Lorren had moved his chair closer to her, turning it so that he faced Errion more fully, and she wondered why he would pay more attention to him than to her. While sipping an intriguingly dark and sweet drink, she felt a hand upon her thigh. Both Errion’s hands were on the table, one around a drink and the other around an eating utensil. Besides, his arms were simply not that long.
Farjika shared a quick glance with Lorren, then relaxed into the smooth stroke he made along the outside of her leg. Only by gripping the cup with both her hands was she able to withhold a deep sigh of pleasure. Now his maneuvering was clear. Just as she’d postulated earlier, Lorren kept his exploration hidden, doing it below the table and out of Errion’s sight. Lorren’s hand was warm, strong and very deliberately headed toward the juncture of her leg with her hip. Just as she began to melt and part her thighs, she felt another touch, this one on her foot. Her gaze flew to Errion, who lifted one corner of his mouth in a smirk. He had slumped down in his chair, stretching his legs out under the table toward her.
She felt his flesh against hers and realized he’d removed his shoes at some point during the meal. His big toe made a leisurely journey up the top of her foot then to her ankle. She almost flinched away, but if she did, Lorren might think she was moving away from him, so she stayed still, trapped between the two men.
Ever so slowly, Lorren’s hand worked up her thigh as Errion’s foot slid up her leg. Instinctively she clenched her legs together, eliciting a concerned frown from Lorren, who almost removed his hand but for her small headshake and the deliberate relaxing of her tense muscles. That was all the incentive Errion needed. With expert ease, he slid his foot between her calves and up to her knees. Forcefully he planted his foot against the seat of her chair.
When she looked up, his smile vanished and a challenge rested in his eyes. Her breathing grew shallow as Lorren continued his journey. Once he traced his fingers along the edge of her panty line, he smoothed his big hand down. If he kept going, he’d eventually realize Errion’s foot was between her legs.
Time spun out, freezing her in a confusion of conflicting thoughts. Would Lorren blame her for Errion’s aggressive foot placement? Would he and Errion fight? What if both of them became so enraged, so primitive in their ire, they claimed her in a frenzy of lust, making her become her mother, who couldn’t be satisfied by one man?
In a panic, she dropped her glass, deliberately splashing the dark purple liquid across the table and onto Errion. Sputtering an apology, she shot to her feet, dislodging both Lorren’s hand and Errion’s foot.
Chapter Seven
Cool air washed along Lorren’s palm with the loss of Farjika’s hot flesh. Her thigh had trembled and tightened under his touch, exciting him, reminding him that she was inexperienced despite the way she carried herself. Last night as he’d fallen asleep, he vowed he would make tonight special for her. If she wasn’t ready for his bed, he would wait, but the fire in her gaze when she’d seen him told him that she wanted him with the same intensity that he longed for her. They shared an instant lustful attraction that could be assuaged in only one way.
As Lorren stood, assessing the damage, he wasn’t sure exactly what caused her to drop her drink. Her frantic apology was unnecessary, as the liquid had barely splashed him and everything on the table could be easily cleaned or replaced. However, when he looked over, he discovered Errion’s light-colored shirt didn’t fare so well.
“It was an accident, my lovely one, nothing to worry about.” Errion stood and removed his shirt, showing off his perfectly shaped chest. Wide shoulders tapered down to lean hips and powerful legs. If Lorren didn’t know better, he’d swear Errion had planned the whole thing to have an excuse to remove his shirt. He’d practically taken it off earlier when he’d unbuttoned it and pulled the cloth free of his trousers. When it was just the two of them, Errion frequently wandered about naked, which didn’t bother Lorren in the slightest, but he’d never been like this in front of a guest.
Farjika was staring at Errion, her eyes wide, then she turned and blurted, “I think I should go.” She practically ran out of the dining room.
Lorren shot daggers at Errion, then followed in her wake. Errion came along right behind him.
“It was nothing, honestly. Errion has a hundred shirts.” Lorren stopped Farjika with a touch to her shoulder.
She whispered something in her native tongue, the sound as beautiful and exotic as she.
