Kensington Aphrodisia
ISBN-10: 0758235356
ISBN-13: 978-0758235350
The Onic Empire, Book 3
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EXCERPT

Chapter 1

What Kerrick missed most was his hair.

Women loved his hair, and he loved women. A lack of locks would certainly curtail his flirting. All he had to do was tilt his head so that his golden hair fell across his green eyes and women couldn't help but reach out to push the strands away. When they did, he'd capture their wrist and kiss the palm of their hand, which inevitably led to kissing their lips. His signature move worked every time. Of course, he didn't need to flirt with the women he would encounter today.

As Kerrick entered the Harvest room, he barely noticed the elaborate decorations or the paintings of his predecessors. The sacrifice table riveted his attention. Hundreds of beautiful women adorned in finery lay supine, all of them waiting for him. Below his codpiece, his cock was hard and ready. He didn't miss the hair down there so much, as shaving made everything seem bigger. Sadly, he couldn't feel a thing. He was as rigid as the blade at his side but estal oil blocked all sensations. A drink called umer would keep him hard but unable to orgasm. The nasty burnt wood taste of the elixir still lingered at the back of his throat. Had he known all of this, Kerrick might not have bothered to become the Harvester. What fun would there be in claiming the virginity of all the young women in the land if he couldn't feel a damn thing?

Of course, it was too late to turn back now.

After the last Harvester had selected his bondmate, Kerrick stepped forward, claiming the right to proceed in his place. None of the other recruits challenged him. Kerrick was newly arrived, but he'd been in training his whole life. Even seasoned recruits were not as muscular as he was. Nor did they possess his skills. For a moment, two or three considered challenging him, but in the end, they shook their heads and moved aside. They'd decided a fight to the death wasn't worth it. After a hasty indoctrination, the magistrate took him to the massive double hung doors of the Harvest room.

"Tell me now if you're going to select a bondmate so that I might ready the next Harvester." Ambo Votny seemed annoyed and flustered. "You're the third Harvester this season, and I'd rather like to stop running back and forth between here and the training rooms."

Kerrick assessed the elderly, rotund man. Several chins quivered as he spoke and exertion flushed his skin a deep, bluish red, as if his entire being cried out for air. Underarm stains ruined the grandeur of his silver uniform. One more pass from here to there would probably result in the man's death. Kerrick longed to take Ambo's position as magistrate, but killing him with exercise probably wasn't the best way to get there. Besides, Kerrick would need more than a brief stint as the Harvester to garner enough pull among the elite to ascend to such a powerful post.

Calmly, Kerrick insisted, "I have no intention of selecting a bondmate this season or next. I will be the Harvester for as long as I can."

Ambo released an overwrought breath. "Thank the gods!" He flicked his fingers at the guards. "Open the doors."

Several places down from the north end of the table, Kerrick spied his first harvest. His boots boomed on the Onic tiles as he strode toward her. Freeaal! The damn things sounded like a stampede of boulders! He tried to walk softer but his stride made no difference in the pounding of his boots. Several of the women noticeably flinched at each booming echo.

When he reached the first sacrifice, he took a moment to assess the woman who would be his initial harvest. Her round, ebony face was serene, as if she didn't mind waiting most of the day and half the night for him to arrive. Her fine features were cute rather than beautiful, but her eyes were the most amazing mix of brown and green. When he placed his hands upon her knees and parted her thighs, she smiled up at him with such joy he couldn't help but smile back. Her yellow-green robe slid off her legs, exposing slender thighs and her tender sex. Glistening drops of estal oil clung to her tight, brown curls. Out of the many pheromone-laced scents in the air, he pinpointed hers and breathed deeply. Only the truly innocent woman had such a compelling essence.

In Cheon, he'd been careful to keep most of his conquests to the iniquitous women, those too jaded by love to take his flirting beyond a fleeting tryst. The innocent ones always broke his heart, for they believed they could tame him no matter how many times they'd seen other women fail. Always, they thought they were different. He'd flirt with them, he'd tease and torment their beautiful bodies, but he'd leave their virginity intact.

Frustrated when this lovely virgin's scent did nothing to his cock, for it was utterly without sensation, he took another deep breath to consider later when all the drugs had worn off. Hers was a scent he would never forget. Gently sliding her forward, he placed her left foot on the hilt of his sword and lifted her right foot up, so that her leg was almost straight against his bare chest.

