His breath came fast. So much power in this man. He would give himself to her. He wanted her. Could she give herself to him? Could she try?
When she pressed her lips against his, he jerked, a tiny motion from him, eyelids tightening. And when she took his lower lip between her teeth, he sighed, leaning into her. Because she wanted to, she climbed astride him, kissing him long and leisurely, stroking his tongue with her own, rubbing her breasts against his chest until they were both panting, until wet heat pooled between her thighs, and he shifted, tensing and flexing as if it were impossible to hold still.
She took her time, trailing her tongue along his ear, the hollow of his neck, over his nipples, until his breaths came fast and his fists clenched, abdomen tightening.
She dragged her teeth down over his nipples and farther, until she was on her knees before him. Not because he forced it, not because he asked for it, not because he expected it. Not because she needed his serum. Because for once, she wanted to be there, for him.
His hips moved, and his breath went ragged when she closed her mouth around the hard, velvet tip. She took him all the way into the back of her throat, until her nose pressed against the hairs of his lower belly.
“Ah, fuck, Feola,” he moaned.
A hand touched her hair, and she looked up at him, meeting his intense turquoise gaze. When his eyes rolled back, she shook her head slightly, laughing silently.
She couldn’t breathe, so she pulled back, swirling her tongue around the tip, enjoying the guttural noises he made in the back of his throat, the way his hips jerked of his own accord, thrusting his cock just a little deeper.
When she drifted lower to trail her tongue over the soft sack between his legs, sucking it into her mouth, his eyes burst open. The look on his face was… beyond words, and he made a deep, hoarse sound that told her he liked it very much. She took her time.
His dark sounds grew even louder when she sucked the head of his cock back into her mouth, moving up and down along the shaft.
She loved it the most when he lost control. She saw it happen. The moment his fists tightened too hard around the armrests, and he cursed. His hands moved then, closing over the back of her neck, holding her in place as he thrust into her mouth, finding his way back into her throat, his gaze burning into her. “Fuck. Oh, gods. That’s so… oh, fuck.”
She’d have laughed if her mouth hadn’t been so full. Instead, she raked her nails up and down his thighs as he held her head still and pumped into her mouth.
Controlled Ajax was sexy and powerful beyond her imaginings, but uncontrolled Ajax was wild and primal and beyond her darkest fantasies. Her core ached for him, throbbing in time with his movements, calling out to him, demanding she give him what they both wanted. A Bonding.
She pressed a hand down to touch herself where she was hot and needy, breathing heavily through her nose as he took his pleasure from her mouth.
It didn’t take long, but she dragged it out, stroking him with her free hand, watching him, humming around him, and circling her slippery clit. She set up a steady rhythm, swirling with her tongue. Liquid pooled between her thighs. It took every bit of willpower she possessed not to climb on top of him and take him inside her body at that moment.
When he came in her mouth, he shouted out, rough, throaty cries, thrusting against the back of her throat. The sweet taste of serum flooded her mouth, and she swallowed it down, riding out the orgasmic tide that sent her body bucking. His hands tightened in her hair, held her in place as his hips pumped. Pride brought a smile to her lips.
When it was over, he pulled her up into his lap. They sat there for a long moment, just breathing together, letting their hearts slow into a steady beat. It didn’t matter how long they had together. It would be worth it.
“Ajax,” she said sleepily, almost drooling against his shoulder, shifting so that her body pressed close and the thick, still-hard ridge of him pressed against her heated core, where their bodies throbbed together like a pair of magnets.
“Yeah?”
“I want to Bond with you.”
26
Stop talking.
Your words are breaking me.
Ajax froze with Feola curled on his lap. His hand twisted in her hair so tightly he had to remind himself not to tug it too sharply. He carefully extricated his fingers, dropping his fist back to the armrest beside him. Cold air rushed along the newly exposed skin of his arm.
He dropped his head back. She kept hers on his shoulder, but didn’t move a muscle. They sat frozen for a long moment as if each of them were afraid to move and break the spell. In a minute he’d have to answer her.
