Chapter Seven
Dark Zion of the Valorous
Aware of Zavier’s return, Zion glanced over at him as he leaned on the frame of the archway. He watched them from quite a distance away. Zavier gave a slight nod, and then pivoted towards his domain. Zion knew he’d been there since he’d squeezed her breasts together for Zent’s sucking mouth.
Her breasts. He moved his palms over them again. He’d never get enough of their plump ripeness and rich cream beauty. If she couldn’t dance for a while, he could make her dance beneath his touch and beneath his body, teach her what it was to carnal dance for him, for all of them.
“We can train her the way we want it,” he huskily agreed. “And we can teach her how it feels to belong to us.” Briefly he sank his thumbnail and fingernail into the base of her softened nipple. Screaming briefly, she grabbed his hand and arched backwards, her butt shoving against his straining cock.
“She’s ready. Mount up, Zotorro.” He peered down at Zent’s face, watching his bliss-stupefied expression begin to clear. “Do you want to hold her? Or do we switch places?”
“I’ll hold her,” Zent rasped. Gripping the sides of her thighs, he lifted Wendy’s ass into position, her knees resting on top of his thighs.
“Oh, yes,” she moaned. Panting erratically, she seized the arms of the chair, keeping her face above Zent’s satisfied rod.
Zion forced himself to back away from the fierce temptation of her presented butt and the blatantly gorgeous display of her kwim. Her swollen red folds turned his loins inside out with a pleasurable agony. He grabbed his cock’s head and pinched hard, easing his ferocious need to take her.
Once Zotorro kneeled and stared at her kwim, glistening with her new sexual juices, Zion asked, “Is she wide enough?”
“Wider,” Zotorro grunted. He swirled his fingers up and down his ramrod of a cock, greedily watching as Zent separated his own legs, widening her thighs and exposing her clit. “Wendy.” He leaned forward reverently, his features sharpened by lust.
Gently Zotorro tasted her juices, using the tip of his tongue. Her whimpers of surrender felt like the sword of bliss driven into Zion’s middle and he clamped down on his cock’s head. His teeth clenched against his own need to mount her, he moved to the side, watching Zotorro lap at her clit. Claiming her inner thighs with his hands, he continued licking the length of her deep-red sex cord.
“Give him your clit, Wendy. All of it,” Zion commanded. She offered herself, her body subtly shifting, becoming more supple. The graces of heaven, she was his picture of a pleasured temptress. He fisted his cock with both hands.
Increasing the speed of his tongue, Zotorro tightened his hold on her thighs and Zion knew he tasted her first creamy drop. Her readiness to climax showed in every sumptuous line of her body. And her high-pitched moans made his cock throb brutally.
Collapsing forward, she whimpered her orgasm. Zent caught the sides of her face between his palms, cradling her tenderly. Sliding his hands up her thighs, Zotorro caressed over her ass. He stood awkwardly, his rod aimed at her dripping sweet hole. Salivating like a beast, his cock penetrated her kwim folds. Possessively, he gripped her hips, launching inside her. He thrust his fucking rod deep and shoved his loins against her round, goddess ass.
She cried out, sucked her breath in, and then tilted her hips to receive more of him.
“She feels better than she looks,” Zotorro growled through gritted teeth.
His gaze trapped by his brother’s rut, Zent rasped, “She’s constantly coming now. Take her as hard as you want.”
“I feel her. Her hole is my sweetest haven.” Zotorro gradually withdrew the entire length of his rod. Grunting harshly, he speared hard and fast to her core. Pressed against the lush round flesh of her butt, he groaned loudly, his eyelids clenched in unrelenting pleasure.
Zion groaned with him and crushed his cock against his loins with one hand to ease the knifing twist of his own need. Again, Zotorro slowly withdrew, and then repeated his forceful plunge. His ecstatic groan reverberated through Zion, darkening his blood with the desire to utterly conquer her.
