He slowed as I came down from it, and pulled his cock out and settled it at my asshole, pressing in.
“No!”
He stopped pushing, but didn’t pull away.
“I’ve never…”
He smiled, and sank back into my pussy. “So, I’m gonna get to pop two of your cherries?”
“Well, you got my wolf’s. We’ll talk about my ass later,” I breathed as I moved with his cock, loving the way he felt sliding in and out, in and out.
“Yeah. Can’t wait to sink into it, but I guess a day or two won’t kill me.”
I started to argue, saw he was messing with me. “Maybe you can let my legs down, so I can participate a little more?”
“Want you on your hands and knees next, then maybe up against the wall.”
He moved us through another half dozen positions, but when he finally came, we were lying on our sides, my back to his front as he held my top leg up and out of the way, and pounded me from behind, thrusting hard and deep until I thought I’d go mad from the pleasure.
I hadn’t thought it was possible to orgasm again, and yet he’d worked my clit as he fucked me, and held off until I came a final time. Our bodies writhed and moved together as if in a dance, and when it was over, I was totally relaxed, melted into him, and I never wanted either of us to move.
He let my leg down, careful and slow, and then rested his arm over my waist.
He’d broken a condom at some point, and took it off and put another on. I told him I was on birth control, but he said we’d use a condom for now and talk about ditching it later. I knew he’d need to get up and dispose of the one he had on now, but I wasn’t going to point it out.
When he finally moved, I moaned at the loss of him.
“Want to lay with you in my arms all night, but I gotta get rid of the condom and then check in with Dawg. He was gonna stand guard outside the door.”
“Fuck. So you’re saying we may need to intervene in a standoff? This room seems to be pretty soundproof. I’m not sure we’d hear much going on out there.”
“The room is soundproof, Princess. Enough for people to talk, anyway. Not sure about screaming.”
I sighed and looked around for my clothes. I picked my shirt up, looked at it a few seconds, and said, “I can’t believe you destroyed my shirt.”
“I’ll buy you another one.” He tossed his wallet at me. “There’s plenty of cash in there. Take out whatever you paid for it.”
I looked at his wallet a second and tossed it back at him. “Not the way it works. You destroy my clothes, you take me to the mall and shop with me, and then pay the cashier for the new shirt.”
He held my gaze a few seconds and I could tell he was working up an argument, but then he said, “Yeah, okay. Tomorrow’s Sunday, we’ll take a trip to the mall.” He pulled his boxer briefs up and stepped into his jeans.
He stopped moving, just stood there and looked at me in all of his sexy, wiry, muscular goodness. Bash in jeans and no shirt, looking recently fucked, was just too much, and as sore and tired as I was, I wanted him again.
“As much as I love the way you’re lookin’ at me, Princess, you keep doing it and I’m gonna fuck you again, and we really should check on Dawg and make sure there isn’t a problem on the other side of those doors.”
I put my bra on since it was close, and then went to my bag. I slid into jeans and a t-shirt, put my torn shirt into the bag, and hung my pants.
He’d put his boots back on by this point, and I slid my feet into sandals. I ran my hands through my hair and asked, “My makeup okay?” My lips, and the area all around them, felt as if he’d taken off the top dozen or so layers of skin. His beard gave him a dangerous edge I hadn’t counted on, but damn, it was sexy as hell.
He pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead, his grin affectionate. “No, you look as if you’ve been thoroughly fucked, but I doubt it’s fixable without a full redo. You want me to step outside and close the door behind me, leave you out of the conversation, or are you coming with me?”
I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t doing this alone, Bash. We’re together — we’ll do this together.”
“Remember the rule when we walk into danger?”
“Make sure your left hand is free, in case you need to swing.”
He turned us so we faced the door and offered his right hand. I took it, he opened the door, and we stepped into the hallway together.
The End of VolumeI
Bash, Volume II releases November 6, 2015
If you’re enjoying Bash’s story, you may also like the other books set in the same universe, though in different series.
Chattanooga Supernaturals series, paranormal romance:
The Dragon King (Aaron Drake’s story, and the first time we meet Duke and Brain)
Riding the Storm
Acceptable Risk
Only Human series, urban fantasy
Only Human
Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Series
Duke
Brain
Bash Volume I
Bash Volume II
Bash Volume III (November 20)
Erotica Shorts from the world of The Chattanooga Supernaturals
Pride
Teresa/Bambi’s story
The Safeword series, intense BDSM contemporary romance
Safeword Rainbow
Safeword: Davenport
Safewords: Davenport and Chiffon
Safeword: Quinacridone
Safeword: Matte
Safeword: Matte – In Training
No Safeword: Matte – The Honeymoon
No Safeword: Matte – Happily Ever After
Safeword: Arabesque
Check out other books by Candace Blevins at candaceblevins.com.
