vulnerable, he ached to kiss her hard and pull her gasping with lust from whatever dreamland she inhabited.

Gently, he moved aside a curled strand of the auburn hair that lay across her ear. She wrinkled her nose and made a small sound. He smiled, barely holding back from taking her little earlobe between his teeth and biting. The warm scent of her aroused him, sank into him; a musk of sex and sweat tangled with a hint of some sweet perfume and made his already hard cock swell even more.

The contrasts within her had intrigued him more and more since she had reached adulthood.

A body of sumptuous curves, yet the muscles and instincts of a huntress—he sensed the weapons in secret places within this dwelling. Strength and delicacy. Cautious, yet wild as a cat in heat.

Hmph
. What would his sister, Jani, think of such thoughts? That he’d gone mad? She’d always said he would ruin himself tearing through life, enjoying everything too much without thinking—that he’d wake up one morning with his foot, or worse, in a trap. She’d been right, though even she couldn’t have imagined he’d kill the son of the Goddess. Or that he’d do it because their half sister, Aroha, misled him. Aroha… He prayed she’d not interfere in this. The hundred years of exile had taken its toll on her mind.

Was Jani still alive even? Or the rest of his family? The ever-present sadness, lurking at the back of his mind, threatened to overwhelm him. He crushed it down. Sadness was a weakness. Here and now, he needed to keep his goal in mind—returning home.

The punishment had been just, in a way—he could escape if he was single-minded enough. It had taken him the first fifty years here to understand how stupid he’d been. And, he smiled down at Danii, it had taken fifty years to appreciate the qualities of these people.

Making love to her had been like drinking the finest ambrosia. In part, it was her need to stay in charge of her world that attracted him. Watching that need crumble, seeing her panting at his feet, glaze-eyed with wanting him, and trembling when he touched her—there was nothing headier.

A small, wet nose snuffled at his armpit—the little creature she kept had woken too. He shifted to look, barely dodging the tongue it tried to swipe across his chin.

“Good morning, Killer,” he whispered.

The dog laughed at him, tail wagging and eyes bright.

Slowly, he reached over, then placed his hand on the beast’s head to ruffle the fur.

“Shhh,” he told it.

Happy at being greeted, the dog walked back to a mat by the front door and lay down.

Careful not to wake Danii, Heketoro slid away and stood. Her plump breasts rose and fell, pink areolae flat and unaroused, her thighs drawn up a little, exposing the lips of her sex. He smiled down at her—innocence and sexuality in one delicious package.

The curse compelled him to live in the waters of the lake or the creeks feeding it, and so he could only select a woman who visited the lake. He could venture a short distance away, but farther than that and the curse’s power dragged him back. This house strained at the very limits.

Over the years, he’d watched her many times as she walked both here and around the lake. He’d seen her weaker moments as well as seen her generosity, and he knew there were things that tore at her sometimes. The drink called scotch was as much her companion as the dog. He’d be leaving this world, one way or the other, soon, but perhaps there was a little something he could try that might help her.

Despite her fierce independence, Danii had willingly followed wherever he led her in their lovemaking, but he’d not pushed her far, not yet. Getting her to understand who he was, to believe in him and trust him enough to want to help would be as difficult as the rite itself. The risk of injury for the woman had been partly the reason he’d stopped trying for so many years. With Danii he was almost certain they could succeed in the ritual. Was it worth the risk? Was it selfish of him to even try?