Intimidator (10 page)

Who she didn’t know. Not really.

Am I a slut?
Willow swayed, and went to cover her exposed breasts but he swept aside her arms.

He grabbed handfuls of her T-shirt beneath her armpits and stripped it off her, then dropped his coat and her shirt to the ground. Off balance, she was scared but so horny she was shaking. She reached to either push at him or pull him closer, she wasn’t sure which, but he spun her around so she faced the tree, and shoved her into it.

“Stay.” The growl from behind and above locked down her brain for seconds.

She had to stop this. Whatever compelled them both couldn’t be good.

Fire. Imagine fire. The memory of pain cleared her head and freed her. Oh my. She’d popped her ass upward at him, presenting herself for easy access.

She straightened, turned. Crap. She shouldn’t have looked.

Stom stood there, disheveled and wild-eyed, dark gray shirt sticking to his muscles. His zip was undone and his pants ready to be pushed down his legs. Casually, he pulled his shirt off over his head. Her mouth dried. The height difference and his crazy black-striped chest did even more to disturb her completely-not-normal perspective.

She ran her tongue across her lip, assessing him.

“Christ, you’re hot. Man…”

Now was the time to say that no.

“Did I tell you to move?”

Unable to blink, in case she missed something, she stiffly shook her head.

“Good. I wanted an excuse.” He bared his teeth. As if by magic, his hand held what looked a leash and collar. The other hand was bloody.

Feral had taken over.

The stripes on his face, neck, and chest stood out like warning signs, sheened with sweat.

She’d forgotten how strong a man could be, and Stom was more than a man.

Without warning, he spun her again, leaning on her to trap her against the coarse bark while he strapped the collar about her neck. She squeaked once then subsided and let him handle her as he wished to. This, this thing he did with the making her do things, the abruptness of him grabbing and taking, it blew her mind. Fuck equality. Fuck asking before he did it. With him, she wanted this – wildness, compulsion, animal ferocity.

Once on, the collar seemed to pulse at her neck. The thing circled her, ran tingles down into her body, calmed her even, as if it were more than plain leather. A haze settled in.

“Wait,” she mumbled. “I never said I wanted this on.”

“Quiet. This is not your want. It’s mine.” The leash clicked on and he secured it on a low branch. He slapped her ass. “Mine.”

The reverberations of the slap echoed deep.

Mine
. The word had a double meaning. His idea to leash her. His possession. She grew wetter in an instant.

Rough yet businesslike, he kneeled and pulled her shorts all the way down her legs until they bunched above her sneakers. He was going to fuck her after all.

Any normal woman would stop him.

And yet she moved not at all. Maybe she wasn’t normal.

His naked hands clasped her hips. Skin contact. Things were about to happen. He was going to put his cock in her. Damn. She sucked in air.

“Arch your back. Let me see your pussy.”

He wanted her to stick her butt out. She’d not had sex for a year. But Stom…damn. Slowly, she did as he’d asked and even tried to part her thighs, despite the shorts constricting her ankles.

He stepped back, admiring her. “That’s good. Pink. Pretty. I like the color.” Then his voice growled deeper. “Though red, my red, would be far better. If you were marked with my color…” Gently, almost reverently, he touched her down there, then with his other hand he angled her outward and made her push her ass higher.

From the slick and smooth way his finger travelled along her cleft, she was very wet. She heard the intake of his breath. He liked her like this. Moist for him. The pleasure of that warmed her.

“This is your cunt, Willow? It’s my cunt now. Hear that?” As he spoke, he slowly circled the inner edge of her pussy with one finger, teasing her with desire.

Fuck.
She quivered. His dirty talk hit every
take me
button inside her head. She held back for only a fraction of a second before she nodded. Wiggling her butt seemed an excellent idea, and she pushed back onto his fingers. When he resisted impaling her, she whined and bit her lip.

Lip still caught in her teeth, she lowered her forehead to the bark. The sound of his pants being pulled off warned her. She shifted her legs even farther apart, sure he must be looking at her there. Her entrance clenched. Ugh. Slow man. If she didn’t get him inside her, she’d implode from lust overload, and how would that look on her death certificate?

