Ask For It

by Faulkner, Gail

Her scent painted the air with lust, and outside the door there were no more roars. Only full-throated groans as the males were held in a thrall this world had not known for so long they thought the legends of it were fiction.

  Stroking engorged folds with lazy licks, he waited for her to calm to soft tremors then rolled his wide tongue, making a spear, and thrust into her. She jerked in shock as he fucked her hard and fast with his mouth, and that’s when Sahara gave him what he’d been waiting for. The acknowledgment a warrior taking his woman required to make sure the males of his tribe knew who this female belonged to.

  “Please,” Sahara screamed in desperation. “I need more.”

  He stopped long enough to demand, “Ask.”

  His mouth returned to her channel to torment her with thrusts that were not quite enough, but raked carefully prepared tissue. He took her sensitized core in demanding strokes, incisors lightly scraping plump folds. Sahara writhed in his hold, her fingernails raking the muscled arms holding her up for his attention. Tor dropped to his knees and lowered her upper body to the floor.

  Her head and shoulders rested between his knees as his hands clamped around her hips, holding her with her legs over his shoulders, her cunt spread under his mouth. As she looked up her body at him, he captured her gaze and pulled back from her to extend his tongue and flick its tip over her clit again. Ensuring she could watch him enjoy her private flesh.

  The change in sensation, his deliberate display of dominance as he took her pleasure drove her over into orgasm again. This time the little woman roared in demand as he held her off his mouth and stroked her with the wicked tip of his tongue.

  When she could breathe, she complied with his demands. “Cock. Please,” she begged shamelessly. “I need it.”

  “Whose cock?” he snarled.

  “Tor. Only Tor’s cock.”

  Tor grunted his satisfaction, lifting her thighs above his head, he flipped her over and brought her down straddling his hips, face and hands to the floor. Her hands braced beside her head and Tor took what had always been his. He set her knees down outside his own, spreading her for his entry. His hands glided up the insides of her thighs as she trembled in front of him. With each movement he could see her sweet cunt clench as liquid need wet her thighs.

  His thumbs pulled her outer lips wide, ensuring nothing was hidden from his view, shielded from his use. He leaned forward and dragged his tongue from her clit, over her opening, dipping in briefly and then up the sensitive bridge of flesh to her other opening. Her body clenched as he paused then circled.

  He drew back to look at her tightly closed ass and smiled darkly. One of his hands left her pussy to palm an ass cheek, his thumb resting on her entrance. Applying pressure, he waited a moment.

  “Accept,” he demanded in a rasping growl. “Only this, but do not deny me. It would be dangerous for us.”

  She understood his brief warning. He would have her, all of her. The strength required to hold a female of her species would also require her complete surrender. It was what she needed to feel safe in him.

  Her muscles relaxed and his thumb pressed into her back entrance. His other hand grasped the base of his cock and positioned the head at her cunt lips. Slowly he rose off his heels, driving into her tight body as his thumb pressed into her other opening. Long, hard cock stretched damp folds as he pushed in. She tightened around him, responding to the sensation of his thumb taking her ass as he entered her channel for the first time. He ignored the resistance, easily penetrating her, the long, steel-hard cock invading her, driving deep to touch her womb. He sank his thumb in her reluctant ass, to the palm.

  Seated to the hilt, he gazed down at her body impaled on his and blew out several hard breaths to calm the animal demands her surrender called up in his nature. He would have her in every way. But now was the claiming. Later would come sealing her body to his.

  So beautiful, the female beneath him was gushing around his shaft as her ass contracted and released on his thumb. This type of hunger drove males to fight nations for the right to have one woman. She could make him a savage. No. She had done that already. He was hanging on to some shred of control by a thread. Shoving into her in one brutal thrust that gloried in her body’s tightness instead of being careful of it was that savage.

  There was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep her. No male he wouldn’t kill for touching her. Not even his brothers. Now he understood the violence of that far-distant age. If her kind were back in his world, they had to find a different way to handle it. He’d work on that plan later. Time was up. Sahara mewed in protest as he pulled his thumb from her body. In doing so, she pulled the trigger on the savage in him.

  He lunged forward, covering her kneeling form, his hands hitting the floor beside hers and released his hold on control. Thrusting hard and fast, he worked her cunt over him, fucking in the most basic way possible. The slap of his thighs on her rump beat a furious rhythm.

  Sahara shook her head and arched beneath him. Tor’s jaws opened over her shoulder and he held her in place the old-fashioned way, with incisors threatening to clamp down. Her channel responded to his primitive demand, tightening around him as he powered into the hot gate to heaven that lived between her legs.

  The hard length of him stretched her in relentless demand. He knew his use was too rough, too base after her being a widow so long. The clutch of her body around his shaft was so tight it bordered on painful and he was ramming into her with ferocious pleasure. The tight, unused channel brought a possessive satisfaction as this woman made him lose his mind.

