Rapture by L.V. Lane
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Winter
THE NEXT DAY we travel, and it is the worst of days. It is hot and humid, and the air carries the threat of rain. The cloud cover is low, bringing premature darkness, although it is no more than midday.
Jacob refuses to give me any comfort and sits in the opposite corner with his back to me.
I cannot take my eyes off him, watching the way his corded muscles glisten in the dull light as we rock and trundle along the forest path. I don’t even have Melody or Jasmine as a distraction from my misery. There are scars on his back, and I wonder if they are the ones he got from the whipping for freeing slaves. I envy his clarity of purpose, his vigor for life. Mortal life is, by nature, fleeting and fragile, yet they are so reckless with it.
They also cherish it and live it without fear.
“If you do not give him the favor of your body,” Jasmine said, “you cannot expect him to fight for you.”
It does not work like that with the Blood, yet we are far away from the trappings of civilization that we are beholden to within Sanctum. Here we are, both slaves.
Here we are, barely subject to the binding.
Jacob has not washed since he fought, and his pheromones are rich and potent. My pussy constantly weeps, squeezing over nothing until I am near insensible with need.
I am grubby, sticky, and thirsty, and I fear I am going into heat.
I have never experienced a heat. A Blood Omega who is not tended to by a male does not experience one. I have forgotten even the symptoms. Yet everything about my flushed skin, heightened arousal, and the fluttering low in my belly speaks of an imminent heat.
Our desperate situation would be a thousand times worse should that happen.
I cling to my last shreds of sanity by the slimmest thread. Yet I want Jacob, the warrior who has killed for me, who has purred for and comforted me, who saved me from a stupid spider, and who has been gentle with me.
Except for yesterday, when he discarded me. He was not gentle then. “Tell me to fuck you, or get the fuck off my lap,” he said with a growl, eyes dark with hunger.
I wanted to, oh how I wanted to, yet still I refused.
“A man protects his woman with his heart and his soul,”Jasmine said.
Her words play on my mind as I fill my vision with the Alpha and warrior I share this cage wagon with. It feels like the natural order of things that I should gift him my body. Blood have been doing as much with their paired warriors since the beginning of our records.
Yet I hold back, the broken fairy and the defective Blood who has forgotten how to be intimate.
Jacob is as different from Leander as day is from night.
But my scars run deep.
A great rumble shatters the forest chatter as thunder booms overhead. A few seconds later, lightning spears illumination through the gloom.
The wagon rolls to a stop. A cry goes up, one I can’t quite hear, and the great column of the war party disintegrates. We are making camp, it would seem.
My gaze shifts to Jacob, but he doesn’t so much as twitch.
All around us, tents are rapidly pitched.
Another rumble, louder, and the first drops of hot rain splatter upon me.
The pitching of tents takes on an edge of frenzy.
Another rumble, another flash of lightning, and the drops turn into a downpour.
I shiver. The temperature drops, feeling pleasant after the muggy heat.
The horses are corralled, and with the tents done, the orcs and humans alike dive for cover as the downpour turns to a deluge.
We are forgotten, it would seem. As the lightning spikes daylight into the gloom, my eyes land on Jacob.
My breath catches in my throat as I find him staring over his shoulder straight at me.
Hunger. When have I ever witnessed such a look of raw, undiluted hunger? He blinks through the rain that has soaked us both to the skin.
“Come here,” he says, and like a spell has gripped me, I rise on shaky legs and go to him.
He turns, offering me his lap to nestle within, and I go eagerly, burying my nose in his damp, hair roughened chest and trying to suck his scent into my lungs before the rain can wash it away. I cling, glorying in the moment when his arms wrap around me.
He holds me. Goddess, how I have missed the feel of his hold.
“Please,” I beg, pressing kisses to his throat, emboldened by my burning need and knowing my mind is finally as willing as my body.
He resists at first, stoic under my peppered kisses, impervious to the temptation I present as I press my smaller body to his. “Please, I need you. I need you to make me forget all the pain and worries. Please, I need you, Jacob.”
