“Gotta love a man who takes charge in the kitchen.”
In the next moment, he heard absolute quiet, as if she realized what she’d said.
For a brief second, he considered pressing his advantage. Yet that wouldn’t be to his long-term advantage. He pulled out the huge cooking pot. “You just want me to cook for you, darling,” he bantered while setting it on a burner. He flicked on the heat, then reached for a tray of herbs and spices in jars and placed them before her. “Which ones?”
Once she selected a pepper mixture, he lifted the lid, inviting her to sprinkle it in.
“Mmmmm. Smells good, already.” She gave a few healthy shakes. “What veggies are you using?”
Setting the tray next to her, he moved to the freezer section of the cooler, reaching in for a huge bag of cut-up and peeled root vegetables. He held it up, and then poured in about three quarters of it.
“Food,” she praised, drawing out the word. Again, he heard how hungry she’d been as he returned the bag to the freezer.
Reaching around her, he pecked her cheek with a kiss, and then grabbed the bottle of exotic spices he preferred. Adding a few dashes he asked, “Do you like maize kernels?”
“The white ones, especially.”
“I have blue.” Carefully measuring out some salt, he tossed it in.
“Blue is good. Do you think I could grow some of my favorite fruits and vegetables?”
“That’s one of the projects on my list, Wendy my kitten. Set up an indoor garden. If we can scavenge some more grow lights or intensify the light through the windows enough, we could grow those purpleberries you used to filch.”
“I only filched the ones that were overripe. And I had to fight the critters for them.”
“We used to laugh because your tongue would be purple, especially the tip.”
“Figures” She scowled playfully and swung her legs. “I should have tongue-kissed you, shared the purple. Then you would have looked guilty instead of me.”
“Mom yelled at me enough for what I did do.” Turning to face her, Zent stirred slowly. Grinning around her was so easy. “I have a couple of raw onion-taters, if you want to slice them in.”
She nodded, a shadow of reserve entering her eyes.
“Back on the quick.” He handed her the stirring spoon, and watched her begin before he blurred toward his makeshift pantry. Snatching a can of blue kernels and swooping up the onion-taters, he walked back with a leisurely stride, enjoying the sight of her. She would soon understand they didn’t expect her to take over the domestic chores.
Leaning over, she stirred with expertise, having learned how to cook from her mother. He placed the onion-taters within her reach, then speedily opened the can with his thumbnail and dumped the maize kernels in the pot.
“Do you remember where you found the maize?”
Zent hesitated, the memory replaying itself. “It was in Bernie’s underground bunker. He and his family perished in the first outbreak of flu.”
“Oh.” She stilled. “I didn’t know. I just knew I hadn’t seen him. I guess I hoped he and his family had escaped somewhere else.”
Regarding her steadily, he continued, “Bernie told me where the family’s bunker was. He knew he was dying.”
She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “It’s been so tough on all of us, it’s a wonder we’re all still standing, emotionally.”
“The four of us have had each other to take care of and to live for.”
“I think one reason I kept going, kept surviving, was just because sometimes I could help someone else.” She picked up the spoon, stirring again. “Or maybe I was too stubborn to give up, no matter how much I wanted to, until...” Letting the spoon idle in the steaming, almost-bubbly stew, she reached for one of the onion-taters. “Knife?”
Zent selected a small knife from the holder and handed it to her. “What fresh herbs do you want?” he asked, figuring distraction was his best ally.
“As much parsley as you can spare. And some lemongrass, please.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched her delicately slice the yellow-fleshed vegetable. She’d sniffled back her tears, and now concentrated on her task. Maybe he couldn’t love the sadness out of her, but he could sure give it a super-relentless try. That is, if his hardening cock had any say. Snipping off the herbs in his palm, he carried them over to the pot and scattered the tiny green pieces while she sliced in the second onion-tater.
“You all were amazing, building the dam. I couldn’t see everything clearly with the slamming rain, though.”