In the ancient words, Kerrick said, "By might of the blade I claim that which belongs to me."

With a lilting voice, she returned, "I freely give myself to you."

Her gorgeous gaze held steady with his, as if she would brand herself into his mind. In that moment, he wished he could do more than just speak a few words and follow the exacting rules of the ritual. He would like to know her name, her history, what touches she liked, and which she didn't. Women fascinated him. Sadly, his duty limited his contact. With a sigh, he lowered his hand and slid the codpiece aside. Thick and numb, his cock sought the heat of her sex. He tilted his hips forward, and plunged fully within. Estal oil eased his entry but deadened all tactile sensations. He felt slight pressure, and she apparently felt only fullness, for she didn't even wince. He withdrew, lowered her leg, and helped her from the table.

Her astle robe swirled around her calves as she exited. With the ritual complete, she was now a fully recognized citizen. One thrust took her from child to woman. She could now own property, bond with a mate, and have children. To celebrate her new standing her family would likely shower her with gifts at a huge feast.

His paratanist approached. Hidden behind a beige robe with an enormous cowl hood, his personal servant tended to his needs. At the moment, she cleansed and anointed his cock for the next sacrifice. When she finished, she bowed and backed toward a small niche in the wall.

Kerrick wondered what the robe hid. He knew she was a woman but as to age or appearance, he had no idea. Idly he wondered what would happen if he pulled her hood back to examine her face. During his hasty indoctrination, when the magistrate introduced him to her, he warned that Kerrick couldn't touch her, only she could touch him. Right after, Ambo shook his head and said, "Don't touch it, a paratanist is a sexless servant, nothing more." However, the truth was out. The servant who caressed him so intimately was a woman. As to why Ambo seemed to have such a grudge against her, that was as big a mystery as what she looked like. Kerrick thought of violating the rules, but then decided soothing his curiosity wasn't as important as remaining the Harvester. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his position.

Turning his attention back to the sacrifices, he lost himself in the sheer multitude of women. Tall, short, thin, heavy, all different skin colors from the palest milk to the richest ebony and every shade in-between. Their eyes went from small and glowing pink to enormous and black as night. Slender noses, wide noses, pug noses. Sweet smiles, shy smiles, lusty smiles. All were beautiful in their own way. Each was unique, special, and memorable. Even though he couldn't feel anything, it didn't matter. He was their first. They would never forget this moment, and neither would he. Pressed into the pages of his memory each lovely lady would be his for a lifetime.

When he reached the south end of the table, he almost slumped with relief. He'd enjoyed every moment of his first Harvest, but the act of cleaning and oiling his shaft so many times would undoubtedly result in some rawness tomorrow. Still, he felt an enormous sense of accomplishment. Whenever he completed a task he set himself, he felt a rush of pride that he'd proved his father wrong. Kerrick would make something of himself. Becoming the Harvester was just the stepping-stone on his way to becoming the palace magistrate.

His paratanist knelt beside him, cleaning and oiling his shaft yet again. Perplexed, he pointed out, "There are no more women."

In a droning, sexless voice, she said, "You have sacrificed all the virgins, now you will mate with the Harvester."

Mate? Kerrick considered all the ramifications of that particular word. Moreover, he was the Harvester. Kerrick considered himself a kinky guy, but mating with himself wasn't quite what he had in mind, not after a day of denied orgasm. Then he realized she was speaking of his female counterpart. In all the tales he'd heard about the Harvest, he'd never heard that the male and female Harvesters mated afterwards.

"I won't be bonded to her, will I?" He better not be. His understanding was that he would remain the Harvester until he chose his own bondmate, or a recruit challenged him in a fight to the death.

"You will find your satisfaction with her rather than by my hand." Finished cleaning him, she applied a thicker oil over his entire genital area.

Did he detect a note of disapproval in her tone? Digging deeper behind her words, he asked, "So, the male and female Harvesters haven't always mated after the Harvest then?"

"You will be the first in thousands of seasons."

Was it just his imagination or was feeling returning to his shaft? Her light strokes were causing zinging pleasure bolts across his entire body. To distract himself, he focused on what she'd said. "Why am I the first in a long time?"

"I know not. All I know is the living god decreed this return to the most ancient of prophecy."

