The problem was, Chiarra found herself aroused almost to the point of madness, as several erotic visions assailed her in unrelenting sequence.
Jarrk pushing her up against the bars of an ancient, iron headboard, spreading her legs and pinning them wide.
Jarrk kneeling before her with jutting cock, pulling her onto his dick as he forged into her.
Jarrk behind her as he penetrated her to her limit.
Chiarra felt Jarrk’s hand slide through her soft ridges of pussy, her sex already crying for him, wet for want of him. She pulled away bravely. “Not this time. Not without you.”
He laid his forearm on the top of her chest and pinned her to the ground. His other hand moved back and forth between her legs to spread her lips. Struggling beneath the iron bar that was his arm, she bucked under his hand. The heel of his palm on her mound forced her back to the ground as her body strained against the hold he had on her. Ignoring this, he played his fingers into her slit. Two large fingers spread to bracket her clitoris then came together, capturing her clit as Jarrk vised it gently between his fingers.
She was slick when he started and streaming when he’d finished teasing her nub into erection. When she squirmed beneath him, he increased his hold at chest and rise. She made some very telling sounds as her breath sang into her lungs. She was on the verge, he decided. He wasn’t that far off, himself. Blood surged up the length of his dick and expanded the blunt head of his cock. His ruff ached. His knuckles ached.
Pulling his hand out of her spread lips, he massaged her labia back over her clit. She was wet beneath his hand, her female essence running between his fingers as he stroked her into a slight calm. The heel of his hand still restrained her and she was soon squirming beneath it, this time struggling not for escape but for release. He smiled as he watched her face, full of desperate need, poised on the edge of the sexual trance.
“Jarrk.” His name unraveled in her throat.
“What?” he teased, gruffly. “Decided you want some after all, Chiarra?”
She was still a moment before she nodded helplessly.
His hand stopped altogether and she moaned.
“Open for me, Chiarra.”
“Jarrk?”
“Spread your legs for me,” he whispered breathlessly, his eyes on the pussy that burned beneath his hand. “Spread your legs. Pull them wide for my hand.”
She moved her legs apart on the ground.
He shook his head. “Wider, Chiarra.”
He watched her spread her legs and groaned as his dick screamed to get at her. His finger slipped a fraction into her parting lips.
“Bring your knees up,” he commanded. “All the way, Chiarra.”
She brought her heels up almost to her bottom and spread her feet wide. His long finger dropped into her folds and she strained against the hard hand on her mound, the rough fingers in her slit. Gradually, he reduced the pressure and allowed her to push her sex up onto his hand.
“Rub yourself out on me,” he rasped. “You’re wet. Tar, you’re so sweet, Chiarra. So sweet and sexy and so wet. I want to watch you jack yourself into my hand. You’ve got my fingers in your slit. They’re yours, love.”
He watched Chiarra rock into his hand, as all of her wet, rutted sex slid up and down on his finger. Watched her back as it left the ground and she took her weight at her feet and at her neck.
“That’s it, Chiarra. Come into my hand.”
She shook her head on the ground but continued ratcheting against his hand. “I want more,” she panted.
“Keep going, darling. Keep going,” he whispered. “Do it for me. Give me what I want and I’ll give you what you need. Do it for me and I promise to fuck you with my fingers.”
She stilled just an instant. “Put it in,” she cried in sudden anguish. “Put it in! Put it in!” Moving quickly, he pushed between her legs with his elbows and rammed two fingers into her cunt.
Just in time to feel her cunt grab and hold, grab and hold. Just in time to watch her body rip into a series of convulsions, pretty enough to make a strong man discharge in hemorrhaging lust. Several contractions later, his hand was dripping as she sobbed in broken defeat and crushing completion. But Jarrk wasn’t done with her.
“You deserve a kiss,” Jarrk whispered, when she finally touched down again, her back and bottom on the ground once more.
She opened unfocused eyes.