God, she was unbelievably beautiful this way. Wendy arched her sultry body, taking Zotorro’s bold hard thrusts. Her little moans escalated until she cried out her orgasm, her breasts quivering. Pulling back slowly, Zotorro lunged and never altered his rhythm. He continued to ease his glistening rod from her, then lance swiftly inside her sheath.
Zion ached to plunder her kwim, drive his cock inside her. He raged with the thought that now he could take her often. She would open to him at his command and be his to mount until she dissolved into her climax. Hell, he wanted to give her every sexual enjoyment, as well as take every carnal pleasure from her exquisitely curved body. He’d always wanted that, to both please her and pleasure her beyond whatever she’d fantasized about, all while mastering her. Zion had never pretended otherwise to himself.
Now, she was finally his.
Zotorro groaned savagely, seized her hips harder and rammed his loins against her ass. His orgasm streaked up his torso bowing him backwards with its strength. Wendy trembled all over, the force of her rapture evident as she raised her face. A glow emanated from her features, and a lovely sheen of sweat covered her body, reminding him of when he’d watch her practice dancing during the summer.
He’d straddle the large tree limb overlooking her patio and be hidden enough for her not to discover him. Part of the time he would simply marvel at how dreamy and artistic she appeared as she whirled into various steps and poses. Part of the time, though, his cock acted like a damn log lying on the branch, and he would have to climb down gingerly or very carefully climb over to the tree house, where he would drain himself as if putting out a fire before one of his brothers intruded. Usually he ended up on his knees, his climax rocking him like a small boat caught in a storm.
As his orgasm eased, Zotorro staggered back, his features and the entire length of his body carved with such ferocious bliss. Zion could only stare.
“We don’t have to catch you this time, do we?” Zent asked in earnest and to rib his brother. He skimmed caresses over Wendy, meant to soothe her and lessen the impact of her fall from the grace of her full-blown orgasms. Once Zotorro backed up to a lounge chair and fell into it, heaving large breaths, Zent threw a glance over at Zion. “How do you want her?”
“Turn her over. I want a good long suck on her clit.”
Wendy moaned, and then writhed, languidly dancing the extreme curvaceous lines of her body. Zion swallowed hard and clamped down on his cock’s head. As soon as he could get to it, he was breaking out his collection of cock rings and restraints. Holy sin, he was going to use them, and could certainly use one now. Because he definitely wanted a long taste of her before he pounded his rod into the hot sweetness of her kwim hole.
His cock itching and aching like a son of a gun, Zion watched Zent gently handle her as he turned her over. He placed her on top of his legs so she straddled him, and then wrapped his arms around her. “Wendy,” he crooned, “beautiful Wendy.”
“Hold her kwim open for me.” Zion sank to his knees, inhaling the pungent smell of her many climaxes, headier than the strong wine he favored. “SlashFlame Kitten.” The deep growl of his own voice surprised him.
She whimpered as Zent positioned her thighs wider, and then pulled her rosy red sex lips apart with his fingers, exposing what he wanted—the blatant thrust of her clit. “Mine.” The dark sound erupted from the depth of his loins. Her cream-covered cord twitched rhythmically from her constant pleasure. Zion swore as he stared that he would learn whatever aroused her and pleased her most while he took what he wanted from her.
Ignoring the painful throb of his rod, he shoved her thighs farther apart. Leaning down to her kwim, he sucked her carnal bud deep into his mouth. She screamed, and rocked her hips swiftly in an effort to fight the intense ecstasy.
“No. Give it to him,” Zent commanded her. “You will give it to him.”
“Donkey beast,” she moaned. “No. It’s too much.”
“You can take it, darling.” Zent’s tone demanded her obedience. “That’s it, play with your nipples.”
As she sang high-pitched whimpers, Zion sucked her harder and faster. The moment he felt her clit throb with the beginning of her come, he pulled her bud deeper, stretching her kwim’s flesh. Her juice burst onto his tongue, the tang of her feminine essence. He soared with the taste of her, and then released her jerking clit. His own blood ignited as if sparks of electricity relentlessly coursed through him. His rod lengthened and thickened painfully.
