Prisoner of Shera-Sa Page 7

  “Min, I’m going to explain all this one day, and you are going to—”

  She had her hands over her ears. She was trying to walk right past him. “Forget it, Mac. I won’t listen anymore.”

  He had her arm in a vise grip. Where do you think you’re going?”

  She was trying to pull away, her eyes spoiling for a fight. “I’m leaving the fucking room…asshole. Now let go of me.”

  He held her firmly. “You’re acting like a spoiled brat.”

  “Screw you.” She was squirming for all she was worth.

  “Settle down, Min.” His tone was firm, no-nonsense, though it elicited a stream of curses in response.

  Enough was enough.

  Mac lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Minarra continued to wriggle and kick at him until he deposited her on her belly on the mattress. He’d administered a few erotic spankings in his day, but this would be the first time he’d be disciplining an unruly female for her own good.

  “Get the fuck off me! I’ll scream rape!’

  He pressed a single palm to the small of her back, holding her down. “If you insist on screaming, I will gag you. Now calm down, no one’s being raped. You’re going to be spanked, that’s all.”

  “Spanked!? You can’t be serious. That’s…that’s immoral.”

  “I’m deadly serious. As commander of this expedition, I will keep discipline by whatever means required, including corporal punishment.

  “You’re insane, Seth Macallister!”

  He swatted her, none too lightly. “You’ll thank me for this later.”

  “Ow! That hurt you bastard!”

  He felt a tiny bit guilty for the phenomenal hard-on he was acquiring in the midst of her ordeal. The way her perfect, heart-shaped ass was wriggling, the way she felt—under his power, at his mercy. “The only thing being injured is your pride,” he declared.

  “I hate you,” she spat. “I’ll always hate you and I’ll never forgive you.”

  “I think you need to take this bare-assed,” he decided. “Let’s get these clothes off you.”

  “You’re a pig,” she wailed. “A brute and an animal.”

  He unzipped the back of the dress, running his hand down the small of her back. Her skin was so smooth and warm and alive. It was taking all his willpower not to have at her right there. He could take his cock, put it right between those ass cheeks…

  “Lift your hips,” he ordered, enforcing the decree with a fresh spank.

  She cried out, doing as she’d been told. He took the opportunity to work the dress up to her waist, fully exposing her panties. “Turn over, put your hands over your head.”

  “Mac, this is crazy…” She was less defiant now, more plaintive. There was a note of desperation, too, though they both knew damned well it had nothing to do with her being forced or abused. If she had anything to fear here, it was not Mac but rather her own desires. Their sexuality had always been deep and complicated. One dimension of it involved dominance and submission…it was a rich vein, fraught with emotion, one they had barely begun to explore.

  “It may be crazy,” he informed her. “But it’s going to continue.”

  Indeed, he had every intention of introducing her to bondage in short order. He told himself this had no meaning right now except for the expedition, for discipline, to teach her a lesson that might save her life later on, but maybe he was kidding himself. Maybe it was all about the sex. All about his own desperation to win Minarra back.”

  “Look, Mac, you win. I concede…whatever you want me to say or do.”

  He pulled the dress over her head. “It’s not that simple, Min. This is punishment. There’s no getting out of it.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s sadism. Otherwise you wouldn’t need me naked to gawk over me, and you most certainly wouldn’t have that erection.”

  “Stop being melodramatic,” he chided. “And for your information, I’ve never been turned on by pain, only by sexual domination, free and consensual.”

  “So you admit it! You want me to agree to play some sicko sex game.”

  Min was managing to break through his precariously arranged logic. “It’s not sick, it’s not a game, and it’s not… Oh Christ, Min, don’t act like we haven’t been here before. You were never wetter than when I came up from behind and ’forced’ myself on you, or when I held your hands down and had my way with you.”

  Mac tossed the dress onto the floor and was promptly rewarded with a crisp smack across the cheek. “There’s some power play right back at you. How do you like it?”