Kerrick had a feeling more questions would only prompt more questions. Life within the palace was a source of great gossip within his region of Cheon; however, he had no firsthand knowledge of anything. For all he knew, everything he considered fact wasn't. As he allowed his paratanist to undress him, he began to realize he might have placed himself into a position of forced servitude. He'd always thought the Harvester had power and a certain level of freedom. After this his first day, he was beginning to realize he labored under strict protocols, rituals, and, apparently, appeasing a living god.

Of course, it was too late to turn back now.

Once she'd stripped him bare, his paratanist slathered oil from his head to his toes. Sensation returned to his form followed by curious warmth. His balls felt heavy and full. If he didn't find release soon, they would ache unbearably. When he questioned his servant, she admitted the oil counteracted the estal oil and umer drink. This was to encourage him to mate.

Such longing possessed his body he didn't think he needed any encouragement at all. When he saw this woman, he'd have to refrain from mounting her without preamble. Within him burned a need to bury his shaft and thrust until climax released the knotted tension in his body. He wouldn't just mate with her; he'd fuck her in a frenzy of lust. Briefly, he wondered what she looked like, but decided it didn't matter. He'd jump anyone right now to take the edge off. Besides, if female Harvesters were notorious for anything, it was their astonishing beauty.

Deeming him sufficiently oiled, his paratanist led him to the double hung doors of the Harvest room. As she pushed them open, he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but certainly not what he saw. Hundreds of people lined the massive hallway. Deep jewel-toned clothing proclaimed them high-ranking members of society. As he followed his servant, they eyed him critically, but remained silent.

Crazy, wild, or dangerous stunts had always appealed to Kerrick, but he'd never been on display like this, not nude, hard, and filled with raging desire. Without the drugs to cushion him, the unique smell of each woman he passed heightened his need for release. Clamping down hard on his cravings, he wanted to order his paratanist to make haste, but he didn't dare speak. He worried that if he did, they would have to start all over again, and he didn't think he could bear one more moment of delay. His tormented body needed satisfaction now.

Endlessly the hallway went on and so did the spectators. He had no idea what the population of the palace was, but it seemed all of them were jammed into this corridor. Men and women alike ogled him. His bouncing, swollen cock seemed to command their attention. If questioned in detail, most of them would not be able to describe his face, but they could illustrate every feature of his genitals. And it wasn't just the women who showed lustful interest. Several men licked their lips and slid a hand down to grasp bulges between their legs. What his grandfather said was true; the elite were a lusty bunch.

At an elaborately carved Onic door, his paratanist paused and placed her hand against a metal plate near where a doorknob should be, but wasn't. The door swung open. Ducking inside, Kerrick breathed a sigh of relief to be away from prying eyes. Dust swirled in the air, causing him to sneeze and wonder if they'd only recently cleaned this place. If the Harvesters hadn't mated in thousands of seasons, it made a kind of sense that they would have to renew the chamber where they mated, for of course, they wouldn't just fornicate in some back room. This wasn't sex for the sake of pleasure; this was sex for the culmination of an ancient prophecy.

Kerrick followed his servant down a long, dark stairwell. At the bottom, another paratanist waited beside a smooth metal door. His paratanist nodded to the other one and simultaneously they placed their hands on upon the door. When it swung open, they motioned him inside.

"Noganth a nogonth," he said, using what he thought was the classic battle cry of the Tandth people. Roughly translated it meant to have glory one must have guts. Or perhaps it was no guts, no glory. He couldn't remember exactly as he'd spent his time on Tandth racing down ice-shrouded mountains on a single piece of carved timber. Afterward he'd burrowed below thick animal furs with lusty natives. Usually three of four robust women at a time joined him. What they lacked in amenities they more than made up for with generous hospitality.

With a deep breath, Kerrick stepped into darkness.

As the door closed behind him, lighting crystals flickered to a soft, golden glow. Upon a circular bed, which took up almost the entire circular room, lay a woman. Clinging astle sheets of the blackest black he'd ever seen molded to her long-limbed body. Her hair, also black, teased around her regal face, then blended into the covers so that she appeared to lay entwined in her own tresses. Apparently, they didn't shave the female Harvester bald. Without conscience thought, his gaze wandered to the juncture of her legs, and his penis throbbed in response. Covered in downy black hairs or bare, either way, he couldn't wait to uncover her sasalan. Literally translated the Plenetin word meant "secret treasure." He took a deep breath and all he could smell was her. Rich and sweet, her essence caused hunger to gnaw at his belly and balls. He wanted to taste her then fill her. Sheer force of will was the only thing that held him back from pouncing on the bed, yanking the covering away, and mounting her. So provocative was her essence she stripped all others from his mind.