I am tumbled onto my back, his big body looming over me as he cages my smaller one. Rain sluices over him and drips down onto me. The dense, darkened clouds bring a shroud over the rapidly pitched camp. His hand shifts to my thigh, a big strong hand, calloused from sword use, blazing a trail of fire against my wet skin as it slides up and under the hem of my slave dress.
I arch up, wanton for the touch, hands sliding over the glorious firm muscles of his shoulders. He pins me roughly, making me whimper with need as his other hand smothers my mouth.
Blinking back the rain, I suck air in through my nose, glorying in his mastery of me.
“Silence,” he growls against my ear, sending a shudder rippling through my body.
Fairy ears are impossibly sensitive. His deep voice, thick with sensual hunger, and his heated breath washing over the delicate skin makes it turn rigid with arousal.
I cannot be quiet. My body has gone from a simmer to a boil. Slick is weeping from my pussy, making the intimate folds swollen and slippery with need.
When was the last time I experienced such intense need?
He lifts the fingers from over my mouth, only to replace them with his lips, his tongue boldly sweeping inside to tangle with mine as the rain continues to pound down.
My heart beats wildly, the blood thumping through my veins as our gusty pants mingle, the sound lost in the storm.
His other hand sweeps higher under my wet slave dress, cupping my breast, squeezing it, and testing the weight before his thumb strums my tight nipple. Pleasure explodes in a golden thread that pulls all the way to my womb. He doubles down on the kiss, swallowing up my mewling cries of need.
He fists my hair, bringing a delicious bite of pain, and the kiss deepens just as he pinches and rolls my nipple roughly.
Rapture.
When was the last time I felt rapture?
Long ago, when I was a different person, before the great city of Sendar collapsed and we fled to Sanctum. There was another man once who gave me rapture.
But he is gone.
For so many centuries, I, too, have been gone, a dead shell going through the motions of life and yet never experiencing more than its once joyful echo.
Many human lifetimes’ worth of abstinence catches up with me. I want to feel the completion when Jacob spears my smaller body with his thick cock, want the stretch, the bite, and the aching fullness as his flesh forces mine to yield.
He seems to understand my urgency. Fumbling between us, he shucks down his saturated pants and kicks them off. I try to lift my dress, but it is sodden, stuck to my skin, and defeats my attempts. He takes over, ripping it up and off and tossing it aside.
Lightning and an unearthly rumble accompany his big hand cupping my breast, and his mouth enclosing the swollen tip and half of the swell. He sucks too hard, his fingers bruising as he squeezes it in offering to himself. It’s like a fire lighting under my skin. I writhe, restless, empty, and desperate for more.
He shifts to the other breast as he rolls the sore, abandoned nipple roughly between his fingers. As he torments me to the point of madness, his knees nudge between mine, forcing my thighs to part uncomfortably around his great bulk.
My hands roam lower, finding the firm flesh of his ass and squeezing, encouraging him to rut.
His lips pop off, and he stares down at me through the rain. “Tell me to fuck you.”
The words catch in my throat, but I forced them out. If I hesitate, Jacob will abandon me once again, will turn his back on me and leave me burning with need. “Please, fuck me.”
His lips tug up, showing the small fangs all warriors have. Reaching between us, he teases my swollen clit with the tip of his cock, sliding it up and down, making me whimper. “Please, Jacob. Please, I cannot wait.”
Snagging my slick entrance, he pushes a small way in.
My inner muscles revel in the glorious stretch.
Bracing on his elbows, his hand smothers my cry as he drags out and thrusts once more, deeper. Inner muscles strain now to give under the savage penetration and yet remain locked tight, despite the copious slick. He withdraws again, but this time, he slides a hand under my ass to hold me still and plows all the way in.
It hurts. I feel like I have been broken and remade to take his monstrous cock.
Then he begins to rut me, in and out, rough slaps of bodies made slick by the rain. The pain is gone, overwritten by a heady rushing rapture that consumes me, lifting me.
Peeling his hand from my mouth, he kisses me, a rough brushing kiss, full of thrusting tongue and barely snatched breaths.
Rough, earthy, desperate, our bodies and minds come together in an escape from the oppressive state of our lives and fate. In this hot, wild moment, we are two free souls showing the Mother of All Things our love through the pleasure we give and take.