  Minarra had never looked more exciting to him, her hair wild, stripped to her underwear, a delicious, cornered little wildcat. He could pounce on her right now, and in seconds they’d be writhing, willing and eager, a tangle of sweaty, consensual limbs.

  On the other hand, he could take them somewhere else—by taking her over, seizing control of her desires in a different way. There was, after all, a precedent between them…a particular incident.

  “You’re going to do what I say, Min.” His voice was calm, supremely gentle, but unyielding. “You’re going to obey. You’ll start by taking off your bra and panties for me.”

  Her sweet, glossy pink little toes dug into the gold, brocaded bedspread, a rich enhancement to the four rounded posts of dark mahogany. “Mac this has gone far enough…”

  He noted the quickness of her breathing, the way she was unconsciously holding in her concave stomach and pushing out her breasts as she lay back on her palms. There was no disguising it, the look in her eyes, the slight gap between her thighs. Mac knew this woman as well as he knew himself, maybe better. She wanted it as much as he.

  Was she thinking of the same occasion?

  “Remember the night in the dunes, Minarra?”

  Her eyes flashed with torturous heat, the memory burning through her body with the fresh, searing heat of the desert sun, a golden arrow, dissolving her soul. That particular night was the closest they had come to inhabiting the dark side of sex. One did not forget such things…ever.

  “That was six years ago, Mac.” She was fighting to keep her voice steady. Rational. “Ancient history. Deader than the pharaohs.”

  Mac put his hand to the side of her neck, the other on her belly. “Is it?” he called her bluff, his teeth nibbling her ear with agonizing softness.

  Her nerve endings opened like floodgates, the blood rushing to the surface of her skin, a million tiny orgasms erupted in the cells of her body as she anticipated his next move.

  He’d always been able to do this—calm and focus her, while at the same time driving her wild with desire. In turn, she had given him a reason to be a man.

  “Kiss me,” he said, his mouth an inch from hers.

  Minarra’s lips fell open. But she could no longer have kept from craning her neck, then puckering her lips, than she could have from breathing.

  The kiss was a hot, searing brand, a slithering conquest of her tongue, a lowering to a place of wicked subjugation. And as much as she might not want to go there, part of her did…and he was taking her.

  “Start with the bra,” he coached, allowing her to breathe.

  She moved as in a trance, reaching behind her back.

  “Do it slowly.”

  Minarra unhooked the clasp and slid the shoulder straps forward, one at a time, as she shed the cups, revealing her full, glorious globes, as yet impervious to gravity.

  “You’re so incredibly beautiful,” he declared fiercely, intent on sending a fresh fiery arrow through her heart. “You eclipse even your mother, you know that?”

  She flushed delicately at the praise, but dared not refuse it under the current circumstances.

  “Play with your nipples, Min. Make them hard.”