Her skin complimented the blackness of the room, making her seem paler than she was, but he couldn't quite place the tone of her skin. Not white, but not caramel, more like between the two, like the color of the noisseur tree: white with a hefty dollop of brown mixed in. Truly, she possessed lovely skin. What he could see of her face and arms was flawless. Her hands were large but finely boned with delicately tapered fingers. Short no-nonsense nails spoke of her practicality while her twice-pierced ears spoke of her boldness.

Slowly, her gray eyes opened, pinning him to the spot. He'd never seen such a cold gaze. In that very second of considering him, he felt she'd probed his history back to his childhood, judged him as unworthy, then dismissed him entirely. If he had hackles, they would have bristled. After meeting thousands of women in his lifetime, he'd never encountered one who so utterly disdained him.

Her eyes went suddenly wide as she sat up, exposing stunningly perfect breasts. Not too big, not too small, with sweet caramel nipples that begged for his mouth. Balanced between them was a necklace with a black stone. When she noticed the direction of his gaze, she yanked the sheet up.

She didn't speak, which was a shame, because he longed to hear her voice. Would it match the regal cast of her face and the prim set of her mouth? Gods forbid she had an annoying voice like Creea, who had the face of a goddess but the voice of a caterwauling animal in heat. The only way he'd been able to abide Creea's company was by keeping her mouth busy. Turned out she was a natural at oral pleasure. Once she wrapped her lovely lips around his cock, she wouldn't stop until she drained him, and he could hold back for a long, long time.

Kerrick realized he could say something, but what would he say? 'I'm here to mate with you' sounded silly. 'I'm going to fuck you until my aching balls explode' was more accurate, but crude. In the end, he settled for a simple statement of fact.

"I am the Harvester."

Her eyes narrowed and she clutched the sheet more firmly to her chest.

He wondered if her paratanist had told her what was supposed to happen here. Although a big bed and little else should have made the point clear, she might be like Lakoo, who was gorgeous but vapid. The simplest question often left Lakoo scratching her head. However, one didn't need to discuss the imponderables of the universe while tussling between the sheets.

"Does your neck hurt?" she asked.

If possible, her voice was lovelier than her face. Rich and thick like fresh cream, comforting as it poured over him. Hers was a voice he could listen to all day. However, the question left him baffled until he remembered that he didn't have his hair anymore. Without a thought, he'd canted his head to drape his golden strands across his eyes. How was he to thaw out this chilly lady when he couldn't even use his best move?

"Depends." Stepping to the foot of the bed, he grasped the edge of the sheet.

"On?" Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the thin fabric that shielded her from his gaze.

"What we're going to be doing." She was no match for his strength. When he yanked sharply, the sheet flicked off the bed and pooled on the floor. Now he had an unfettered view of her form. Long arms crossed over her breasts as she drew her legs up, tucking them beneath her, but not before he saw tight, black curls on her mound.

"So, you're not shaved there. Good." He climbed onto the bed and crawled toward her like a hungry beast. "I find that right as a woman reaches climax, a good tug on her hairs can prolong her pleasure."

Her brows drew together as her lips parted on a shocked exhale. She curled up at the head of the bed, as if she tried to get away from him, but there was nowhere for her to go. He found her modesty charming, especially after she'd willingly taken the virginity of hundreds of males. Each movement he made closer caused her to shrink back, but then her face lost all expression as she lowered her arms and slid down the bed onto her back. She changed from disgust to submission without missing a beat.

Curious at the abrupt transformation, he asked, "Tell me your name."

"What does it matter? Just get this over with." She closed her eyes, settling back as if in sacrifice to him.

Never in his life had he forced a woman to his bed, and he wasn't about to start now. Even though just the smell of her was causing his cock to twitch, he was not a randy boy in heat. He was a connoisseur of women. If he had to suffer anticipation for another while, he would, especially when his ego demanded that she must want him as much as he wanted her. He wouldn't allow himself to be a trial to be borne.

"I want to know your name." He trailed his fingertips along her calf, marveling at the smooth perfection of her skin.

She jumped then visibly forced herself to relax. "If I tell you, will you just get on with this?" She sounded as flustered and annoyed as the magistrate had been earlier.

