No Escape - Book 4: Trek Mi Q'an

by Jaid Black

  Down on all fours and unable to move, with her buttocks submissively raised into the air for him to do to her what he would, she could do naught but shudder and gasp, every fear she’d harbored of him moments past forsaken for pleasure. “Oh aye,” she breathed out shakily.

  His tongue flicked at her clit in hard, rapid, mind-numbing thrusts and continued to flick at her until she thought she’d go mad. Beads of sweat broke out all o’er her body at the frustration. She wanted him to suck on her, to take her clit into his mouth and suckle hard, yet he continued to toy with her instead, working her up into a delirium whilst knowing she was unable to move to do anything about it.

  “Please,” she gasped, her nipples stabbing out. “Please do not—” She moaned long and loud. “—do not punish me this way.”

  Cam raised his face from between her legs. His fingers replaced his tongue, rubbing her clit in that maddening way that was firm enough to arouse her, yet too weak to allow for completion. “Make no mistake, ty’ka. You will be punished at my hands for a certainty,” he said in a low, dark rumble. “Yet no punishments shall be given to you on this the moon-rising of our joining.”

  Kara’s nostrils flared at his arrogant words. She was accustomed to being an independent wench—long accustomed. How dare he inform with such calm stoicism that he meant to punish her after they had mated? She would never submit, she thought as her teeth gritted. She would never—

  “Oh goddess.”

  Kara moaned out the platitude when Cam’s face dove once more for her flesh, his tongue this time curling around her clit and drawing it into the heat of his mouth. “Suck it,” she groaned. “Oh aye—suck it.”

  With a low growl, he gave her what she wanted, his lips and tongue coiling around the erect little piece of woman-flesh, then frenziedly suckling.

  “Aye,” she gasped. “Harder.”

  He suckled her harder, wringing gasps and groans from her. Being unable to move, being unable to do naught but accept the pleasure, made her orgasm come all the sooner. And all the harder.

  “Cam.”

  She came on a loud groan that started low in her throat and worked its way up to her hair and down to her toes. Blood rushed to her face, to her nipples, then he thrust his tongue deeply into her channel whilst she contracted around it.

  “Aye,” she cried out. “Oh Cam—aye.”

  Kara closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. The orgasm had been so harsh that she felt shaky and yet the summoning of her body prevented her from shaking. The effect drove her mad. She felt in a frenzy. She needed to move. She needed—something. “Please,” she panted out, her entire body tingling almost painfully, “release my body from your summons. I—ooooh.”

  A bridal necklace was summoned around her neck at the precise moment a long, thick cock slid into her from behind in one fluid motion. She gasped at the sensation of being so full, then moaned when she felt her body being released that she might move about. Immediately, instinctively, she arched up onto her elbows, raised her head, and prepared to look back at him. Unable to refrain from looking upon him any longer, Kara slowly, cautiously, turned her head and raised her eyes to meet his.

  She sucked in her breath. She had nigh unto forgotten how powerfully handsome he was. Large and fiercely muscled, golden and perfect, with eyes that glowed a turquoise the likes of which not even vintage matpow could compete. Such handsomeness had always been Cam K’al Ra. That visage had caused her to feel lucky as a girl-child, knowing he belonged to her as he did. And yet somehow throughout the years, that feeling of luckiness had been replaced with a fear of him, fear that odd though it was, she no longer felt now that she’d looked upon him as a wench grown.

  She had hurt him. ‘Twas so apparent in his eyes that the knowledge of it caused yet another stab of guilt to lance through her hearts. Feeling defensive, her nostrils flared as she looked away from him. ‘Twas too much pain between them. How could they ever carry on as Sacred Mates?

  And then he began to move his cock in and out of her in long, deep strokes, and all her worries were temporarily forgotten on a moan.

  “’Tis mine you are, pani,” Cam said thickly, his voice a rasp. His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he rotated his own hips and burrowed into her in a series of slow, mind-numbing strokes. His jaw clenched. “You will never leave me again.”

