Chapter Six
Meg shivered, even though the fire was crackling nicely. Beck had spent the better part of an hour building it. He stoked it until the orange and red flames flared and gave a warm glow to their little camp. She was all alone with a complete stranger. Oh sure, they’d had a couple of sexual encounters, but she didn’t really know him. She sat back against the trunk of a huge tree and watched the man who had claimed her.
True to what Dante had told her, Beck had let her do absolutely none of the work. He’d helped her off the horse and settled her carefully on her feet. His first task was to make a comfortable place for her to sit. He’d taken two blankets out of his saddle bags to make a little nest for her while he gathered wood for the fire.
She removed her boots and pants before wrapping up in the blankets. He was never out of sight. After he started the fire, he’d pulled out bread, some cheese, and what looked like beef jerky. Meg’s stomach rumbled. She decided not to honor her New Year’s Resolution to avoid meat and dairy.
Beck hadn’t touched a thing until she declared herself full, and then he ate everything she hadn’t eaten.
He was such a puzzle to her, sweet one minute and completely shut down the next.
“I need to know something,” he said quietly as he sat down across from her.
Meg nodded, not trusting herself to speak. He was heartbreakingly beautiful by firelight. The soft light of the fire delineated the lines of his face. His jaw was carved from granite, but his eyes were soft. He was a real, actual faery prince, and according to him, he was hers. Even after the way he treated her this afternoon, she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms.
She never, ever learned.
“Did you leave a husband behind?” Beck asked. “Do you have babies who wonder where their mama is?”
All she had to do was say yes, she realized. If she said yes, cried prettily, and talked about her sweet babies, he might try to get her home. She could say she had two, a boy and a girl. She could also tell him about the husband she loved more than life itself.
“No,” she admitted quietly. “I’m alone.”
He seemed confused by the statement and moved to sit beside her. He pulled the blanket up around her. Beck carefully placed his arm around her shoulder. “Did your parents die before they could find a husband for you?”
Meg laughed abruptly at the thought. Her parents couldn’t be in a room together for more than two minutes before a war broke out. They hadn’t even attended her wedding, much less tried to advise her on who to marry. “No. My parents divorced when I was twelve. Mom remarried roughly six months later. She married the guy she had been having an affair with. Dad married his secretary, excuse me, administrative assistant, two months after that. Neither one of them wanted to deal with a teenage girl, so I got shuffled around. I’d stay with Mom until she got tired of me, and then I’d get shoved off on Dad. Casey, his ten-years-older-than-me wife, didn’t like me very much. They both had new children with their new spouses. Needless to say, everyone was happy when I left for college. So, to answer your question, no, they didn’t bother to find me a husband.”
Beck’s eyes were dark in the firelight. There was an unmistakable air of confusion in them. “What is divorce?”
It was Meg’s turn to be shocked. She studied him for a moment to see if he was pulling her leg. “You really don’t know?”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand your story, love. Your parents did not die? They left each other and formed bonds with other people? They had children with people who were not their spouse?”
“Well, they were at the time,” Meg tried to explain. “You don’t have a way to dissolve a marriage?”
“No. Why would we have that?” Beck asked, his face showing no signs of teasing. “Marriage is sacred.”
“Okay, how about if the husband abuses the wife? Is she supposed to stay in the marriage?” Again, he looked blankly at her. “What if her husband smacks her around? What if he cheats on her with the local floozy? What if he calls her names and is generally unpleasant to be around?”
Beck nodded, finally getting her point. “If this happened in a Fae marriage, then the female would beat the male into submission. If she is too small to beat him properly, one of the larger women of her family would perform the task for her.”
“And the man just stands there for the beating?” Meg asked incredulously.
“If he has any honor at all,” Beck replied with a frown. “If his abuse of the wife continues, the males of her family would take care of him. As I said before, the only way out of a Fae marriage is death, but that can be arranged.”