Sitting back on his haunches, he watched her carnal-pleasured face. She’d risen to another level of pleasure and was far more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. All those times he’d fantasized after watching her dance, when her expression had been one of impassioned bliss, when he would envision her face radiant with ecstasy as he took her—now it was real. And his.
Zion cupped her heavy tits once her berry-red teats softened. While Zent cradled her body with his and smoothed his palms up and down her arms, Zion tenderly massaged the swollen loveliness of her breasts. She delicately moaned with pleasure, her nipples puckering toward him. Zion stroked downward, inwardly praising the feel of her waist, of her shape, both lithe and generous. Languidly rubbing the heel of his hand over her mound, he felt her smolder with more need.
“You want more, don’t you?” he hoarsely asked. His cock leapt forward and he swore he felt like a lion in rut for his lioness.
She thrust her mound into his palm, her cries a plea. Zion pressed the heel of his hand deeper into the thickness of her flame-red curls, and rocked her sex flesh harder. God help him, she reeked with the raw scent of her sheath’s orgasm, darkening his lust to primitive.
“Your sweet hole wants me, doesn’t it?” he rasped.
Groaning her desire, she undulated, his sinuous princess.
“Wendy.” He stood, his body scorched, a pit furnace of black heat. His aching rod damned him for what he’d denied himself.
Zion seized her waist, hauling her off Zent’s lap. A sound of passion burst from her lips. Frenzied with her need, she danced against him, a torrid rhythm that transformed her into his wanton queen of fire. Instinctively, she started to wrap her legs around him, He couldn’t wait, plunging his cock up into her hotter than blazes sheath. Flattening her breasts against his chest and clinging to him, she surrendered with tiny whimpers. He grabbed her goddess-voluptuous ass, pumping her up and down fast, and harshly yelling like a barbarian.
To everyone’s witness, he took her. Yet, her sweet luxurious hole took him, owning his manhood. He growled with the pillowed feel of her breasts moving against his sweat-slickened flesh. As he fucked her more slowly, and with deliberate force, she keened a symphony of moans. Lightning branched up his cock, then up his loins, sizzling through his entire body. She screamed with the wild bliss of another climax, her nails clawing into his shoulders. He roared with his own explosion, a deep sound that claimed his soul. Zion had never felt more powerful in his whole life.
“Wendy.” He clutched her close as they both rode out the tumultuous storm of their orgasms.
Too soon, Zion blinked his eyes open, apprehension suddenly zinging along his skin. Zavier’s hungry gaze watched them while Zent spoke close to his ear, probably saying something about Wendy he didn’t hear.
“Tornado,” Zavier barked the warning.
Clutching Wendy tightly, Zion whipped around. With his super night vision he looked out the window spying the outline of a twister in the far distance. Not yet on the ground, the slender killer, looking for all the world like a furious smoke serpent, spun a path toward Chrontropolis.
“You take care of her,” Zavier directed him. “Track us on screen. Give us progress reports and watch our asses.”
“On my way down.” Zion gave one short nod, then flash-zoomed them inside his domain.
“What?” she asked, once they halted, sounding dizzy.
Easing her from his rod, Zion let her slide downward then steadied her against his frame. “Tornado, Wendy. Someone is attacking Chrontropolis.”
“Oh crap on the devil.” She raised her hand to her temple, as if she felt woozy.
“Wendy, I’m going to dress. Find you something to wear.”
“No. Go help—”
Zion didn’t wait on the rest of her words. He scooped her up, carrying her to his bed. Laying her down, he spun into his casual gear, then sped inside his enormous closet area. Swiftly grabbing one of his lightweight khaki shirts, he returned. She rubbed her temples, her eyes dazed and blinking.
“I don’t think I’ll ever recover.” Her tone was wistful, bewildered and definitely irritated.
