Wicked Empress:The Onic Empire, Book 4

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

  Ambo waddled behind them. “He must climax in full view of everyone!” His enormous hat fell off as he tried to catch up, but her intended was practically running with her strapped to his body. He showed no signs of slowing down.

  Bithia didn’t bother to answer Ambo. However, she did get a bit of a chuckle when she imagined Ambo trying to stop her bondmate. He would simply plow the chubby man down with one hand and keep right on going. She had a feeling he wouldn’t let anything stop him from getting her alone and fucking her brains out. This only endeared him to her more.

  Clinging to his massive shoulders, she directed him through the maze of hallways. Not once did he slow his stride or let her slip from his grip. Twice guards tried to step into their path, but Bithia swore to have them put to the stone if they dared. Each time the guards retreated when they realized whom the enormous man carried so swiftly through the palace. Everyone knew what today was. Tomorrow all would celebrate her bonding, but for tonight, they would be alone.

  He held her to him possessively and she thrilled at the shimmer of sparks each bounce against him caused to her tender clit. She tried to hold back, but she couldn’t. The most explosive orgasm of her life ripped through her body, clutching her to him so tightly he growled and pressed her against the nearest wall.

  “No can wait.” He held her to the cool, smooth stone as he rocked once, twice, then released in a great, gushing tide. Tossing his head back, he howled out his satisfaction. As he lowered his face to hers, his gaze hit her with such regret he didn’t have to speak to convey he was ashamed he’d been unable to wait.

  She smiled up at him, cupping her hand to his face. “It’s not you, but the jaras gel.” Frankly, she was amazed he’d lasted this long. Her fingertip traced over the stain on his cheek and he yanked his face to the side, hiding the mark. Whatever the black symbol meant it was not something he was proud of, or perhaps she wasn’t supposed to touch it. Who knew the taboos of an alien culture? Grandathall! She didn’t even understand half the traditions of the culture she now ruled over!

  “Where?” he asked, pulling her away from the wall.

  She pointed and he continued down the hall, still carrying her. He slowed his pace a bit, but not much. To her amazement, he was still hard. Clearly, she had to get her hands on more of this magical liquid for future romps.

  “Here, go in here.” Finally, they’d reached the last hallway before her enormous suite of rooms. As he started down, she bellowed out to the guards, “Open the doors for him!” By the time they’d reached the massive Onic doors, they were open wide. She didn’t have to tell the guards to pull them closed once they’d entered. The two hunks of wood slipped silently shut.

  He cast his gaze around, saw her bed and marched toward it. Lowering himself to his knees, he placed her bottom on the edge of the mattress with her legs still wrapped around his hips. He took a moment to look down at her while he caught his breath, not that he was all that winded. Clearly, the man was used to hard physical labor. She imagined he could ride her all night without tiring. His eyes were bright with lust, his mouth parted from his exertion and his lips curled into a snarl as he pushed her arms off his shoulders.

  “Lift hands.”

  Indulging his clear need to dominate, she did as he ordered, lifting her hands up over her head. She’d always enjoyed a man who knew how to take charge. As long as his bossiness didn’t extend past the bedroom, she was fine with letting him be as aggressive as he wanted to be.

  “Good.”

  He palmed her breasts, twisting the nipples between forefinger and thumb while watching her face. “My women no have.”

  She took a moment to comprehend what he’d said. “They don’t have breasts?” She tried to picture women without boobs but saw only men.

  “No have big.” He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off them now that they were alone.

  She imagined he’d struggled greatly during the bonding ceremony. Even on Diola her breasts were considered much larger than average. On his world, she would be considered a veritable freak.

  “You like?” she asked, keeping her words simple to better communicate with him.

  “Like much.” He nodded, twirling his fingers against them again, until her large nipples stood hard. “You like?” he asked.

  She stretched out below him, wordlessly conveying her pleasure at his touch. His hands were big and very strong, but he was careful not to twist too roughly. “Take one in your mouth.”