"Of course," he said even though he did not intend to do so.

"Ariss."

"A lyrical name that suits your royal bearing. My name is Kerrick."

"Kerrick?" She frowned, narrowing her eyes, examining him more coolly than she had before.

"You've heard of me?" Perhaps he wouldn't need his hair after all. She wouldn't be the first woman impressed by his legendary exploits.

"Hardly." Ariss didn't roll her eyes; she somehow managed to roll her entire body in contempt. "Do you know what a kerrick is?"

With a seductive grin, he asked, "A devastatingly handsome man?"

His charm was lost on her as she stared at him over the bridge of her long, straight nose. "I'll tell you once this is over." She said it as if that would be enough to motivate him to leap upon her and finish quickly.

He frowned. Did she think him a simple peasant?

Curious as to why she wished to hurry, he teased his finger up from her calf to the spot just behind her knee. Most women found a light touch there stimulating. Ariss didn't. With a sigh, she parted her legs, shoving his hand out of the way, and lifted her arms over her head. Again, he had an image of her in sacrifice to him and wondered why she saw him as such a chore.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked, breathing deeply of her scent. With her legs now parted, he could almost taste her sweetness. As tempting as her offer was, he refused to rush. Stubbornly, he vowed to drag this out until she begged him for release. As much as his body clamored for climax, his ego bellowed louder for satisfaction.

"I've been waiting most of the night for you. I just want this over with so I can return to my rooms." Her tone upbraided and enticed him all at once. Considering her expressionless face, he doubted she thought much about him at all since she was asleep when he found her. Had she rushed through her Harvest just as she wished to rush through this? Never in his life had a woman been indifferent to him. Although, usually, they met him under circumstances other than a forced tryst. Perhaps the fact she had no choice irked her. But it wasn't as if this was his idea. He was only doing what the ritual demanded.

"I'm sorry I made you wait." Lifting her hand, he kissed each of her fingertips, pleased when her eyes widened. "I didn't want to rush my sacrifices." Turning her hand over, he placed a closed-mouth kiss to the center of her palm, reveling in how she inadvertently parted her lips. "Had I known such a beauty as you awaited me, I might have missed some in my haste." He breathed the words into her palm then kissed the pulse at her wrist. Her fluttering heartbeat told him she wasn't completely immune to his charms, despite the expressionless cast to her face.

"As if you remember all of them," she accused, drilling her eyes into his as if she could ferret out the truth with her gaze alone. He'd never encountered a woman who shifted moods faster than the swirling sands of Vernama.

"But I do remember each and every one." He angled his face earnestly up toward hers. "I memorized not only their faces but also their very essences." If he were an expert at anything about women, it would be in knowing their individual scents. Each woman bore her own unique bouquet. Blinded, he would be able to tell each woman by smell alone.

In a challenging tone Ariss demanded, "Tell me about the one in bright yellow."

Kerrick considered for a moment, flipping through each woman in his mind. It didn't take him long to assess her game. "Your sister." Just the thought of taking two sisters on the same night aroused him beyond the excruciating pain he was already in. "Her nose was similar to yours, although, she was not nearly as beautiful as you."

Ariss' eyes went wide with surprise that he remembered, but his compliment slid off her as if she were ice. When he lifted her other hand to kiss her fingertips, she said, "You don't have to do all of this. Much like her, I have no choice."

The comment wounded his pride. For a brief moment he thought of leaping upon her and doing as she asked—banging away until he climaxed. A deeper need helped him realize it was the fact that she was forced into this that truly bothered her. Good. He preferred woman who forged their own way and didn't just let society dictate their actions. Sadly, he couldn't do anything about their circumstances. All he could do was try to make this as enjoyable as possible.

"I don't have a choice either, but that doesn't mean I wish to hurry." He kissed up her arm until he maneuvered himself beside her on the bed. "Just because we didn't select each other is no reason not to enjoy being with each other." Tenderly, he kissed her shoulder. "You are a beautiful woman, Ariss. The thought of leaping on top of you and pounding away is revolting."

Something about what he said excited her, because for a brief moment, she lost her mask. Simmering passion rose to the surface of her gaze then vanished into cool gray without a ripple. Was that her secret? She had a furtive desire to be overpowered? Kerrick wasn't opposed to such rough couplings, but not for a first encounter. Besides, he wouldn't dare act on such an impulse unless he was very, very sure his aggression would be well received.