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Dragon King
The Dragon King
By Candace Blevins
Prologue
Aaron
Sophia is the most adorable two year old I’ve ever seen. Fluffy blonde hair, rosy chubby cheeks, and a laugh that makes my heart sore.
I turned to her father, the Swan King, and chose my words carefully. “Raul, you’re sure this is the best course of action? I know you’re still grieving over Angelique’s death, but can you truly prepare Sophia for a life of leading your people if you keep her a prisoner in your home her entire life?”
I could only get away with asking this question because I’d helped raise and train Raul, helped prepare him to take the crown when he beat his brothers and won the throne.
“I did my best to protect my wife from supernaturals, and a damned human hunter took her out. Sophia won’t leave the walls of the castle until she marries, and hopefully whoever wins her will follow my lead and also keep her behind protective walls. She won’t see the same fate as Angelique.” His voice was firm, didn’t waver, and let me know further conversation on the matter would be met with hostility.
Sophia is the first Swan Princess without at least one brother since before I was born, and by my best guess I’m around nine thousand years old. Give or take a thousand.
Swan Princesses are usually given to other royalty as a way to unite families and sometimes species, but they never have a hope of the throne. Their brothers are required to fight each other for power, the strongest and most cunning winning the crown.
Instead of finding another wife to give him sons, Raul is arranging for a contest between the other Swan royalty, with the strongest being allowed to care for her until she turns twenty five, and then marry her and eventually take the crown. Personally, I think Raul wants to step down and find a way to join his dead wife. The grief of her death still holds him.
I’ve trained the past seven Swan Kings, including Sophia’s father, Raul. I know him well, and I know he loves his daughter. However, he’s still feels such pain over his wife’s slaughter, I worry about the decisions he’s making.
There is precedence amongst some other supernatural species for his keeping S
ophia in seclusion, finding a suitable King, and not giving her a choice in who she’ll marry. However, watching the toddler play and laugh and flirt, my heart hurts with the knowledge she’ll grow up with no control of her major life choices. Or, likely the minor ones, either.
She’s such a happy baby, so full of life and adventure. I hope her life turns out better than most fairy tales.
* * * *
Ten years later, my heart aches as the court Herald announces me into the Swan King’s mansion for Sophia’s final unchaperoned lesson. I’ve been coming to the mansion once a week for a four hour session since she was six, but this must stop once she becomes a teenager, which in swan lore makes her a woman.
I’ll be allowed to come four times a year for an all-day review session, but will never again be alone with her. After today she’ll have a chaperone or minder with her anytime she’s with a man besides her father — or husband, once she’s married.
I’m going to miss my time with her. In my busy life, my half-days with the Swan Princess have been the sunshine of my week. Sophia is a special child, so smart, so willing to learn, and a joy to be around. My heart is happy when I’m with her, and we most often go to our spot near a manmade waterfall on their property so we can talk without worrying so much about being overheard. Someone from the house can see us, but our words are drowned out. Sometimes, though, my favorite part of the day is her smile when I arrive and she skips to me for a hug. Today will be the last time she’ll be allowed to hug me for no reason, just because she’s happy I’ve arrived. My heart hurts as I wrap my arms around her and tell her I’m happy to see her.
We walk to our spot, sit on our rock and I open a few books as I give her another to hold. The rushing waters may provide white noise to block our voices, but we still need to appear as if I’m teaching her.
“You know this is the last time we’ll be alone, right, Soph?”
Sophia looks down, takes a breath, and raises her gaze back to mine. “I know. I’ll miss my time with you.”
“And I’ll miss you, but you’re a Princess, and one day you’ll be Queen, and this is the way it has to be. I’ll be back to review the important stuff, but there are some things I’ve taught you that I won’t be able to review with you out loud. I’ll try to write it in a notebook and let you read it, so you’ll remember, but there is some danger in that, so I won’t do it every time.”
“Why take the risk? If I’ll never rule, never make a difference, why put yourself in danger?”
“Because I’m grooming you for power, Princess. No one knows for sure what the future holds, and to fully do my job I can’t just teach you the palatable parts of your history. I understand your family wishes to shield you and protect you, but I can see the strength in you.”
Sophia sighed. “I’ll still see you at social occasions? Not just the four times a year you’ll be allowed to come for review?”
“Yes, and I may or may not be allowed a dance with you. I will certainly not be able to take you outside for a conversation.”
She nodded, and I carefully said, “Sophia, if ever you find yourself in need of a protector, get a message to me. Your father and Cyrano will look after you, but if you find yourself without their protection I hope you’ll feel comfortable letting me keep you safe.”
Shaking her head, Sophia said, “Cyrano scares me. My latest Governess tells me when I’m a woman I’ll appreciate him for his strength and resolve, and I must remain meek and quiet around him while I’m a child.”
