Predator's Salvation (14 page)

“Mat—”

He wrapped her in the towel and swung her up into his arms, his strong and sure embrace making her feel like the most tiny and treasured woman alive.

She hooked her arms around his neck, and admired his chiseled, determined features before bending her head to nuzzle his throat and inhale the heady male scent of him as he took her from the bathroom to the bed.

There he paused, and LaMia released her hold so that he could gently lay her in the center of the mattress and unwrap the towel from around her.

She glanced up at his face, watched him as he watched her and licked his lips like he was preparing to dig into a king’s feast.

How many times had she looked at him with that same hungry expression and thought she could consume him in one sitting? How uncomfortable had she made him with that look?

Mateo looked anything but uncomfortable now, however. He looked more certain and confident than he had been since she had acquired him. As well he should since he had her right where he wanted her, on edge and shivering with wanton anticipation.

He climbed into the bed beside her and she turned into his body, wrapped her arms around his sleek, moist shoulders and pulled him close. He returned her embrace, bent his head and slid his tongue into her waiting mouth, sharing the taste of her as he slid a leg between her thighs.

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LaMia moaned as he teased her slit with his bare knee. She bit back a whimper when he pressed and rubbed that same knee against her inflamed clit. He held her tight, crushed her breasts against his hard chest, and absorbed her keening cries.

Mateo pulled back to nip her full lower lip. “You deprived me of this, Mia, deprived me of holding you and enjoying all these beautiful luscious curves.” He emphasized his point by skating his fingers from her shoulders to her generous breasts to the plush curve of her hip before twining his fingers with hers and lightly squeezing.

She nuzzled his throat again and asked, “What can I do to make it up to you, Mateo?

He answered by flipping her onto her back beneath him. He stared down at her for a long silent moment, searching her face for something she was not sure was within her to offer.

Taking her composure for acquiescence, he slid his hands beneath her and finally tossed her onto her stomach.

LaMia gasped but tendered no further protest, curious to see what he had in mind for her, and excited to feel his big hard body against her in any position. She wanted—

Before she could finish the thought, Mateo covered her body with is, dragged her arms over her head, clasped both of her wrists in one hand and pinned her hands to the bed.

She knew she could break free if she wanted to, but she did not want to. She wanted his rough handling, wanted his cruelty and reveled in the reversal of their roles. She wanted him to set her free with her subjugation.

LaMia moaned her assent and wriggled beneath him, her ass bumping into his hard cock.

“Mateo, please…”

“Shhh, Mia. Don’t talk, just feel.”

She had thought that this is what she had been doing all her life. Feeling. She had thought that this is what she had been doing for the last twenty-four ho—

He slipped his free hand between her and the mattress, immediately found her clit with his thumb, teasing it for several intense seconds before caressing her moist folds, then dipping two fingers into her sopping pussy and stroking inside her.

Once she was violently thrashing beneath him as much as his crushing firm weight would allow, Mateo removed his hand.

“No…”
Do not stop!
She frantically twisted her head to glance over her shoulder and see what he was doing, watched as he mixed her copious juices with his pre-come, rubbing the erotic mixture all over his erection before taking his lubricated shaft in hand and guiding it towards her virgin back hole.

She whimpered as he teased her rosette with the head of his penis, sliding it up and down her crack before thrusting into her.

“Mateo!”

He slid his hand beneath her again, found her clit with his thumb and expertly brought her to a frenzied edge of no return when he penetrated her in the front with two fingers, and filled her back hole with his hard-driving strokes.

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“Mateo, it is too much…I cannot…”

He brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, “You can and you will.”

She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip when he echoed her harsh words back to her, then pressed her face against the mattress as he sped his thrusts and undulated his hips in an athletic, sensual dance that pushed LaMia over the brink and sent her soaring headfirst into an orgasmic abyss.

She screamed. This and her intermittent pants just barely drowned out Mateo’s long groan as he climaxed several seconds behind her.

