Falcon’s Captive

by Vonna Harper

  Vulnerable and invaded.

  “I don’t know what I was saying,” she blurted. “Let me stand, please.”

  “No.”

  The single word settled against her heart and mind. She, who’d always embraced the land’s colors, saw only black and white with a deep red vein running through it. Her pussy muscles contracted repeatedly as if determined to keep him inside her. Wondering if she’d ever fully comprehend what was happening, she tried to look beyond her belly to her sex, but all she saw was his arm.

  Diving deeper into her, he bent his knuckle, his fingertip sliding along the front of her pussy. She screamed. Wild, she tried to buck free only to collapse against him. The side of her head resting on his chest and his arm holding her in place, she made sounds like a newborn cougar.

  “Your body wants me,” he muttered. “Don’t try to deny it.”

  “I—can’t.”

  He chuckled although there was something melancholy about it. Before she could decide whether to ask him why, he began to pull out of her. Although she repeatedly, almost desperately, tightened her inner muscles around his finger, he escaped.

  “What?” she gasped, eyes burning and mouth numb.

  “You don’t know?” That said, he laid her back down and straightened her legs.

  The sudden end to the strain in her spine briefly held her attention. Then an undeniable throbbing drew her focus to her pussy. She lifted her pelvis toward him only to have him shake his head.

  “I don’t dare touch you anymore.”

  “What?”

  His frown pulled her thoughts off her insistent and hungry body, reminded her of who had done this to her.

  “You really don’t know much about a man’s body, do you? And yet you aren’t a virgin.”

  “No.”

  Judging by the look in his eyes, she knew she hadn’t satisfied his curiosity, but as long as the darkness engulfed her, she couldn’t say more than she had.

  Did he have a wife or mate? Not long ago it wouldn’t have mattered. Now, although she needed to believe that his personal life had nothing to do with what existed between them, she wished she knew more about him.

  But if she asked, he’d expect the same from her, and before they were done, she’d demand to know whether he’d killed Raci.

  Raci, I’m sorry!

  Desperate to escape her questions and the shadows stalking her, she swallowed. “Tell me about this man’s body of yours.”

  “You really want to—”

  “Yes.”

  “It isn’t patient. It wants what it wants, now.”

  Cursing herself for not having caught on earlier, she stole a glance at his crotch. Beneath his single piece of clothing, his cock strained. Huge and trapped, it demanded to be set free.

  “You do understand,” he muttered as he cupped himself. “At least a bit.”

  Riding instinct, she lifted her bound arms and stroked his tip through soft leather. Although he tensed, he didn’t put distance between them. “What’s that about?” he demanded.

  “I’m doing to you what you’ve been doing to me.”

  His expression a mix of skepticism and anticipation, he closed her fingers around his mound. “If you try to hurt—”

  “You’re afraid of me?” Only a few seconds ago she’d been so lost within herself that she’d barely been aware of him. Now she felt stronger—not in control, of course, but more of an equal. “How can that be when you consider me a wild animal, inferior?”

  “I never—”

  “Yes, you did! Otherwise, you wouldn’t be calling me a Wilding.”

  He glowered down at her. “We shouldn’t be here. I should already have you halfway back to my camp.”

  “Then why don’t you?”

  Although it would have been a simple matter for him to drag her hands off him, he didn’t, and the longer the contact continued, the darker his expression became. She understood. After all, his handling of her had taken her into a deep and personal place.

  Her heart beat on, seconds stretching out until maybe a minute had passed and still he hadn’t responded to her question. Having him looming over her like this continued to intimidate her, and more.

  “You belong to me,” he muttered. “What a strange feeling, knowing another human being—”

  “You’re admitting I’m human?” Belong? Was he right?

  “Maybe.”

  Her hands were so on fire that when he pulled her off his cock, the burning reached all the way up her arms. She tried to jerk free only to have him settle her hands over her belly and hold them in place. They’d gone back to approaching each other as the enemy, danger and potential at the same time.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” he told her. “I don’t want you touching me after all.”

  About to again accuse him of being afraid, she decided to wait him out. There was something deeply arousing about being manhandled this way. She didn’t want her life to be in his hands, never that, but what if she turned her body over to his? Surely he’d take her, and in the taking she’d find release and relief.

  The lake’s aroma still clung to her, making it easy to remember why she’d wanted to be in it. He’d been right to call her human. What he hopefully didn’t comprehend was that there was another layer to her, a primitive and raw one. He’d brought out that side with his hands and ropes.

  “I’ve been a warrior long enough that I know what it’s like to both win and lose a battle.” His voice had taken on a hypnotic tone; either that or her hungry body had affected her ability to process. “Fortunately, I’ve never been badly wounded or taken prisoner.”

  A life that revolved around opposing others was alien to her, yet when he changed his position so he was closer to her hips, instead of trying to shrink away, she slid toward him a little. His gaze intensifying, he studied her from the top of her head to her legs. She was being touched everywhere, turned on with nothing but a look—that and the hand over her wrists and fingers lightly brushing her belly.

  “I’ve taken prisoners and hostages. All tried to hide their fear from me, but their eyes and bodies lied.”