"Is that what you want?" He whispered against her shoulder. "Do you want me to yank your legs apart, spear you with my cock, and buck against you like a man possessed?" He nipped her flesh, causing her breath to catch against parted lips. As if in battle with herself, she primly composed her features, compressing her lips as she readied a sharp retort.

Before she could respond, he cupped her face, turning her head so that he could kiss her lips. In direct contrast to the harshness of his words, he kissed her tenderly. At first, she kept her lips firmly pressed together, denying him entrance to her mouth, refusing him such intimacy. After repeated soft nibbles along the edge of her mouth, she parted her lips, almost against her will, allowing him to slip his tongue inside. Her taste was sleepy sweet, seductive. As he slid his tongue against hers, she groaned into his mouth then followed suit, exploring him as thoroughly as explored her.

In all his life, he didn't think he'd managed such a perfect kiss without using his hair. When she turned into his embrace, he mentally congratulated himself for breaking the first layer of ice. However, he wasn't finished yet. In spite of her small show of pleasure, she still maintained a controlled aspect to her countenance, almost as if she couldn't bear to show passion. He'd heard of ice queens, those women who disdained love and sex as utterly beneath their elevated selves. He'd never bothered seducing one, as he feared what lay at the center of the glacier. Now, he wanted to know what made Ariss turn a cold attitude to something she so desperately craved.

Capturing her firmly in his arms, he kissed her more deeply until he had tasted every bit of her luscious mouth. Pulling back, he grasped her hands, lowering them alongside her body.

"Lovely skin, sweet as heavy cream." He kissed her face, her neck, and across her shoulders. Below him, she writhed, as if offering up her breasts. Since he knew that's where she expected him to go, he refused. His first lesson in seduction was never being predictable. If a woman knew where he would go, and what he would do, he had lost the element of surprise. And he knew that every woman loved surprises.

Kerrick released her hands so that he could angle up to kiss and stroke his way along her body. From her sensitive sides, to the curve of her belly, to the swell of her hips, not a bit of her exquisite form escaped his attention. Everywhere he looked or touched, he found perfection. No scars, no marks, every flawless bit compelled him to speculate she'd either led a sheltered life or had access to a most skilled surgeon. He couldn't think of another woman with such faultless features.

Each press of his lips or fingertips caused painful awareness in his own body. When he did finally achieve orgasm after this seemingly endless day, it would be spectacular. Already moisture leaked from the tip of his throbbing cock from just touching her. Forcefully, he turned his mind away from his needs and on to hers.

When he glanced up, her face was a mixture of denial and control. Why was she still trying to maintain her facade of indifference when her body clearly felt otherwise? Was she ashamed? How could a woman who competed against so many other women to become the Harvester be so . . . he searched for the word. When he found it, he understood. Naive. Ariss may have knelt over hundreds of aroused men, but she'd never taken a lover into her arms. In a strange way, she was a virgin. That's why her scent was so captivating. Her essence was experienced and innocent all at the same time.

Sliding up the bed to lay beside her, he kissed her again, this time noticing how tentatively she kissed back, as if she weren't sure she was doing it the right way. Her guileless response confirmed his suspicions and increased his ardor. Ariss was exactly what he'd been looking for his entire life; a wonderful combination of modesty and lust all wrapped up in a flawless female form.

As he continued to kiss her, he cupped her breast, causing her to arch into his caress. Her breast filled his palm perfectly, as if they were designed for each other. Her caramel nipple peaked invitingly, and he lowered his head to pull the turgid flesh between his teeth. Once secured, he flicked his tongue across the captured tip.

She hissed and clutched his head, pulling him closer, encouraging him to open his mouth and draw the tasty bud within. Her wanton reaction pleased the hunter inside himself, but moreover, it compelled him to try to lift her higher. His pride demanded he have her wild with want by the time he plunged into her depths.

Back and forth, he switched from nipple to nipple until she quivered below him. Such silky skin she had, rich with the flavor of valasta. Never had he encountered a woman who tasted of the sweet cooking spice, but now he would never get the taste from his mind.

"Please, just finish." Her breathless plea only compelled him to go slower. He sensed something more dire than a need to be away as fast as possible. Was it a hint of fear? Did she worry that she would actually enjoy his ministrations? Is that what caused her slight show of panic? What harm could there be in sharing physical pleasure?