Meg couldn’t help but smile. “I kind of wish those rules had been in play when I got married.”
Beck turned her to look at him. His lips were turned down in a scowl, and his eyes pinned her. “They were in play when you got married, love. I assure you, our marriage was properly witnessed. I signed the paperwork with the gnomes before we left.”
Meg went very still. “Marriage?”
“Yes, love, what did you think I was doing with you? I told you I needed a bondmate. You’re my wife now, and there is no divorce.” He said the word as though he found it distasteful.
“I thought you were buying me,” Meg stammered, trying to wrap her head around the fact that she had apparently gotten married, and no one had bothered to tell her. She looked at Beck, a little panicked at the thought. He was her husband? “You know, like a slave.”
“You have strange words, wife. I don’t know what a slave is, but we’re married, and nothing is going to change that.” He took a deep breath. “If you are angry with me for what I did today, you have my permission to hit me. It might make you feel better. I can only promise I won’t do it again. I was a little overwhelmed.”
An alarming thought struck her. She wondered if the whole beating thing went both ways. “So if I step out of line, you’ll hit me?”
The faery looked extremely offended. “I would never beat you, Meggie. It’s different for a man. We’re bigger. We could hurt you. I know after what I did to you earlier you must think me a man of no honor, but I would never, never beat my woman. I might put you over my knee if I thought you were stepping out on me, but I would only use my hand.”
“You would spank me?” It was supposed to come out as an outraged question. It was supposed to show that she would never put up with such a thing. Instead, it kind of came out as a breathless, curious query. The thought of being put over his knee, completely naked and open, and having that big hand smack her ass was really stimulating. She thought about the one time she’d asked Michael to spank her. She had been curious. He’d rolled his eyes and called her a pervert. Beck might think the same thing.
“If I had no other choice, I would spank you,” Beck said grimly.
Meg nodded, trying not to think about how he would trace the line of her spine while she was across his knee, open and vulnerable to him. She turned back to the fire so he wouldn’t see how her cheeks were flushed as she thought about how she would wait, anticipating the blow, her pussy getting wet at the thought.
“You talked about marriage and the Fae rules being in play when you got married. What did you mean if you weren’t talking about our marriage?” Beck asked quietly. There was suspicion in his voice, like he already knew the answer.
It was an effective way to shut down her arousal. Thinking of Michael Starke immediately made her think of humiliation. Despite his assertion that she was a pervert, humiliation wasn’t her thing. “I was married once. We got a divorce.”
“He allowed you to get away from him?”
Meg laughed, but it was a bitter sound. “Honey, he packed my bags and shoved me to the street. He literally did that. He needed me out of the apartment before his new girlfriend showed up. She was a nurse. She made more money than I did, so she could take better care of him than I could.”
“What?” Beck was on his feet, his hand rubbing his head as he paced. “He forced you to support him? What kind of a man was he?”
The truth was she was tired of being pissed off about the divorce. Somehow the events of the last twenty-four hours made her rage at a marriage gone bad seem a small thing. Beck’s whole life had been destroyed. At least Michael had the good sense to divorce her before they had kids. It had been a mistake, and it was past time to move on. “He was a young man. We were really young when we got married. I was only twenty-two. I was twenty-five when we divorced two years ago. We were just stupid kids trying to be grownups. I wanted a family. He wanted to play Xbox and drink beer. It’s a typical American story.”
Beck’s hair was long and flowed around his shoulders and down his back. He’d taken it down after he’d gotten the fire going. It had been an oddly erotic moment. His eyes had been on her, and she’d watched as he brushed it out. Now, it was a silken blanket around his body.
It was also a fire hazard. Meg held out her hand. “It was a long time ago, Beck, and in a galaxy far, far away. Please come back over here. I don’t want to have to put out your hair when it catches on fire.”
He looked back and seemed surprised that he hadn’t caught that himself. He sat back down. When she held open the blanket for him, he moved close and wrapped it around the both of them.
