Deep Water #2
He raised his head. The warlord stared at her wet lips. The crushing rage gave way to a heavy, pitch-black hunger. He ground his jaw, rubbed his rough, unshaven cheek against hers, smearing the water between them. “Heal,” he growled. It wasn't a command to her. It was a fact. His prerogative.
His hand slid from her hair, traveled down to her waist. Beneath the turquoise water's surface, his thick, rough fingers found the inside of her thigh.
The water felt like soft silk, but his touch was demanding, compelling, and dominant.
He spread her left leg, pressed her knee gently but relentlessly outward, and opened her completely to himself.
Jules's breath caught. The overwhelming fullness of her last wild orgasm still throbbed as a dull, irritated echo in her core.
She was slick and sensitive, but the touch of his fingers immediately reignited the hot pull.
“Kore, I'm... damn sensitive,” she whispered hoarsely, but she didn't close her legs.
On the contrary. She pressed her pelvis instinctively a few millimeters toward him, seeking the heat radiating from his body.
A deep, vibrating purr answered her, making the rock at her back thrum. “Know. Will heal. Will erase.”
He pulled her down slightly in the water until she was almost floating, the weight of her trembling body carried by the thermal spring, held only by his hand at her lower back and the iron grip around her thigh.
He didn't dive under. He pressed his hips forward. The thick shaft—covered with pulsing veins, already risen again to full, titanic hardness in the hot water—rubbed gently yet demandingly against her wet, swollen entrance.
No brutal thrust. No crushing, wild conquest like on the furs or in the river mud. This time was different. It was deliberate. It was concentrated, undivided attention.
Kore held her gaze captive. The golden eyes glowed softly.
He pushed his narrow, steel-hard hips forward millimeter by millimeter.
The broad tip slid into her. The hot thermal water served as a slick barrier, mixing with her own wetness.
Jules closed her eyes, threw her head back, and released a long, trembling sigh that echoed off the cave walls.
He entered her infinitely slowly. Every millimeter was calibrated.
The feline, cartilaginous barbs on his anatomy, which had driven her to madness earlier, lay completely flat.
It was a conscious, instinctive decision of his biology to minimize the scratching sting and maximize the sheer, pressing fullness.
He filled her up, stretched the soft, oversensitive flesh carefully until her innermost depths enclosed every inch of his shaft like a perfectly fitting glove.
“Look at me,” he growled softly. The vibration transferred directly to her belly.
Jules opened her eyes. The warlord was buried inside her to the hilt. He filled her completely, his hard, scar-covered belly pressed against hers. The heat beneath the water's surface was indescribable, a throbbing knot of perfect connection.
He began to move. A slow, grinding rhythm.
He pulled his hips back only halfway, maintaining constant pressure, and thrust back in with a gentle, heavy push.
The water swirled around their tightly entwined bodies.
Jules threw her head back. The rock against her back was damp and cool—a grounding contrast to the fire burning low in her core.
Kore's hands wandered over her body. Large, rough palms glided over her ribs, possessively stroking her bare breasts.
He cupped them heavily, dragging his thumbs across the hard peaks.
Each stroke was animalistic worship, a systematic overwriting of every trauma she had ever endured.
He burned the memory of appraising gazes and cold auction halls from her flesh and replaced them with the weight of his dominance.
She was not for sale. She was untouchable.
The slow tempo was its own kind of fiery torture.
The constant, pressing fullness inside her dissolved Jules' clear mind into a haze of heat and hard muscle.
She clung to his broad shoulders, her fingernails digging lightly into his skin—not to push him away, but to anchor herself against the wet rush threatening to drown her.
“Faster,” she begged softly, her voice a trembling gasp against his throat. “Please, Kore.”
“No.” His answer was a deep growl that brooked no argument. He pressed his forehead against hers, their damp noses touching. “My rhythm. My healing. You take.”
He pulled his hips back almost completely, letting her feel the emptiness for a fraction of a second, only to thrust deep, steady, and crushing into her the next moment. The impact tore a loud, piercing moan from Jules. The echo reverberated wildly through the glowing cavern.
He tormented her with the slowness. He ground his pelvis in deep, circular movements against her mound, rubbing the hard base of his shaft directly over her swollen clit. The turquoise water splashed heavily in time with their merged movements.
Jules lost all concept of time. The darkness, the splashing water, the ghostly glow of the mushrooms—everything merged into a vortex of throbbing flesh and animalistic heat. She tensed her inner walls, milking his long, hard cock with each wave of arousal that shot through her core.
Kore snarled. The vibration in his chest became rougher, more uncontrolled.
The discipline he had imposed on himself began to crumble under the pressure of her wet, sucking tightness.
The golden eyes flared bright again. “You take everything,” he forced out, his voice a hoarse, rasping growl. “Force me.”
He accelerated the tempo without Jules having to beg.
The gentle thrusts transformed into hard, demanding rhythms. He yanked her legs higher, wrapped his thick scaled tail possessively around her thighs, and pinned her against the cave wall.
The water slapped hard with each thrust, raining down over them like spray.
The feline barbs on his shaft reacted to his loss of control. They raised slightly. Not razor-sharp like the first time, but just enough to rake gently across her sensitive flesh with each withdrawal, driving the stimulation to astronomical heights.
Jules thrashed her head back and forth, wet hair whipping across the rock. “Yes,” she screamed, an uninhibited, raw sound. “God, Kore, yes!”
The overstimulation hit her like a force of nature.
The orgasm built deep in her core, a blazing, unstoppable fire that tore through her nerve endings.
She blindly sank her teeth into Kore's shoulder as the first convulsing wave crashed through her.
She clamped around him, squeezing his flesh with all the uncontrolled force of her release, while stars exploded before her eyes.
Kore's roar drowned out her screaming. He rammed himself one last, crushing time deep inside her, pressed her into the rock, and froze.
The knot at the base of his cock swelled rapidly. Jules moaned loudly as it stretched her from within, the bonding mechanism locking into place. The lock closed with merciless pressure. Trapped in the water. Trapped by him.
He pumped. Hot, heavy seed shot with brutal force against her cervix, flooding her, burning hotter than the sulfur spring, overwriting every fiber of her existence.
The pulsing surges immediately reignited her orgasm, hurling her into an endless, convulsing void where only his heavy weight and his racing pulse existed.
When the surges finally ebbed, Kore let his heavy head sink onto her shoulder.
His rasping breath grazed her skin. The water of the spring carried them both, taking the weight from their bodies.
They were anchored in the turquoise light, finally breathing in the same steady rhythm after what felt like an eternity.
The demons of Station Theta were not dead, but they had been thoroughly drowned for tonight.
Once again, Jules lost all sense of time.
When the thick knot inside her finally subsided and released her, Kore gently lifted her from the water.
He carried her through the darkness, wrapped her in the soft, dry furs of their nest in the bunker, and pulled her tight against his hot chest. The massive arms closed around her like a vault.
Jules curled up, infinitely sheltered in the dark, breathed in his musk, and fell into a dreamless, death-like sleep.
It was the peaceful silence before the world around them exploded.