  He tilted his head to the side, revealing his confusion and the fact that his hair was quite long.

  She touched her finger to his mouth then to her nipple.

  The face he made was one of repulsion. She tried again, touching her nipple first, but as she lifted her hand to his mouth, he jerked his face to the side. “Not a child.”

  Baffled, she considered for a moment that she wasn’t being clear. When she lifted to put her mouth on his nipple, he pushed her back onto the bed. “I no woman!”

  Then she understood. In his culture, only babies nursed at a woman’s breast, and a woman certainly didn’t touch a man’s nipple. Damned, dangerous Delpho! They were in a world of trouble. She wanted to put her mouth all over him and wanted him to do the same to her. If he had issues with using his mouth on her body, she wasn’t going to stay faithful to him no matter what the prophecy said.

  Without knowing his language, she really couldn’t argue the point. She was either going to have to get an interpreter or simply tie him down and do whatever she wanted with him. The latter sounded easier than her learning his language. Binding him also sounded like a lot more fun.

  With a smile and a submissive sigh, she laid back, wondering whatever she would do with him. If mouths were out, she would have to find other ways to tease and torment him this night. When she shimmied her hips, he frowned.

  “No move.”

  When she lifted her brows and playfully rolled her hips again, he grabbed her hips in his massive hands and pinned her decisively to the bed.

  “No move.” On that point, he was very clear, and she didn’t think he was worried about climaxing too soon.

  “Aren’t you the bossy one?” Determined to defy him, she flexed the muscles in her cunt tightly around his cock several times without moving her hips. “What are you going to do now?”

  One eye twitched down as if he tried to understand what she’d said and how she’d managed to clutch him so strongly without moving. Contracting the muscles of her sex was one of the things she knew that many women didn’t. By consistent exercise, she could now easily grip a man with the strength of a fist. Not a strong fist, but certainly strong enough to make a man notice. Usually, said man was shocked and then excited about her skill. Never had one been upset, not like her new bondmate clearly was.

  “You no move.” He pressed her harder into the bed.

  Flexing and releasing her walls in a quick series caused him to yank his cock out of her. Glaring, he shoved his hands under her, gripped her butt cheeks and lifted her up. He took a good, long look between her thighs. She helped him by spreading her legs wide, balancing her pointed toes on the edge of the bed. When he apparently didn’t see anything he wasn’t familiar with, he lowered her back to the bed and cast her a suspicious glance.

  When she realized he would not continue until she agreed, she rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She lifted her hands higher over her head and utterly relaxed her body. “Do whatever you want, big man. I’m all yours.”

  Watching her closely, he placed his cock right against her dripping sex. He waited for the longest time. Then he thrust into her so hard he pushed her farther onto the bed. “I give, you take.”

  Stunned by his aggressiveness, she simply nodded.

  He did it again, and again, each time forcing his way just a bit deeper inside. Each rough thrust caused him to grow bigger and harder, stretching her almost beyond endurance.

  Bithia had never been with such an insistent and commanding man. He clearly wouldn’t toler
ate anything but her complete passivity. Holding still for him was almost impossible as she was not a submissive lover, but she was willing to try.

  Sensing her compliance, he grew more assured. His eyes narrowed dangerously, almost daring her to defy him again. Idly, she wondered what he would do to her if she did. Would he paddle her bottom with his massive hand? That could be fun. Perhaps later she would try, but for right now, she would indulge him. Lying back, utterly still, was a rather novel sensation.

  His intense gaze dropped to her breasts. Each thrust jiggled the mounds of flesh, entrancing him. If one of her nipples softened, he would tweak it just enough to harden it again. Each time, a little smile flitted across his mouth. So fascinating did he find her bouncing breasts he never looked at her face.

  As he grew closer to climax, his lips peeled back, revealing white teeth that would give him a dazzling smile, but as she examined him, she didn’t think he smiled much, if ever. Seriousness stamped every line in his face. Even here, engaging in pleasure, he was severe. Bithia had always approached sex with nothing but enjoyment on her mind. This man took it so gravely it was as if sex were literally life or death.

