Falcon’s Captive

by Vonna Harper

  “What is this, wild one? Whatever it is, it doesn’t feel like fighting.”

  Fighting? She’d struggled at first and should still be but wasn’t. Couldn’t think how or why to begin. Fascinated by the human blanket against her from breasts to pelvis, she rose onto her toes. Her mouth was so close to the side of his neck that she could have bitten him, if she’d wanted to. But biting was the last thing she could imagine herself doing. Instead, she clung to him.

  He gripped her in turn, his muscles taut and breath now hard and quick. Was he on the brink of coming? He didn’t need to be inside her in order to climax?

  “Capturing you was the best thing I’ve done in a long time,” he informed her. “You’re like a just-opening flower.”

  “A—I don’t know what you mean.”

  “It doesn’t matter because I have every intention of showing you.”

  Even as she gave herself up to sensation, fear nibbled at her. She would have given a great deal to be granted a measure of freedom.

  Then a finger found the entrance to her anus and her mind again exploded. “No!” She hated the whimpering note, hated her inability to do more than tremble.

  “You don’t like this?” He slid his finger over her puckered opening. “Feel nothing?”

  Her toes and calves ached and her breasts continued to harden. Aching away from him and holding on at the same time, she gave up trying to keep the world in focus. If this was the way the Ekewoko treated all their female captives, she didn’t want to know about it. Still, she didn’t see how any woman could resist.

  She’d taken a chance on settling onto her heels when he began a swirling movement against and around her rear opening. Her ass muscles clenched, but the longer he handled her, the less her resistance. Nerve endings seemed to spring to life everywhere he touched. Her cunt leaked.

  Help me! Spirits, please help me!

  He was now applying pressure to just one buttock, keeping it from settling into place. The constant movement, the burning sensation caused by his flesh grinding against her filled her head.

  “By the spirits, I—I can’t—”

  “What, Wilding? What can’t you do?”

  How had he become so big and powerful? What had happened to her strength and will? And why didn’t she try to shake him off the moment he left off her anus and ran his fingers over her labia?

  Why was she standing there whimpering, drooling even?

  She still didn’t have the answer when he returned to her rear opening, coating it with her own fluids this time. She tried to see behind her, then reared back and gave him a beseeching look. “Don’t, please, don’t.”

  “You don’t know what I have in mind.”

  Something broke down inside her. She was no longer aware of Falcon Land’s existence, and if a small part of her remembered that one of her kind was watching, it didn’t matter.

  How could it, when this man who’d stormed into her world pushed a fingertip into her, bringing her sex juices with him? His finger stretched her, the sensation nearly painful and wondrous at the same time. Undone by her response, she again rose onto her toes and risked a wrenched spine trying to see what he was doing. Even though she couldn’t see beyond her body’s curves, she knew what was happening.

  His finger was fucking her ass, going where no man’s had ever gone, where she’d never imagined one would rest, pulling her apart and filling her all at the same time. She was certain he could reach clear to her belly this way, sure she’d die if he did.

  “I can’t—I can’t—”

  “This isn’t your decision.” Cupping her buttocks with the hand not engaged in fucking her, he pressed. “I’m your captor. As such I can and will do whatever I want to you.”

  Her captor. Owner and master.

  Any other time she would have fought with every bit of strength in her, but even though she couldn’t comprehend how it had happened, he’d stolen her will. All he’d done was place a single finger against her and her wings had been clipped. No longer could she fly. Or fight.

  However, much as she wanted to beg him to return her body to her, she didn’t. Instead, she nearly bit her tongue as the invasion deepened. No matter how many times he worked his finger back and forth, her muscles clamped down on what she couldn’t expel. Sensing his determination, she struggled to relax and let it happen, but instinct refused to give way. The probing wasn’t painful but so much more than her system could deal with.

  No, it wasn’t that at all.

  Instead, she wanted his fingers elsewhere, in another hole.