Then his cock breached her and shoved apart the entrance to her pussy. He speared inside her: that exquisite instant of impalement, fullness. She forgot everything but that, mesmerized by the building rhythm of sex. Stom was taking her, inside her, his body slapping against her ass.
Yes.

He must have loosened the leash. His hand was behind her nape gathering it in his fist.

“Look at me.” He turned her to face him and touched foreheads, with his hand wedged around her chin. Between collar, leash, hand, and his cock pumping at her, he totally controlled her. She couldn’t move a fraction, open her mouth, or tongue her lip, without him seeing her arousal. He observed her every pant and whimper, kissing her mouth while he fucked her.

“Look at me,” he whispered. “Look at me.”

And she did – she opened her eyes wider. Captured. Bound in the storm of his need. Her air was his.
She
was his.

He inched her up the tree until her toes barely touched earth. The slow rhythm of his thrusts strengthened – faster, harder, deeper inside, making her dig fingernails into the bark. He engulfed her in passion. Her thighs shook. Ecstasy was but a moment, a cry, a helpless whimper away.

Flattened into the tree by his most powerful thrust, her clit rocked against the bark. He kissed her over her mouth, feeding on her lust, and rammed in one last time, gasping as his seed swelled into her.

For what seemed ages he stayed there, over her, his thick muscled arms barring her from stirring. Then he woke from the lethargy of post-orgasm and bit her neck and shoulders in several places, no doubt leaving the deep arcs of his teeth. And bruises. Those too.

But she hadn’t come. Lovers should make her come. Wasn’t it her right?

Legs trembling, she slurred out the statement, and he laughed.

“You think so? No, Willow. You may make me want to ravish you and fuck you every possible way when I see you but before I will let you come, you’ll pay homage to my cock.”

“I’ll what?” She frowned. This wasn’t in the handbook.

Mandy stood over the man, smiling. The injection had taken him quickly and he lay unconscious, his head flopped to the side. The factory queen would like this one. He had an intriguing scent about him. Weapon scent. Drugs scent. A criminal, the data had suggested. This was her best convert yet.

She took his ankle and began to drag him through the undergrowth toward her car. Whatever associates he had, she would find them and convert them too.

When the nerve chewers eat their way to this one’s brain and make him one of us, I will begin on his friends.

Maybe they would know some witches.

“You’re coming back with me,” Stom repeated. Where had that homage to his cock idea come from? It had spewed out of his mouth. When she’d looked horrified – he’d felt an amused yet mean sort of triumph. Odd. Not him.

“No, I can’t. Nope.”

“Really?”

She defied him, but a trickle of sweat ran down her face, she still struggled to catch her breath, and she was using the tree to hold herself up. Sexual devastation. His balls tightened.

He grunted.

Her dumbfounded look meant nothing to him. There wasn’t time to explain. Taking her here had been foolish. He’d spilt blood everywhere. Alien blood to these earth people. If a laboratory got a sample that would mean a big clean up. Semen was just as bad as blood but harder to see and keep intact.

The Preyfinders would clean up the blood and the cum.

He couldn’t leave her because she was going to die if he left her alone. Buying a gun wasn’t going to save her but leaving her here might kill her.

And there was the other reason – that he couldn’t bear to let her go.

He hated that, and when she’d asked if he was going to let her climax, and he’d said no, he hated that too. His cruel rejection had been a perverse way to defeat his first instinct – to care for her needs. Not understanding why he’d wanted to do that had made him mean. And he’d ended up less caring than any man should ever be of his lover.

But he didn’t like being dictated to, not even when it was by his own body.

He shouldn’t take this out on her. She was just a woman. Or was she? Something here was deeply flawed, deeply wrong.

When she pulled up and buttoned her shorts, despite the mess he’d left on her thighs, he watched everything. He was fascinated, adoring, and pissed off. Her scowl after he’d told her he wasn’t letting her come, had made him want to do more nasty things to her. Everything here seemed wrong, in so very many ways.

He wanted to pull her shorts down again and play with her, to bend her over his lap and stare at the damage – at his cum dribbling from her pussy. This puzzled him so much he was going to wear a track in his brain from thinking it over and over.

