SurrendersMischief (16 page)

The urge to stroke his muzzle, to erase that look of
intense sadness, had her taking one step toward the creature.

The dragon’s head snaked forward. Its tongue flickered
out, tasting her cheek.

She screamed.

The great, gaping jaw moved, working awkwardly.

Frantic, Danella bent down, her eyes never leaving the
beast as she scrambled for the dagger. She had to kill him before he killed
her.

The dragon watched her with almost intelligent eyes, its
gaze following her every movement. In the silver depths of its eyes, Danella
saw acceptance.

The dragon lowered its head, presenting the vulnerable
spot where spine joined skull.

It waited.

Riana fingered the Badge of Rank around her neck. Lifting
the emblem of Darias’ house, she studied it closely for the first time. The
dragon, carved in precious fireice, was an exact duplicate of the illustration
in her book.

Was it possible? Could Tarbos actually be the mystery planet
she’d contemplated searching for? If so, life here had been much different in
those days. Nothing in the book hinted that women were without rights,
considered little more than property.

All at once the sense of missing something important she’d
had when she first accessed Nexar’s computer system, clicked into place. The
similarities between Nexar’s written language and that in the book were
striking. Although…it could mean nothing more than Nexar had the same ancestral
planet as those in the other sector. Just as the identical rendering of the
dragons could be nothing more than coincidence. Ah, well, that was a mystery she
didn’t have time to solve now.

She smoothed the tip of her finger over the words, lingering
on the description of the dragon. In some ways, Darias reminded her of the
dragon. He too was trapped. Oh, not in the body of a beast, but by tradition.
But at least the dragon had wanted to return to the form of the man. Darias
enjoyed being the beast. He liked having the power to punish, to rule.

A frown creased her brow. In the last five sennights alone,
she’d had to reprimand Darias in the Nexarian way several times. Oh, he’d been
careful not to push so hard that she took him into the garden or spanked his
ass in the Great Hall as she’d threatened.

Still, he’d managed to organize the men and headed the
effort to undermine the women’s attempt to function as heads-of-household. He
was just sneakier about it.

Darias seemed incapable of accepting change.

Riana shut the book and leaned back in the chair.

But was that strictly the truth? While it was true that
Darias was dedicated to toppling her from the position of Supreme Chief and
setting about the roles of men and women as he felt they should be, Riana had
noticed a few changes.

For one, Darias no longer automatically dismissed her
observations. He’d even agreed with a few of her ideas on restarting the
economy. Not, Riana thought with a wry twist to her mouth, her decision to
contact the Far Islands, however. He was still dead set on preventing that from
taking place.

For another, he wasn’t so quick to throw tradition in her
face during sex. If she didn’t know better, Riana would think Darias was
rethinking his position on what was and wasn’t allowed.

She grinned.

If she wasn’t afraid it would give him heart failure, she’d
introduce him to a couple of the more exotic toys in her hold.

There was this one paddle that…

Riana wriggled in the chair as she grew warm between her
legs. Why couldn’t she get the thought of spanking Darias out of her mind? So
it made her hot. She’d be a fool to think he’d want to go over her knee after
the way she’d blistered his butt.

Although…

He had gotten an erection when she brushed his cock right
after the spanking. Surely that had to mean something. Riana licked her lips.
Did she dare try? What if she was mistaken and he hated her spanking him?

And what if he didn’t?

* * * * *

The lights in the bedchamber were dim. Darias paused before
shutting the door behind him, suddenly uneasy. Had Riana found out about his
little sabotage with the computer system? Did she know that he’d tucked the
trade agreements away in hidden files?

He hoped not. She might make good on her threat and beat him
in the Great Hall. At the very least, it would mean a punishment in the garden.

Worse than that, it might mean she knew how to undo the
damage.

“Riana?”

No answer.

“Riana?” Where was she?

Soft cloth suddenly covered his eyes. Instinctively, his
hands went up to remove it.

“No. Hold still.” Her voice was soft in his ear. Her breath
warmed the side of his neck. Her scent surrounded him.