  Kara closed her eyes and moaned as she threw her hips back at him. She wanted more. She wanted it faster. Where non-Trystonni females sometimes felt pain upon the loss of their virginity, a Trystonni wench experienced naught but bliss. Why, none could say. “Aye,” she breathed out, the sound of their flesh slapping together as much a turn-on as the pummeling itself. “Harder.” Her breasts jiggled and her nipples stiffened with each hard thrust.

  Cam’s fingers burrowed deeper into her hips. “Like this?” he asked arrogantly, his thrusts coming harder, deeper, more rapid. “You want this?” he gritted out.

  “Oh aye.” Kara moaned as she threw her hips relentlessly at him, the need to be pounded into harder and deeper inducing her breath to come out in a hiss. “Fuck me,” she ground out in Trystonni. “Fuck me harder.”

  With a growl he mounted her hard, taking her like an animal as he thrust into her from behind. “My pussy,” she heard him rumble out in their tongue. “My pussy.”

  Kara moaned loudly and wickedly. Their flesh made suctioning sounds as it slapped together. Their breathing was heavy and labored. The sound of him moaning and groaning as he pummeled obliviously into her depths made her belly clench and knot. Being down on all fours made her breasts bounce around wantonly, which sensitized her nipples to the point of pleasure-pain. She knew she was about to come—harder than she’d ever come in her life.

  “Caaaam.” His name was torn from her lips on a loud moan that echoed throughout the dense Trefa jungle. She threw her hips back at him in a state of near-delirium, greedily wanting fucked as hard and as much as he could give it to her whilst her belly burst and her orgasm tore through her insides. “Oh goddess,” she groaned, her hips rocking back and forth. “Aye—oh Cam.”

  Cam’s nostrils flared as he pounded into her mercilessly, holding back nothing. He took her hard, ruthlessly, his teeth gritting as he staved off his orgasm for long minutes, thrusting in and out of the channel he’d been denied for five torturously long Yessat years. “Mine,” he ground out o’er and o’er again as he took her. “My pussy.”

  But then he could endure no more. Kara’s moans. Her gasps. The way her flesh sucked him back in every time he withdrew to thrust into her again…

  “Kara.”

  Every muscle in Cam’s body corded and tensed as he animalistically pounded into her channel three times more. On a groan that was loud enough to make up for five years outside of twenty Nuba-minutes, he closed his eyes and spurted hot seed deep within her.

  It took but three seconds for Kara to understand why a Sacred Mate could pleasure a wench as no other. As her bridal necklace began to pulse, as her belly began to contract with spasms that were nigh unto painful, she threw her head back and moaned whilst they burst together in a maddening peak of euphoria.

  Kara felt him gather her into his heavily muscled arms a sheer moment before the blackness came and began to overtake her. She had to wonder at her fate. ‘Twas for a certainty that when she woke up she would be long removed from Galis.

  As she surrendered to the blackness she could only speculate as to how harsh a punishment she would receive when she woke up.

  Chapter 6

  Meanwhile, back on Galis…

  Jana’s nipples hardened as she gazed down upon the chained male servant. The women warriors of her command had laid his eight foot long and heavily muscled body out in spread-eagle fashion, then chained him to the red crystal floor with boggi, a set of four shackles that protruded up from the crystal ground. Galians used boggi rarely, needing them only on the sparse occasions such as this one when it became necessary to break a recalcitrant male to their bidding.

  She took a deep breath as she lowered her gaze to the slave’s erect cock. The need to mate with the male, to impregnate her body with his hatchling, tore at her insides until she felt as though she might be crazed. Her breasts heaved up and down as she stood o’er him, her breathing labored.

  “Feeling warm, zya?” he asked with an infuriating arrogance no slave should feel let alone display.

  Jana’s nostrils flared. She absently threw a golden tress o’er her shoulder whilst her breasts continued to heave up and down as she stood o’er him. For a certainty she would not answer a question put to her by a slave so bold as this one. And what, she thought idly, did zya mean? Twice now he had called her thus.

  One night-black eyebrow rose up fractionally as his silver eyes insolently drank in the sight of her naked breasts. “You have delicious nipples,” he murmured. “Made for suckling.”