  Why was he telling her this?

  “What they most hated was being helpless. Without his weapons and strength, a man is nothing. He loses his self-esteem.”

  Nakos’s singsong tone hadn’t changed, which maybe was why she barely reacted when he ran his hand down her inner thigh.

  “Their fear comes from the same place, that helplessness. Maybe, for a hostage, there is no difference between terror and loathing. Hopefully someday I’ll know, without having to experience it myself.”

  She still didn’t understand why he was confiding in her. However, she had no doubt about the reason behind the rough and strong fingers stroking her soft and too-sensitive flesh.

  “It’s different for the females we capture.”

  A blip of awareness somewhere deep in her befuddled brain hinted that he was finally getting to the point, but he was touching her, sometimes stroking one thigh and then the other while her breath hissed and her legs inched apart.

  She wouldn’t lift her pelvis toward him and beg, she wouldn’t!

  “They know they have little value as hostages. As females, they’re seen as strong backs and the bearer of babies by their people, but they don’t help insure the safety of their tribe. They don’t hunt.”

  “You’re wrong,” she blurted, undone by a thousand lightning strikes going off inside her.

  “You don’t agree?” he asked as a finger separated her sex lips.

  Him, everywhere. Everything. Yet, pushed on by the sky above and everything it represented to her, she fought for sanity.

  “Why am I wrong?”

  “I never said—” she started but couldn’t think how to weave a lie together. “I know what you’re going to say, that you and the other Ekewoko warriors keep the women for yourselves. Turn them into…”

  When he didn’t finish what she’d started, she accepted that there was
no need because they both understood. Vanquished women became sex slaves. Much as she needed to concentrate on his hand, to anticipate, she couldn’t shake the chilling image of a terrified woman kneeling before him and begging him not to hurt her.

  Barely aware of what she was doing, she closed her legs and dug her heels into the ground. He didn’t stop her from scooting away a little, but neither did he remove his hand, compelling her to cradle it between her hot thighs.

  “What are you thinking?” His tone, although commanding, was low.

  “About all the things I hate about you,” she threw at him. “Treating a woman like an animal—”

  “I’ve never done that.”

  Recalling everything he’d put her through so far, she nearly laughed. She didn’t, because heat refused to leave her thighs and her pussy pulsed with the need for his touch. He’d somehow suspended her between sanity and madness with maybe only one way of returning to the existence she’d always taken for granted: by having him fuck her.

  “However, I’ve seen the change take place,” he told her. “I know the techniques sex slave trainers use.”

  “And you reap the rewards once those trainers are done.”

  His silence told her more than she wanted to know. At the same time, knowing she’d been taken by a man skilled in such things pulled her farther into the dark vortex swirling around her.

  “Maybe this”—a nail glided over her clit, tearing a sob from her throat—“is something I understand simply because I’m a man. Maybe I didn’t need to watch a trainer.”

  “No.” Who was that weak woman and would she ever find herself again?

  “No? Why do you say that, Wilding?”

  Words flowed from her mind to be absorbed by the ground and air. Even when she forced herself to stare at him, she couldn’t find her voice. How could she, as long as he kept touching her clit? Mewling like the newborn cougar she’d likened herself to earlier, she arched her neck so she stared upward and not at him. Her fingers dug into her belly, leaving indentations, and his hand defined her world.

  Where had gentleness gone? What had happened to the slow glide along her heated tissues? Those she could stay on top of, almost. Those she understood, nearly. But the finger suddenly jammed deep inside her had turned harsh. It prodded and commanded, moving more quickly than she’d thought possible. His breathing become hard and quick. His finger rode her, creating a deep burning sensation that plowed through her.

  Every time he buried himself in her up to the base of his finger, fear swept over her, but her sex was swollen and drenched and accommodated him. Through a haze, she realized he was no longer holding her hands in place. Relishing the relative freedom, she scratched her belly and pinched the taut skin over her pelvic bone. Pain dove into her only to collide with the pleasure radiating out from his hand. The sensations swirled, taking her with them.

  Caught in the middle, she hissed and sobbed and whipped her head from side to side.

  Suddenly she stopped thrashing, her body frozen by something she didn’t comprehend. She fought the untold sensations rampaging through her, determined to hold them back. She was still fighting herself when the pressure against her opening increased. Mesmerized, she closed her fingers around her breast and waited, learned.

  Yes, two of his fingers were now inside her. They lay there unmoving and yet full of promise and challenge. This new fullness demanded something from her; she just couldn’t comprehend what it might be. Maybe it was the feeling of being invaded, of not knowing how to expel him, or if she wanted to.

  Then, as she’d known he would, he again began moving inside her. Both fingers worked as one, slipping deep and deeper still, pausing, retreating a little only to push on.

  “Ahh, ahh,” she heard herself cry. She clamped down on her breast, pinching it. Her head started thrashing again. Even though her temple pulsed, she picked up the pace.

  Think about what he’s doing. Prepare. Be ready.

