What if you died and I had to get out of here!” He turned as she approached, bracing his back and his palms against the steel door. “Stay back and get away from me!”
“I believe these are what you need to unlock the door.” She showed him the set of keys on the chain around her neck and grimaced. “You said it yourself, Mateo. I have this place locked down like Fort Knox. There is no escape for you. Not from me.”
He turned and banged on the door with his fists. “No, no, no! Let me out of here! Help me, somebody! Anybody, help me!”
LaMia moved closer as he turned back to her. She sadly shook her head, hated to see him this way, so desperate and defeated, but there was no choice. He had to know how totally hopeless his situation was, that he could not leave her until she allowed it, and LaMia was never going to allow him to leave. She could not, would never be through with him. Not now, not ever.
There was too much she needed and wanted from him, the least of which was…
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Predator’s Salvation
Forgiveness.
Fah,
no! From where had that alien thought come?
She peered at Mateo, and despite not feeling his presence, she wondered if he were dipping into her head again. Who knew if perhaps he had found a back door of which she was unaware?
She took several steps closer. “You must stop fighting me, Mateo.”
“And I told you to stay back.”
Two more steps. “And what will you do if I do not?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Mia.”
She took one more step to bring her a foot away from him. “Nor I you,” LaMia whispered and reached out a hand to cup his face.
He did not flinch, but she caught a flash of his regret at having struck out at her. It almost made her ashamed for planning to take advantage but she had no choice.
“Your nobility makes you weak, Mateo.”
“I’ll defend myself.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
He gritted his teeth. “Damn it, don’t make me hurt you.”
She caught his unspoken
again
, but knew he did not mean his earlier attack. He was thinking about her past, a vision of her torture in the dungeon coming to her from him.
Ishara
, how could he be so compassionate when it was she who was responsible for his family’s deaths? She did not think she would be as forgiving were their roles reversed, and she supposed she should be thankful for his empathy. Without it, she might not have been able to do what she planned and subdue him.
LaMia caught his wrists and pulled them over his head to pin them against the door.
Mateo bent his head as if to kiss her, but whipped a leg behind her knee instead and tried to trip her again.
LaMia used his momentum to drag him down with her and flip him beneath her on the Oriental rug.
Breathless, she pulled both his arms above his head as she straddled him and he violently twisted and turned between her thighs, making her wet.
She thought twice about weaving a slumber spell despite her earlier threat. From what she had seen, he was half-immune to the effects and, like the
cambion
Alex, her force field did not totally immobilize him, which made her wonder what the effect of her collar would be.
LaMia glared down at him as he panted. His cock was rock hard and inviting as it teased the apex between her legs. She rubbed her pussy against his erection and he bucked his hips to try and dislodge her.
“Stop fighting me, Mateo. I am stronger than you.”
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Gracie C. McKeever
“I might not win in a fight, but you for damn sure are going to know I was here.”
She frowned at him. “How could I not know?”
“I’m not going to beg or heel or roll over and play dead for you.”
“That remains to be seen.” It would be a shame to collar him and rein in all that emotion and heat. It would be like putting a harness on a wild stallion.
A wild stallion, however, eventually had to heel to a master in order to be ridden (LaMia surely intended to ride this one) and in return the stallion would be well-cared for, but first he had to learn the limits of his freedom and the punishment for disobedience.
As Mateo would have to learn.
Awake, he was too troublesome to handle, but she hated to keep resorting to sleep charms, hated the idea of tampering with his mind that way or more frequently than necessary.
She considered it a crime to deactivate such a lively and sharp intellect.
LaMia transferred both his wrists to one hand and pinned them to the rug, reluctantly raised her other fist, and watched as he froze beneath her. Instant anger shone out of his almond eyes and washed over her like an aphrodisiac despite his trying to hide his feelings.
“Don’t, Mistress.”
She gaped, quickly caught herself and set her mouth into a stern line. She had said it, but never had she dreamed how full of surprises he was. It was the first time he had addressed her thus, and he had sounded so sincere.
She was not sure how sincere he was, however, as he had so far proven as skilled as any Inanna she had ever encountered at shielding his thoughts from her, had so far proven as skilled at reading her as she was at reading him.
LaMia hardened her resolve, deliberately deepened her voice from its natural contralto to demand, “Do not what, slave?”
“Don’t do whatever it is you were going to do to me.”
“You did not say please.”
He looked at her, silent, but she caught the wayward
And I’m not going to, Nubian Queen
before he sneered.
“How do you know you will not enjoy what I was going to do, Mateo?”
“I haven’t so far.”
She arched a brow, knew he was lying. He had enjoyed everything they had shared so far and just did not want to admit it. For good measure, she leaned in and stroked her tongue from the side of his neck to his ear, felt him tremble beneath her. “Are you absolutely certain of that?”
In response, he renewed his efforts to throw her, and shouted at the top of his lungs for help.
LaMia held him fast, thong soaked thoroughly now from his thrashing. If someone were to blow on her pussy just the right way right then, she was sure she would have come.
She covered his mouth with her free hand. “Your screams are useless. No one can hear 38
Predator’s Salvation
you up here, so
stop.
” She removed her hand and something in her voice must have reached him, for he grew still and stared at her. “I am going to collar you and bind you, since you cannot be trusted not to escape.”
He scowled. “Collar?”
“So you have no objections against me binding you then?”
“Hell yes, I do! I don’t want either.”
“You forget, you have no choice.” She might as well have told him to try and throw her for he kicked his legs out and bucked his hips with renewed vigor.
“Do you have any idea how much you entice me, Mateo? How much you are exciting me right now? Smell…” She slid her free hand into her pants and dipped a finger into her soaked cunt before bringing out her hand and thrusting her scented finger under his nose.