“Sorry, love,” he whispered. “I just can’t imagine anyone letting you get away.”
“You must have a very small imagination,” she said solemnly.
“I am not known for my creativity.” Beck frowned and stared at the fire.
Meg laughed. “I was teasing you. You take things too literally. Don’t give my ex another thought. I don’t intend to. He was an asshole.”
Dark eyebrows drew together. “You sound so much like Dante. Are you sure you’re not from the Vampire plane? They are entirely obsessed with anuses, too. I don’t get it.”
Meg giggled and let her head drop to his shoulder. She would have immediately brought it back up, but his hand was there, smoothing her hair back, holding her close. His arms went around her. He was so warm. She gave in and snuggled closer. He was a furnace.
“I would like very much to make love to you, Meggie,” Beck said, his voice low and painstakingly gentle. The hand in her hair was gentle, too, unlike the way he’d fisted her hair in the arena. He touched her like she was made of glass.
“How very polite.” Meg thought about what Dante had said. She didn’t want a polite bargain. She wanted his passion.
It didn’t matter. She would be gone in a day or two. She hadn’t changed her mind about that. Even though he promised not to treat her the way he had before, she knew it was inevitable that he would.
Before all of this happened, Meg had been giving an enormous amount of thought to her sex life. It had been pointless and futile up until now. The two men she had gone to bed with before marrying Michael had been utterly boring, and she’d just wanted to get it over with. Michael had been the same way. It was why she’d started exploring Dominance and submission in the first place. She hadn’t gotten past the internet, but she’d ordered some books on the subject.
Being out in the arena with Beck had been a revelation. It was the single most erotic experience of her life, and he rejected her afterward. He thought she was just as much a pervert as Michael did, and she refused to be trapped in another marriage where her husband didn’t really want her. But she was stuck for now. Why not enjoy what he could give her? She had just taken her birth control shot before she’d gotten kidnapped. Why not enjoy a little sex? Even if it wasn’t as mind-blowing as before, it would be better than anything she’d had on the Earth plane. She would just have to make sure she came off as vanilla as possible so he didn’t get angry with her again.
She let her hand find his sculpted chest. “All right.”
He sighed, and she felt that strange connection between them open slightly. It tingled there on the edges of her consciousness, and she opened eagerly to it. She could feel his arousal. She could feel how much he wanted her. It made her feel special and desirable. He closed it down immediately. Meg was alone again.
“Sorry.” He eased her onto her back. “I have to get used to the bond. It’s particularly strong when we make love. I promise I won’t flood you with it again.”
“I didn’t mind,” she said as he touched her lips with his. It was a gentle touch, a light melding of lips. She found it slightly frustrating.
“Of course you did,” he murmured as he kissed her, a little harder this time.
He pressed his mouth over hers. His tongue requested access. Meg allowed herself to soften beneath him, and his tongue lazily plunged in. He explored her mouth, mating his tongue to hers, devouring her softly. His hands gently framed her face as he stroked her hair.
Meg shuddered as he moved from her mouth to her neck. He was so big against her. He tried to keep his weight off her, but she wanted to be crushed under it. She wanted him to hold her down or tie her up. She couldn’t ask him to do that. He would probably turn away from in disgust, but she wanted it so badly. “I’m so cold. Won’t you cover me? I might be warm if you lay on top of me.”
He wasn’t able to completely close off the surge of desire her request brought out in him. He wanted to be on top of her. He wanted her helpless underneath him. Meg felt it briefly before he shut it off. “You don’t think I’m too big for you? I don’t want you cold. Let me get undressed first.”