Her words resonated across the silent cockpit. Low emergency lights reflecting off rapidly cooling metal surfaces provided little more than ghostlight.
Beyond the viewscreen, stars glimmered, but the planet was dark. Birds crashed against the hull.
“Why?”
“Because,” she said simply, trying to shift to meet his eyes, but he held her still, didn’t want to see the secrets in those eyes. “I trust you. We’re almost there anyway. It’s your body I crave, your serum I want.”
He released the air he’d been holding. Words he’d wanted to hear for so long. But still… “And later?”
She shrugged against him. “We can still see about breaking it if we want to, but at least it would be time together.”
“A broken Bond is an ugly thing.” He’d only seen it the one time. Nausea, fever, vomiting, all of it was nothing in the face of the soul-shattering loss of self. It was unnatural. An abomination.
“I know,” she said, voice muffled. “But I still want you.”
“Out of gratitude?” The words caught in his throat.
She stiffened in his arms. “No, Ay-shocks, it’s not like that. It’s not like that at all. I just d—” She broke off, pulling back to meet his eyes, and he let her, but he didn’t have to look at her.
He’d spent most of his life convinced he’d never see a single woman. And now one sat on top of him, smelling like sex and like him and like every fucking thing he’d ever wanted.
“And then you want to end it. You’ve seen what it does when you end it. It breaks people. It nearly killed Nissa and Tam. You want me to watch you go through that?”
Her head shook. She sputtered, but he cut her off, moving her off his lap to stand.
“Let’s go to sleep, Feola. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
Her shoulders sagged.
He took her hand, forcing his body to stay gentle despite the blood that pumped furiously through his veins, and all of it surging at his cock, demanding that he just do it, now, before she had time to reconsider. Fuck her gratitude, and fuck her pity. And fuck her.
She drifted in his wake. They’d been getting somewhere, hadn’t they? Clearly not.
She didn’t trust him. Not really. Not with her secrets. And not with her future. Which was fine—she’d been through enough to warrant mistrust and doubt, but what she proposed was unreasonable. A breach of ancient, sacred tradition. To him… the Bond was something beautiful, eternal, not something to be done for a month and broken at will. No, when he Bonded, if he Bonded, it would be forever.
They prepared for bed. The intermittent crash of the birds punctuated their silence.
Cold air raised goosebumps on her skin, puckering her nipples to tight beads, and all he wanted to do was close his lips over one and suck it into his mouth until she quivered and moaned. His cock throbbed and pulsed, and his balls tightened.
Fuck, he’d never get enough. She shivered, teeth chattering as they climbed into bed on icy sheets. “Ay-shocks, I know how you feel…”
No, she didn’t. If she knew how he felt, she’d shut up and stop talking about gratitude or fear, and realize that Bonds were the only sacred thing in the fucking universe that mattered to any man of Argentus, the only thing that mattered to him. His people were dying off, fading out of existence, and those who were left were resigne
d to a fate without love, or sex, or children or any hope of a future. So few of them ever had even the hope of a true Bonding.
Except him.
Not even him.
He snapped. Lost control. Lunged forward, dragged her across the bed, rolled on top of her, silenced her with a kiss. A long, hard one that grew and stretched. When she tried to speak again, he filled her mouth with his tongue, thrusting the hard ridge of his rampant cock against the rise of her pelvic bone.
As the pleasure-pain reverberated from his cock across his entire abdomen, he hissed against her lips, drawing his hand down her hip, cupping the curve of her ass, pinching a peaked nipple until she squeaked and shook.
She tried to speak again, so this time, he traced his teeth on her ear, making her gasp. He drifted down, closed his lips around a nipple, squeezing her breast until she writhed against him. “Ay-shocks.”
“Don’t talk.” His voice sounded harsh, and maybe cold, but she didn’t withdraw, just pressed harder against him until he was so hard he could explode at any second.
She mewled as though trying to speak again, but lacking the strength, or maybe the resolve.
