Three Days of Dominance (7 page)

“Do you?” He nipped her earlobe, harder this time.

“Ouch!” She wriggled, and he tightened his grip, making her hold her breath a moment as excitement hazed her thoughts.
Oh, how did he arouse me from just that
? She caught up with the train of his questioning and sighed. What point was there in denying this any longer? Yet still the words dragged out of her. She whispered them. “Yes. I do. I want to be here.”

“Good. At last we are getting somewhere. I wanted to talk, as I said, but I could see there was no way you were going to agree. But this way, I think, is the best solution—I can make you listen and hold you at the same time. Sit on my lap.”

He sank to the ground, cross-legged, and settled her between his legs. Against her bottom she felt the line of his erection. Though it raised another wave of heat, she was glad they were outdoors, for her mind whirled. She didn’t want to make love again, not until she had time to think properly, away from his disconcerting influence.

Then he moved his hand into her lap and let his fingers dangle casually against her thigh, at the crease between her leg and pussy. She tensed, trying not to react. If he touched down there, he’d find her wet.

“I have some things to say that will seem unbelievable. Though there is evidence I can show you to prove what I say, it is up to you to decide whether to believe me or not. But I swear this is the truth.”

That made her sit up. Her mind cleared. She might have been taking down a statement at the station. If there was one thing she excelled at, it was knowing truth from falsehood.

“My first point is that you have a tendril growing on your face. Here.” He lightly touched her on the forehead where he’d touched before. “It means you have some of our blood in you.”

“What? What blood?” Already, this sounded like lunacy.

“Look here.”

Her mouth dropped open. In the center of his left palm was a flat mirror of what appeared to be water, only so very still, not rocked at all by the movement of his hand. It couldn’t be water.
Could it?

He tilted his hand, and it stayed perfectly flat. She could see her face, and curling down her temple was a thin black ribbon.
A tattoo? How though? He couldn’t have done it while I slept
. She frowned and put her finger to her head, rubbed the tendril. Nothing happened except her skin reddened where she rubbed. Not ink, then, either. She stared down at the mirror on his palm, then slowly extended her hand until her finger entered its surface, going down into the cool liquid, and she felt his skin beneath.

“Water?”

“Yes. I am water fae. I can control water quite well, even on the worst of days. Providing I have power.” He dipped his fingers on her thigh a little lower, and even through the shorts, she felt them at the edge of her labia. “I can also sense moisture, here, dear heart.”

Unfair! But…dear heart
? She struggled not to squirm, kept it down to merely a hissed intake of breath. Her almost-fear had dissipated at his touch.

What the hell
? The fae? He thought he was a faerie? “Go on. And stop trying to distract me. Outrageous lies are still lies even when you”—he rubbed his fingers along her cleft, and she nearly bit her tongue—“do that.” Only thing was, they didn’t sound like lies.
How much can I rely on my instincts?

“Almost a hundred years ago, I was exiled here, cursed under our laws, after I killed our Goddess’s only son on my own world. My half sister, Aroha, had led me to believe he’d done her a grievous injury; I challenged him, and we dueled. For a hundred years, I and Aroha have been forced to live in or around the lake. The years of isolation here have not been kind to her. To return to our own world requires an enormous amount of power. Power that can only be found inside something called a toah egg. They’re in common use in my world. To fuel this toah, the curse requires a woman to submit to me for three days. Though the first two days are important, it is on the third day that your submission must be absolute.”

At that, she stiffened. Her, he meant her. Fear spiked, then disappeared almost as quickly. She didn’t and couldn’t fear this man, not exactly, not in an oh-my-God-he-might-kill-me kind of way. Yet, what had she gotten herself into?

“On the last day there is a very exact ritual that needs to be performed. That ritual is the true key to success. I believe you can help me do this.”

“Me?”
Jesus
. Truth, her mind told her. All of it. Or maybe, just, he believes it to be true.

“I don’t expect you to take this all in and believe me in one simple step. But I ask that you think on what I tell you, and that you come to the lake again today. There I can show you more and convince you of the reality of magic.”