Repositioning himself between her legs, he put his shoulders under her thighs, pulled her legs apart. With an iron hold on her lower body, he licked his tongue from her vulva to the top of her cleft before placing a small sucking kiss on her swollen clit.
Her moan was a frail wisp of agonized ecstasy. Pressing her legs wide, he sucked at her mercilessly until she came again.
Chapter Fourteen
He was beyond arguing. There’d been no sign of the Yellow Guard for two days. They’d been on the run for four, and he’d wanted her every minute of those long four days. The little stone croft looked like it had been locked down and left alone for some time. It seemed safe enough. He jimmied the simple lock with his knife and pushed the door open. The small room was clean and orderly without frill or adornment, a simple man’s abode.
Chiarra’s blood drummed. She recognized the bed—the old iron headboard. Recalled every evocative, erotic vision that went with it. She walked over to the bed and stroked the edge lovingly then turned to him as he bolted the door and leaned against it.
“It’s hard,” she told him.
He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, it is. But how did you know?”
She smiled at him with warm affection. “I was referring to the bed.”
“You talk too much. Quit stalling and get your clothes off.”
She looked down at the ragged bits of cloth he’d tied around her, the sorry remnants Bork had left her. “This hardly qualifies as clothing,” she pointed out, as she worked at the knot between her breasts.
As her breasts were revealed, Jarrk tipped his head to the side and let out a pent-up breath. “Oh yeah, there they are. Bring them here to me.”
She got up against him and, with her hands beneath her breasts, pushed her nipples up to him. His back curved as he stooped to suck one into his mouth. His dry lips took in the whole of her aureole as his slick tongue pulled at the hard knot of her nipple. A rumble of masculine pleasure vibrated against her nipple and set up an answering resonance at the deepest point in her vagina. She tipped her head back and let him suck, first one aching nipple then the other.
He pushed her away an inch and got both his hands around her breasts. “Don’t tease me, female. These are nice, but I need more than these.” He grasped one of her hands and rubbed it hard down the length of his cock. “I need somewhere to put this.”
She shuddered as she sucked in a breath chilled with desire. “I…I think I can accommodate you,” she said. “I can offer you a couple of choices,” she pointed out weakly.
He smiled down at her evilly. “Only two?” he asked in a cruelly teasing tone. “Come on, Chiarra. You can do better than that.” He pushed her away, took in her uncertain expression. “Use your imagination. After all I’ve done for you these last four days, and as long as I’ve waited? I, myself, can think of at least three different possibilities. And right now I’m thinking it will take all three to satisfy me.”
“Jarrk?”
“I’ll take your mouth first. And after you’ve had a taste of me, you’ll be begging me to…put it in…everywhere else.”
She closed her eyes and brought back the memory of his exciting taste, what it did to her body, then opened her eyes again. She would probably beg. “But you’ll fall asleep…in the first place.”
He shook his head. “All you get is a taste. I save the rest for the second place and…the end. Drop the wrap,” he commanded.
She unknotted the wrap and let it fall.
“Get on the bed.” He pushed his pants from his waist and stepped out of them as they fell. “I want your
back up against the headboard.”
He came at her quickly as she sat. Kneeling between her legs, he pulled her knees up with his hands and spread them with his legs, pushing her up against the bars of the ancient, iron headboard, spreading her legs with his and pinning them wide. Then his cock was against her lips and she opened her mouth for him.
But Jarrk wasn’t prepared for the pleasure that accompanied lips hot and wet against his sex. Human lips. And he hadn’t anticipated how good it would feel—the sucking action of that wet mouth, that rough tongue scraping at his dick. “Stop that you little minx, or you’ll have it all in your mouth and nothing left for anywhere else. I’ll be asleep before you’re satisfied.”
She hesitated and he took the opportunity to clamp her head between his hands, forcing her to be still as he shoved it into her as deeply as he dared. He groaned. He could hardly merit that while it took more than eight women of his own kind to satisfy him, this little human only had to waggle her tongue at him and he was ready to come all over himself.