He clasped her hand, surprised that her skin was cold, her fingers tense. He couldn’t believe this reaction had anything to do with the spill or Errion’s ruined clothing. She had clenched her hand into a fist as if she were on the verge of fight or flight.
“Isn’t that right, Errion?” Lorren glanced back at his now bare-chested friend. Perhaps what had unnerved Farjika wasn’t his above-the-waist nudity but the bulge in his trousers. Lorren’s suspicions that Errion wanted Farjika for himself returned vigorously.
“Indeed,” Errion supplied automatically. “I have a multitude of shirts, so the loss of one is no bother.”
Under his breath, Lorren hissed to Errion, “Why don’t you go and put one of them on now?”
Errion’s only answer was a dirty smirk that aggravated Lorren to no end. Never, not once in all the turns of their relationship, had Errion ever deliberately sabotaged one of Lorren’s dates. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to ponder the issue now, not if he were to salvage the night with Farjika.
“I thank you for your gracious hospitality, but I wish to return to my skip.”
Even before she spoke, Lorren knew the evening was over. He never should have left her alone with Errion. Lorren would have been here long before her arrival but for an amazing series of coincidences that trapped him at the manufacturing plant far longer than he’d intended to stay. Whatever Errion had done in that short span of time had unnerved her. After the interlude in the carriage last night, Lorren should have known Errion would go out of his way to ruin his plans.
“Then I will take you there myself.” Lorren was determined to ensure she was returned to her quarters safely.
Errion opened his mouth, but one glance from Lorren made him shut it. Lifting his hands up with palms out as a show of surrender, Errion turned on his heel and left the parlor.
A great deal of Farjika’s tension dissipated with Errion’s disappearance. She took a trembling breath, then released it as she relaxed her shoulders.
As much as he enjoyed the back view of her amazing crimson dress, what with that plunging V delicately balanced just above the cleft of her bottom, Lorren turned her gently, his hands to her shoulders, until she faced him.
“Please forgive me. I don’t know what Errion did, but I fear his actions tonight have distressed you.” Flipping back a hank of dark hair from his gaze in what he thought was a boyish gesture, Lorren let go of her and plunged his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Errion doesn’t intend to be uncouth. He simply adores attention, whether it be good or bad.” Meeting her gaze, he was amazed to discover something decidedly wicked deep within her eyes. The darkness vanished so quickly he wasn’t sure he’d seen the shadow at all. To his surprise, she said nothing; she simply stepped close, tilted her head and placed her lips against his.
Soft, the contact caused his arms to move around her, but he contained his passion, holding her gently. He feared a stronger grip would cause her to bolt. Slowly, the tenor of her kiss changed, becoming bolder. When she parted her lips, he waited for her to slip her tongue to his first. After a timeless moment, she did, and he used every scrap of self-control he possessed to hold still. For whatever reason, she needed to come to him, to claim him, not the other way around. Lorren found the idea of being chased immensely exciting. Over the turns, women had pursued him, but they’d been experienced and their purpose not on his pleasure but his wallet. To have the relatively innocent Farjika hunt him was heady indeed.
Plastering herself to him suddenly, she clutched his head, her fingers threadin
g through his hair, holding him close for her lustful exploration of his mouth. Lorren did not recall ever being kissed so passionately, almost forcefully, as if Farjika were determined to prove to him she was not afraid of whatever Errion had done.
Her tongue encircled his, branding her taste upon him as thoroughly as she had done with the delightful flavor of her sweetly salty cunny last night. Innately, he understood that she needed to set the pace, so he let her, even though all of his instincts clamored for him to take her into his arms, carry her to his bed, toss her upon it, rip the dress from her, then thrust his cock into her tightly gripping sex.
This close he could smell her perfume, the exotically unique fragrance making him harder than he thought possible. As she kissed him, she shimmied against him, pressing her body so tightly to his he could almost feel the fragile line of her panties against his cock. When she lowered her hands to grasp his buttocks, he refrained from growling, but only barely. However, when she clutched him against her, grinding her hips against his, causing the fabrics between them to rub dangerous friction along his shaft, he couldn’t contain himself any longer.
