The Fly House (The UtopYA Collection) (32 page)

In an instant, he saw his dismal choices.  Either condense and risk Tiddy eventually ingesting him, or let her report his perversion with the humans and his illegal trading, which would certainly end with 38596 severing Phuck's head from his shoulders once and for all.

Upon mulling it over, Phuck decided to take his chances on preserving the attachment of his head.  The thought of Tiddy eating him definitely withered his urine straw and made his venom dry up, but at least he could almost decipher the thoughts she had behind her beady pink eyes.  He had to maintain as pleasant an acquaintance with her as possible and stay ahead of her scheming. 

As he scrambled to come up with the words that would keep Tiddy at bay, she presented the solution herself.  Using Wind as a stepping stone, she stood upon the human so that her forehead was a hair higher than Phuck's.  She peered down into his smear of a face.

"I will give you one entire season to decide," she said.  "You will either conclude your desire to mate with creatures and condense with me, or I will have your Karma sold to the Grafian.  I will have all your Karmas sold to the Grafian."

Phuck gasped.  Tiddy smiled.

"You can have the rest of Hot Season 6, but I will expect your answer by the end of Cold Season One," she said.  Tiddy turned and left the cabin, not bothering to close the door. 

Wind groaned from the floor.  It may have been an easier solution if he'd just allowed Tiddy to core the human, but that opportunity had passed.  Staring down at her, Phuck admired the fleshy carving of the female's torso, the way she was shaped thick to thin and back to thick again at her bottom.  It reminded him of the aerial view of winding water flows.  Even devoid of any sort of mating juices or sparks, his urine straw still spasmed with an exhausted appreciation of the human female and his thoughts drifted away to Karma.

CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX

Hot Season Six, Year 2095

Diem wasted no time in carrying Maeve to the bed.  The width of his hips split her legs open wide.  She fought him, raked his back with her nails, but it did not deter him.  He was determined to break her fiery nature.  She would belong to him.  He kissed her as he massaged the top of her sex with an expert touch, until she finally arched with another moan. 

But once her spine settled back against the bed, he could not capture her gaze again.  She turned her head to the side, ashamed or embarrassed, he was unsure.  He drew his lips softly down her throat.  Her hips writhed against his hard, male heat, but she would not look at him.

"Do you want me inside you?" he whispered.

"Yes," she breathed the answer, but as he entered her, she rose up and bit his shoulder.  He pressed deeper inside her, reveling in her heat.  He watched her unravel beneath him, her resolve slipping away like a tangible thing, as she gave way to her passion. 

He supported the back of her head to his skin, allowing her to sink her teeth again if she so needed.  He would allow it, but she did not.  Instead, she mewled and sucked at his skin as his shaft stretched her wider.  He resisted the hard thrust he craved, but as he slowly buried himself to his base, she sunk her teeth into him again. 

He groaned, but did not retaliate, other than to slowly withdraw.  She whimpered. 

"Does it hurt you?" he asked.

"No." Her body pressed toward him as she pleaded, "more."

He slid into her once again and she gasped.  He froze. 

"More," she growled. 

"Slow," he said.  He did not want to hurt her, but she growled again, this time pushing her hands against his shoulders with all her might.  He released from her and allowed her to shove him onto his back.  She scrambled on top of him. 

He immediately understood.  What she wanted was control. 

He let her have it, as the view was exquisite, her breasts a perfect shade of pale.  Her nipples strained to hard points, he could only think of taking them into his mouth, rolling each of their tight buds on his tongue in turn.  

Her expression changed to one of triumph, a haughty smirk on her lips.  She caressed him between her legs without guiding him into her.  He watched, waited.  Her strokes gained speed and her breathing quickened.  No way was he going to want her less than she wanted him, she was making sure of it.  She released him and planted her hands on his massive chest, looking down her nose, directly into his eyes. 

"I'm going to fuck you," she said, her lips twisting in a ruthless grin. 

"What did I tell you about cursing?"

"I'm going to fuck you," she answered again.  Determination turned her eyes to stone.  She was rallying for this one last bid for dominance.  The thought of it amused him.

"You think you are the man here?"  He smirked.  She ignored him, finding his flex beneath her and taking it in her firm grip.  She stroked up and down his shaft with the perfect amount of pressure, massaging herself at the same time with the knuckle of her thumb.  He studied her as she took him inside her, biting the bottom corner of her lip as she guided his penetration. 

