She had been holding her breath. As I moved into her, she exhaled slowly, sweetly. I started to push forward until I encountered resistance. Smith held perfectly still, her breathing shallow and quick. I pressed forward, gradually stretching her, until the head of my cock popped inside.
I wanted to slam my hips forward, to ram my cock all the way into her, to brand her as mine, but I knew it would hurt her. I pulled back slightly, then pushed forward gently.
She cried out, her muscles contracting around me like a vise. I paused, not certain, until I felt the echoes of the vibrations coming from the device Mal had attached to her clit. He had her head in a firm grasp, his gaze locked with hers so there was nowhere for her to look but at him.
"Harder, Geros. Our little mate likes a touch of pain with her pleasure."
My balls drew up tight and I held back my orgasm by sheer force of will. I was not ready for this to end.
I moved in and out of her, the space occupied by the dildo making her ass that much tighter, that much sweeter. This was how it would feel with Mal fucking her pussy. We would both be filling her, pleasuring her. Claiming her.
But this wasn’t a true claiming. That would require all three of us to take her together. And her consent. Her vow to be ours, to stay with us as our mate. A family.
She was not our bride. Not ours.
Not mine.
With my cock balls deep inside her, I couldn’t allow myself to think about that.
I began slowly, but when she squirmed and pushed back against me, I thrust forward. Hard.
"That's it, Geros. That's how she likes it." Mal’s voice was a deep rumble.
Fuck me. I wasn't going to last.
I pumped in and out of her ass, driven on by her mewling sounds of pleasure. Finally, when I could take no more, Mal bent down and kissed Smith on the cheek. "Come now, Smith. Come hard. Give Geros everything."
As if he'd flipped a switch, Smith's entire body went stiff, arching up off the table. The pulsing of her pussy muscles broke the last bit of my control and my seed pumped into her as I shuddered.
When I was calm, I pulled out slowly before leaning over to kiss the curve of her spine. "Thank you, Smith."
She rolled as far onto her side as the restraints would allow. She looked down at me, her eyes glazed, unfocused. We had done that to her. Me and Mal. I could only imagine what it would be like if Kayson joined us as well.
Mal came to her hip, reached around her thigh and slipped the dildo from pussy. She jumped when he detached the vibration device from her clit.
"So sensitive, mate." He moved to the shelves and tossed a towel at me. "Clean yourself up. I'll take care of her. Then we'll go have a drink and she can relax with the other submissives."
That had been the plan all along. Act the part of the besotted, devoted mates. Give her an orgasm and then send her on her way to infiltrate and gossip and do what she'd come here to do—make people tell her their secrets, hunt assassins and killers.
Nothing had gone according to plan so far. Nothing. I had fucked her. My Seed Power was already melting into her system, bonding her to me and me to her. The languid look in her eyes was not all from her orgasm. My seed provided her that pleasure, that warmth and comfort, and desire for more. Once her body had fully processed my gift, her scent would drive me mad with need. The smell of her pussy would call to me with a power that was nearly impossible to resist.
Viken mates did not cheat, not because there was a lack of willing partners, but because nothing else could compare to the bond with a mate.
I would never want another female the way I wanted her. Question was, what the fuck was I going to do about it?
6
Smith
I walked toward the submissives’lounge, my body still tingling. Doms weren’t allowed in there. When Mal first told me that, I’d considered it only as a strategic advantage. Now I needed the personal space to get away from them.
From myself.
What the hell had I just done?
I’d begged a complete stranger to fuck me in the ass. That’s what I’d done. I’d stared into Mal’s eyes as it happened, watching him as he analyzed every whimper, every expression on my face. He somehow knew what I wanted. I didn’t have to tell him I liked pain. That’d I’d always liked pain. Even when I was a child, I would seek out other kids and play foolish games. Rub our skin off with an eraser. Slap one another’s hands. Hold our palms over a candle and see how long we could take the pain as our skin burned.
I always won. And I always wanted to play.