He did not linger once he was done. He simply flipped her from her stomach to her back, cupped her face in both hands, tunneled his fingers through her hair to her nape before bending his head to kiss her with heated ferocity that made LaMia’s head spin. “You’re mine, Mia.”

“I belong to you, yes.”

“And I belong to you.”

She wrapped her arms around him, not caring if he lied to her, just wanting to hold him and savor the aqua glow of their energies merged in ecstasy.

71

Gracie C. McKeever

Sunday morning dawned outside of LaMia’s tall, barred windows warm and bright and Mateo sprawled at the foot of her bed, propped on his elbows, chin cupped in his palms as he perused her latest issue of
Architectural Digest
.

He made mental notes on how he would improve her space, especially with an eye towards injecting a more masculine feel in selected nooks and crannies.

There was no doubt that LaMia had impeccable tastes, but it did run in the direction of the girly side. And if he were going to be staying here he would hope that despite his status as a slave, she would make some preparations for his comfort.

“The next thing you know you will be demanding equal closet space.” She plopped down at the foot of the bed beside him and smacked his bottom.

“Ouch.”

“Whoops! I am sorry!” She leaned in to kiss his cheek and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pointed her chin at the page he had stopped on and said, “That is a nice arrangement.”

“I thought so.”

“I see you marked the page.”

“Among others.”

“So, you are just going to move right in and start rearranging my life, is that it?”

He grinned at her ironic tone. “Unless you want to move in with me, but I have to warn you, my place isn’t nearly as roomy as this, though it’s nice.”

“Where do you live?”

“In a brownstone in Harlem.”

“Hmm.” She nodded. “Do you think I would fit in there?”

He turned his head to glance at her, lovingly scanned the regal jut of her cleft chin, her 72

Predator’s Salvation

exotic sculpted cheekbones, her glowing mahogany skin, and thought that LaMia Enlil would fit anywhere she wanted to fit. “You’d do okay.”

She shoved his shoulder with hers. “Smart ass,” she said and leaped from the bed.

“Where’re you going?”

“I want to take a shower.”

“You just had one a little while ago.”

“A real shower where I actually get clean without molestation.”

He leered and wiggled his eyebrows. “Are you sure you don’t want to be molested?”

She stared at him for a long moment, seemed to be debating the wisdom of letting him join her then finally nodded. “I am sure and I hate to admit this but you, uh…have worn me out.”

He playfully pouted. “Oh, you poor baby.”

LaMia bent at the waist, brandishing her fist in his face. “Do not think that you have gotten the best of me by any means, Mateo. A short respite is all I require to recuperate and handle you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it.”

She turned and flounced away, mumbling under her breath about arrogant big-headed slaves who needed to be put in their place.

“I’ll start breakfast while you shower.”

“It is the least you can do,” she flung over a shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom and leaving the door open.

Mateo chuckled, shaking his head as he sat up to finish the article he had been reading.

He took a few more minutes to flip through another couple of pieces, dog-eared several pages with designs that caught his eye then put the magazine down and finally got dressed in the fresh jeans, T- and button-down shirts that LaMia had provided him.

He was in the kitchen crouched in front of one of the myriad cabinets searching for a pan so that he’d at least have breakfast started by the time LaMia finished her shower, when he heard the muffled blast.

Mateo lurched to his feet and gaped at the glowing blue smoke slowly evanescing inside the door across the room.

He started forward and froze when he saw the three figures materializing out of the haze—two he recognized and one he didn’t. “Alex! Genesis!” He ran across the loft to meet them halfway, the three of them converging in the center of the room in a flurry of hugs.

After a moment, Alex pulled back and peered at Mateo, amber eyes raking his friend from head to toe while he blatantly poked and squeezed various body parts as if to make sure Mateo was real. “You’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Great, because it’s time for us to get going, while the going’s good, and before some scattered dissidents pick up our trail, if they haven’t already.” Alex caught him around the biceps 73

Gracie C. McKeever

of one arm and tried to drag him to the door but came up short when Mateo pulled back.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are.”