He had planned on taking her over once he was inside her, but as she slid down around him, hot and wet, his eyes closed on the sensation.  The groan she pulled from his throat was well deserved; the feeling of her glossy sex all around him, sucking him deep inside her, was a paradise only she could provide him.  He swallowed and opened his eyes, instantly connecting with hers.  Her smug grin was back.

"You like it when I fuck you, don't you," she whispered, her breath catching as she sat herself fully on him.  She was so haughty, he decided it was time to let her know that he was still the one running the show.  Even when she cupped her own breasts and flipped her head back, he withheld his plan only momentarily.  Long enough to unclench his jaw and swallow down the lust she produced in him. 

"Are you?  You think I'll let you mate me?" he asked, correcting her and taunting her at once.  He saw the flash of concern that she tried to extinguish as soon as it appeared.  She shifted to rise off him, but he caught her wrists and pulled them down, holding them tight at either side of his hips.  She pulled against his grip, but he held firm.  The smug grin jumped from her lips to his. 

He brought his hips up slowly, burying himself within her, as he pulled down on her wrists.  "Are you mating me now?"

"Fuck you."

"Watch your words," he snarled.  Her eyes flashed with another small burst of fight.  He held tight to her, but the stoke of her soft walls against him as she struggled nearly exploded his efforts to stay in control.  He drew a sharp breath.  The struggle jumped between them.  She wrestled against him a second more, but realizing she couldn't get free, she tilted forward, her face drawing toward his.  His length stretched inside her.  He tried to remain impassive as her flesh squeezed around him, sucking his rod further into her like a tiny mouth. 

Her breath fanned across his cheek as she whispered in his ear, "FUCK.  YOU."

He let out a growl that frightened her.  She jolted up straight, as if she could jump up and run away, but  he held fast to her wrists as he unleashed his passion. 

In a burst of desire, he thrust into her, dropped his hips, and thrust again.  The sound that broke from her was not of pain, but deep pleasure.  Diem thrust to his base again and again, his body taking over.  Maeve bounced with his force, her breasts jumping.  Her head rocked back, eyes closed as she panted.  He wanted her nipples against his lips.  He tugged her arms forward, pulling her down to him and rutting for her breast with his mouth.  Closing upon the soft flesh, she moaned, heavy and sensuous.

He rolled them both, tucking her beneath him in a heartbeat.  He freed her hands and she slid them up his back and into his hair.  Her grip was tight as her body absorbed the impact with a silky resilience.  He met her gaze, holding it, as he rocked into her methodically. 

She panted beneath him, releasing his hair. 

"Faster," she begged, "more."

He ignored her, penetrating her with the slow rhythm that had kept her purring and begging at once.  He brought his hands to either side of her face.  She reached up and clung to his open palms, pleading with him to do what she wanted. 

"Who's mating who?" he whispered to her.  Her eyes flashed with recognition as she clamped her lips shut.  He kissed her, his tongue moving into her mouth, claiming her.  When he lifted his head, her drugged gaze returned.

"Who?" he whispered again.  He gave no second chance.  He buried himself so deeply inside her that her answer spilled out in a pant.

"You," she said.

"Not enough," he said, seating another thrust so tightly within her that it nearly sent him over the edge.  He wasn't sure who was breaking who anymore. 

"You..." She said, her breath pulsing on his cheek.  "You are...mating me."

With her admission, he relaxed and increased his rhythm, giving her what she wanted.  She gripped his biceps and dug her nails in.  The mixture of pain and pleasure whirled together, his hips taking over with an instinctual rhythm as her pleasure mounted. 

It wasn't enough now that she had surrendered.  He wanted her to trust him implicitly.  Her body quivered beneath him, brinking on release, his own body waiting to follow her into the orgasm.

Looking into her eyes, he watched her vulnerability curl open—revealing that passionate part of a woman that surrenders its guard in the face of well orchestrated intimacy.  Spread before him, forced to mate him as she was, he was ashamed that he found it in this way, but his curiosity spurred him on.  He needed to see what drove this woman. 

And as if she knew what he wanted most, she closed her eyes and shut him away from it.

"Open," he demanded.  "Open your eyes to me."

She shook her head, still pressing her hips up to meet his.

"Maeve," he growled. 