Zent smiled with her praise. Inside, he beamed. “Why, thank you, my darling kitten.” Taking the knife from her and setting it down, he looped his arms around her, then pushed between her thighs until his rod nestled against her belly.
“Still expecting a reward, Dark Hero?” she silkily tempted. Lazily, she slid her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against him. “You know,” she drawled, “if I reward you, I’ll have to reward all of you.”
“Zavier had his turn,” he pointed out. His cock pointed higher and stronger.
“He did.” Slowly she planted a small kiss on his jaw, her tits thrusting against him.
“God, Wendy.”
“Why don’t you put a lid on your pot?” She kissed farther up his jaw, straining against him. “Then put something in my pot, and stir a little.”
“A little.” Carnal fog rolled through his brain. Reaching for a lid, he placed it on the pot without looking, and then turned down the heat. “Wendy, why?” He had to know before he took her and didn’t care why she suddenly asked for it.
“Stir a little, can you do that?” Her lips brushed along his jaw near his ear. “You know, slow and easy. As if we’re simmering together.”
“Why?” he croaked, smoothing his hands all over her sweet back. His rod twitched, trying to stir inside her kwim.
“It’s always been a fantasy of mine. Ever since I saw the movie, Servin’ It Up, when they were back in the eatery kitchen.” She softly nibbled on his jaw, driving him delirious with need. “Did you see it?”
“Yes.” Zent forced his hands beneath her prime incredible ass, squeezing. “Is that really why?” Hadres’ hind end, she was killing him. But he had to know for certain. He needed to know how to handle her.
“I think I want to feel safe.” Her little whisper wrapped around his heart. “And alive again.”
“Alive?” he rasped, his fog receding a bit.
“I’ve felt mostly dead inside for a long time. Except when I dance.”
Pulling herself upwards, her arms hugging his neck, she kissed his earlobe, a sensual lingering of her lips. “And it is one of my fantasies.”
Intrigued by how she would continue seducing him, Zent slowed his caresses over her hips and butt. Her lips caught his earlobe, tugging, teasing gently. “Wendy, baby,” he encouraged. She nibbled, a tiny slow dance up the rim of his ear, turning his loins molten and dark, making his rod heavier than iron. “Wendy, yes, that’s it.”
Gradually nibbling back down his ear, she flicked his lobe with the tip of her small tongue, a sensual slow rhythm. He groaned, the delicate raw sensation coursing down to the tip of his bulging cock’s head. Seizing her ass cheeks, he gripped hard. “Give it to me, baby.” He jammed his rod deeper into the soft cushion of her belly and groaned louder.
Trapping his entire earlobe, she sucked, dragging her lips downward. “Wendy,” he hoarsely begged. In answer, she lightly captured his lobe with her teeth, and then raked downward. Zent bucked his cock like a youth, her flesh pillowing the raging ache he’d become.
Tightening her grip around his neck, she whispered, “I want to be stirred. Give it to me, so I can see if it’s right for my pot.”
Roughly sliding his palms down her thighs, he undid his pants and just let them fall around his ankles like in the movie, Servin’ It Up. A sheen of sweat sprang to his forehead as his rod sprang free and ready, moisture oozing from its slit.
“Why don’t we give my talents a try?” Quaking inside and lava-black inside with need, he molded his palms to her thighs, then gradually stroked up her enchantress curves, swollen and heavy with her passion.
“You’d better be very talented in my pot,” she sang seductively, her lips close to his. She rubbed her palm in a languid circle over the top of his cock’s head several times, then sensually squeezed.
He jabbed himself against the center of her palm, unable to do anything else. “Wench,” he rasped. “I’m aching like a son of a gun.”
He dragged her overalls downward as gently as he could manage. Eagerly she lifted her butt, her hand gripping his rod like a joystick. He grimaced with a jolt of pain and unbearable pleasure. Shuffling back a couple of steps, he shoved the overalls from her legs, her sandals going with them when he tossed them to the side. His hands met the delightful heated feel of her skin.