I wanted to wring Cyrano’s neck for frightening her, as well as the Governess’s for giving crap advice, but I had to walk a fine line. “I’m sorry he scares you, Princess. I would advise you to speak to your father about it, see if he can intercede on your behalf.”
“You always do that.”
I tilted my head and let my eyebrows raise, and Sophia explained. “When we’re just talking, I’m Soph or Sophia, but when you’re thinking politically, you call me Princess.”
“Yes, because this is the way an elder speaks to someone of royalty. I’m your teacher, I know more than you, but I must also show respect. It’s a balance, Sophia.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what you are, and my father either doesn’t know or won’t tell me, but I’m positive you’re royalty, too. I’ve learned to tell the difference in someone with their own power who addresses me and my father as an equal while using all the right words, and someone with no power who addresses us with the same words but a completely different energy.”
I hoped my smile showed how pleased I was with her insight. “You make me proud, Sophia. I hope you’ll keep your suppositions to yourself, though.”
She nodded. “Of course, and I hope someday you’ll trust me enough to tell me what and who you really are.”
I needed to be sure she understood my offer, so I repeated it. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Soph? If you ever need help, a protector, a friend, an advisor…If you’re ever in trouble I hope you’ll find a way to get a message to me.”
Chapter One
Sophia
I’d been planning my escape for eleven years, and tonight I’d either fly to my freedom or die trying.
I was to be married to Cyrano on my twenty-fifth birthday, in seventeen days. However, I was determined it was never going to happen.
Tomorrow, my governess was meeting with people in Charleston on my behalf to assure the wedding would go off without a hitch. Since I was never allowed off my father’s property, if someone couldn’t come to me then I had to send someone to them, and the caterers had decided they couldn’t make yet another trip to go over last minute details.
I knew they wouldn’t, it was part of my plan.
I’d sent my governess away earlier this evening so she could stay in a hotel and be present for the seven o’clock meeting tomorrow morning, and then make surprise visits to check in with the florist and a few other vendors.
I’d brought books up from the library to my bedroom, asked for my tea service a little early, and told everyone I wasn’t to be disturbed.
I’d been nervous and anxious for months, so no one paid any attention to my scent anymore. I was perpetually on edge.
It was eight fifteen, and I figured I’d have until the guard shift change at three in the morning before anyone realized I was gone. My current guard wasn’t likely to decide he needed to put eyeballs on me, but I knew they’d look in on me at shift change. They always did.
Swan shifters need to change a minimum of four times a year, at both equinoxes and both solstices. However, since my father didn’t want me leaving the property, when I changed they immediately turned me back human. I’d never been allowed to even try to fly. The rest of the time I wore an anklet my father had brought someone in to create especially for me. It kept me from turning into a swan any other time of year.
I’d spent years combing through the books in our extensive library, and was convinced I’d found a way to defeat the anklet. I’d also learned from one of our servants years ago that it was possible for a virgin to change without the normal flogging to rip enough skin away so we could shift into our swan form.
She said one could use a knife to cut a seam from one foot, up the outside of the body, from armpit to fingers on the bottom of the arm, and then fingers to shoulder on the top of the arm, over the head and scalp, skip the right arm and go down the body to the right foot, and then as the left foot comes out and forms, use the claws to rip a seam in the skin from the right arm so it can pull free.
I had a very sharp crafting knife and hoped it would do the job.
Meanwhile, I’d long ago figured out how to defeat the alarm system at my window so I could at least open it and get fresh air. I used a screwdriver to carefully removed the contact from the window’s hardware, taped it to the stationary contact on the window frame, and then slowly opened the window, making sure everything stayed put.
Taking a breath, I poured the hot water from my tea service into t
he plastic bin that normally held items in the storage area of my closet.
It’d taken me years to assemble all of the herbs and roots without arousing anyone’s curiosity, and I now dumped them into the bin and stepped into the scalding water. Trusting the concoction would do its job; I bent with the knife, stuck it into my foot just under my ankle bone, and began the excruciating task of literally skinning myself.
I’d known it would hurt, but this was worse than the traditional flogging a virgin must undergo in order to change. I was more than determined, though, so I did it fast and didn’t make a sound, even though I wanted to scream and cry.
Halfway through the process I knew I’d been wrong about having hours until my escape was discovered. They were used to smelling fear on me, but not pain, and certainly not blood. I was going to have to fly for my life and hope they couldn’t keep up. I cut faster, and my blood flowed into the hot water at my feet.
As the knife finally reached the outer edge of my right foot, I stood and imagined myself a swan, thought of how it felt to change after I was flogged, and breathed in relief as I felt the transformation happening. The herbal concoction worked, and the anklet would end up in the water once I turned into a swan and it could come off my foot. As I changed, it only took a few slices with my claw to rip the skin on top of my right arm enough for it to come free of the skin and turn into a wing, thank goodness.
Bash, Volume I (Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Club Book 3) Page 18