"Fuck.  You," she answered in a groan.  He brought his lips down hard on hers then, a bruising kiss that had her answering his passion by clamping her teeth to his lower lip.  Struggling against one another, the friction and heat rose to its boiling point and spilled over.  They came to their release together, locked in their shared fit of rage.  He spilled into her like a hot current; her body milking him feverishly.

When it was over, she was limp beneath him, spent.  His breathing slowly returned to normal.  He wiped the blood from his lip and studied it for a brief moment.  Then he dragged her over the top of his lap and spanked her soundly with his open hand.

***

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" she shouted, rubbing her red behind.  Maeve had gotten away from him the moment she could, looking for something solid and large to throw at him. 

"Watch your mouth or I'll do it again," he said, getting to his feet.  He grabbed his pants and slid his muscled legs into them.  "You risk every human being with your careless words.  Next time, my punishment will be more severe."

She opened her mouth, ready to tell him to fuck off, when he dove at her.  Startled, she stumbled backward and he caught her, bringing his lips to hers.  His mouth was surprisingly gentle, his kiss unexpectedly warm.  When he drew back, she was a little lightheaded, a little more and a little less angry than she should have been, considering her rear end was still on fire from his spanking.  He held her until she was steady again. 

She wanted to kick him.  She needed to pull out of this tailspin and prove her strength to him, to let him know that she wouldn't take being dominated now that they were out of bed.  But it was difficult to drag up a roar when only one of them was wearing clothing.  Especially since it wasn't her. 

Making it even harder was not only his commanding physicality, but the confidence he exuded.  Maeve didn't know if he was even capable of recognizing a woman as an equal. 

"You need to learn..." she began, but his chuckle drew her up short. 

"I need to learn?"  He chuckled again.  She shoved herself away from him.

"You aren't ordering me around.  I'm not some girl that doesn't know better!"  It sounded pathetic even to her own ears. 

"Better than what?"

"Look," she snarled,  "I don't know what you want from me, but I know what I am, and that's what you'll get.  Hope you like it."

He rubbed the back of his head, raking his eyes over her. 

"Everything about you is loud," he said.  He grinned in a way that threw her off.  She forced herself to throw back her shoulders.

"Just because I am a woman doesn't mean you can..."

He stepped forward, his grin fading as he loomed over her, but his eyes were still soft.  His voice stroked her with a low, sexy timbre.  "What?  What can't I do, Maeve?"

"I have a brain," she snarled.  She had one, but damn if she knew why one drop of lust paralyzed it.  His body was so close, she could feel the heat of his skin radiating on hers like the sun and she wanted to lick it. 

"I know you have a brain," he said.  "Did you think you'd have any value to me without one?"

She stammered internally.  It was the last thing she'd expected him to say.  She'd been comfortable thinking of him as a Neanderthal, incapable of having a wisp of a thought beyond his penis.  But there she was, her own intelligence so easily succumbing to the whim of her ovaries.  She had no idea what to do with a Neanderthal that might actually acknowledge her brain, as well as demonstrating that he had one himself.

"I'm going to take you to the Fly House today," Diem said.  "I need to introduce you as my intended from Hold House.  It's important that you remember that.  It is a safety for you.  And if you are asked, you must insist that you are from Rha Shown's bloodline."

"Why does that matter?  Who's going to care?"

"Probably everyone," he said, slipping on his shirt.  Cavemen.  They probably dragged chicks around by their braids.  Maeve folded her arms over her naked chest, forgetting her nudity in the heat of her sudden anger.  Fat chance he was getting hold of her ponytail, no matter how good he was in the sack.

"And what's an intended?"

"It means you are mine," he said, pushing his foot into one of his boots.  Before she could object, he added, "This way, the men know that if they should try to take you, they will have to face me."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that.  Nobody's taking me anywhere." Maeve raised her chin.  He laughed again, putting on his other boot.

"You're right.  Nobody will
—as long as you stay close to me."

"Huh," Maeve scoffed.  "We can just skip the chest beating.  I'll just stay here, if they're all that horny."

"Horny?" He cocked his head to the side with a chuckle.  "Horny means ready for hating, is that right?"

Maeve jacked up the edge of her lip.  "Hating?"

"When two dragons mate.  It is called that because dragons have such a violent passion, it looks like they'll kill one another during the act."

"Horny means all you can think about is sex...I guess hating is close enough."