  Maybe he understood why she vacillated between trying to escape and offering herself to him every time he drove into her. Off balance and lost in sensation, she could no longer distinguish between her separate body parts. Indeed, everything seemed connected to her ass, which he controlled.

  Up until now she’d believed she could withstand whatever he tried to do to her, that she’d never surrender. But she’d made that vow without knowledge of how weak and hungry her body would become or how little will remained.

  Something about his larger size and the restraints he’d put on her worked in tandem with his take-charge approach. She barely understood what was happening to her. Only his touch, his power and control, mattered. He could hurt her; she’d be a fool not to acknowledge the potential. But instead of breaking her down, he was turning her body against her.

  Lighting it on fire.

  Suddenly ashamed of herself, she pressed her hands against the back of her captor’s neck. Cursing, he lowered his head. As he did, she drew her arms over and off him and forced them down between their straining bodies.

  “What the hell—” he started.

  “No! Do you hear me, no!”

  She’d barely gotten the words out when he withdrew his finger from her rear entrance, leaving her ass lost and lonely. Free, if that’s what she truly wanted. “Think you’ve won, do you?” he taunted. “Listen to me, Wilding. I’ve just begun with you.”

  If he’d thrown the words at her, she might have been terrified. Instead, she detected a teasing note behind his challenge. Remembering childhood wrestling matches with her siblings, she pondered whether he intended to turn things into a game between them, but she’d be a fool if she let that happen. Her future was at stake, her life even, surely her freedom and self-respect.

  “You have no right,” she retorted after a short hesitation.

  “I don’t need a right. Not with might on my side.” His mouth twitched. “And coupled with proof of how much of a woman you are.”

  A fresh sensation seared her. She was still trying to make sense of it when he turned her to the side. At the same time, his leg struck the back of her knee, buckling it. He pushed down on her shoulders, and she wound up on her knees on the ground. Joining her, he captured her wrists and flattened her useless hands against her belly. He kept up the pressure until she toppled backward with her legs trapped under her. A quick, strong yank on her bonds and her arms were over her head.

  Helpless.

  “That was easy.” His breath heated the side of her head. “In case you didn’t understand, that’s what I mean by might. Say it: I’m stronger than you.”

  Admit his physical superiority? After what he’d just done, what was the point?

  His mouth twitched, and his eyes took on a cast she’d never seen. Maybe he’d been distracted by the sight of her breasts stretched over her chest wall and her ribs silhouetted under her skin. Although the position he’d forced on her was far from comfortable, she was strangely content to remain where she was. His hands on her bound wrists served as an inescapable reminder of their unequal relationship while a certain heat between her legs comforted her. He could have hurt her, but he hadn’t. Every time he touched her, she responded. Felt alive.

  Alive.

  “All right,” he said in the same challenging tone. “So you don’t want to say anything. I could force it from you, but I don’t believe that’ll be necessary. Do you want me to
demonstrate what I’m talking about?”

  Before she could respond, if she was going to, he cupped his free hand around the breast closest to him. Lifting it, he closed his fingers over its fullness. “This is an example, little wild one. Feel my strength.” Giving weight to his words, he pulled on her hands until she felt the strain in her armpits. “Acknowledge how easy it is to turn you into what I want.”

  She couldn’t move, couldn’t focus on anything except his bulk over her and his knowing hands, her utter helplessness.

  And willingness.

  “Your body is your undoing,” he continued. “No, don’t shake your head. It’s the truth. Damnation, I want what your body offers. And I’m going to take it.”

  “By raping me?” She waited for the words to drive her into loathing, for it to be that simple.

  “No.”

  “Then—”

  “Because it won’t be necessary.”

  “Not—let me up!”

  “Not until I have no doubt of how you’re going to respond when I do.”