Mateo stood his ground and shook his head. “Look, I appreciate you guys coming to my rescue—nice entrance, by the way—but I’m not going anywhere.”

Alex looked at him as if he had announced he wanted to get a sex change operation.

“What are you suffering from, some crazy Stockholm syndrome?”

“I wish it were that simple.”

“Mateo, we don’t have time for this.” Alex tried again to drag him towards the door, but Mateo resisted, jerked his arm out of Alex’s grasp and took several steps back.

“No.” He shook his head.

“Matt—”

“Alex, he cannot leave. She has collared him,” Genesis said.

Alex looked at the choker around Mateo’s neck at the same instant Mateo’s hand flew to his throat to caress the warm silver ornament.

He’d forgotten LaMia had put it on him. It seemed like she had done it to another person in another place and time, not to who he was now, but the Mateo Diaz he used to be. He was different now, too different to return to the life he once had, the person he once was.

“So we’ll just take him with us and cut it off on the way home.”

“We cannot.”

Alex turned to the stranger shadowing his and Genesis’s steps, a tall and intimidating raisin-brown woman grasping a long engraved scepter in one hand.

Mateo assumed the scepter was the weapon responsible for disintegrating LaMia’s door.

“What do you mean we can’t, Xevera?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, what do you mean we can’t?” Mateo echoed.

Xevera pinned him with eyes the same shade as Genesis’s, only more striking since they shone out of a darker face. Her stern look softened infinitesimally right before she addressed him. “If you cross the threshold of the door, you will die.”

Mateo gawked.

LaMia had never detailed exactly what was the purpose of the collar. He had assumed it had been put on as a means of restraint, a device to discipline him if he got out of line, maybe to jolt or incapacitate him but not to kill him. “Die?” he murmured, warily fingering the choker now.

“No.”

Mateo pivoted to lock eyes with LaMia standing just outside the bathroom door clad in a red paisley kimono.

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She stared at him with an appealing expression as if she was begging for his forgiveness.

His stomach lurched right before she said, “You will not die. I never activated the collar. You can remove it and…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. “You may leave any time you wish.”

Mateo searched the choker now, found the clasp on the side and easily unlatched it.

“Good, now can we please get the hell out of here, Mateo,” Alex said.

Mateo ignored his mentor and boss for the first time in their relationship and spoke to LaMia. “What if I don’t wish to leave?”

“Do not be silly. Of course you wish to leave,” LaMia said. “Why would you wish to stay?”

Mateo heard the hopeful tone in her question, crossed the floor and closed the space between them.

“Matt, we don’t have time for this.”

Alex might as well have been speaking Chinese to him for all the attention Mateo paid.

All he could see was LaMia in front of him. All he could hear were her hectic thoughts of self-flagellation. All he could feel was her pain as he stopped in front of her and reached out to cup her face.

“I killed your family. How can you ever forgive me? How can you look at me with anything except disgust?”

“It is a shame you will never know the answer to all those questions.”

In unison, everyone turned to the open door where a woman stood leaning against the jamb.

But rather than her stance communicating calm menace as had her voice, the woman just looked plain tired.

“Mara,” Alex, Genesis, Xevera and LaMia all chorused.

It appeared that Ms. Mara was well-known in their little circle of friends.

“What are you doing here, Lamashtu?” Xevera took a protective position in front of Alex and Genesis.

“I am here for the same reason you all are here. To retrieve the exile.”

“We are here on a sanctioned assembly mission. I do not believe you can make the same claim,” Genesis said and Mateo immediately knew she was bluffing. He didn’t know how he knew or what Genesis meant by a ‘sanctioned mission,’ wondered whether or not they had come to do something worse to LaMia than just ‘retrieve’ her.