  He watched her features shift, like glistening sand. Behind her eyes, she was drifting back to the dunes…

  ~~~~~

  …a single night, trapped in a sandstorm, not unlike what had happened to Minarra’s
father. Except they had not been graced by visions from the desert, no fleeting ghost lights from Shera-Sa to point out their destiny. What they came to understand instead was the true power of passion between two individuals. It had been absolutely naked and primal and desperately glorious. The searing rush of sand over their heads, the roar of the black darkness obscuring the stars and the noses in front of their faces. The world that threatened to swallow them whole, like dry quicksand.

  Their mating was a form of ultimate exhibitionism—performing before the might of the desert, the crackling dry, heaving lightning of the gods, the rain that teased but never quite materialized, the unseen vista that threatened to open to space itself.

  Minarra was face down, half on and off their emergency blanket, clutching at the sand, her breasts and belly pressed into the dune, her body shielded and swallowed whole by his. Equally naked, shielding her with utter animalistic power—protection and fierce lust rolled into one—he took her from behind.

  They shut out the world and took it in all at once. She was so tight, such a supremely perfect fit. Over and over she moaned to be taken, fucked and used, had and made whole.

  “Min,” he cried, his voice barely carrying over the storm. “I love you.”

  She cried out as he came, filling her with his pent-up fluids. His erection felt as though it had swollen to twice its normal size. He was clutching at her, teeth sinking into her shoulder, hands grabbing greedily at her slender waist, just above the curve of her perfect, woman’s hips. Her body was writhing in the sand with his, reaching up, connecting and sharing, though she had not yet reached her own climax.

  Mac’s erection barely diminished as he rolled her over, on top of him. Placing her on his cock, he slipped deep inside. Her groans were pure female, pure pre-orgasmic surrender.

  Falling forward, she dug her nails into his chest. “Oh god,” she moaned. “I need to come.”

  It was then that he felt the full measure of that love he had just proclaimed. The words, the soft sentiment was not enough. He needed more…she needed more.

  “Not until I say.” Mac grabbed her sand-blasted hair, a wild corona with all the fury of a witch’s cape. Bowing her back, exposing her torso fully to his whims, he placed his free hand on her breast. Kneading it.

  Minarra whimpered, teeth gritted. It was deliberate, almost cruel. But he was determined to brand her mind, to associate with him a pleasure she would never feel anywhere else. It was totally a matter of trust on her part, and indeed she gave herself fully.

  Mac denied her, time and again bringing her to the brink, and then pulling her back. It was a stark lesson that a woman on top need not be in control at all. At last the storm began to clear, the stars returned, and Mac gave her the opportunity.

  “Beg for it, Min.”

  “Mac, please…” Her eyes were those of a different woman, her lips spoke from a deeper place. She’d gone to another level, one they would lose all too soon, but which, in that moment, ruled their spiritual destiny. “May I…let me…”

  He spoke the word “Yes”…

  ~~~~~

  From that night, to this moment, it was there, unspoken but real. Sometimes alluded to in subsequent lovemaking, but never invoked. Until now.

  Here in this hotel room, given a second chance with this woman he’d never expected to see again, let alone share intimacy with. Filled with heat and wonder and passion, he took in the sight of her, pleasuring herself, touching her nipples under his command…almost as if she was his.

  * * * * *

  Minarra cursed her weakness, her inability to say no. Damn it, she thought, nipples hardening obediently between her thumbs and forefingers, why am I doing this? Why am I letting myself go back to that other place, that other time? I’m not the same woman, not the same naïve coed, completely overwhelmed by the brawn and intellect and will of this one man… So incredibly beautiful to look at, so dangerous to touch.

  She sought to rally her resolve before it was too late. She had to focus on the immediate reality. The reality of Mac Macallister. The real scorpion in her life.

  “Are you wet for me?” He wanted to know, seeking to breach her deepest intimacies.

  She sucked her lower lip, fighting to hold onto her pride. “Nothing in me is for you, Mac…it hasn’t been in forever.”

  “So? Is it so wrong to want to go back? Just this once? Don’t deny me,” he said huskily, his hand resting on her thigh. “Don’t deny us.”

  “You have no right…”

  His lips softened. “Please?”

  Never had Minarra heard this man beg. He’d made her beg, on the dunes that night. He’d shown her that part of herself that craved to be owned by a male. Now he was showing her something else. Giving her a chance to show mercy and strength herself.

  Minarra lowered her eyes. How could she resist now? Having come this far? Sliding her hand over her belly, past his, shivering at her own heat, she reached the waistband of her panties.

  He was waiting patiently. “Tell me, Min.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, the lips of her sex thrumming against her fingertips. Her eyes slid closed, it was like a waking dream, his voice holding the power of a hypnotist. “I’m wet.”

  “You were always ready for me,” he confirmed. “I never met a woman so completely sexual as you. You get wet with just a look.”

  Only from you, she thought, though she would never, ever let him know that.