I have not shown her love in so very long. Little wonder she has abandoned me.
His mouth leaves mine, trailing kisses over my throat, sending a shudder through me as he teases the skin where he would bite should I give him permission.
I want him to, I realize, and yet the words of permission for this, at least, catch in my throat, and he moves on, lips brushing the shell of my ear, turning it utterly rigid and my mind frenzied with joy.
“I wanted you even that first day,” he snarls into my ear, hand smothering my mouth again as if sensing I want to cry out with the savagery of the next thrust.
“Hot little fairy, all prim and proper in her pretty gown. Icy and yet burning hot under that façade. A hot, filthy little fairy who was Goddess-sent to take a warrior’s cock.”
His words light a fire in my veins, while the nerves in my pussy flutter to heated life as his hard, silken cock fills me over and over. We are so slippery, his fingers turn bruising as he holds me for the pounding from his cock.
“Now look where we are, mistress.”
I groan.
“High Blood, untouchable fairy with her legs open for a deep rutting like a good little Breeder. Arching into my touch,” he taunts as I do exactly that. “Pussy sucking my cock back in every time I try to pull out. Do you like my cock, mistress? Do you like being my little Breeder slave?”
I come.
His hand barely contains the cries as my pussy convulses around his iron hard rod.
“Good Breeder,” he croons. “Open up for your warrior’s knot.”
He keeps rutting into me, setting my pussy twitching and spasming through the aftershocks. I’m too sensitive, caught between wanting him to stop and desiring more. I strain against him as his knot begins to swell, stretching me intimately in a way that feels so good, so welcome, stirring long forgotten memories.
“That’s it, my sweet Breeder, take my knot like a good little fairy. Open your tight cunt and let it all the way in.”
His words are heated growls against the sensitive shell of my ear. Shifting, he braces his whole arm under my ass and powers the bulging knot in and out, growling against my ear, filling my senses with him and only him.
“Good fairy, take all of my knot.”
My eyes roll back as my pussy begins to spasm, deep, richly heady contractions that squeeze around his impossible girth.
He pushes through, seating himself, spreading his thighs wide to trap my body inside and out. My thighs burn with the strain of accommodating his much larger body as my pussy quivers and clamps over his knot, drawing the first hot splashes of his seed.
He growls against my ear, a low rumbling sound that drives another fierce, sharp clench as my pussy crushes his cock and knot. I ache inside, a hot, heavenly ache as I strain to accept his male flesh.
He grinds against me, seeming to push just a little deeper, groin smashing against my swollen clit to send my body tumbling into bliss once again, coaxing yet more of the achy contractions as I milk him for every drop of his seed.
His lips capture mine once more, and he shifts, arms clamping around me as he rises to his knees and draws my body flush to his. I fall limp, cheek mashed to his rain slick chest, legs stretched around his waist, and pussy stuffed full of cock and knot.
Big hand upon my ass, he grinds me onto his knot. His other hand tangles in my wet hair, pinning me tightly to him until I feel my ribs creak. I whimper, feeling another contraction rise out of nowhere as my pussy spasms around his cock. I twitch and groan. My tummy aches. I swear it feels like his cock is lodged in places it is not intended to go.
None of this matters, not the monstrous strain of taking him inside me, nor the burning in my thighs that are stretched around his great girth. My weak arms cling around his neck as my small teeth nip against his hair roughened chest.
I want to bite.
I want to claim him.
I want to mark him so that no one woman or fairy can have him again.
Somehow, I don’t. And then Jacob is moving, taking us down onto the rough wooden cart floor with me on top, still intimately connected. The blanket, now soaked, is gathered and thrown over me.
I shiver, skin chilled now by the wet blanket and rain. Beneath me, his body is warm, and heat slowly seeps in.
I don’t want this moment to end, don’t want the peace provided by the storm to end.
But no storm lasts forever, and as the rain peters out, he gently lifts me off of him. A gush of stickiness floods between us.
I whimper, feeling empty, trying to cling to him as he gently sets me away.
“The orcs and overseers will soon be rousing from their tents,” he says. “I would not have them find you like this.”