  Her bare knees on the stone floor were taking a beating. He couldn’t stop. They had gone too far and she robbed him of control. It wasn’t her fault, and it was. With her, only with her, he was falling into an abyss of carnal pleasure that reveled in base abandon, ruling his responses. She drew brutal sexuality from him and then she responded to it with such fierce demand. He took her hard.

  His fur clung to his body in damp furrows as the world around them disappeared. This was sex, claiming, possession. The woman beneath him a hard-won prize, and taking her had turned back the clock on them. He hadn’t had to kill her other suitors, but he’d wanted to for five excruciating years. It equaled the same thing apparently and he had never been as civilized as he’d thought.

  Driving into her was pleasure and pain. Sexual excitement had never cut through his body with this intensity. His hips slammed him in to the hilt, driving every long inch of him into the clasp of her body. She raked him with her interior muscles straining around the thick base of him to the flared head.

  Tor reared back to grasp her hips and pull her on him as he watched her take it. It wasn’t a conscious move, but nor was it something he could have resisted. The powerful visual fed a new drive into the pounding fuck. Possessive and base, he reveled in the pink folds turned red from the slap of his groin and use of the thick cock they strained around. His palm caressed the globes of her ass as they jerked each time he slammed into her cunt. He drank the visuals, consumed the sounds. Her grunting squeals, the sounds of his woman taking his cock hard and deep as she submitted on the floor, fed him.

  He’d always been a demanding, dominant male. He hadn’t known he was this male. That he could adore every little thing about her and still need to use her hard. Need to hear her on his cock with dirt streaking her face as her cunt gushed in pleasure. His balls burned with the drive to mix his scent, the smell of his seed into the drugging aroma of her arousal.

  His head went back and a roar erupted from the bottom of his soul. Into her body his seed splashed the back of her womb as his hips shoved him deep and jerked in potent response to each burst of seed. It went on and on. She took him to a place of exquisite pleasure that engulfed his body. Introduced him to an addiction he’d never get over.

  When he could breathe again, Tor gingerly pulled out of her. He was still hard. She had collapsed on the floor. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the erotic fog as he gazed down at her back. It ros
e and fell with her panting. Her splayed legs exposed the engorged folds of her sex, his seed dripping from her. He fought the urge to lift her hips and pound back into the hot cavern of her cunt. Fucking her mindlessly again.

  He lifted her to gather her in his arms. Somehow in turning her to him she settled her legs around his waist and his cock slid in her.

  Surging into the heat of her channel, he felt his muzzle draw back in a dominating snarl as he watched her moan. Holding her before him, she leaned back on his arms. Sahara arched, offering the soft mounds of her chest as his cock impaled her. Her head turned to the side in submission, her arms extended behind and beneath her to grip his thighs.

  The deep surrender she gave him and the pleasure of looking at this woman offer her body in complete openness was more than he could resist. He’d meant to be gentle. To make up for the basic fuck with care of her body, but it seemed the claiming was not over for either of them. His head bent to her breast, grazing sharp incisors across tender flesh as his hips thrust into her with renewed power.

  Her response was to shudder on his cock with a female’s elemental approval. His tongue curled around her stiff nipple and he took what she offered. Tor took it with all the harsh greed of an inflamed Leonor, sucking her breast into his mouth and marking the soft flesh as incisors scraped over her.

  Gorging himself on the feel and sight of her, marking her was imperative. Marking her with his body, teeth and claws, not some external show of ownership like a brand. He’d never understood marking a lover before, now he couldn’t stop as sharp claws skimmed down her back.

  His woman, she moaned, her head thrashing as he supported her on one arm and lightly raked her with the claws of the other hand. Never breaking her smooth skin, red lines followed his hand around her ribs and over her breasts. The display of perfect trust as he marked her moved him in a way he wasn’t aware mattered to him.

  The deadly play of razor-sharp claws on perfect pink skin fed them new sensations. It was more, more emotionally and physically. The bond of strength, the power to kill held in check for her pleasure. Sahara displayed her utter faith in his control as she came apart for him again. Screaming, she came on his cock as he circled the nipple he wasn’t sucking with a claw pressed into soft areola.

  Her response to the base handling triggered his. Emptying his soul into her body through his cock drove him to release her breast and bellow his claim. It was a declaration, the promise of his life standing between her and the world. Forever. His full, thundering roar blew dust off the spiraling stairs winding up the tower. Tor leaned over, shielding her as debris showered down on them.

  Nose to nose, his eyes finally focused on the tilted windows to her soul. His body seated deep in hers, he could feel every pant she took as she watched him. Tor realized the openness, the trust they had shared with no restraint was fading from her face.

  “No,” he whispered. “You will not leave me now.”

  Claws retracted as he pulled back to sit on his heels, drawing her up with him. Unwilling to separate their bodies, he was ready to fight for her mind. She was his. His woman. She stripped away everything about him, right down to the basic male. He could not live with the possibility of her crawling back into her distant persona.