  But did she want to anticipate? Maybe it was better and certainly easier to float in the middle of the storm he’d created. Once again he gave no hint of the gentleness he’d demonstrated earlier, and her pussy wept with each thrust. Her tissues gave way, then surrendered even more, flowing around the masterful fingers.

  She sensed that he was leaning low over her, his back bent and the hand that was not between her legs braced against the ground. Damp heat slammed into her chest. His face was a blur, his body a dark mass over hers. And he was coming closer, his breath drenching her much as her flooded cunt soaked him.

  “What, what?” she managed.

  His response came in the form of something warm and wet settling over the breast she didn’t have hold of. She hadn’t yet acknowledged what he was doing when he sucked her mound into his mouth and closed his lips around it. His tongue pressed against her already hard nipple.

  “Ahh!”

  The fingers skewering her pushed home and held, pressure coming at her and staying, promising and taunting.

  Swimming, much as she relished the experience, had never made her feel as weightless as she did now. Flying had been a part of her for as long as she remembered, a wonderful experience, but that, too, had nothing in common with the soaring, burning sensations swamping her.

  Twisting under him, she scraped her nails along his forearm. Although he grunted, he didn’t try to shake her off. Still scratching him, she opened her mouth, but instead of saying anything, she licked her lips. Sometimes the wind at Falcon Land blew in tight, violent circles, sucking up dirt and leaves and throwing them into the sky. She was in a cyclone of her own making, hers and this man’s.

  Determined to pull him into it with her, she spread her legs wide and bent her knees. A potent scent assaulted her.

  Pushing her breast out of his mouth, he sucked in a breath, then grunted. “You smell of sex, of wanting.”

  “You—made me.”

  “I couldn’t force something you didn’t want on you.”

  Although she wasn’t sure about that, at the moment it didn’t matter. Her legs continued to gape. Watching him pull in another breath reminded her to do the same. She was beyond modesty, beyond fear, ready to plunge.

  “I need your cock in me!”

  “You’re sure?”

  “No, no!”

  His slow blink endeared him to her because for the first time she saw something hesitant in his expression. Maybe he wasn’t the consummate warrior he’d wanted her to believe after all.

  “I don’t have to ask permission,” he said after a moment. “Whatever I want, I can take.”

  “I know that.”

  A hot wave washed over her. She was still trying to come to grips with it when another threatened to drown her. Desperate for a death she was positive would lead to a new birth, she rocked up and clamped her hands over the wrist between her legs. Instead of pulling him off her, she pushed, pressing his fingers even more firmly into her. Her back burned, leaving her with no choice but to fall back again. Her hands slid up him to his forearm.

  “Please,” she begged. “I only want this one thing from you, please.”

  “One?” His chuckle lacked warmth. “And after we’ve fucked, we’ll each return to our people, is that what you’re saying?”

  She couldn’t think beyond killing the great hunger in her, that and acknowledging his mastery over her. Both hating and worshiping him, she tried to soothe away the scratches she’d inflicted on him. Having his fingers still in her bonded them together. Either that or the invasion increased his control of her.

  “Nakos, please!”

  “A warrior loves to hear a woman beg,” he muttered and leaned over her again.

  His tongue slid over her damp nipple. Then his teeth scraped the sides of her swollen nub. She started to buck only to lose all strength as he once more pulled her breast into his mouth. He owned it just as he did the rest of her.

  She’d become his slave, his sex object.

  9

  The fingers fill
ing her had been quiet while his attention was on her breast. Now they were on the move again, plowing and withdrawing in a motion that should have become familiar but wasn’t. She felt as if she were sinking into her own cunt, becoming it, being defined by it.

  The cyclone returned to pull her into its center. She spun in helpless circles. Heat and then more heat seared her. Her mind filled with images only to reject them. She saw a Falcon, then countless small birds. A curtain of snow was followed by light rain followed by the relentless sun. Next the moon, cool and full, filled her vision. She stared at her people seated around a cooking fire, but when she tried to join them, they became Ekew warriors. The enemy reached for her, grabbed her, threw her to the ground, and wound ropes around her until she couldn’t move. Then a man stepped into her vision, big and naked with knowing eyes and possessive hands.

  In a dim and unimportant way, she acknowledged that Nakos was no longer sucking on her breast; not that it mattered because he still owned her pussy, filled it, and gave it a reason for being. Then he pushed her soft, swollen flesh out of his mouth and moved down between her legs. Dizzy, she blinked him into focus. His naked chest made it all too easy to imagine him without any clothes, stripped of everything except the power inherent in his muscles.

  I want to trust you.

  “Say it again, Jola. Beg me.”

  Any other time, she would have thrown the words back at the damnable man who’d spoken them, insisting she wanted nothing to do with him, but he’d taken her far beyond the independent woman she’d always been. Forced her. Either that or she’d allowed herself to be brought into this space. Not caring which it was, she squeezed her legs against his thighs. Her breathing put her in mind of a desperate deer trying to outrun a cougar.

  “Beg me for sex.”

  Yes, yes! “Damn you!”

  “You may say that, but it doesn’t mean you don’t need me.”

  “Need? This morning I didn’t know you existed.”