by Sophie Oak
but it had been so long since anyone had touched her. She’d been so
lonely.
When he was satisfied with her breasts, he moved around to her
exposed back. He traced the length of her spine with a single finger.
Meg shuddered with desire under his touch as his finger lightly delved
into the valley of her cheeks.
His mouth was bare centimeters from her ear. “You’re gorgeous,
love. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I saw a woman
as fuckable as you? And, love, as to your earlier statement about
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being worried I might be hard to get away from, I promise you, you
won’t get away from me. Not ever.”
“Please,” Meg begged as her entire body went hot with wanting.
She couldn’t let this man seduce her. She had a life back home. It
wasn’t much, but it was hers. She couldn’t let herself be sold at some
marketplace to the highest bidder. “I want to go home.”
She struggled to get enough oxygen. She could feel the hard ridge
of his erection gently brushing her backside. She forced down the
impulse to beg him to use it on her. She’d never wanted a man’s touch
so much in her life.
Then he was gone, and Meg wanted to cry at the absence of his
warmth. He walked back around to her front. He seemed satisfied he
had seen what he needed. Beck’s gray eyes were kind as he looked
down on her. His sensual lips were close, so close she could feel the
heat coming off his body. His face was barely an inch from hers. He
kissed her forehead gently.
“Sorry, love. I’m your home now.” He leaned over, and his mouth
covered hers.
All thoughts fled. Meg could do nothing but concentrate on his
lips and the feel of his hands. When his tongue reached out, she found
herself softening under his dominance and letting it inside her mouth.
His hands tightened and wound around her waist. She felt so delicate
against him, a sensation she had never had before. With previous
lovers, and there hadn’t been many, she had always felt ungainly and
awkward. She never knew what to do to please them. She was far too
shy to ask them for what she wanted. The result had been a short
series of disappointing encounters. Her own husband had left her,
telling her she didn’t know how to please a man.
But she could feel Beck’s desire. He wasn’t playing a game. He
took what he wanted, and it did something for Meg. She’d read about
Dominance and submission and the fine art of BDSM, but putting the
theory to the test was something different. The chains suddenly felt
sensual rather than menacing. They held her for his pleasure.
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15
“You’re so beautiful.” Beck sighed in her ear when he broke the
kiss, moving to press his lips to her neck. His hands traced a path
from her waist to the cheeks of her ass. He pressed his body against
her. “I have to know for sure, though. Please understand, I have to
know…”
His fingers found her clitoris and began rubbing sweet, firm
circles.
“No,” Meg panted, everything in her responding to this man. This
was insane. She was not going to stand here and let this man take her.
Her mind said no, but her body and soul were not in alignment with
the thinking pattern. Her pussy was wet and pulsing for him. She
pushed against his hand. Oh, she wanted this. Why did she have to
want this? “Don’t stop.”
“Oh, I won’t stop.” Beck groaned between his clenched teeth.
“Come for me, a stoirin.”
Meg didn’t understand what he said, but she felt the intent behind
the endearment. She moaned and stopped fighting him. Fighting
hadn’t gotten her a thing so far. Maybe, just maybe, she could find
another way out, but for now, she wanted what he was offering. His
hands felt so perfect on her body. Never before had anyone played her
like a finely tuned instrument, but Beck was her musician.
He gently forced two fingers high into her cunt, keeping the
pressure on her clit with his thumb. An amazing sensation swept
through her as he fucked her with his fingers. In and out. In and out. It
was better than any previous cock she’d had. Something was
happening. Some odd and yet familiar connection seemed to open
between them, but before she could process it, her body fell over the
precipice, and she couldn’t think any more. Meg came, sobbing
against his shoulder. The orgasm strummed neatly through her body,
making her languid and submissive.
At the instant of her orgasm, she would have sworn she could feel
herself as though she was Beck. His fingers pressed high into her heat
as though for the slightest moment she could feel what he was feeling,
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warmth, sweet wetness, and a rigid hardness begging to be set loose.
It had been so odd. It was almost as if, for that moment, she had been
inside Beck. She had shared what his body experienced as he brought
her to orgasm. She’d felt so connected to him in that moment. It was
an intimacy like nothing she’d felt before.
Meg floated down. She was suddenly aware that Beck had pulled
his fingers from her pussy and wrapped both arms around her. He
hugged her to his hard body. Meg, her entire being pleasantly
lethargic, decided this had to be the best wet dream ever. She let her
head rest against his shoulder. She had never in her life come so fast
and so hard. It was just a sweet dream, and she should hold on to it.
