Night of the Hawk Read online

  And then—and then the damnable bastard did it to her again!

  “Shit! shit!” she screamed as he pulled free. “Goddamn you!”

  “Quiet, quiet,” he crooned, stroking her heaving belly with the flat of his hand.

  “I hate you! Why are you so cruel?”

  “Is that what you think it is?” he asked and kissed the side of her neck.

  Of everything he could have put her through, a kiss was the worst. And the best. “I don’t know anything,” she admitted when she could speak. Her anger evaporated to leave her, what, empty?

  “I know you don’t.”

  He wanted her like this, shattered and dependent. The why eluded her; maybe she’d never understand his intentions. And what was that in his tone—surely not reluctance. But maybe that explained the kiss. “Are you ever going to tell me?” Ever let me go?

  Silence.

  Instead of repeating the question, she let her thoughts drift to the hand on her belly. Wet and hot from her arousal, it spoke to an intimacy perhaps more profound than what he’d just put her through. It was one thing for a man to dive into and explore a woman’s pussy—that’s what fucking was all about, after all. But to stroke her stomach…why would he do that if his only intension was to taunt and torture until he’d broken her apart?

  He could be gentle; that’s what she couldn’t understand. And when that side of him slipped out of the cage he sometimes kept it in, she became content in ways that went far beyond sex. They hadn’t connected in the ways lovers did—nowhere close. She knew nearly nothing about him and had revealed as little as possible about herself. And yet…and yet…

  Ah, that work-honed hand of his caressing her flesh was quieting not just her agitation but the boiling need that had nearly blown her apart. For reasons she didn’t try to examine, she’d stopped worrying about being tied up and stripped and helpless within his home. Neither did she care whether anyone was trying to get in touch with her. She had no interest in the piece she’d come to Storm Bay to write and didn’t give a damn whether developer Flann Castetter’s body was ever found or if he might still be alive. Her rent and other bills—those concerns belonged to the woman she’d been before she had lain eyes on Mato Hawk.

  No, she amended as a fingertip teased her navel, the change had begun when she’d seen the photograph he’d taken of the hawk in flight.

  Flight. That’s what had happened to her. She’d flown far from everything familiar and had entered the world he’d designed for her, and for as long as he touched and whispered, she was content to have that world embrace her.

  He was no longer holding her in place. Instead his body had become a blanket enveloping hers. The same languid warmth had spread over both of them and maybe turned them into one. Wondering if that was true or even possible, she shifted so she was angled back toward him. His hands and arms stayed with her, gliding over her, increasing the heat.

  She wanted back the use of her hands. If only he’d let her touch him as he now touched her, she’d guide him into the nothing surrounding her so they could ride it together. She’d linger over the act of disrobing him, and when he was naked, she’d lean over and brush her lips over his belly. An image of his startled and vulnerable look made her smile. This hard and sometimes harsh and always-in-control man would learn that his strength was nothing in the face of her determination. He’d learn that moist kisses could bring him to his knees.

  That’s what she wanted, she acknowledged even as his hands met between her legs, for him to kneel on his Navajo rug while she forced him to stare up at her. She’d cinch a leash around his neck so her new possession would understand how fundamentally things had changed between them. She’d secure his hands behind him and tie him to the bed before grasping his cock. No matter how he fought, no matter what he said, she’d refuse to let him go until he’d obeyed her every command.

  Service me, she’d order. Bring me to climax over and over again. When I can’t come again, I’ll grant you access to me so you can experience the same release. Then I’ll leave you spread-eagled on the bed. Waiting for me.

  Although it would be easy enough for him to accomplish, he’d made no move to again invade her core. Instead his hands remained between her legs, just touching her opening, waiting for what?

  For her to surrender to him.

  “I’ll do it,” she said. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

  “You already are.”

  Was she? And was that all he wanted of her? Maybe.

  Eyelids drooping, she drew as far away from the bed as she could and then bent forward, extending her ass to him. There, the hard knot of his arousal! Rocking to one side so her buttocks glided over his jeans, she ordered herself not to cry out if he stepped away from her, but though his breath stopped and his arms tensed, he remained in place. She rocked to the other side.

  His cock was so close. So little stood between her and that incredible mix of strength and silk. Surely he knew he could have her however he wanted, whenever he wanted, as often as he wanted. She’d do much more than run her naked ass over the shielded mass until he stripped off his jeans, and by the time she was done, maybe he’d never want to put his clothes back on.

  Was that possible? she wondered as she continued her improvised assault. Her ability to satisfy him would convince him that he wanted her with him all the time, administering to him, reading and responding to his needs, putting his cock first and always.

  Nuts, absolutely nuts. And yet, maybe because she hadn’t succeeded in shaking off her near climax, she had spun a fantasy built around him. They might have to concern themselves with the mundane details of earning a living, but when the day was done, they’d reunite in this for-sex room. He’d throw her over the side of the bed so her buttocks hung over the edge supported by her bent and splayed legs. She’d wait, shivering, for him to tongue her to climax. Instead he’d fasten golden clips to her labial lips.