  Galian wenches always left their breasts unbound, so she was accustomed to her nipples being looked upon, yet the effect this male’s possessive gaze had upon her nipples was nigh unto unnerving. They poked out as stiff as she didn’t know what, and she wanted them suckled on more than she wanted to breathe. She began to pant—from need and fear. “What manner of species are you?” she whispered. “What magic have you ensorcelled my body with?”

  His heavy-lidded eyes were narrowed with lust, with need as powerful as her own. “’Tis no potion or magic trick,” he said in a low rumble that brought to mind the growl of a male predator. “’Tis something far more powerful than that, zya.” His acute silver eyes raked o’er her covered mons, inducing his nostrils to flare. “A vorah should never be clothed,” he said with irritation. “Remove your zoka anon and let me gaze upon you as is my right.”

  Automatically, Jana’s hands rose up to her hips, and her fingers prepared to remove the flimsy, see-through g-string she wore, which on Galis was referred to as a zoka. She had to obey him, she thought unblinkingly. ‘Twas necessary to obey him in all things. He owned her. He was her master. Her body was his to command. He—

  Eh? Yeeck!

  Jana shook her head to clear it. She groaned as her hand flew up and clamped to her forehead. She was crazed for a certainty.

  Her body, she thought uneasily, felt compelled to obey him. Not merely desirous, but literally compelled. ‘Twas as if her brain had been hypnotized and her womb wanted naught but to do the male’s bidding.

  When she realized that he had been purposely compelling her to think the thoughts he’d desired her to, her lips pinched together in a severe frown as she regarded him from her superior position standing o’er him. “What species are you?” she gritted out. “I would know why it is you are able to mesmerize my mind.”

  He didn’t answer her, and she knew that he wouldn’t. At least not yet. “My birth name is Yorin,” he murmured, his predator’s eyes raking o’er her. “’Tis all you need know for mating me, vorah.”

  Jana’s breathing was so labored she thought ‘twas possible she might faint. Her need was so great, the desire to mate so powerful, that she felt as though she might die if she didn’t impale herself upon his jutting manpart the soonest—this moment.

  She tried with every fiber of her being to resist the mental push he was giving her, but in the end his will was too strong to be overpowered. Her hands trembled with the effort of resisting him and a silky sheen of perspiration covered her body as her fingers threaded through the strings of the flimsy blue zoka and slowly pushed the g-string down her hips, then lower to her ankles. Her breasts heaving up and down, she stepped out of the zoka and stood o’er him naked.

  Yorin’s sharp silver gaze honed in on her mons, then flicked back and forth between her nipples and the thatch of golden curls between her thighs. “You are mine,” he purred, his eyes finding hers, “all mine, zya.”

  Jana closed her eyes briefly, just long enough to drag in a calming breath of air and regain her sanity for a spell. Her eyes flicked open as she warily looked down upon him. “I’ve changed my mind,” she rasped out.

  Her breathing grew more and more labored as sexual need turned into acute fear. This male meant to keep her. That he was chained to the floor did naught to quell her anxiety. She needed to remove herself from his presence before she mated him. Somehow, and she knew not how, she was fundamentally aware of the fact that mating him would bind her to him for all times. “I will send the guards to release you,” she whispered as she turned on her heel and began to drag herself away. Every step felt heavy, as though crystal weights were tied upon her ankles. “I—oooh.”

  Jana gasped when a pair of large hands seized her from behind. As he whirled her around to face him, she had little time to digest the knowledge that the chained male had managed to escape his bonds before she found herself being lifted into his arms. ‘Twas unfathomable how he had accomplished his escape. Unfathomable and terrifying.

  Her eyes widened as she gazed up into his face. Shoulder-length black hair. Piercing silver eyes. A strong jaw.

  Silver eyes, she mentally murmured as her gaze narrowed in thought. Silver—

  Oh goddess.

  “Nay,” Jana whispered. She swallowed roughly as her rounded eyes flew wildly up to meet his. “Your species is naught but a legend…” Her voice trailed off disbelievingly.

  The look he gave her was arrogant, male. “I am very real, zya.” Yorin palmed her buttocks whilst he held her and kneaded them as though he had the right of it. “And you are my mate.”

  Definitive. Unwavering.

  Jana’s breasts heaved up and down as her breathing grew heavier. “Let me go,” she said shakily.