Growling like the animal she’d reduced him to, he clasped one hand to her head, his fingers ruining the elaborate hairstyle as his other hand clasped her bottom, lifting her against him, forcing her into closer contact, but he knew with these clothes on they could never get close enough.
“I want to be inside you.”
She pulled her head back, her mysterious eyes considering him from her lowered face. “Inside me?” Impossibly long lashes gave her gaze a sweet innocence that he longed to shatter with his body. Tracing her finger along his lip, she said, “Tell me exactly what you want.”
Unwilling to frighten her, he smiled and lowered his lips to her ear. Softly he whispered, “I want to slide my shaft where my tongue went last night.” He thought this made his point in a sexy but inoffensive way.
“Say it harder.”
Despite what she asked for, he was hesitant to speak in raw, vulgar terms, lest he inadvertently frighten her away again. “I want to bury my cock in you.”
Pulling back, looking right into his eyes, she harshly demanded, “Harder.”
Lorren grasped her face with both hands, holding her still for his searching gaze. He felt it then, that darkness within rising up, seeking an outlet. Tightening his grip, he forced the hunger back into the farthest corner. He would never do that to Farjika. He couldn’t do that to her. Cruel longings could vent within the borders of his mind, and they could invade his dreams, but they could not own him in the harsh light of rational thought.
Lorren was the master of himself. He wasn’t bound to act on something primitive and base. Lorren prided himself on the fact that he’d stopped the first time things went wrong because he couldn’t bear the ramifications of a second disaster. Staring now into Farjika’s guileless eyes, holding her beautiful face, he wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear, but he would tell her an acceptable version of what he wanted to do to her. Something that he hoped was what she was looking for.
Placing his mouth a breath from hers, he said, “I want to tear this dress off you until it’s nothing but rags at your feet. Then I want to push you back into my bed, force your legs apart and bury my tongue in your slick cunt until you come and come, until you can’t take anymore.” He pulled back enough so that he could look right into her eyes. “And then I’m going to make you beg for my cock. I’m going to slide the length up and down your still-hungry slit until you’re practically in tears with need.” Pausing, his prick twitching at the fire in her gaze, he finished, “Once you are sufficiently frantic and convinced that I will never complete our union, I will then fuck you until you scream.” Lorren threw out a prayer for the fortitude to do what he’d said he would. He feared that once he got her devastating dress off, he would be the one on his knees.
A gasp slipped out from between parted lips as she closed her eyes, capitulating to his needs. That’s when the shadow clarified. That’s why she feared Errion. He’d probed her fragile psyche and discovered her fierce need for domination. She must have been terrified that Errion would pounce upon her and bend her to his will. She wanted him, Lorren, not his friend. Where the idea of Errion possessing her terrified her, the thought of Lorren dominating her only caused excitement.
“Take control of me.”
As she lowered her head to his shoulder, subtly exposing the slender length of her neck, he felt a shot of pure adrenaline galvanize him. All his senses narrowed, focusing on her. His mouth watered and his nostrils flared. Hunger gnawed at him, terrifying in its intensity. He swore that he would never again play that kind of bedroom game. Aggressive sex was as far as he could go, but hard domination was something he did not trust himself to engage in, not after he’d lost control and hurt his partner.
A dominant never, ever lost control.
If that’s what she needed, then she was far safer in Errion’s command than his. Closing his eyes, Lorren lifted his hands to push Farjika away, but instead, he cupped her breasts. Heavy and so hot, the twin bundles of flesh filled his hands to overflowing. Hard nipples pressed into the center of his palms as she arched forward, her breath tasting of all the decadent treats they’d sampled during the meal he’d designed to impress her. He took a deep breath to steady himself but swore he drew in the essence of her slick and needy sex. Lorren tried to pull away, but he couldn’t. Pressing her breasts tightly together, he lowered his head and bit the mounds that swelled over the edge of her dress.