  “Have you ever laughed?” She asked the question before she could stop herself.

  His gaze darted to her face as if he just now remembered she had one. He’d been so riveted by her bouncy boobs that was all he’d been looking at. Tilting his head, he lifted one brow.

  “Laugh. Like this.” She laughed.

  A snarl of disapproval washed across his features.

  “I wasn’t laughing at you, I—never mind.” Bithia shut her mouth. Touchy didn’t even remotely encompass how irritable he was. It seemed everything she did or said aggravated him. The only time she ever felt utterly secure with herself was in the bedchamber. Not anymore. Not with him. She honestly didn’t know what to do other than let him do as he pleased. But her advisors would hear of her displeasure come tomorrow. Ancient ceremony or no, he was gone from her life and her bed, or her advisors would suffer her wrath.

  After a long time of letting him return to his measured thrusts while alternately twisting her nipples, he grew relaxed with his position of authority. Watching him closely, she sensed when he was on the verge of climax. Wanting to join him, she lowered her hand to stroke her clit. He snarled something in his native tongue that was clearly a command for her to stop. When she didn’t, he grasped her wrists in his fist and pinned her down.

  “I give, you take.”

  Before she could argue, he rocked her into the bed, taking her breath away. Fast and furious, he pounded into her until he climaxed with a great bellow. Eyes closed, he struggled to regain his breath. He let go of her hands and pulled out of her body, kneeling on the floor between her legs.

  Now it was her turn to become annoyed. How dare he use her to find his pleasure but not give her any in return? Just what kind of a culture did he come from? Determined to climax, she slid her hand down and rubbed her clit. Little sparks shot up, infusing her body. As she thought on Kerrick, he of the golden hair and riveting green eyes, her climax hovered so close she could almost taste relief. Smearing some of the jaras gel across her tight little nub brought her even higher and terribly close.

  He didn’t notice at first, not with his eyes closed, but when he opened them and saw what she was doing, he grabbed her hand, preventing her from climaxing.

  “I give, you take,” he reminded her, as if she could ever forget. “I give no more.” He glanced down at his limp prick.

  Did he actually think his cock was what caused her to climax? What planet was he from? Beyond furious, Bithia yanked her hand from his. Before he could react, she slid up and across the bed. Dropping off the other side, she ran into the basin, slamming the door behind her. Instantly, Bithia thrust her hand between her legs.

  While she struggled to get off, he fumbled with the knob, his voice low and furious against the carved wood. She didn’t understand a word he said, but he was clearly trying to get her to open the door. She ignored him. Bithia finished herself off with a few well-placed strokes. Sadly, her pleasure was feeble when her release could have been so spectacular. Once the last of the tremors left her, she felt drained and sick at heart. How could she spend a lifetime with that man?

  Chapter Two

  One swift kick would make splinters of the door. He stood there for a long time, considering what that action would lead to, then decided against destruction. Clearly, his chosen was not a normal female. Everything about her was different from the women of his tribe. He’d never seen breasts so big, hair so short, or a woman so tall. And her eyes… As soon as he’d seen her, he’d been attracted to her differentness. Everything went wrong once they’d come to these elaborate rooms.

  From what he’d been told, women did not move when a man gave. They took. This one moved her insides without moving her outsides, which had felt very good. So good, in fact, that he knew such pleasure must be wrong. When he told her to stop, she’d smiled up at him, mocking him with the cast of her face and her unusual eyes.

  She wanted to give, but he knew that was not how things worked. A man gave and a woman took. That was the way of mating. Even though here in this alien place they would not make him suffer the penalty for not following the true way, he still did not wish to displease the elders. Already he’d been punished enough by having to come here and mate with a woman who was as wrong as he was. May those who had gone before bless the children that would come from their union.