  There was something ominous to his tone. At the same time, she sensed a promise behind what he’d just said; either that or she wanted a promise. Although she couldn’t see herself, she had a clear mental image of what she looked like. Among the Falcons were several craftsmen. One created exquisite wood carvings of everything from wolves to flowers while another painted wonderful pictures on hide canvases. She’d long envied not only their skill but also their ability to find beauty in so many things.

  Today her body had become something beautiful, sleek health stretched and curved so his eyes could feast on it.

  “I’ve never seen anything like you,” he muttered as if reading her mind. “Perfect.”

  His praise sent a wave of heat-energy through her. He released her wrists but kept ahold of her breast, lifting and compressing it at the same time. A delicious tingling swam through her. Feeling as if she were sinking into a bottomless pool, she struggled to turn away until she’d discovered how to reach the surface again but was forced to stop when he shifted his grip so her nipple pressed against his palm.

  “Hmm,” she whimpered, nerves and muscles jumping.

  “Like that, do you?”

  “Hmm.”

  “That sound. You don’t have any idea what it does to me, do you?”

  Too much pressure and muscles short-circuiting, a climax building. Bucking under him, she tried to kick.

  Shaking his head at her futile attempts, he flicked a finger over her nipple.

  “No!”

  “Why should I want to stop? You are perfect; absolutely perfect.”

  Whether she perceived his words as a compliment didn’t matter because the pressure against her breast now radiated throughout her. Once more he was laying claim to her and taking her deep into herself. She heard herself sigh.

  “That’s right, wild one. Let it out.”

  “Let—what?”

  “Everything you’re feeling.”

  She couldn’t, couldn’t! That much honesty would leave her unbelievably vulnerable and lost. Desperate to take back pieces of herself, she struggled to sit up. Instead of pushing her down again, he switched hands so his right now cradled her breast. Resistance died.

  “I’m not done with you, don’t you understand that? Everything I want to do to you is going to happen.”

  Unable to determine whether he was threatening or promising, she collapsed but kept her hands on her chest instead of over her head as they’d been earlier. Her thumb brushed his.

  “What’s this?” he asked, rotating his hand a little and abrading her breast. “Maybe you think you can pull me off you.”

  “I won’t let you hurt—”

  “Have I said anything about pain?”

  “You said I can’t stop you from—”

  “From doing not just what I want, but what we both do. No, don’t deny it.” His mouth twitching again, he ran his left hand over her ribs. His touch was too light, too sensual, full not of threat but promise. Because he still claimed ownership of her breast, she had no choice but to acknowledge and accept everything he was doing. Inch by inch, rib bone by rib bone, he traced a path she sensed would only end one place: at her pussy.

  “No, ah, no!” She again tried to heave herself into a position only to fail once more. If only she could straighten her legs! That way she wouldn’t be so off-balance.

  “I love the way you struggle. The way your breasts move when you’re gasping for breath, the look in your eyes.”

  “What look?” Was the Falcon still around?

  “A little fear. Nervousness. Uncertainty. And something else: anticipation.”

  He was wrong, damn him, wrong! She wasn’t looking forward to being manhandled, and she certainly didn’t want to have sex with him.

  Did she?

  Sex, fucking hot and hard, ecstasy raging through her and flying. Alive. So alive.

  Although his hand had stopped moving while they were talking, it had occasionally twitched, which added to her inability to concentrate. And when his fingers headed toward the valley where her belly lay, she broke out in a sweat and clawed ineffectively at the hand covering her breast.

  “Is that all you’re capable of?” he asked.

  Determined to rise to the challenge, she slapped him. If she’d caused him pain, he gave no indication.

  “Whatever you are,” he told her, “it isn’t a warrior. You’ll never get free this way.”

  Did she want her freedom back? Right now the only thing she was certain of was that he was lightly drawing his nails over her belly and pelvic bones as if painting them. Shuddering, she sucked in a breath even deeper than the last one. She’d lost command of her body to a man who had no right to it, who knew nothing about her. But although she should be battling him with every bit of strength she possessed, resistance would have to wait until her awareness no longer centered around him.