Sitting beside her, Zion mentally kicked himself hard for not having the time to comfort her. Once she eyed the shirt he held, she sat up, but paused, obviously still groggy. Zion peered closely into her aqua-mist eyes, relieved when they cleared. Yet, before he could dress her, she snatched the shirt like a lifeline and slid into it, rapidly doing up the closures.
Feeling awkward, Zion decided his best move was simply to scoop her into his arms and head down to their subterranean Control room. He’d never possessed Zavier’s cocky way with women. Nor did he have Zent’s easy charm. He’d had several lovers, connecting with them over a shared interest first. His propensity for being alone, working on his machines and gadgets, had eventually strained the relationship to the breaking point.
Observing Wendy now, he realized he’d compared every lover to her. There was no comparison. There never had been. A new resolve overcame him, and he stood, stretching his arms down to her. “Come here, Wendy,” he ordered.
She hissed with exasperation, yet reached up to him. Swiftly, he swung her upwards, capturing her against his chest. The instant she wrapped her arms and legs around him, he flash-zipped them inside the elevator.
“Don’t you ever get headaches from this?” She muttered, her lips pressed into the hollow of his shoulder.
“The speed of the elevator?” he asked once he strode into the Control room.
Zavier had already set the program parameters for their largest screen. As he moved toward the control chair, Zion fastened his gaze on the tornado’s advance, straight for the center of Chrontropolis. Already chunks of debris whirled in the funnel, with the larger pieces being hurled in every direction.
“What are they doing?” Wendy abruptly straightened. Her muscles tensed anxiously as he lowered them onto the chair. Riveted, she watched his brothers’ streaking flight toward the behemoth tornado snaking angrily over the ground.
Zion coded in the emergency, sending it to all of the Super Brethren. It could be too late. Whoever had created the weather monstrosity had known where to conjure it up and how to time its attack on Chrontropolis. He hoped like wild hell some of the Super Brethren followed behind his brothers, though he knew if they’d been anywhere close, the screen’s visual technology would have already shown them.
“Can they really stop that horrible thing?” Wendy’s breaths quickened in fear. “By themselves?”
Zion didn’t know which way to jump. Should he reassure her or tell her the truth? The force and size of the tornado as shown by the screen’s readouts required six supermen with the power level of the Dark Brothers to alter its course and lessen the destruction. Instead of answering her, he shut his eyes in concentration, communicating telepathically the current status to his brothers.
“My Great Aunt Minnie,” she swore. “Since you’re not answering, it must be bad.”
“Wendy,” he began. Yet what did he tell her?
“Why do you have to stay here?” she impatiently challenged. “Go help them.”
She moved restlessly while he refined the screen’s imaging capability and searched a wider perimeter for other Superheroes. Quietly he heaved in a relieved breath. The three Gallant Brothers flight-charged toward the tornado from another angle. Although their arrival would not be timely, the odds had just improved. Once again, Zion used telepathy to send the info. Next, he switched on the city’s alarm system. It was not fully effective in covering the entire metro, but still, lives would be saved if the worst occurred.
“The Gallant Brothers?” She leaned toward the screen.
“Yes,” he confirmed, desperately wanting solutions he didn’t have. Yet.
Zion studied the rough distortion at the top of the funnel. The precision of the matrix frequencies told him it was being manipulated by master scientists.
“Omygawd! It’s growing.” She strained farther forward, her gaze locked on the boiling black twister.
“It’s doubling in strength.” Regretting his rash words, Zion connected mentally with his brothers, informing them.
“It’s too large. No!”
“Wendy...”
“Don’t bother with a lie.”
When he cupped her shoulder with his palm, she shrugged out of his hold. “You should have gone with them.”
His own anger surfacing, Zion seized her upper arms. “Don’t be a fool. Who would protect you if—”
“If they die,” she struck back.
He hesitated, but only for an instant. “Yes, Wendy, if they die.”
She froze, her spine stiff with dread. “It’s headed for the center of Chrontropolis, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Zion hauled in a large breath. “I’ve sounded the city alarms.”
“You can do that from here?”
“We have control over all the city systems from here.”
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes Page 11