He stopped there, and waited, and he needed to. Her brain could barely figure out how to wrestle with anything he’d said. She cleared her throat.

“You think you’re a…a faerie, and that you can do magic?” She glanced at his left hand, though the mirror had gone.
Illusion, or not?

“Yes.” His fingers resumed their slow circuits along the seam of her shorts, the pressure above her clit tantalizing, despite the cloth between his fingers and her flesh.

This time she did squeeze her thighs together. “Unh. That’s cheating. I can’t think clearly.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me as yet. Just to remember.” With his other hand he lifted her breast through the thin cotton of her bodice, as if weighing it. “I placed an egg, the toah, inside you”—Heketoro moved his hand down until it pressed flat just above her mound—“here.” Then he returned to caressing her breast.

He did what?

“The toah stores power that comes from sexual magic. And it makes you more aware, when bare skin is touched. Like this.”

He slid a finger between the buttons of the bodice and touched her nipple. Heat sizzled from nipple to clit.

“Ah!” She arched, gasping, suddenly exquisitely aware of the shape of his cock so close to her throbbing cunt, and of the blood pulsing through her engorged clit. “No.” The word came out strangled. “I’m not making love out here. You put this thing inside me? Without asking, or telling me what it was? I mean, hell, you might have asked.”

This toah, and she remembered it now, he’d put it inside her after she’d awoken to his mouth on her. Had he somehow made her forget? Now that was confusing. He couldn’t do that, make her forget, unless somehow he was a fae? How could he be a faerie when they were an imagined thing from children’s tales? And if he was—She jammed her eyes closed. Tried to think past the vibrations of lust thrumming her body. What would she rather—that he be a fae, or a madman?

“The toah is safe. If you want me to, I'll remove it. Or, at this stage, you can even do that yourself. It's your choice, but bear in mind, I wouldn't be asking you if this wasn't important. You are my last hope.”

She put her hand over his at her groin, trying to stop that infernal, delicious rubbing. “Stop that.”

“I don't think so.” His teeth clamped lightly on her ear. He shifted his fingers out from under hers, then covered her right hand with his, slid them both down between her legs. Heat flared.

“Oh.” She writhed against her fingers, pressed down hard by his, and closed her eyes.

“No matter how much I want to bury myself in here again”—he pressed down and made her arch into her hand—“I won’t, not until you’ve made your decision whether to help me or not. But there are other ways I can leave you wanting me.”

Oh no
. She tried again to pull her hand away and couldn’t.

Again, that urgent pressure.
Mmm
. Red flared against the insides of her lids.

“You will keep this memory for the rest of your life.”

What does he mean to do
? The question gave rise to another surge of desire. She squirmed, and her panties moved, slick with her arousal, beneath her shorts.

At the insistence of his hands and body, she sank to the grass with him behind her. Dazed, she squinted at sky bleached in noon sunlight, aware of the overarching hedge walls around them, the press of his cock into the crevice of her ass, the smell of crushed grass, and her arousal. Only the house was visible from this shaded spot. The overgrown hedges shrouded them as if they’d found a grotto deep in a forgotten forest. Spots of glare drifted across her vision.

“First, these go,” he murmured.

The buttons of her bodice tumbled earthward down the cotton front, and the garment opened, spilling her breasts. Surprised, she went to grab at the bottom flap of fabric, only to find her left hand brought to cross her right, wrist to wrist, still above her groin. Something tickled the skin there, encircled her wrists, and held them.

His hand moved along the seam of her shorts, and something parted. “Touch yourself, here.”

More pressure against her swollen clit, skin to skin. He helped her right hand delve deeper between her legs. She groaned as his strength made it impossible for her to do anything except obey, and her fingers, entwined with his, slid across the naked folds of her labia.

How can that be? What happened to my shorts?

So wickedly wet, and she was doing this, stimulating herself, with this man making her, watching her. And every momentary graze of his skin against her aroused flesh seemed to turn her inside out.

She couldn’t help but wonder if there was a penalty for making love to a fae. But if there was, oh my, she’d pay it a thousand times over.