“Come get us,” he said quietly to his watchers.

“I can’t leave with you, Stom. I have Ally to look after. I’m not –”

He dragged her to him, whipped the leash around her wrists, and when she began to yell, he thanked Brask for his forethought, for once, and stuck the breath-through black gag in her mouth.

“Thirty seconds. ETA,” someone called in his ear comm.

They’d been observing, of course. He wondered if any of them got their kicks from watching him plundering Earth pussy. Probably. Who wouldn’t when it was a female as cute as… Why? Why was she so attractive to him?

He examined her, trussed, gagged, quiet for once, shifting from foot to foot as if thinking about running. He’d catch her in seconds and she knew it. Though he’d pulled her T-shirt down to cover her, it bunched oddly about her breasts. Sweat stuck those sweet black curls to her forehead and those pretty brown eyes blinked at him ferociously.

He sighed. He had no idea. She was just gorgeous. Even if she had almost shot his finger off.

He picked up everything and dressed quickly. Ignoring her squeals, he hoisted her onto his shoulder, and carried her to the forest edge so he could rendezvous with the black car in which the Preyfinders arrived. Quiet street. No one was observing them. Two Preyfinders he didn’t know got out and one whipped open the passenger door. They nodded. He nodded, made Willow get in the back, then slid in after.

One of them, the front passenger, turned and threw back a question while he checked out the tied and gagged Willow. “Nice morning?”

“Yes.”

She wavered from blatant terror to anger and she grumbled through the gag. Her eyes seemed ready to shoot bolts of lightning.

Which he ignored. “Shh. They’re safe.” He patted her thigh.

“Get what you wanted?” The man’s eyes said he meant Willow.

His voice deepened into don’t-you-even-think-of-approaching-her territory. “Yes.”

“Good. We can’t touch her. Not in the rules. You know that.” He turned away.

Yeah, he did. It didn’t hurt to make sure.

The car surged forward.

His finger was still oozing blood, all over the upholstery. Willow had some smeared on the curve of her breasts where they pushed out above her neckline. He leaned in and looked at those breasts, then took her face in his hand even though she dodged.

Her small defiance was both amusing and good to see. What a little fire cat he’d caught.

“Remember, you owe me for this.” He held the finger with the piece missing from it up to her nose. “Cock homage.”

She grunted meanly. More lightning bolts.

That made him smile and he settled beside her, watching the streets whizz past. What a morning.

Back at the canal house that overlooked the lake, he waited for the garage door to lower before getting Willow out of the car.

The others let him do it, not raising a hand to help. Of course. As he strode up the hallway, he patted her behind where he’d shouldered her. She was his to deal with. Rules of the game. They’d rescued him so he could get medical treatment. Willow was his to rescue though. Or to discard.

On his trip through the house, she grew quieter and less wriggly, perhaps looking at this dwelling. It was luxurious, by human standards, with its cool colors, grandiose ceilings and floor-to-ceiling frost-stippled glass looking out over the lake. No one could see in, of course.

He needed to get over to the Preyfinder ship that hid under the waters of the lake, but he wasn’t allowed to take Willow across there. Not unless he made her truly his.

That
wasn’t happening. He needed no pet. This was temporary.

When he opened the secret panel to reveal the stairs leading down, she resumed squeaking and struggling. No matter, he held her still until he reached the capture room. He toppled her onto the big square bed that was set in the middle of the floor space. She decorated the ivory and azure blue quilt rather well. All those long, shapely limbs…

Stom sighed and took off the gag.

For a few seconds she only swallowed and ran her tongue around the inside of the mouth. “What are you doing? With me?” Willow looked around, her tone cautious. “You know you can’t do this. This is illegal, immoral, you can’t keep me here. I have to get back to Ally. She can’t survive without me.”

Can’t? Did she not value his presence? Wait. He hardened his mind. What did this matter to him? She was but a temporary mate. An easy lay as the humans called it.

Only that term seemed insulting. She was too…too something he couldn’t define for him to want to insult her.

“I respect you for your devotion to your friend, but she can survive a day without you. We will watch your house.”