Carefully, he slid his hand down her torso then stroked the wetness of her mound. The idea that many men had plunged within only to withdraw without satisfaction excited him. Was she sore or like him, had the estal oil cushioned her? As he continued to tease his lone finger up and down the slick wetness of her sex, she did her best to remain indifferent, but couldn't quite manage to maintain her aplomb. Her pupils dilated while her breathing hitched.

"One little finger can be so seductive," he murmured, swirling his fingertip around her hooded clit. "After all of those hard cocks plunged inside you without touching you here," he smoothed his finger over the tight nub, "this must be a relief, to finally get this straining bit of flesh some attention." Repeatedly he traced his finger down and around her now slick passage then up and over the hood of her clit. When he finally slid his finger straight up, pushing back the hood, making direct contact with her swollen clit, she involuntarily lifted up. For a split second, her carefully controlled face wasn't. Pure lust exploded from her expression. Just as quickly, she forced the mask over her features again, but he had seen the truth.

Determined to expose the untamed woman inside, he continued his delicious torment despite his throbbing need. His cock envied his finger, pulsing with a demand to exchange places. Slowly, carefully, he fondled her sex until her pulse danced wildly at her throat and her breath hitched in small gasps. The closer she came to release, the more she tightened up. From her toes to her forehead went rigid, as if she refused to release control.

"Relax, Ariss," he encouraged softly, teasing his breath to her ear.

"I can't," she whispered in an agonized gasp. Almost on the verge of tears she added, "If I do I'll fall apart."

"I'm here to hold you." He pressed his body the length of hers. She gasped when she felt his cock, hard and hot, against her hip.

"Put it in me," she begged, her eyes closed tightly against the truth of her need. "Please, please just put it in me and finish."

A surge of agonized longing swelled him impossibly tight. Her words were innocent and wanton all in the same breath. Before he could comply, she pushed him to his back, straddled his hips, grasped his shaft, and lowered herself onto him. Shocking heat enveloped his cock, causing him to gasp in surprise and clutch at her hips to steady her atop him. Never had a woman taken such forceful command of his body.

Wild with abandon, she rocked atop him, her breasts bobbing as she rode him hard and fast. Clutching her hands to his chest, she dug her fingertips in to steady herself against the movement of her hips. As she angled forward to press her clit against him, her hair cascaded over her face, hiding her from his gaze. When he reached up to push the silken strands away, she swung her head to the side, covering her face again.

Stunned by the swift and sudden change from reluctance to enthusiasm, Kerrick watched her as she writhed atop him, desperate for release. Stroke by stroke he saw flashes of her face revealed. She kept her eyes firmly closed, her features straining with need. Ever more firmly she pressed into him on the down stroke, until she caused the bed to give below their weight. Her limbs were slender but stronger than he thought. He could overpower her but why would he? Having a woman use him for her pleasure was possibly the highest compliment he'd ever been paid. His ego swelled to epic proportions. Besides, it wasn't as if she were hurting him. The way she shimmied her hips around on his shaft was beyond pleasurable. Hers were not the practiced moves of an experienced lover, but those of a lusty virgin caught up in overwhelming passion. In that moment, in the passion of her need, she took him back to the first time he'd coupled with a woman. He'd been frantic and eager, more enthusiastic than knowledgeable.

As she rocked, she stroked her hips back, rubbing her clit along the oil slick of his pubic bone. Low keening moans, quiet at first, grew progressively louder. Tighter and tighter her passage clutched around his shaft. Faster and faster she rocked her body atop him. Desperate to hold back his climax, Kerrick closed his eyes to think of anything other than her, but such a trick did him no good. Daylong denial placed him in dire need, causing him to erupt within her on a strangled groan.

Ariss tossed back her head and emitted a cry of victory. As she leaned forward, she caught his gaze. Pride, satisfaction, and triumph—she was pleased with herself for making him climax first!

Shocked and somewhat embarrassed, Kerrick reached between their sweaty bodies, sought out and then ruthlessly stroked her clit. She tried to turn away, but his other arm held her securely against his chest. Struggling only helped him by moving her bud more firmly against his body and fingers. When she climaxed, he uttered a growl of satisfaction.

Slumping forward, she buried her face against his chest as she milked the last of his orgasm with the walls of her sex.

He waited a moment for her to recover then asked, "What's a kerrick?"