“No words.” He touched her lips, pressed his index finger inside, and then his middle too, filling her mouth as he longed to fill her cunt. Her tongue was soft and hot and velvety. She sucked at his fingers hungrily, and he growled. Furious. At her.
He pushed her onto her stomach, pulled her up on hands and knees so her pussy spread before him like a gift to some auspicious, providential god. The only thing he wanted was to take his cock in hand and jam it home, thrust inside her until she was his for all time, without escape, without excuse, without remorse, without contention.
He pushed his fingers deeper into her mouth, reveling in the way she sucked at them, as hungry for him as he was for her. She shook, gasping, neck arched back under his ministrations, her hips pressing backward as if seeking something only he could give. And fuck if he didn’t want to give it to her.
He was shaking too, body vibrating, demanding a quick consummation they’d been skirting since the first minute they’d met. His cock and his brain wanted exactly the same thing, so it was a mother of a bitch to ignore the clamorous temptation of their commands.
“Ay-shocks, please,” she said, voice muffled around his fingers, hips thrusting back.
He didn’t want to hear, so he pulled her hair until she knelt against him, incapable of moving, neck arched, his fingers silencing her so he could scrape his teeth along her jaw and whisper darkly in her ear. “Shh. This isn’t about gratitude, Feola. Your gratitude smacks of pity. I don’t do this because I want you to be grateful. And your pity makes me mad.”
He ground his hips against her, letting her feel the threat of his body, the thickness of him against her thighs, the burning length of his cock against the slick of her cunt as it shoved over the folds to touch her swollen clit.
He paused, looking for any sign of fear from her, but found none. She only pressed against him, so he squeezed harder, pushed farther. “We were made for each other,” he hissed. “You just can’t see it yet.”
She babbled, words muffled around his fingers filling her mouth, but the sounds were as musical as ever.
It would be so easy. Just slide back a tiny bit, and press the head of his cock inside. But he held back, dragging it over her clit.
Her whole body shuddered, and she groaned low and deep. She bit down on his fingers, gushing as wet and slick as he’d ever seen her.
He dropped her hair, letting her fall forward to take her weight on her hands, and pressed a finger inside her, circling his thumb around the tiny rosebud of her ass.
Finger slick from her pussy, he pressed harder, pushing deep inside. She shuddered, gasping, pushing back until his finger was deep inside her tightness. He kissed his way down her spine, swirled his tongue along the perfect pair of dimples at the base of her spine. “This ass is a thing to behold.”
He thrust his finger inside, and when he dipped his mouth lower, trailing downward, she sobbed out a breathless complaint, trying to crawl away, but he held her still with his arm around her hips.
When he stroked his tongue down her cunt, thrust it deep inside, she bucked her hips against him. He lapped at the bud of her clit, and she gasped louder, chanting out meaningless music.
She screamed out his name when she came, and the taste was so sweet on his tongue, he nearly joined her. Her body moved as if possessed, and he just rode it out, tongue stroking her pussy, and pumping his finger in her ass.
She rested her head on the pillow, hips still pressed toward him, and her orgasm hadn’t done a thing to cool his own burn. He wanted to fuck and fuck and fuck until he wasn’t himself, and she wasn’t herself, and they became something entirely new.
But not for fucking gratitude. He pulled his finger out of her, enjoying the way she whimpered when he did, and dipped the fingers of his other hand into the liquid well of her core, gathering up her cum to use as lubricant.
He fisted his cock, stroked it long, and it didn’t take more than a few seconds before he sprayed serum over her back. It dripped down the seam of her ass, along the folds of her glorious, glistening sex.
He didn’t deserve her gratitude. He wasn’t a good man. A good man wouldn’t have felt the surge of primitive anger. Wouldn’t have wanted so brutally to vent fury through the head of his cock. He wanted to just fuck it all away, fuck her better, and end the sickening limbo of eternal serum-dispensing.
Gratitude.
I don’t want it.
I want everything.
Always. Nothing less would do. Anything less was ointment on a severed artery.