Farjika clutched his shoulders, holding on to him as he ravaged her chest. Peeling down the bodice, he exposed the edge of one areola. Nibbling and nuzzling until her hard nipple begged for his lips, he waited for her whimper before he rolled the fabric down, freeing her entire breast. Twisting her taut nipple between fingers and thumb, he licked the flesh wet, then blew out, cooling the nub, tightening it further.
“Lorren.”
Her voice was a whisper, a sigh, a begging plea.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He dared to speak his greatest fear.
“You won’t. I trust you.”
Cringing, he lowered his head to her covered breast, resting his face against her as he tried to understand how she could dare to trust him when she didn’t know him. Again, he tried to send her away, to remove her as a temptation, but his brain told him one thing while his body said another. In the end, his body won.
He grasped her hand and pulled her along, knowing exactly where he would take her. As they walked briskly through the manor, she fumbled with her dress, trying to pull the fabric back up to cover her exposed breast.
“Leave it.”
Her eyes widened at his aggressive order. That’s when he knew she didn’t want what she thought she did. A born-to-be-submissive woman wouldn’t have even tried to cover what he’d laid bare. Still, she did as he commanded. A rush of pure male satisfaction heightened his awareness, pushing him on, demanding more. Bossing about the future leader of an entire planet was a position he both desperately wanted and was thoroughly terrified of. The dirty hunger he’d relegated to the corner dared to put its foot out and test the limits of its chains. Lorren snarled at it, forcing the hunger to retreat and cower in the darkness. He would give Farjika a taste of what she thought she wanted. He would take control of her, but he would not go too far.
Keeping her beside him through the maze of hallways, he watched as her free breast swayed to her steps, the russet-colored nipple pushing out like the prow of a ship.
Stopping suddenly, he jerked her to a halt and pushed her against the nearest wall. Shock opened her mouth wide, and he plunged his tongue within. Cupping her exposed breast, he twisted her nipple sharply, forcing her to draw away and gasp. Trapping her between his arms, he gazed down at her slightly dazed expression.
“Are you sure this is what you want?”
Her nod was slight but sure, bringing out more of his baser instincts.
“You’ll do as I say
when I say.”
She lowered her gaze to his feet. “I’ll do whatever you want, Master.”
What she said confirmed his suspicions. She had a fantasy notion of what she thought giving up control meant. What she didn’t realize was that his domination of her would be based on her own longings, not his. Like most, she had the situation backward. That misunderstanding is what had hurt Lorren’s partner the last time. He had forgotten that the encounter was about his submissive’s needs, not his own. If Farjika actually knew the depraved ways he wanted to take control of her, she would run from the manor screaming into the night. Her guards would be hard-pressed to keep up with her. If Errion had frightened her, Lorren’s true nature would horrify her.
“Look at me.” Lorren shook his head when she did. “This isn’t a game, Farjika. Only an amateur demands a title like that. Call me Lorren, and if I ever push too far, you have to tell me.” Telling himself to stop now, he pressed on despite all the warnings going off in his brain. “Pick a word. Something unusual. If ever you say that word, I’ll stop what I’m doing. Do you understand?”
Finally, the seriousness of what they were engaging in struck her. Her eyes went wide as she blinked rapidly. “Cirvant.”
Memorizing the word, he asked, “What does it mean?”
“It’s a curved sword.”
“Cirvant is your safety.” He reached out to stroke her cheek, shocked at how his hand trembled, not with fear but longing. Turns had gone by with him refusing to even acknowledge his needs. “If I ever push you too far, or hurt you”—an image formed in his mind that he forcefully dismissed—“I want you to say that word.”
Fear tempered her excitement, but she nodded, so he continued. Once they reached the small theater, he placed her center stage. With a few taps, he had the house lights low, just enough brightness for her to see the first few rows of chairs. As soon as she was comfortable, he blinded her with a spotlight that fell upon her full length. Lightly pink, the beam enhanced her caramel skin tone and reflected off metallic threads in her dress. Standing there, her eyes squinting as she took in the dimensions of the theater, her one breast exposed, she seemed a weary traveler, lost and terribly far from home.
Dark Empress: The Onic Empire, Book 5 Page 7