mastery. Today was different. Not only hadn’t this Wilding ever experienced ropes, she’d yet to acknowledge that he was superior to her in any way.
She was like a meadow painted with a fresh dusting of snow: virginal.
Shifting his position brought him closer to her. Much as he wanted to see her reaction to being finger fucked, he couldn’t shake off her impact to his senses. Her skin was coated with the sweat of her struggles, her mountain of hair tangled around her. There was something otherworldly about the positioning of her useless arms, and he couldn’t tear his attention from the contrast between her coloring and that of the rope he’d put around her.
He loved accepting that she was his and she’d never again taste freedom unless he chose to hand it to her. Maybe it was because he’d gone too long without sex, although a part of him expected that life-weariness and old nightmares played a part. So much of his existence revolved around staying alive and being a valuable Ekewoko, but he’d recently shrugged off that weight so he could concentrate on his possession. The gift that the spirits had handed to him.
“You’re soft here,” he observed in a whisper as his finger sank deeper into her warmth. “Soft and ready for me. Sleek.”
“No, no,” she chanted.
“Don’t deny the truth, Wilding. Feel yourself.” Bending his finger, he stroked her secret walls. “Feel your response.”
“No. No.”
She was on the move, not fighting but, he believed, trying to stay on top of whatever she was experiencing. He debated pointing out that her pussy was flooding itself, but she might call him a liar, and he needed a measure of honesty between them.
“My name is Nakos,” he told her. “Nakos of Ekew, although I haven’t seen my home for many moons. I’m here with my fellow warriors because our lord and our shaman told us this is where we must come if we’re to ever reclaim Ekew.”
She might not care about what he was telling her now, but she’d remember. More important, she’d never forget what Nakos of Ekew had done to her. Fighting what raged through him, he concentrated on milking her responses. If only breathing wasn’t so difficult! If only fantasies of burying his cock inside her didn’t threaten to engulf him.
His finger retreated and advanced, twisted and stroked. Her scent seeped into him, almost as if she was gifting him with her essence. He took the smell of female arousal deep inside him, then opened himself up to the way that scent pushed into his veins and pulsed within his heart. Lost, he ran his other hand over her thigh and buttocks. Dirt clung to her in places, but he didn’t care. Dirt was part of their world, part of this strange thing they were sharing.
“By the spirits.” She jerked her body in one direction, stopped, then rocked herself back to where she’d been. “I—I…”
His mouth remembering how her breast had filled it, he bent low over her so he could run his tongue over her backside. The moment he did, he felt as if he was being pulled into a whirlpool. Startled by her power over him, he pulled out of her pussy and sat up.
She was whimpering like some small, lost animal, her arms and legs trembling, hips moving.
“What’s your name, Wilding? Tell me and I’ll give you what you need.” Maybe.
For long seconds her silence pushed against him. Then she took a strangled breath. “Jola.”
Jola. “Do you have a mate, Jola? Someone you share your life with?”
A shiver ran through her. Even as he studied her taut muscles, he sensed that this new reaction had nothing to do with her being sexually stimulated. Instead, no doubt about it, hatred rolled out of her to press against him. He wasn’t surprised when she wrenched herself around so she was on her back once more and staring up at him. Her glare reminded him of a predator’s single-mindedness.
“He’s dead.”
What? “How?”
“At your hands. Yours, or one of those you’re part
She was like a meadow painted with a fresh dusting of snow: virginal.
Shifting his position brought him closer to her. Much as he wanted to see her reaction to being finger fucked, he couldn’t shake off her impact to his senses. Her skin was coated with the sweat of her struggles, her mountain of hair tangled around her. There was something otherworldly about the positioning of her useless arms, and he couldn’t tear his attention from the contrast between her coloring and that of the rope he’d put around her.
He loved accepting that she was his and she’d never again taste freedom unless he chose to hand it to her. Maybe it was because he’d gone too long without sex, although a part of him expected that life-weariness and old nightmares played a part. So much of his existence revolved around staying alive and being a valuable Ekewoko, but he’d recently shrugged off that weight so he could concentrate on his possession. The gift that the spirits had handed to him.
“You’re soft here,” he observed in a whisper as his finger sank deeper into her warmth. “Soft and ready for me. Sleek.”
“No, no,” she chanted.
“Don’t deny the truth, Wilding. Feel yourself.” Bending his finger, he stroked her secret walls. “Feel your response.”
“No. No.”
She was on the move, not fighting but, he believed, trying to stay on top of whatever she was experiencing. He debated pointing out that her pussy was flooding itself, but she might call him a liar, and he needed a measure of honesty between them.
“My name is Nakos,” he told her. “Nakos of Ekew, although I haven’t seen my home for many moons. I’m here with my fellow warriors because our lord and our shaman told us this is where we must come if we’re to ever reclaim Ekew.”
She might not care about what he was telling her now, but she’d remember. More important, she’d never forget what Nakos of Ekew had done to her. Fighting what raged through him, he concentrated on milking her responses. If only breathing wasn’t so difficult! If only fantasies of burying his cock inside her didn’t threaten to engulf him.
His finger retreated and advanced, twisted and stroked. Her scent seeped into him, almost as if she was gifting him with her essence. He took the smell of female arousal deep inside him, then opened himself up to the way that scent pushed into his veins and pulsed within his heart. Lost, he ran his other hand over her thigh and buttocks. Dirt clung to her in places, but he didn’t care. Dirt was part of their world, part of this strange thing they were sharing.
“By the spirits.” She jerked her body in one direction, stopped, then rocked herself back to where she’d been. “I—I…”
His mouth remembering how her breast had filled it, he bent low over her so he could run his tongue over her backside. The moment he did, he felt as if he was being pulled into a whirlpool. Startled by her power over him, he pulled out of her pussy and sat up.
She was whimpering like some small, lost animal, her arms and legs trembling, hips moving.
“What’s your name, Wilding? Tell me and I’ll give you what you need.” Maybe.
For long seconds her silence pushed against him. Then she took a strangled breath. “Jola.”
Jola. “Do you have a mate, Jola? Someone you share your life with?”
A shiver ran through her. Even as he studied her taut muscles, he sensed that this new reaction had nothing to do with her being sexually stimulated. Instead, no doubt about it, hatred rolled out of her to press against him. He wasn’t surprised when she wrenched herself around so she was on her back once more and staring up at him. Her glare reminded him of a predator’s single-mindedness.
“He’s dead.”
What? “How?”
“At your hands. Yours, or one of those you’re part
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