She attempted to look, glimpsed a circlet of tiny leaves at her wrists before he pulled her head back, and his mouth possessed her throat. He moved his lips up, marching across her neck and jaw in electric, stinging sucks and bites and kisses until he found her mouth and took it roughly. For a blurred moment her mind spiraled in a feedback loop of jolting electricity. Nip, sizzle, writhe, and groan.

His fingers and hers sank into the wetness below, her left hand tied somehow to her right, and she couldn’t tell where his skin and hers began and ended. Muddled, overwhelmed, she alternated between arching back against the length of his erection twitching at her buttocks and arching forward into her own hand. She came in a white-hot blinding surge, and winding down from that, discovered he’d not been satisfied.

“More, Danii. You can come again, I know. Let me see you wriggle your bottom and gasp into my mouth. Show me what you can do.”

While his tongue ruthlessly explored her mouth, he slid his other hand onto her nipple and pinched. The pain snaked liquid and burning down to her groin. Arousal resurfaced as if she’d not climaxed only a few seconds ago.

“No! Can’t. Not yet!”

“But you can. You’re neglecting this,” he said, and he guided her thumb to her throbbing clit, made it revolve and squash gently, setting up an exquisite rhythm. Now, straining forward became the only choice. He helped by thrusting at her from behind, sandwiching her between his cock and the squeeze and press and slide of fingers. Thick fingers filled her cleft.

“Oh, yes,” she gasped.

“There, yes,” he agreed, voice rough and low with desire. “Let me see you come again, Danii.”

“Ah!” The words gripped her. He watched her, made her do this. She shuddered. Through a sliver of eyelid, she saw him dip two fingers toward her and into her mouth. She opened wider, licking, tasting.

He pulled them out and straddled her breasts with his hand, moist fingers playing with each taut nipple. They pointed harder at the cool touch, jutting tight and aching. She gasped and squirmed, wanting more of everything—of his mouth, the fingers at her nipples, the thrusting and sliding at her clit and cleft.

Fingers pumped in and out. The exquisite rhythm climbed her higher, into that blindness, that space where nothing existed but her body and his. Arousal peaked, holding her there, tensed, at the very edge. Her spine bowed, her mouth opened under his. He moved and bit down, clamping teeth on her neck as he squeezed her nipple, hard. The spikes of pain sizzled to nipples and clit, where her thumb worked. She melted, climaxing. Wave after wave of pleasure shook her. Her vagina clenched along their intertwined fingers; then he made her thrust them deeper, and she moaned and shook yet again. Slowly the jolts grew less, her inner muscles barely quivering as her back relaxed.

“Oh. My. God,” she whispered. And she curled up, still trembling at the memories fluttering in her head, at the feelings fluttering in her body. He lifted his mouth from the angle of her neck and shoulder. She whimpered.

She’d have a mark there, she thought, stunned.

The sun came back and shed its warmth on her. A cool breeze dried the sweat between her breasts. She watched the grass blades near her lips flicker as she panted.
Where had that come from? That was an orgasm to rival a chunk of Semtex going off.

Gently, he helped draw her hand from between her legs and rearranged her bodice so it appeared closed. She rolled onto her back to find him looking down at her.

“So?” he asked. “Will you?” He put his finger between her teeth, and she licked her own taste from him, then bit down, feeling the flesh dent. He smiled.

She knew what he meant.
Would she remember this, for the rest of her life
? She released his finger, licked again, then frowned up at him.
What a question.

“Not sure I should answer that.”

“Perhaps you'll answer me if I drag you out into the middle of the lawn and make you come loud enough for your neighbors to hear?” He put his hand back between her legs.

She sucked in air, so aware of the way his finger pushed aside her slippery flesh and rested
there
. She could feel herself stirring again. He wouldn't, would he? Couldn't, surely? How well could she wrestle against a muscle-bound faerie? If that’s what he was? Though there was amusement glimmering in his eyes, there was a dead-set seriousness in the line of his mouth. She looked at him suspiciously. “Is that a threat?”

He growled and leaned on her, trapping her right arm against her body, while at the same time whipping his arm down and gripping her bound wrists in an ungiving fist.