  Captured in ways she’d never thought possible, she would prop herself up on her elbows so she could study what he’d done to her. After letting her satisfy her curiosity, he’d add a thin gold chain to the clips and take the chain between his teeth. On hands and knees, he’d back away from the bed, bringing her with him. Master and mastered, owner and owned, partners in the night’s game.

  Heat ran down her sides. Her breasts were in constant movement as she stroked him in the only way she could. Not knowing where his hands were was disconcerting, but she still didn’t believe he intended to harm her. Although she wished she could read his expression, his raw breathing said a great deal. He could walk away if he wanted. A single backward step on his part, and her awkward attempt to tease him would end.

  A deep rumble of sound made her wonder if he’d tried to speak. Not stopping her disjointed movement, she tried to look at him only to nearly lose her balance. Planting her feet under her again, she willed him to meet her challenge by stepping even closer.

  Instead she heard the sound of a zipper tearing loose. Fresh heat burned her sides. Suddenly she couldn’t find him. Alarmed, she yanked on her bonds and once more risked her balance trying to see behind her. Sensing movement, she widened her stance. A mental image distracted her. Now the clips were on her nipples, the chain dangling nearly to her waist. More game playing? Maybe he’d had enough of games and was punishing—

  Flesh, his flesh! Something between a sob and a scream escaped her when she realized his naked cock was sliding along her crack. He hadn’t had time to remove his shoes, which meant his jeans and briefs were around his ankles, hardly the most dignified position a man could be in.

  Although she strained to separate her ass cheeks, she failed to create enough room between them for his cock to fit in. Besides, that wasn’t where she wanted him.

  “Fuck me. Please, just fuck me.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when he slapped one buttock and then the other. He’d put no strength behind the blows, and she felt no pain, only a potent wave of desire.


  “Do that again. Hit me again!”

  “Hit?”

  Hadn’t he been aware of what he’d just done? Damning the confining ropes, she willed herself not to fight them. As long as she stayed bent over like some bitch in heat, could she keep him with her?

  “You’ve had everything your way.” The moment the words were out of her, she wanted to take them back. “You have,” she continued, the damage done. “Stripping me. Tying me up. Making me crazy with—with everything you’ve done.” And everything my mind has come up with.

  “I’ve just begun.”

  Oh, god, what was he talking about? Hadn’t she already come close enough to losing her mind, and hadn’t she already lost her freedom? An overwhelming sense of defeat stole through her, causing her head to sag. Just like that, she no longer cared about trying to get Mato to fuck her.

  Maybe she didn’t, but her body still did.

  Unable to stop herself from quivering, she once more extended her ass toward him. His cock had settled along her rear valley during their brief exchange, and it was still there, a hot and heavy weight. Promising oblivion.

  “Do more than begin, then, damn it.” Despite the curse, her voice was soft and low. She felt both distanced from her body and more connected to it than she’d ever been. She’d never stood like this, never allowed a man to handle her the way she was being handled. Never bounced between such conflicted emotions. “What next, Mato? Me on my knees before you? Worshipping your cock?”

  “I don’t want you worshipping anything, damn it.”

  Despite the unexpected curse, she thought not about his anger but of the totality of his emotions. She could be wrong, but she was all but certain he, too, was in conflict. He might have had one goal in mind when he’d captured her, but it was no longer so simple for him. Suddenly sorry for him, she straightened and would have reached for him if she’d had use of her arms. Short moments later she realized her change of position had robbed him of a home for his cock and her of that delicious weight.

  “What do you want of me, then?” she asked even though she’d posed the question before.

  “Everything.”

  The man was going to drive her out of her mind! Hell, he probably already had. Gripping the wooden post her arms were tied to, she rested her forehead on the back of her hands. Enough talking! Words were getting her nowhere. Neither, obviously, had offering her body to him.

  But if he was immune, why had he exposed his penis?

  And did she want it in her?

  Yes. The answer was yes. Simple and mindless.

  Groaning in helpless frustration, she again bowed her back, which lifted her buttocks. She’d become like the mares she’d observed while doing an article on thoroughbred breeding. When it had been determined that they were in heat, the mares were led into a stall. With their halters tightly tied to opposite sides of the enclosure, they were unable to escape the stallion that had been selected for them. Granted, hormones had rendered the mares more than ready for mating, but their owners were taking no chances.

  “Then take everything!” she challenged. “Unless you’re afraid.” Where had that come from?

  She should have anticipated the slaps to her ass, damn it! After all, she might have done the same thing if the tables were turned. Far from intimidated, she lifted her head in a mix of defiance and anticipation. “Is that how you handle things when people oppose you? Violence makes you the winner?”

  By way of response, he clamped his hands over her buttocks. Awash in the delicious sensation, she continued her tirade. “That’s what it boils down to it, doesn’t it? People like Flann Castetter disappear because they don’t do what you believe they should. As for me—go on, tell me, what have I done to anger you?” Driven by the unrelenting grip, she sucked in more air. “What are you going to do to me, Mato? Kill me and leave my body in the wilderness? But not yet, not until you’re done playing with me.”

  “This isn’t play.”