  “You’re no innocent.” Even with her head turned from him, she knew he was staring at her. “This is no virgin’s body. Because it knows what it’s capable of.”

  Much as she wanted to retort that he couldn’t possibly understand what she was experiencing, she couldn’t force the denial past her lips. Her cunt was coated with proof of her arousal. More than that, he’d earlier gathered some of her seemingly unending fluid and had spread it over her asshole. Some of her juices remained on his fingers and were now drying, adding a roughness that lightly scraped her flesh—flesh he showed no sign of leaving alone.

  “You think I’m wrong?” Catching her nipple between thumb and forefinger, he kneaded it while she squirmed and tried not to moan. “You’re getting ready to tell me I have no idea what I’m talking about?”

  “Let me go!”

  “Why do you keep saying that when you know it’s not going to happen?”

  Ever?

  She was still gathering the courage to ask when he suddenly and firmly gripped her mons. Not giving her time to comprehend, he shook it.

  Sparks from an inner bonfire shot down her legs and into her pelvis. Sobbing, she again tried to sit up, only to collapse when he pressed down on her breast. His hold on her mons tightened. Her breath hissed. Her mouth opened and then closed.

  He had her.

  “I don’t have to tie your legs, do I? As long as they’re bent under you, they’re useless. More to the point, your pussy is exposed. Open to me like a gift.”

  She’d never gift him with her sex, damn it! If he thought she wanted anything to do with—

  “Ah my wild one, what an exquisite creature you are. Full of the need for sex.” A finger, maybe his middle one, led the way to her slit.

  Gasping again, she acknowledged her flaming cheeks and throat. She, who’d never thought of herself as a sexual object, suddenly had no other identity. Most disconcerting, she didn’t want anything except this—and him.

  “Is there anything softer,” he said with a bit of awe in his voice as he slid his finger into her. “A
nything that affects a man more?”

  With the invasion, she trusted him; not just trusted, but knew deep inside that he wouldn’t hurt her. Whatever his intent, he wanted no part of injury or cruelty. She’d always been told that the enemy had no humanity to them, but here she was within the enemy’s grip and more alive than she’d ever been.

  Granted, the strong masculine finger working its way into her flooding channel had a great deal to do with what she was experiencing, but even in her befuddled state, she acknowledged it was more than that. Not just a man, but him, this stranger who called himself Nakos of Ekew.

  “Soft, like the feathers of a small bird, like the first grass of spring.”

  His voice was music, flutes and other wind instruments. At the same time, she heard something that reminded her of heartbeats, a quiet drum perhaps. She vaguely comprehended that his palm still covered her breast and was stroking and massaging it, but next to the clawing hunger in her pussy, the abuse didn’t matter. She couldn’t keep track of everything he was doing, just that he’d brought his entire hand into play. His gentleness seemed right. She should want no part of it, but too many nights and tears lay between her and the last time a man had touched her as a woman.

  She wanted one thing. Wanted it not from Raci, who was no longer part of her world, but from her captor.

  “I can’t—by the spirits, I can’t…”

  “What can’t you do, little one?” he whispered. Something, maybe a knuckle, rolled over her clit.

  “Ah!” she fairly screamed. Her fingers fastened onto his arm, and she used him to lift her back off the ground. Still off-balance, she clung to him, depended on him.

  Something firm again walked over her clit. At the same time, his finger remained in her, covering her in proof of his existence. Throwing back her head, she dove into sensation. “I can’t—”

  “Take any more of this?” He flattened his hand over her cunt. Owned it.

  “No, no! Falcon, please, help me!”

  “Falcon?”

  8

  It was too late for Jola to take back her words, too late for anything except this moment. As she blinked Nakos into focus, she comprehended that he’d released her breast and wrapped his arm behind her back so he could help her sit up. She felt cradled by him.