“Come here. And stir.” She pulled on his cock, which savagely tingled his balls. “Or I’ll make you ache like a donkey son of a gun.” Scooting forward on the counter top, she raised her thighs high, on either side of him, and planted her feet on the edge, completely and brazenly, opening her kwim to him.
Breathing in the carnal sizzle of her juices, Zent trapped the weight of her tits in his hands, fondling. Every muscle he possessed strained toward her. If she wanted to be stirred, he’d stir. Slow.
“Simmer me, Dark Hero,” she sang throatily, her eyelids half closed. Her thumb slipped back and forth over his tender slit, using the slickness of his seed.
“Give me your pot,” he growled, which was a brutal sound to his ear. A second later he pistoned his cock out of her hand, burying his head into the plump flesh above her cleft.
Claiming her hips with his splayed hands, he imitated the scene in the movie, thrusting just inside her sweet, sweet hole. “Holy mercy, Wendy.” The words tore from his throat.
With each languorous strike inside her, he moved inch by inch, controlling the desperation of his cock.
“Oh, yes, Zent, that way. Do it that way.” Bracing herself on her palms, she tilted her kwim toward his lunges, giving him more access to her tight scorching hole.
Plunging the last inch to her core, he groaned, the primitive in him roaring with triumph. Easing his savagely throbbing rod from her until his cock’s head was gloved by her entrance; he pumped inside her, gliding his manhood in slow motion. Over and over. She sang whimpers of ecstasy to him, her sex walls clutching at him, always pleading for more of his rod.
“Simmering,” she cried out. “Make me simmer some more. Please!”
Leaning forward, he braced his hands beside hers and slowly rammed his cock in and out of her, fucking her with a smooth fluidity he’d never experienced before. His balls gently smacked the voluptuous swell of her ass while her breasts bounced against his chest. To say he’d died and gone on to the great blue heaven... Hell, he was glad he hadn’t died and missed this heathen version of heaven.
Her fiery juicy sex swelled around his painfully smoldering rod, and she boiled over, her orgasm gradually rising. She keened an ecstatic moan, and then sharply cried out. Arching back, she thrust her kwim onto his cock as if it were a blade she sheathed.
Zent waited as long as he could. Strongly fisting her hair at the base of her head, he tugged his own demand. Her eyes flew open, aquamarine mists of absolute beauty.
“I love you, Wendra. Do you understand?”
She panted wildly; her cheeks flushed a deep rose.
“Do you understand?” He needed to hear her answer.
“Yes,” she softly answered.
Zent clenched his eyes shut, and let his orgasm rip through him. The pleasure cut through his cock like a razor and up his torso like the slice of a dozen blades. He hoarsely barked with the black bliss possessing him. When he forced his eyes open, he saw only blackness for long moments instead of her face, as he’d desperately wanted. “Wendy.”
“Talk about the true pillar of strength.”
Zent grinned like a perfect fool inside. Bending to her, he kissed her ripe soft mouth.
Chapter Seventeen
Dark Wizard of the Machine
Zion scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes, the odors of Zent’s stew drawing him towards the kitchen like a plasma magnet, which reminded him about his newest project to turn their battle and speed vehicles into slammin’ super-mode, beyond how he’d super-charged them so far. Their strength, flight and blur-speed abilities aside, at times it was more effective to capture and stop the Super Bads or just the Bads using on-the-street vehicles.
Besides, redundancy of super abilities was his favorite credo. Given the off and on tendencies of their powers as they transformed, the backup of his machines and invented gadgets had often saved their hides, not to mention the citizens of Chrontropolis and the city itself. Even now, with his superpowers drained, he could still fight the good fight using his battle vehicles outfitted with all manner of slick tricks and an array of blast weapons that could target a swarm of Super Bads high in the sky, or single out a target the size of a small bird with a thin ray.
He smiled, padding closer to the kitchen.