  Frightened. Terrified.

  Yorin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent. “Nay,” he murmured as his silver eyes slowly opened and clashed with her glowing blue ones. His jaw tightened. “Never.”

  Jana gasped as an intense wave of heat surged through her, hardening her nipples and inducing her face to flush. She could feel her clit pulsing. Her body screamed for surcease. She knew without a doubt he had done this to her. Or that his nearness had done this to her. She knew naught which. “Release me, Barbarian.” It was a plea issued as a command.

  He raised her up by the buttocks and slowly, achingly, rubbed her soaking wet labia o’er the hardness of his cock. “Nay,” he rumbled out. His callused palms continued to knead her buttocks as he stared down into her face with a dark, brooding intensity. “Impale yourself upon me, vorah,” he murmured.

  Jana moaned as another, stronger, wave of heat suffused her. She knew then and there that he had won. She had to feel him rutting in her—needed his seed implanted in her womb with a compulsion the likes of which terrified her. She could endure no more.

  In a series of swift movements, Jana reared up her hips, guided the entrance of her sopping wet flesh to the head of his cock, and bore down hard upon him. She cried out in pleasure as his flesh impaled hers, as his large fingers dug into the padding of her buttocks. Panting, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yorin,” she breathed out. She felt as though she was in a semi-trance, as though her body was but a vessel doing his bidding. “What do you to me?”

  She didn’t need to open her eyes to know that his hard silver gaze was drinking in the sight of her parted lips, of her flushed cheeks. She didn’t need to see him to be aware of his nostrils inhaling the scent of her as though she smelled of the sweetest Galian perfume.

  “I make you mine,” he said thickly.

  Fill your womb—fill your womb—fill your womb…

  The words pounded through her mind, pierced through her hearts, vibrated through every cell of her being, until she felt like an animal—like an all powerful she-beast who would not and could not be stopped.

  With a ferocious growl she never would have made whilst mating with any other male, Jana bore down upon his cock once more, and frenziedly began fucking him. Up and down she rode him whilst he held her, moaning and groaning more wantonly than a harem of bound servants.

  “Harder,” Yorin murmured before nipping at her ear. “Suckle me with your flesh, zya.”

  “Aye,” she gasped. Jana’s breasts jiggled with every rapid movement, her hips slamming downward in mind numbing strokes.

  Seed. She craved his seed. She needed his seed like she needed air to breathe and food to eat.

  “Aye,” she moaned, the sound of her wet flesh enveloping his. Her hips slammed down harder, faster, more, more, more—

  “Harder,” he growled, his teeth gritting as her pussy clenched tighter around his cock. “Milk me of seed, Jana.”

  “Yorin.” Jana screamed out his name as she slammed her hips down hard and threw her head back whilst she impaled herself mercilessly. Half groaning and half growling, she was too delirious with the desire to milk his cock to question why it was that she felt a compulsion to bite him. Purely on instinct, her teeth bared and with a she-beast’s growl, she bit down hard onto his jugular vein.

  “Zya,” he groaned loudly, his cock growing impossibly harder within her.

  She could feel him tense with pleasure and knowing she had made him feel thusly emboldened her. Jana clamped down as hard as was possible on his jugular vein whilst her flesh made sucking sounds as it enveloped him within her. Slamming down hard upon his erection, her teeth held him tightly whilst she groaned against his neck. Within moments she was bursting, and her channel was frenziedly contracting around him.

  “Zya,” he rasped, his voice drunk on arousal. He carried her to the raised bed, their bodies never disjoining as he came down on top of her and pounded ruthlessly into her depths.

  Jana’s teeth held tight to the jugular, pinching the vein together in a way that she somehow knew would drive him to a state as delirious as her own. Yorin moaned and groaned as he pounded into her, his eyes closed in bliss as he mounted her hard.

  He rode her long and animalistically, his eyes closed tightly as though he was trying to stave off his orgasm and allow the surrealistic pleasure to go on and on and on. But finally, when he could endure no more, the primordial instinct of his species took o’er, and on a groan loud enough to wake the dead, Yorin burst and he spurted his warm liquid deep inside of her.

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