His ruff stiffened painfully as he held her head. His hackles, aching for attention, pulled back on his knuckles as his barbs crept forward. Carefully, he angled the barbs away from her skin.
He felt his cock swell just before he blasted into her mouth. With steel determination, he held back the next surge. Pulling out of her, he watched her eyes close as she swallowed him down. Her eyes opened a moment later, unfocused, sultry and full of the want of him. Breath rushing, he reached for her hips and pulled into her, pulled her onto his dick as he forged into her. He threw back his head and closed his eyes. “Tar, woman,” he rasped, “you feel so good.”
He didn’t know the half of it.
With hands clutching the iron bars behind her, she started to move on him and he gasped as her cunt slipped along his length. He gritted his teeth as he felt his release building at an accelerating pace he had no control over. “Chiarra,” he said in a strained voice of agony. “Tar, Chiarra. I want to make this last. I need to make this last. I’ve waited too long for it.” He felt her legs wrap around his hips and her heels as they drove into the small of his back, exhorting his cock to fill her more deeply.
Poison wept from his barbs as he gave up his grasp on her hips and, with his hands gripping hers on the headboard, braced himself as she drove her body up onto his. He thought he would come when her tight, hot cunt started to contract around his dick in orgasm. Her vagina grabbed at him in a series of sweet, clenching pulses and she garbled something out of her mouth that sounded very much like his name. Eyes lit, he bared his teeth and grimaced a smile down at her. She opened her eyes.
“Again?”
Her eyes widened at the word. And she nodded. He was still thick where he stretched inside her. His dick pulsed with hard male insistence and her body’s female response couldn’t refuse him.
“Again.”
He pulled out of her and flipped her quickly. Taking her hands, he wrapped them around the bars of the headboard. With a rough jerk, he pulled her hips up so that she was on her knees. Hard hands pulled her legs wide then pushed her thighs toward her chest so that her bottom slanted toward him. He spread his legs outside hers and, with his hands at her hips and pulling her downward, shoved into her, as he penetrated her to her limit. She felt him pulsing hard and thick inside her, his dick surging into her with swelling frequency.
Pushing the flat of his thumb against the puckered little kiss of her ass, he spread his fingers out to clutch at her smooth skin. His broad thumb pressed against her crimp and he felt her tighten. He nudged his thumb against the gripping muscles and she shuddered along her whole length. He gave her more pressure and watched her back arch, felt her push back at him.
He watched his pubic scales lift to scrape into her crease. Unable to resist the temptation of Chiarra’s smooth, curving bottom, Jarrk made a fist with his free hand and dragged his barbs carefully over the exposed silk of her rounded cheeks.
She started to come on him again and he realized he was never going to make it to Door Number Three. With her elbows on the bed, she pushed up to meet him, to take and absorb his full penetration. It was too much. With his thumb covering her kiss and his dick, brutal and hard against her limit, he blasted into her with the ferocity of a flamethrower. His head jerked back. “Chiarra,” he roared with his eyes closed and his groin pressed tight to her bottom as he met and matched each of her gripping contractions with another rushing wave of ecstatic release.
Matched her then bested her—her body slackened beneath his in defeated completion as he continued to pour into her, each prolonged moment a gift of extended gratification.
His dick gave a final spurt of satisfaction and, sliding both hands to caress her hips gently, he stared at the point where their bodies connected. He loved that connection. Loved her warm wet socket, the tight crimp of her ass.
Loved her.
He loved her.
He gripped her hips as he fell back on his heels, pulling her with him. He wanted to keep that connection, was his final thought, before he fell into helpless sleep.
* * * * *
When he woke, it was morning, and she was kissing him. Her demanding lips required immediate attention. She must have gotten up and washed, he realized, as he pulled her cold little butt beneath him. He rolled on top of her and entered her. For a long time, he just kissed her while his erection built up a head. But when her legs moved apart, he settled in between them and decided to give her some of the action she seemed to crave as a human.