  “You want to please me, don’t you, Min? You want to give yourself…to let me do as I will.”

  His affirmation of power over her, spoken almost in a whisper, sent a fresh rush to her loins. At the same time, she felt a surge of rebellion. “But who’s really in charge, Mac? If these are my fantasies…isn’t it you, serving me?”

  He gave her a wink, his luscious lips curling into a cool, delectable smile. Mac was playing the bad boy now. “Take off your panties, Min, before I rip them. Then I want you on all fours, showing me your naked ass.”

  Her breathing was short and tight, sweet little stabs, each intake sending little ripples through her chest and crotch. There was no denying him now. She lifted her ass, tugging down the sopping wet underwear. Ankle by ankle, she removed it. Mac gazed down on her hungrily, making her feel like the beautiful creature he said she was. She managed to make a little show, flexing each calf, stretching her toes. Mac made her feel safe this way, free to surrender and be a woman…naked under a man’s control.

  A man who was obviously as desirous of her as she was of him.

  “Wait…take the covers down.”

  She helped him expose the sheets, Egyptian cotton, onyx black, with an irresistibly high thread count. Just feeling the material on her palms was almost enough to make her come on the spot.

  Minarra got on her hands and knees, facing the headboard. Her pulse quickened in dread anticipation. She could no longer see what he was doing. For a few seconds, she felt and heard nothing from him. Her ears strained. She licked sweat from her lips. Was it her or was the room growing damper?

  The fan was oscillating overhead. Outside she heard the short, staccato bleep of a siren, so different than the ones at home. God, her pussy was pulsing, waiting to suck anything in that came near. Her buttocks felt every little vibration in the air.

  She tried to blow the stray hairs that had plastered themselves to her cheeks. Her every muscle ached with energy. She was not sure if she would faint first or explode.

  Suddenly, she felt his fingertips. Minarra jolted in reaction. She did her best not to squirm away or get up and run. Gripping the silk with her nails, she submitted to his touch.

  “I’m going to spank you,” he rubbed her behind, calming her shivering body. “And then I’m going to take you in the ass.”

  Minarra moaned at his caress, so very light and yet so completely…possessive. The way he was talking…like she really belonged to him after all these years. Not only that, he was intending to go further than they ever had before. “But Mac, I’m�
�I’m a virgin back there.”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “Oh god…” He was playing with her clit, manipulating it with a single fingertip, distracting her. “Must you cheat at every turn?”

  Mac laughed. His hand collided with her ass, the spank coming out of nowhere. “As much as I can. Tell me something,” he changed the subject. “What did you intend to do in that dress?”

  She shook her head, as he delivered another blow, hot liquid sensation, tingling fire across her posterior. “Nothing,” she yelped. “I just put it on.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” He made her pay with another swat. It was so much worse this way, with no clothes to protect her. And yet at the same time, it was driving her wild. “You hate dressing up. You’d sooner spend a night alone in Mahopet’s Tomb covered in beetles than wear a dress.”

  “You don’t know me like you think,” she defied.

  “Is that right?” He snorted. “Well let’s try this on for size. You were trying to make me jealous, playing the femme fatale with that scum Henri because I was going to the Seven Veils.”

  Minarra winced against the double bull’s-eye—one from a fresh spank, the other from his assessment of her behavior. Much as she hated to admit it, there really was no other logical reason for her going down to the bar much less sitting with Scorpion.

  But why make a man jealous when you don’t even want him?

  “You’re an arrogant prick if you think that,” she insisted. “Anyway,” she multiplied her smokescreen. “I couldn’t be a femme fatale to save my life.”

  He went to work on her clitoris. “You think I’m blind to your charms? You’re the most gorgeous fucking woman in this country—in any country. You can have any man you want. I’ve known that from the day I met you. You’re one in a million, probably a billion.”

  Her heart raced to hear his words. Could it be true? Could he really see her that way? “Your loss for dumping me, then, huh?”