His nostrils flared and he shuddered.
LaMia knew he reacted out of lust and not revulsion though she was sure he would deny this. She could smell his arousal, his clean heady musk wafting up to envelop her keen senses.
She glanced down at his sculpted face, insides melting at the hungry look in his eyes, the conflicting silent plea for her not to do anything about what she saw.
She leaned in to kiss each eyelid, his long curly lashes tickling her lips as he fluttered his eyes closed. She moved down his face, gently kissing his nose and cheeks as she willed the T-shirt off his body and made it disappear.
“How’d you—?”
“Be still.” She made her own bustier disappear and covered his body with hers, reveling in the hard, broad width of his chest and all that glorious warm caramel skin finally touching her aching bare breasts as she rubbed herself against him. She groaned.
He writhed beneath her and sunk his teeth into his lower lip. “Don’t”
“Still giving orders?”
He glared up at her, and growled.
“Do you want me?”
“No,” he said but pitched his hips into her nonetheless, moaning low in his throat.
“You want me.” She released his hands and he immediately planted them on her hips and flipped her beneath him to reverse their positions.
She stared up at him, wary and nervous but no longer wanting to fight with him. She just wanted to be who and what she was, needed and longed for him to take her body and give her his willingly.
She hoped she had not made a grave error in judgment by releasing him.
“Yes,” he whispered and lowered his head to kiss her.
She was momentarily confused as to whether he was answering her last unspoken thought or her last statement, until the piquant taste of him shattered all coherent thought. His 39
Gracie C. McKeever
lips inflamed her entire body, sent hot sparks shooting straight to her center, and more cream flowed out of her cunt and into her thong.
Mateo slid his lips from her mouth and she immediately mourned the loss before he trailed his tongue along the smooth column of her throat, nipping and sucking his way down to her breasts. He paused with his mouth hovering over one hard, erect nipple and looked at her.
“And you want me, too.”
She said nothing, silently slid her hands up to his head and buried her fingers in his light-brown hair, the full tendrils like silk in her hands as she arched her body towards him, drawn to his heat, drawn to the erection that grew and throbbed behind the zipper of his jeans.
She did not care why he now acquiesced or that, as he had thought earlier, he was trying to ‘get into her good graces.’ Nor did she care if this entire encounter was a ploy and only a prelude to another escape attempt.
She had him now—kissing her, moving against her, touching her—and she would take him and enjoy all that his big, hard, smooth human body had to offer her.
She would worry about re-education and her responsibilities to him later.
She would worry about disciplining and punishing him later.
She would collar him later.
For now, she intended to enjoy every solid muscled inch of him, starting with his hard penis.
LaMia reached down to cup him at the same instant he closed his mouth over one of her breasts. She gently caressed him. He firmly pulled her nipple into his mouth and groaned when she squeezed him. She twisted beneath him as he thoroughly laved and sucked one nipple before turning his full attention to the other.
She explored his body with her hands, roamed the hard ridges of his abdomen, the muscles flexing in his back and shoulders as he bent over her and worshipped her heavy breasts and rejoiced in the disparities of their bodies before she flipped him back beneath her.
He looked up at her with lust-darkened eyes and smirked. “You like being on top, don’t you?”
In answer, she waved her hand in the air and made his jeans and boxer briefs disappear along with her own leather pants and thong. She heard his breath hitch in his chest at the sudden heated contact of her bare thighs against his flanks as she knelt astride him. “Always,” she whispered.
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He wanted her so badly he could taste her, every inch of her luscious mahogany skin, every ounce of her spicy-sweet flavor. He was primed, his body vibrating with hot anticipation when she squeezed her knees around his hips and bent her head to nuzzle his throat.
That he had been able to deny her for as long as he had, to say no he didn’t want her when she was all he did want, was a true testament to the self-control he had honed so many years after watching his father kill his mother. He’d vowed to never succumb to the same loss of control that had resulted in the deaths of his parents, did not ever want to be that bewitched or insecure.
But here he was, bewitched by and succumbing to Ms. Nubian Queen.
Every stroke of her fingers against his chest, every playful flurry and swirl of her tongue around his flat nipples sent his body into wild paroxysms of desperate need. He wanted to get to her, wanted inside her body to feel her vibrating around him with the same desperate need that he already owned taking over her body.
LaMia laved his nipples until he was uncontrollably trembling beneath her.
He’d had no idea his nipples were so sensitive until she touched him with her hot little mouth, her quick, talented tongue. He glanced down at her, admiring the way the Cleopatra cut of her black hair framed her strong angular features as she peeked up at him beneath the bangs.
She blinked, looked suddenly shy and young, as if afraid she was pleasing him too much, or that she wasn’t pleasing him enough.
Did she think he still had escape on his mind? Did she think he’d try something?
He couldn’t have attempted escape if he tried. He was too weak with desire and remorse to even move.
He had never hit a woman in his life! And in spite of his merely flipping her to the ground and not actually hitting her, he was ashamed of his actions.
“Do not, Mateo. You did what you had to do.”
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Gracie C. McKeever
Had he really thought she would stop wielding her awesome power, that she would let his mind be for just one moment, especially now, when he was about to enter her body in the most ultimate invasion possible?
LaMia grasped his hard cock in one hand, raising her hips just enough to tease him with the feel of her moist folds before rubbing the head up and down her slit and melding their juices.
She flung back her head and hummed low in her throat as she thumbed the pearl of pre-come from the tip of his rigid penis. She brought the digit to her mouth and sensually licked and sucked it, then looked at him as if she could devour his entire body the way she was devouring her thumb.
“I could,” she assured. “Your taste inspires me.”
He trembled at her words, thought that she would literally consume him, thought that he’d let her and like every second of it.