He intended to train Wendy in the use of their battle weapons and vehicles, once she was trained to his sexual preferences and his mastery. She’d adored the rush of riding behind him on his powered-up motorcycle and in his sleek speed-improved car. He’d never admitted it to her, but he’d made some improvements just for her, just to see the wild enthusiasm on her face when her eyes would glow, the golden lights in them flaring magically. Just to be with her. Despite Zotorro and Zavier.
Wendy had always encouraged him in his skill with machines. A good-kick-in-the-ass yes, she’d also warned him repeatedly to be careful. Not that he’d listened a whole lot, except to keep her and others safe.
Rounding the curved entrance into the kitchen, he halted in mid-step, and then swiftly took several steps back where he could watch unobserved. Zent wasn’t just cooking up stew; he was cooking his cock inside Wendy, forking her at an agonizingly slow pace. He knew why. Wendy wanted it that way. Her face gleamed with pleasure. And she’d opened her kwim hole fully to his brother’s penetrating rod.
Zion also knew why he didn’t join them. Intimacy blazed around them like energized plasma waves. Leaning against the wall, he told his cock to contain and maintain until later.
Zavier must have given her to Zent to take care of for now, or he would have been around. Zion had dragged his fatigued butt to his room, and then collapsed on the bed, dead to the world. He knew Zent had been as exhausted. Maybe Wendy had fired him up with the healing charms of her flame. Zion took another peek. She was certainly cooking his bone to well-done now.
Shaking his head, he decided to check on Zavier and find out why they’d all battled to build the dam that spared Chrontropolis a terrible flood while fighting against brutal odds none of them had expected. Plus, Zavier usually managed to re-route something and put a hitch in his system. He might as well perform a check, make everything hum perfectly again.
Sending out a spark of thought, all the super ability he could manage right now, he found Zavier’s location. Scowling, he jogged toward the elevator. His brother had gone alone to the cell where they’d put the gray creature. Impatiently he watched his descent, and then strode out the door. Zavier might not realize it, but the creature was a bio machine, one they hadn’t encountered yet.
“Zion, what’s wrong? Is Wendy okay?”
“Wendy is with Zent. They’re cooking together.” He emphasized cooking. “What’s going on?” He nodded towards the gray creature’s holding cell.
“I was trying to get a mental scan.
Find out if our unwanted visitor is connected to Mowzolinn.”
“It’s a bio machine that could be recording any thought you send,” Zion warned.
“Donkey hoof to my head, that’s your expertise, brother.”
“Did you use any of our devices to scan?”
“No. I wasn’t about to chance an energy virus infecting our system.”
Zion nodded. “Good, I know what to watch for. Once my brain is charged up again and I check out the system, I’ll see what I can discover.”
“Yeah, Wendy flamed through your system to boost the shield here and at the Mayor’s stronghold. Plus, with my past screw-ups...”
“Wendy used her flame?” Zion interrupted.
“It was either give her a fiery shot or be invaded. I opened the link panel. It worked. She also sensed Mowzolinn through her flame. However, we require proof that can go worldwide before we take battle action against him and his compound.”
“True, big brother. I’ll go give the system a clean-up. What was it like, watching her flame the enemy?”
“I didn’t have time to do much watching. The effect was soar-to-the-sky amazing, once I got over worrying about her. She also fingered or fire-fingered Luby Pristier. You had a short thing with her. Do you want to follow up chatting with her, or fly fast in the opposite direction?”
“She only wanted me for my tech knowledge.”
“And your rod action.”
“Yeah, that too. I might be able to reel her in, let the rest of you play interrogation ping-pong with her. If you want to play it that way.” Zion raised his brows.
“I haven’t told Wendy. She’s not fond of Luby Lipstick. And less so now.”
“I suppose she’ll find out somehow. Better later than now.” Zion rubbed the back of his neck.
“Clean up your system. I’ll keep watch down here. The Mayor is due to contact again with some data he’s sorting through. Zent is cooking as in cooking food, right?”
Her Insatiable Dark Heroes Page 23