He slipped from the bed early the next morning, tucking the covers around her. She murmured complaints, curling into the warm spot his body left on the sheets.
The ship had cooled dramatically in the night, approaching freezing. She was still asleep, exhausted. He’d been too rough in the night, demanded too much from her.
He’d woken untold times, reaching for her. She’d never pushed him away or turned from him. Always spread her thighs wide for his hands or his tongue. Something strange had possessed him. A primal urge that had spoken to something inside he’d never felt before. Some unnatural need had demanded that he give her as much of himself as he could for the limited time they had.
She’d never said no, not even when he’d pulled her hand and wrapped her dainty fingers around the girth of his cock, or straddled her face, filling her mouth, not when he’d pulled her atop to ride his tongue. Not even when he’d pressed two fingers deep between the cleft of her ass, heedless of the serum he was pushing inside along with it.
She’d only moaned, gasped against his neck, and panted his name in her musical voice. Ay-shocks. Ay-shocks.
She’d begged him for more. Ten times. A hundred. She’d moaned and pleaded and begged him to Bond with her. But always in the throes of passion.
He’d considered it, briefly, taking her. Just shoving his cock home, deep in the wet channel of her cunt, in the only place it wanted to be, claiming her, Bonding her to him, and fuck reason or morals. Fuck integrity. Fuck it all. She’d asked for it. Just stake a claim and for once in his life do the dishonorable thing.
He hadn’t been able to do it.
Instead, he’d just fed her more serum, daring the gods and playing a dangerous game with their chemistry. He’d rubbed it into the smooth skin of her neck and breasts until he couldn’t tell their scents apart.
He pulled on his boots and strapped on some of his knives, moving like one half-dead.
In the galley, he made a crappy mug of eeffoc and sucked it down blistering hot. His whole body smelled like them. Feola and sex and him.
He walked naked toward the hatch, mug in his hands, and peered through the porthole. An array of black feathers and spilled blood littered the ground near the ship, knocked unconscious perhaps, torn apart, cannibalized by their own kind.
The last of their th
rashing against the ship’s walls had died at dawn.
Birds of the night, evidently.
Tam’s message. B was for birds. A population of nocturnal blood-sucking birds, so viscious that an entire planet had been deserted. It was preferable in some ways to wild boys or angry buffalo. But it did make moving dicy, since they couldn’t be caught outside after dark.
It made staying at the ship more desirable, but the last thing he wanted to do was make daily treks to the river and back again just for drinking water. The flat plain on which they’d landed seemed ripe for flash-flooding, and judging from the lack of vegetation nearby, it seemed a reasonable assumption that it could happen. He had no idea what season it was. And no clue as to what other form of predator the planet might house.
It pissed him off all over again. He hated not knowing.
The hotel must have had protection from the birds at some point, whether in the form of technology, like a force field, or something more primitive like a simple roof, or a set of predatory animals. Unless the birds were a new adaptation. Three hundred years seemed too short for that level of evolutionary adaptation.
He opened the hatch.
The air had already warmed under the light of a still-weak and silvery sun.
He eyed the white ruins and columns of the hotel in the distance, nestled against its purple hills and glittering waterfalls.
Couldn’t be more than four or five miles away.
They’d have to go early so they’d have time to explore and make it back before nightfall if need be. And hope there were no more surprises.
And no bounty hunters on their tail.
A squeak echoed down the passageway. Followed by a few more.
Feola emerged behind him.
He nodded at her over his shoulder.
She’d pulled on her shoes and wrapped a blanket around her. It trailed on the floor behind her. Her hair, a wild mass of pink-orange curls, skin pale, eyes bleary.
“Is that eeffoc?”
He nodded.
“Is it hot?”
She smiled sleepily at his affirmation, blinking those enormous yellow-green eyes, fringed in black, and yawned as she stepped closer to him. His cock pulsed angrily, and his eyes burned. He pulled her to stand in front of him, wrapping his arms around her blanket-covered body.
The Breaking Page 16