  “I can’t stay here,” she whispered. “My soul is naked. I’m afraid.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Of what? I will not let you go, little flower. I need this woman, not the distant ice princess,” he responded in a quiet growl.

  Sahara drew in a shaky breath as she gazed up at his fierce eyes. “Will I be safe with you? I have to know. I wasn’t last time and I can’t live through it again. Not after this, not now.”

  Tor’s muzzle drew up over incisors for a second. Anger at time lost would do them no good. “Do not mistake the history we share for what the future will be. I had no idea what you really are. You blinded me and I didn’t connect the fragments of information. It never occurred to me that your kind exists outside of legend, much less in my arms.”

  Sahara’s eyes fell away from his gaze. He was holding her naked, impaled on his cock and she still found a way to hide from him. They were way past that point and she was going to get over the habit right now.

  He cupped her neck, his thumb turning her face back to his. “No more hiding. We are a male and his mate. You know this. If I were not your mate, you would have conceived with Signet. But you couldn’t, could you? You have to go through heat before you can conceive,” Tor stated harshly.

  “I realize this. What happens now?”

  Tor clamped down on the roar of frustration her evasive answer drew from him and focused on the last half of her statement. Suspicion and surprise overtook the frustration.

  “You don’t know the mating habits of your species?” he asked incredulously.

  “What am I?” she questioned cautiously, avoiding his question.

  “Are you testing me?” Tor wanted to know. He was not going to be patient forever with her practiced double talk.

  “Yes and no.” Sahara tried to shrug. “It’s a subject I’ve been trained from birth to never discuss.”

  “It’s okay, baby. This is your home planet. We have a great many legends about you, but I wasn’t aware they are based in truth until about an hour ago.” He was concerned as he thought about the danger his woman had lived with all her life. “That’s why you helped us escape the moon. You needed to escape too.”

  “I’ve spent my life hiding, running, mostly alone. There are way too many things I don’t know about my kind. Like the loss of control that happened when you touched me. And now, why has it stopped? I don’t hear anyone outside the door.”

  Tor ran the back of his knuckle across her cheek, removing a smudge of dirt. “What happened was,” he had to pause as he translated an old legend into relevant information in his head, “your kind’s response to her chosen mate. It will happen to some degree every time we get together.”

  “You think people will attack us all the time?” Sahara gasped. “I thought it would pass.”

  “Males within range of your scent will always feel the urge to fuck. They’d like to fuck you, but they will settle for someone else when I make it sufficiently clear that even touching you will result in death at my hands. At least that is how Leonor males react. I suspect our pheromone, that’s so toxic to you, was originally developed in defense so your females could not make idiots of us any time they wanted by forcing us to fight our own tribe members over a female of your species. Our two peoples evolved here at the same time, but it seems you guys left.”

  He caressed her dust-streaked face and glanced down. Still joined intimately, it was an erotic view he refused to give in to. It was time to take care of his woman. She bore his marks, inside and out, and he’d been all beast putting them on her. The red streaks across her body were fading, but the old tower’s mark was pronounced. They were both mottled with dust and sweat.

  “Sounds like the hunters lost interest.” Tor lifted her off his cock reluctantly. Swiftly standing while holding her to his chest, he looked for her dress. It had to be trampled into the dust surrounding them. “We need to get to the private wing fast.”

  A large fist connected forcefully with the metal door. The resulting banging was incredibly loud in the closed space. Tor and Sahara cringed at the resulting boom.

  “Tor! Are you really in there with Sahara?” Burke demanded from the other side of the door.

  “Yeah. Are you okay?” Tor responded cautiously. “Do not pound again,” he commanded in an afterthought to his large, little brother.

  “No,” Burke snapped. “I get back on planet to find drunk warriors staggering around wenching anything that moves. Eternal bells! Looking for you, I walk in on Karloff doing the chef in the kitchen! ‘Tis wrong for a warrior to see that! And for the love of Goddess, I find you locked in the siege tower with a woman who can’t stand you. Get out here and tell me what happened.”

  “Oh no,” Sahara breathed as she turned
her face into Tor’s chest.

  Tor chuckled, his arms tightening around the sexy, mythical creature hiding her embarrassed face in his chest.

  “You just arrived, that explains your immunity,” Tor answered his brother conversationally. “I suspect the effect will wear off the others in a few hours. Back away from the door if you want to avoid the drunk-fuck thing. Mist Lionesses are among us. Sahara is mine.”

  There was a prolonged silence from the other side of the door. “Sahara?” Burke called softly.

  “Yes?” Her answer was muffled in Tor’s chest.

  “Is this so?” Burke wanted to know. “You are a Mist Lioness? This is what happens when you…” he trailed off hesitantly.

  “Uh-huh,” she mumbled then lifted her head to glare at the door. “But only with Tor. All the sharing just makes me mad. Everyone needs to get a grip on that. Mist Lions do not share. Anything.”

  They heard a deep chuff from the other side of the door. Tor scowled as he realized his brother was laughing.