“Riana, what are you doing?” His mouth went dry and his body
tautened.

“Hush, slave. You must obey my every command.” Her tone was
stern, but her hands were gentle as they knotted the piece of silk behind his
head.

Excitement rushed through Darias’ blood.

He felt her hands on the leather harness on his chest, felt
the tug on the buckles as she worked each one. A muted thump, and it was on the
floor. Her thumbs brushed his nipples, once, twice, three times. Light touches,
never long enough, never hard enough. His nipples pulled tight into hard nubs.

The hot heat of her breath bathed the puckered flesh through
the sheer silk of his tunic.

Darias thought he’d go out of his mind. He waited, breath
bated, for her to move that final fraction and cover his nipple with her mouth.

She grabbed the hem of the tunic and pushed it up, dragging
the material with delicate roughness across the muscles of his stomach, to his
chest.

“Yes,” he murmured, wanting nothing more than to take her
head in his hands and guide her mouth to his chest. But Darias didn’t move. She
hadn’t told him she could use his hands. Mayhap she wouldn’t care, but Darias
was in no mind to have her stop now. Not before he saw where she was taking
him.

Sex with Riana since she became Supreme Chief had been an
eye opener. Things that had heretofore been reserved for punishment became an
intrinsic part of sex. Darias had never realized that having a woman use her
mouth on him could be so pleasurable.

His breath came faster as he felt the warm brush of her
breath against his stomach. His muscles contracted sharply.

The tip of her tongue traced the outline of the shallow
indent in his stomach before dipping inside. His hands came up without thought,
holding her head between his palms.

“Hands at your sides.”

His fingers tightened at the sharp command before, with a
frustrated groan, he complied. He could feel her smile against his stomach. The
urge to ignore her, to take what he wanted, was stayed by the even stronger
urge to see how far she’d take him this time.

He was embarrassed by his need to submit, to give up all
control to Riana. Darias soothed his pride by telling himself he was
honor-bound to obey. He’d given his word.

His word was his honor.

She licked a delicate path up his stomach, tiny, wet touches
that ruffled the line of hair that led to his groin.

He forgot about why he was standing there obeying her
commands, forgot about his honor. All he wanted was for her to trace that line
of hair down, down to where his erection was swelling, to where his balls ached
with anticipation.

Almost as if she could read his mind, Riana went the
opposite direction.

“Contrary wench.” He didn’t realize he’d spoke aloud until
soft laughter washed over his rib cage.

“Do you want more?”

Her lips moved on his skin as she spoke. Darias stifled
another groan. If he said yes, would she drive him crazy?

Her tongue skipped up and down the ladder of his ribs.

“Yes. I want your mouth on my cock.” The words burst out of
him. Krel. Had he actually said that? Had he really asked for
that
?

He stiffened, mentally trying to pull back, to regain
control.

Her teeth closed about one distended masculine nub, nipping
daintily.

Air hissed from between his teeth.

As if that were a signal, Riana began a concentrated assault
on his senses, licking, nipping and sucking at his chest.

His heart thundered in his chest, stuttering when she found
a particularly sensitive spot.

“Take your tunic off.”

Darias didn’t even think. He ripped the flimsy material in
half with a quick pull, dropping the ruined garment in a careless heap on the
floor.

“Well, that’s one way, I guess.”

Unable to see her expression, to judge if she were amused or
irritated at his impatience, Darias stilled.

Please, may she not stop.

Her hand cupped his genitals, testing their weight, the
extent of his need. Behind the blindfold, his eyes closed in relief.

“You’ve been very bad. Ruining your clothes.”

His eyes shot open.

“You need to be punished.”

His heart jumped even as his cock grew harder. Was she
serious? Would she really punish him for such a minor infraction?

Her hand squeezed in warning.

“Do you not?”

Darias cleared his throat. Should he agree or disagree? Was
she truly angry or was she playing one of her games with him? The not knowing
added an extra fillip of excitement.