Any minute the alarm would go off, and she would have to face
another day at the Software 4 U store. Being Beck’s love slave was
much more interesting.
Beck kissed her one last time, his mouth playing sweetly against
hers. He seemed as satisfied as she was, though he couldn’t possibly
be. His hands played with her breasts for a moment, and she could
feel her own juice on her skin. He brought his right hand up to his
mouth and sucked his fingers in, licking her cream. He finally placed
an almost chaste kiss on the tip of her nose and stepped back.
“Aye, love, you’ll do.” With that, he started out the door.
Meg’s head came up, perfectly unimpressed with that bit of
wooing. She’d been utterly overwhelmed by what they had just
shared, and he said that to her? Damn it, even the men in her dreams
were unromantic. That sounded like the line from Babe.
“Seriously, that’s what I get? I’ll do? Screw you, Beck. Send in
the next guy. We’ll see if he can do better.” Meg decided the next guy
might be even hotter. He would be French or maybe Italian. She liked
Beck’s Irish accent, but she’d always loved Italy.
Beck turned around, and Meg found herself shrinking back again.
His gray eyes were as hard as stones, and his demeanor had changed
from lazy to menacing in a heartbeat. “What did you say, love?”
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The question was a challenge. The chill in his voice almost made
her shiver.
“Nothing,” Meg repl
sense of self-preservation that was kicking into full throttle now as
Beck stalked back toward her.
“Best you say nothing right now, love, if you can’t say something
sweet.” Beck’s entire body was rigid, every muscle screaming his
frustration. “I am tired. I rode all night to get here before the
tournament. I have eaten very little, and now I’m horny as hell. I am
not in a good mood. You should understand that one of your goals in
life should be to keep me in a good mood. You have no idea the
trouble you’re going to cause me.”
Though she was so tired, Meg held her head up. The very last
thing she needed was to be told how much trouble she was. She knew.
She’d been told her whole life by a mother and father who hadn’t
really wanted her and a husband who felt the same. She might be in
chains, but she held on to her pride. “I wouldn’t want to cause you
any trouble. Please feel free to not purchase me.”
Beck sighed. Meg sensed the weariness in him. That connection
she had felt during the sex seemed like it was still open. His emotions
were almost palpable to her. His tiredness went far past the physical.
Meg knew it invaded his soul. His shoulders slumped slightly
forward. She had the sudden desire to wrap her arms around him, to
lend him her strength.
“I have waited years for this day,” he explained in an emotionless
voice. “You cannot understand the joy I should feel at finding you. I
do feel joy, but if there was any other choice, I would walk away from
you. I can offer you nothing. I’m going to spend the last of my gold
entering the tournament. I won’t even have the money to feed you. If I
had an ounce of pride left, I would let you go, but my brother is
dying. I can’t allow that to happen. You’re the only one who can save
him. I swear on everything I am that I will find a way to take care of
you.”
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He started to turn to leave. Meg felt tears welling in her eyes. She
didn’t understand everything he said, but she knew he meant it. Even
in chains and terrified for her life, she felt safe with this man.
Somehow, she’d formed a strange connection with him in those
moments his hands had been on her body. “Stop.”
Beck turned to her, his stance wary. She knew he was waiting for
her to yell at him again. She couldn’t blame him. She had been a little
difficult.
“My name is Meg,” she said softly.
She was rewarded with a slight curling of his lips. His pitch-black
hair was gathered in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Meg wondered
how it would feel flowing all around her. “I like that, Meg. I’ll call
you my own sweet Meggie.”
“If I help you with your brother, will you let me go home?”
The smile died, and Meg wished she hadn’t asked the question. “I
told you, I am your home now, me and Cian. There’s no way back,
love. Even if there was, I wouldn’t let you take it.”
Meg nodded. She accepted the situation for now. Things might be
different later, when she wasn’t chained up. Hopefully, he wouldn’t
keep her chained forever. “Are you going to buy me now?”
The sooner he bought her, the faster they could leave this place.
She knew from what he said previously that he didn’t live here. On
the road, there might be more opportunities to get away.
Beck shook his head. “It’s not like that, love. This is a tourney.
The gnomes make more money this way. Every male who wants to
purchase you buys into the tourney. We then fight until there’s only
one left standing. That man will be your master.”
“But what if you don’t win?” Meg was now horrified at the
thought. There were other men? How bad would they be? At least
Beck had proven he could be somewhat kind.