He got out from under the covers and quickly shucked his clothes. Meg watched, her mouth watering, as his big, strong body was revealed by firelight. He was all steel and smooth muscles. The wounds he had taken in the arena had closed and were healing. His body, he’d explained earlier, could take a lot of damage and repaired itself quickly. The slight pinkness of the healing flesh didn’t detract from his perfection. He really was a work of art. Michelangelo would have been proud to sculpt that body. And then there was his cock. She had more time to study it now that he wasn’t shoving it at her face. It was big and thick, and pointing straight up, reaching his belly button. His balls were heavy and taut against his body. Even in the firelight, she could tell his cock was so hard it was purple.
How had that ever fit in her mouth? That dark voice from her fantasies reminded her. That monster cock had fit because Beck had made sure it fit. Beck had just shoved and pushed until she’d accommodated him.
“Love, let me help you.” He knelt down and reached for the hem of her shirt.
The linen shirt was all she was wearing. It was the only protection she had. If he ordered her to take it off, she would throw the damn thing into the fire. He didn’t, and she was reluctant. He’d seemed to like her body before, but the arena had changed that. If he ordered her, she would know that he wanted her. It would take away all her doubt.
He pulled the shirt over her head, and she fought not to cover herself. She also sought that connection between the two of them. It would tell her what he was feeling. Now that she’d had that connection with him, being without it made her feel alone. She tried to brush her thoughts against his, requesting the contact.
“Shhh,” he whispered, getting under the covers with her. He pulled her into his arms. “Don’t be scared, love. I won’t hurt you. I’ll be gentle.”
She gritted her teeth. He’d gotten the message, but he wasn’t very literate yet. He thought she was afraid, not frustrated and nervous.
“Just kiss me.” She could lose herself in his kisses. The man knew how to kiss.
He smiled, his generous lips tugging up before he planted them on her. He kissed her as he covered her with his hard body. They met, skin to skin. Meg loved the way he pressed her into the ground. It wasn’t the most comfortable she’d ever been, but something about being held down did it for her. She let her hands drift above her head and imagined he had tied them down.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered as he left her mouth. His hands traveled down her torso, making her skin sing wherever he touched her. “I want to kiss you everywhere. May I?”
Don’t ask. Just do it. Take me. Instead, she sweetly replied, “If you like.”
He nodded and kissed his way to her breasts. The kisses were gentle, like little butterflies landing and taking off again. He took one nipple in his mouth and curled his tongue around it. He drew on the little bud, sucking and playing with it. Meg bit back a moan. Even though it wasn’t as rough as she liked it, it still felt good. It felt fantastic. Beck plucked at her other nipple with his fingers. Meg imagined that he had placed her in nipple clamps. He would tighten them just to the point of pain, and then his eyes would heat as he looked at her, trussed up and gilded for his pleasure. She would be his plaything.
His hand left her nipple, traveling down toward her pussy. He slid a finger through her labia. His head came up in surprise as he found the folds of her pussy already slick.
“You’re wet.” His fingers slid all around her pussy, delving deep and then shallow, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was feeling. “You’re soaking wet.”
Meg’s face flushed. She tried to pull away. She was sure he would take it as proof of her wantonness. “Sorry.”
He put his hand around her throat to stop her from squirming, and she felt a fresh rush of arousal spark through her. His hand was still moist from her pussy as he circled her neck. He couldn’t know what his hand collaring her neck did for her. He would be shocked if he did.
“You still want me,” he said with a great amount of relief. It seemed to break something in him, and he kissed her harder than before. He was still careful, but he seemed less tentative. Meg felt his iron-willed control. He was using it to hold himself back. Meg wanted to beg him to let go, to use that will on her. She would like it. She craved it. But she held her tongue, knowing he wouldn’t welcome that part of her.
Then she wasn’t thinking at all as his hand trailed back down, and he started to rub little circles around her clitoris.
“Tell me you want me,” he ordered in a rough voice.
Her body tightened at the masculine will in his voice. “I want you. Please.”
“Yes, wife, I will please you,” he promised as he disappeared under the blankets. He forced her legs apart, spreading her and placing himself between her thighs.