  Sitting before the closed door, he waited for her to emerge. Simple logic told him that eventually she would have to come out. When she did, they would…talk. He shook his head, causing long black strands to tumble around his shoulders. He had difficulty speaking her language even after intensive study. He knew what he wanted to say, but when he was anxious, everything tumbled out in a messy jumble. Viltori, the man who had been teaching him Diolan, could barely speak Oughunian, his native tongue. Viltori softened the clicks to mush and accented syllables that should roll smoothly off the tongue.

  Even with that, the man was a gifted teacher. Viltori found creative ways to convey meaning and he never let frustration darken his light features. His teacher was another filled with differentness: pale of hair and eyes, but curiously strong. Muscles rippled below his white robe, and more than once he’d seen Viltori become aroused, his cock hard against silken fabric as he tried to teach the names of body parts. He knew Viltori had to touch to convey meaning, but he’d not liked the feelings inside, so he’d lashed out. He was stunned when Viltori caught his fist and pushed him to the floor. After that, they came to a truce. Viltori touched him with a stick, not his hands, because he taught Viltori that one man does not touch another man in such a way.

  All during their training, Viltori had been consumed with knowing his name. He stood without words and without a way to convey he did not have a name. The tribe shunned one such as he. He had earned a name as a child, but the elders stripped him of his title during adolescence when they put the mark of shame on his face. One mistake cost him his identity. Afterward, his tribe called him nothing. So low was he that he had no name. Clicking the same words for “no” and “name” over and again made Viltori call him no name. In Diolan, this translated to Drahka. He ran the words together as if they made a whole. In his shame, he who could not be named became Drahka. Since it was the only name he had, he’d taken to thinking of himself that way.

  Within the closed room, Drahka heard water running. He’d been most impressed with their command of the elements. Diolans could channel wind, water, earth and fire within a dwelling for their convenience. His tribe did not have such power. However, he thought Diolans spent too much time grooming themselves. Moreover, even though they were scrupulously clean, they still covered themselves in a plethora of scents. His first step into the palace had sent his senses reeling. Eyes watering and nose running, he’d spent the first few days trying desperately to breathe. He was used to it now, but still, why would hi
s chosen need to wash when she’d been cleaned thoroughly just like he was for their rites?

  The answer hit him in a sudden, painful rush. She did not wish to have his scent on her. As he’d worked his hips between her legs, he’d watched her breasts bounce with entrancing motions. When he’d looked up at her face, he did not understand what he read there: displeasure, boredom, irritation. He was mating correctly. She was the one who did not know how to take. He had given to her hard and fast as he’d been instructed to do. And he’d given twice. What more could a woman want? If he gave to her this way twice each night, then she would soon be with child.

  When she’d reached down to fill herself with her own hand, he’d been furious that he wasn’t enough for her. He would give again, but he was exhausted. Besides, he needed to find release, not her. It did not matter if a woman reached the peak of pleasure for the creation of children. He frowned. Maybe she did not know that. Perhaps his chosen was uneducated about such matters. He’d assumed that, as the leader of her people, someone would have told her how mating worked. Obviously, she did not understand, as she’d motioned for him to put his mouth to her breast, something only a child would do. That she wished to put her mouth to his was beyond bizarre. He needed Viltori’s help to teach her the right way of things, or whatever children they created would echo their wrongness.

  He heard the door open and lifted smoothly to his feet, startling her back into the room. Stepping forward caused her eyes to widen. She stumbled back, lifting one hand to the crimson cloth around her body and the other to him, telling him to stop. He frowned. Did she think he would hurt her? What kind of man did she think he was?

  Calming himself first, he found the words he wished to say then uttered them in a slow, clear manner. “I would not hurt you.”

  “You got that right.” She stood tall, puffing herself up to intimidate him, even though such was folly. “Get out of my way.”

  “We talk.” He refused to move away from the door because if he did, she was going to run through it and get as far from him as she could. If he couldn’t make this work, he would have to return to his tribe with such shame on his head they would surely kill him. His spirit would be so worthless they would not even bother to consume him as they did with most who died.