  Oh, shit, he was pulling her ass cheeks apart! As for how much he could see…“You—you said you weren’t going to rape me, but why the hell not? It’s not as if I can do anything about it, or as if I’ll live to charge you.”

  “Rape?” Mato’s tone had dropped, causing her to shudder, to wait and try to anticipate. “Don’t try to deny the way you’ve been acting.” He slapped her right flank for emphasis. “You want it.”

  How right he was, only now she wasn’t sure what she wanted, thanks to his constantly changing moods. “And you don’t?”

  His breathing raged, and his hold on her…Much stronger, and pleasure would become pain. Nevertheless, she wiggled her ass at him. She would not go down without a fight, she wouldn’t! Only, a fight wasn’t what she wanted from him.

  “Do it, Mato. Just the hell do it.”

  Was something sucking the air out of the room? Because they were both holding their breaths; not so much as a whisper of sound remained, and in the silence she found something she’d never before experienced. Somehow she’d ceased to be a separate person, not because Mato had imprisoned her, but because for these moments they had the same needs and wants. She could tell him that but prayed he’d come to the same conclusion.

  Sensing the change in him, she struggled to lock on to his thoughts. Something seemed to be breaking free of whatever wall he’d build or had been built around his mind, but then he lightly raked his nails down her spine, and she howled. Heat licked her from throat to thighs, causing her to toss her head like some nervous and excited horse. Increasing her hold on the bedpost, she concentrated on keeping her legs under her. The too-familiar heat had begun to cool when he raked her again. As he did, she sweated.

  “That’s all it takes, isn’t it?” he demanded. “Whenever I touch you, you lose it.”

  She couldn’t lie to him now; what would be the point?

  “Nothing to say, Smokey? What happened?” One hand pressed down on the base of her spine while he used the other to lift her right leg. “You’ve been full of words since I ungagged you.”

  If this was what it was to be a prisoner, she never wanted to be free, especially because he was reaching between her legs. The pressure on her spine streamed through her.

  “One thing I need to hear from you,” he said as he cupped her mons and drew her close. “Is or isn’t it going to be rape?”

  “I want!” the wild animal she’d become screamed. “Want to fuck!”

  Where had his hands gone? The moment of terror faded when she realized he was still behind her, but not knowing what he had in mind had her twisting toward him. She’d reached the limits imposed by the ropes when he forced her back around via a hold on her flanks. Muttering something she sensed she didn’t want to hear, he scratched the base of her spine. She was trying to stay on top of the electric shot when he kicked her legs apart and pushed his cock home.

  His cock, inside her. An end to what had felt like years of anticipation and loneliness and wanting. Because he barely penetrated, she shouldn’t feel invaded, and yet she did. Invaded and fulfilled.

  He doesn’t want to be doing this.

  What a ludicrous thought. After all, what male didn’t want sex? But though his erection left no doubt of his arousal, his complexity ran deep.

  And not just complex. He was more than a man.

  Before she could free herself from the irrational thought, another image invaded her overloaded brain and body. This time she was given not glimpses of kinky sex but of a hawk darting in and out of the trees. Its made-for-death body was intent on something, but she couldn’t see what it was. Something had disturbed its world, and until order had been restored, it would soar and dive, soar and dive, search.

  That was Mato, too? He’d decided to fuck her as a way of relieving his tension? If only it were that simple for her.

  Desperate to distract Mato from his dark and unsettling thoughts, she closed her cunt muscles around him, and he responded in the way she prayed he would.

  Deeper. Slow. Unrele
nting. His muscles straining to control the beast in him.

  Staring unseeing at the ropes around her wrists, she followed his measured journey into her. A frenzied assault would have her already climaxing, while this, although barely manageable, allowed her to celebrate her womanhood. She was a vessel, his vessel. Cunts and cocks cared nothing about relationships, the past or present. They understood pleasure and nothing more.

  This was her pleasure, reward, and promise, so her inner tissues welcomed him one inch at a time, and although she quivered in anticipation, she trusted herself not to lose control.

  Did mares feel this delicious waiting, or was sex nothing more than the instinct for survival? How wonderful to be a human, a woman.

  A captured woman.

  What was that fantasy she’d had earlier? she pondered with him in her clear to his balls and his hands linked over her belly. Oh, yes, as her master he’d fastened clamps to her breasts and labia.

  That’s what she wanted, her breasts tingling and hot while the chain dangled between them, her labia still smarting from having the clips removed for sex. When he was done using her, he’d put them back on so she wouldn’t forget the totality of his control.

  No, she amended, the fantasy fading because he’d started pulling out of her, she’d never need clamps or ropes to remember her captor, her master, her man. Her body would never forget him.

  The ropes and her wrists blurred as her pussy wept in anticipation. She was shrinking and becoming nothing more than a cunt, a cunt housing a great cock. Much as she wanted to keep him buried in her, she needed sleek friction, so forced herself to remain still while he drew free. Losing him was like losing a part of herself, but then he returned, her lubrication guiding him home.

  His pace both maddened and relaxed her. How he could keep himself under such control alarmed her because where she was all hot need, he seemed disconnected from his body. He intended to slowly work her into mindless frenzy while calmly recording her responses? As for what he intended to do with his information and superiority…