When his tongue replaced his fingers on her clit, Meg fought not to scream. His tongue slid all over her pussy, lapping and sucking and nibbling. He ate her like he was enjoying a rich dessert. She held her hands tight over her head and pretended he’d tied her ankles down, too. She imagined she was completely at his mercy, and he had none. He licked from her clit to her slit then plunged his tongue in there. He moaned as though he loved her taste and couldn’t get enough of her. He fucked her with his tongue. Meg pressed against him as he firmly stroked her clit with his thumb. She went flying, keeping her mind open so that she knew he felt her orgasm.
He reared up, the blanket he’d pulled over them falling to the side. He got on his knees and purposefully slid his cock over her soaking pussy, moistening it. He pulled down on her hips, slamming her onto his pulsating cock.
Meg nearly screamed. It felt so good to be impaled on him. Nothing in her life felt as good as Beck ramming his cock into her cunt. He looked down at her with stark eyes. His face was savage in the fire’s glow, and though she had just come, she felt it build again as he pounded into her.
He was so big inside her, she felt like she might split in two, but it was a good pain. She wrapped her legs around his waist, trying to tempt him deeper. She hadn’t taken all of him yet. He stared down at the place where his cock met her pussy.
“It’s beautiful,” he muttered as he watched himself fuck her. “You’re beautiful.”
She felt beautiful. She let her hands trail down his strong back to his muscular buttocks and let her nails dig in lightly. She wanted all of him.
“You open up for me.” He spread her legs further and shoved that last inch in.
Meg had never been so full. This was connection. This was what she’d missed all of her life.
He leaned forward so his pelvic bone ground against her clitoris as he swiveled his hips and panted. His long, dark hair flowed all around her. It tickled her skin, making her feel like he was touching her in a hundred spots. Then, only one spot mattered as he pushed himself deep one last time.
This time Meg didn’t hold back her moans. She groaned as he stiffened above her. She could feel his cock pulsing deep inside her, jetting his cum toward her womb. The orgasm rolled across her, leaving her trembling as he fell forward against her body.
She wrapped her arms around him. She could feel his heart beating against her breast. He nuzzled her neck. His cock was still inside her pussy, and if she could sleep that way, she would. He was everywhere, all around her. She never felt so safe.
He rolled off her, and she could feel his disappointment.
“I lost my head at the end, love.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I know I keep saying that, but I mean it. Did I hurt you?”
Meg turned her back to him, so he wouldn’t see her face.
“I liked it,” she said hollowly. She had until he opened his damn mouth again. “I’m not some fragile little thing. I won’t break, Beck. I liked it, especially at the end.”
He sighed and put a hand on her hip. “No, you didn’t. You’re just trying to be a good wife. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Sure.”
There wasn’t going to be a next time. The sex was incredible, but it wasn’t worth the way he made her feel afterward. She thought what they shared was beautiful, and he kept making it something to be ashamed of.
He pulled her close, wrapping his thick arms around her body. He threw a leg over hers. Meg found herself thoroughly trapped in his embrace. She tried to pull away.
“Stay still,” he ordered quietly. “It’s cold. I’ll keep you warm.”
“And if I don’t want to be warm?” Meg squirmed against him.
“Then I’ll keep you warm anyway,” he said, his voice rough with command.
She sighed. He was so frustrating. He was the essence of the dominant male. It was in everything he did. Why did he deny it? Meg settled down. There was no way she was getting away from him. He set his face against the nape of her neck. His warmth was so sweet. Meg found herself pulled in again.
She was leaving in the morning. He had explained that he would get up and go find them some breakfast. While he was hunting, she would leave. Dante was wrong. It wasn’t up to her to train him. It wasn’t up to her to teach him that it wasn’t wrong to love the way he wanted to. He wouldn’t listen, and she would end up hating him and herself.
She would leave, and he would find a more proper bondmate.
“Good night, love,” he whispered in her ear.
She was silent because good night was good-bye, and she just couldn’t say the words.