She squeezed again, a little harder.

“Yes.” It was all he could manage, and barely that. Darias
didn’t recognize his own voice, rough and hoarse as it was.

Her hands settled on his hips and Darias let her lead him,
trusting that she wouldn’t let him trip over anything. Vaguely, he recognized
the extent of that trust, but then pushed the disturbing thought away. His
world narrowed, became the heat of her hands through his silk breeches, the
sound of his breathing, harsh and uneven, in his own ears, and her warm,
womanly scent that filled his nostrils.

They stopped. Darias heard the give of the mattress and
sensed rather than felt that Riana had sat down on the bed. His heart skipped a
beat and then his pulse began thrumming in his ears.

“Remove your breeches.”

His cock quivered. Encased in the thong and showcased by the
black silk of his breeches, Darias knew there was no way she could have missed
the betraying reaction. His hands went for the blindfold.

“No, leave that on. I like the fact that you know but can’t
see me watching you undress.” Her voice was husky but firm.

Darias was somewhat reassured by that subtle evidence of her
arousal.

He spread his legs for balance as his hands went to the
waistband of his breeches. Leather brushed the outside of his thighs. He was
standing between her spread legs. Fire raced through his blood at the image that
formed in his mind.

His fingers fumbled in his eagerness. Damn, he was acting
like an untried youth. Still, he couldn’t seem to grasp hold of his composure.
He untied the lace closing his breeches, loosening it enough to slide his
breeches down his hips.

“No. Unthread the lace. Slowly.”

Slow. His blood was on fire and she wanted slow? He inhaled
in an effort to do as she asked. It wasn’t easy. His every instinct roared at
him to shuck his clothes and then throw her back on the bed and bury his
throbbing cock in her woman’s wetness.

Darias tugged the lacing through the eyelets, a faint tremor
in his fingers, one end at a time. At last he was down to the bottom two
eyelets. His cock, still constrained in the thong, pressed upward, rubbing
against his hand. Even that small contact was almost too much.

He started to rip the last of the lacing free then stopped.
If he didn’t do exactly as she asked, would she end this tantalizing game?

The faintest of pressure tickled his balls. “Slowly,” she
reminded him.

A shuddering breath leaked from his chest. Gripping the
bottom of the lacing between thumb and forefinger, Darias pulled. Slowly. He
gritted his teeth as the silk tie twined around his aching cock. Each tug on
the tie tugged on his cock.

Darias nearly lost it.

The moment the tie came free, he dropped it with an audible
sigh of relief.

His breeches dropped as far as his knees, prevented from
going any further by his spread legs.

Her hands were there immediately, silently telling him to
shift so she could ease his breeches the rest of the way down.

He did as instructed, acutely conscious of the fact that his
cock must be mere centimeters from her face.

From her mouth.

He swallowed a groan.

Krel, he wanted to feel the warm, wet depths of her mouth
around his cock again. Wrong or not, Darias knew he’d kill for the opportunity.

“Now the thong.”

He was shoving the indecent scrap of material over his hips
when he stopped abruptly. It just occurred to him what had happened the last
time she had given him a similar set of instructions.

She’d blistered his ass so hard that he bore the marks for
several days.

Nerves he hadn’t known he possessed set up a dance in the
pit of his stomach, vying with an equally disconcerting excitement of once
again baring his ass to her stroke.

His cock had no such qualms. It leaped to attention.

Filled with an unsettling mixture of trepidation and lust,
Darias shoved the thong down and stepped out of both breeches and thong.

A drop of pre-come beaded on the head of his cock.

“Use your hand to pleasure yourself.”

“I cannot,” he protested without thought.

She made her displeasure with his refusal clear with a light
swat on his thigh. Another drop formed.

“You can and you will. My will is your will. Now pleasure
yourself.”

Feeling acutely self-conscious, Darias took his rock-hard
cock in his hand. Self-pleasuring was against the rules. His throat worked as
he struggled to do as commanded against years of training that a warrior never
touched himself.