Gryffin females were relatively dry inside and any movement was abrasive for both parties, but with Chiarra…with Chiarra anything was possible. He pulled his mouth from her clinging lips and watched her head drop back to the bed, eyes closed, forehead wrinkled in a frown. He pulled his dick back an inch and she whimpered in protest. He nudged back into her and watched her lips curl as she sighed. He pulled his hips back and grinned at her pouting response. With his weight on one elbow, he put his other hand at the small of her back and pushed into her, hard. She murmured with agonized delight.
Something leapt within his loins and his hips responded with delicious instinct. His big hand spread behind her to keep her pussy cocked up into his groin as his hips drove into her with increasing regularity and growing response on her part.
Tar. This was the way to take a woman. Forcing yourself into her canal, fucking into her, as she opened for you, wet, soft, yielding. He thrust into her hard and deep. As she writhed beneath him, he kept her cunt tilted for maximum delivery. Each time he thrust against her limit, he held his bulging head hard against her, prolonging that moment of contact when his dick slammed up against her cervix. She started to buck at one of those touching moments and he held her tight against him as he gave her the full impact of his swelling cock-head. Then, with a contained roar that started in his chest, he came inside her.
Chapter Fifteen
Jarrk pulled his hood down over his eyes, put his back against the wall and slouched into the corner. He kept Chiarra at the center of his attention while he scanned the dark tavern for potential danger. As the girl slid their payment across the counter, he noted the taverner’s interest in the small stone, saw the man’s eyes flick toward him then across the room where four men shared a table.
It had been a hard day. A hard sequence of days. A small unit of Yellow Guard, led by an energetic young captain, pursued them relentlessly. Twice they’d had to abandon their camp to fly before the Guard’s approach.
The stones Tranth had pushed on him had saved their lives several times over, kept them fed when there was no time to hunt, bought Chiarra new clothing, paid for rooms when they dared take one.
Jarrk watched Chiarra as she made her way back to their table. When she dropped onto the stool beside him, he returned his eyes to the table of four.
“I got dinner and a room. Ale’s coming in a minute.” Chiarra pushed an empty tankard at him.
“We won’t need the room.”
; Her eyes cut to his and then followed his gaze across the smoky room. With a pitcher in his fist, the taverner was trying to fill four tankards that were already brimming. Chiarra flicked a frown at her lover.
The men traded words and the taverner turned in their direction. As the thin, greasy man filled Jarrk’s tankard, the door scraped open but Jarrk kept his eyes on the table across the room. The taverner moved in front of Chiarra and Jarrk caught a glimpse of yellow in the corner of his eye. The taverner moved again. And revealed a yellow uniform. With a knife sliding toward Chiarra’s throat.
“Move and she’s dead,” the captain warned. The young man’s voice was louder than it needed to be, edged with nerves.
It was too late to draw steel.
“Don’t touch me,” Chiarra garbled as the man’s arm went around her neck. “He’ll kill you.”
“Hands on the table. On the table now!” The captain cursed, his attention caught on the huge, hackled knuckles splayed on the table. “Gryffin.
“Get his steel. Watch his hands. Stay clear of his barbs.” The captain issued a series of tense orders.
Jarrk moved his hands slowly away from his body, allowing one of the soldiers to snatch his knife away.
“Shall I kill him?” The soldier with the knife looked anxiously between the tall Gryffin and his captain.
“With what? That? He’ll have his barbs in you before you can scratch him.”
“What then? We can’t just leave him. He’ll follow us.”
“We’ll tie him and take him with us.”
Or tie him and kill him, Jarrk thought.
“Right big fella? You’ll let us tie you, won’t you?” The captain jerked his blade hard under Chiarra’s chin.
The heavy stool grated on the stone floor as Jarrk started up in anger. His eyes flashed with raging fury that centered on the man—that dared—put hands on his female. He drew in several hot, angry breaths before his shoulders sagged. As he dropped back onto the stool, his head sank and his forearms rested on his knees.
Gryffin Strain: His Female Page 7