A slow, intensely confident smile split his gorgeous face. “Don’t
go worrying, love. I always win.”
Bound
19
He walked out of the tent, letting the heavy curtain fall back into
place. Meg was alone again. It was rapidly becoming evident that this
wasn’t a weird dream. She had really been taken to some strange
place. Maybe once she got outside the compound, she would be able
to tell what country she was in. The people seemed to speak English,
but there had been that strange lilting language as well. Gaelic, Rhys
had said. Yes, she thought, she would be able to get away and contact
the police.
Her head came up as a squat woman entered the room with a
pitcher and washcloths. Meg sighed. She was getting used to being
bathed. The little woman would be professional and gentle. In truth,
Meg realized she should be happy that the woman was here, humming
as she went about her work. Beck had left her with the evidence of her
orgasm all over her thighs and pussy. It would be rather embarrassing
for someone else to come in and find her covered in her own juices.
The short, blonde woman smiled up as she washed away Meg’s
reaction to Beck. “Don’t worry, miss. His Highness will be kind to
you.”
“His Highness?” Meg asked, but the woman finished her work.
With a mysterious smile, she walked out. “And what the hell did he
mean by gnomes?”
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Chapter Two
Beckett Finn, the former heir to the Seelie throne, sank into the
too-small chair in the gnome’s tiny but well-appointed office.
Everything seemed too small right now. His trousers certainly were.
Touching Meg had him hard enough to pound nails with his cock.
She was the one. He knew it deep in his soul. He had been able to
feel what was happening to her at the moment of her orgasm. It had
taken everything he had not to form the bond with her that moment,
but now was not the time, and certainly not the place. Forming a bond
with his soul’s mate was a sacred thing, and he wouldn’t do it here.
He was going to have to put her through too much to force that on her
as well.
Rhys of the Gentle Hills walked in and placed a large platter of
food on the desk between them. “I thought Your Highness might join
me in the noon meal.”
Beck’s stomach rumbled at the sight and smell of so much good
food. Gnomes knew how to cook. He nodded, trying not to betray his
excitement at the thought of being full for once. “I will. I thank you
for your hospitality, Rhys, but you have to get out of the habit of
calling me by titles that no longer have any meaning.”
He picked up two slices of dark bread and made a huge sandwich
of thick venison and a pleasant-smelling cheese.
Rhys poured water into two mugs. “You’re giving up, then? You
are content to allow your Uncle Torin to remain on the throne of your
father? The very throne he slew your father on?”
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Just like that, the food turned to sawdust in his mouth. Beck took a
long drink and forced himself to continue eating. He would need
energy for the battle to come. He needed to maintain control.
“There is nothing of contentment in my life. There hasn’t been for
the past thirteen years.” Beck’s mind started to go back to the terrible
night when he lost both his parents and his sister. He had only been
able to save his twin, Cian. He chose, as he had since that day when
he was seventeen, to look to the future. “It is not that I don’t dream of
taking back what rightfully belongs to me, Rhys. It is simply a matter
of practicality. My loyalists are gone.”
Rhys shook his bearded head vigorously. “That is untrue, Your
Highness. There are many here, and many more on the home plane.
Tir na nÒg is full of Fae longing for Your Highness.”
Beck sighed because he would have to put this to the gnome in
blunt words. It would likely ruin the man’s illusions of him, but then,
Beck no longer had use for illusions. “Peasants, Rhys, you’re talking
about peasants. While I am thrilled to have the love of the people,
money is needed to wage war, and I have none. I am barely able to
buy my way into this tourney. I have no idea how I’m going to clothe
my mate after I’ve won her. She’ll be roaming the forests in one of
my beat-up old shirts. If I can’t even take care of my mate, I’ve got no
idea how I should go about fighting a war.”
Rhys leaned forward. His small, ruddy face was fervent. “The
loyalists heard that Cian was fading. They know that if Cian dies, you
will be half a man. Symbiotic twins are very powerful, my liege, but
everyone knows that if your intellectual half fades, you will not be fit
to rule.”
“Hence my long ride through that bloody forest to get here,” Beck
admitted. “Cian is fading because he has no female. We are long past
the age when a suitable bondmate would have been found and our
triad formed. He has lost hope. He is dying. Your summons could not
have come at a better time, old friend. We are desperate.”
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Beck polished off his second sandwich and thought about a third.
It seemed rude to eat the majority of the meal.
Rhys pushed the plate toward him. “Please, Your Highness. I am
not the richest man, but allow me to aid you. Our food is plentiful. My