by Megan Crane
It didn’t occur to her to do anything but obey him, and it wouldn’t have mattered if it had. His big hands were on her hips, lifting her and then placing her where wanted her, with her back to his front. He shifted again. She felt more than heard him work at the buttons of his trousers and then he was moving his legs in between hers and kicking hers apart.
Tyr didn’t lift her so much as slide her over him, keeping her legs wide as he moved her up against his chest and then positioned her where he wanted her with the thick, blunt head of his cock nudging at her entrance. She followed her urge to reach up behind her and wrap her hands around his strong neck, arching her back as she did it, which helped him slide another slick inch inside her tight, hot pussy.
She heard herself whimper.
“You’re always so wet,” he muttered.
But he didn’t move any faster than he had the last time he’d done this, and his ironclad patience made her shake. He started to rock her against him, his hands gripping her hips as he worked her down, a little bit deeper with every thrust. The thick, hard slide of him was too much. Stretching her, again and again, more each time. Every nerve ending inside her was screaming. She thought her heart might explode. She thought she might shatter right there from the ruthless press of his hard cock deep into her, inch by sure and steely inch.
And then Tyr was finally lodged deep within her, as far as he could go. Helena felt him let out a breath against her back as she shuddered and bucked and danced all over again on the brink of almost. He let out a dirty rumble of a laugh as she wriggled in his grip, held nearly immobile against his warrior’s body even as she tried her best to move herself against that deliciously hard cock so huge and still inside her, tried to throw herself straight toward that bright, pulsing need that shimmered right there, right out of reach—
“And still so greedy,” he gritted out against the side of her neck, and he lifted her back up and off him, another hot, scalding slide and again, so damned slow. “I told you. You think about me first. When you do, Helena”—he teased her there, with only his thick cockhead still in her channel when her whole body shook for all of him, when she’d just had all of him—“I might just think about you, too.”
And then he slammed his way back into her, hard and sure and all the way, and Helena exploded—screaming out nonsense and need as she came apart all around him, as waves of impossible pleasure swept her away, again and again and again.
When she knew where she was again—and who she was, for that matter, if only dimly—Tyr was still holding her in the same position, rocking her slightly, very slightly, against his still very, very hard cock buried deep inside her.
“You’re so hot when you come,” he told her, his mouth against her neck. “The way you scream and you shake. Everybody can see how much you love this hard cock. Everybody wishes you were coming all over them, gripping them with that tight little cunt and getting them so hot and juicy. You’re dripping wet all over me, little girl. You’re making it impossible not to fuck you.”
Helena shuddered, over and over, so hard she couldn’t tell what was a leftover aftershock from the way she’d burst apart and what was reaction to the things he was saying. And he wasn’t done.
“This is the kind of camp girl the brothers live for, Helena. Tight and wild. So wrapped up in brotherhood cock she doesn’t care where she is or who sees her or what she’s doing, she just wants that cock. That’s you, baby, isn’t it? You just want this cock. Is there anything you wouldn’t do for it, Helena? Anything at all?”
Still he rocked her, hardly moving at all. Teasing her. Tormenting her. Moving her just enough so they could both feel how wet and hot and creamy she was, and how massive he was inside her, filling her and stretching her to her limit. Just enough so she could writhe against him in utter abandon, rubbing her ass against him and letting her head fall back down on his shoulder.
She was mindless. And he was right about her. She’d do anything for this. Anything for him. Anything he told her to do with that voice like long, hot licks of flame and gravel, burning her up and rubbing her raw at once.
“Anything,” she whispered, or maybe she screamed it. She didn’t care.
And Tyr laughed, wicked and deadly. It tore through her. It made everything inside her clutch, and that only made him laugh again.
He shifted beneath her, but kept his cock deep inside of her as he did. He let go of her hips and reached down to take hold of her thighs, drawing them wide open and then hooking her legs over the arms of the chair as he sat forward and hooked her around the waist with one powerful arm.
The new position brought him deeper instantly, so deep his penetration seemed to hover there on the verge of pain, and every shuddering breath Helena took made it worse. Or better. She couldn’t tell which.
Maybe she liked both.
“Now everyone can see you,” he said at her ear, pulling back and then thrusting in hard, that arm wrapped around her middle holding her right where he wanted her. “You’re spread open like a feast, Helena. What do you think the clan can see?”
Her head was tipped back and her eyes were shut, but that didn’t matter. She could imagine it. That huge cock filling her so easily, so smoothly, now she was so gloriously wet. Tyr set an intense pace, holding her still above him, so there was nothing she could do but surrender to each wild thrust.
It was too much to handle. It was more than she could take. He was too much. But every time she started to tell him so, he slammed into her again. And the shock of it rolled through her like thunder, skating on that edge of pleasure and pain, rumbling out to make every single part of her quiver and yearn. Rendering her nothing but needy and desperate. Making it impossible for her to do anything but take it.
And only when he’d done that for what seemed like forever did he start to use his free hand to make it all that much worse.
He teased her nipples, tugging and pinching each one, making them stiff with as much agony as hunger, a searing counterpoint to the way he ruthlessly thrust into her. He trailed his big hand down to her cunt, rubbing the heel of his palm against her mound while his cock maintained that intense pounding below. Then he played with her folds, tracing them and tugging on them, slipping this way and that, never quite grazing her clit where it stood tall and begged for his attention.
Tyr pulled his hand away from her pussy and brought it to her mouth, shifting slightly so her head was cushioned there on his shoulder and he could watch her face.
“Look at me,” he ordered her, and his voice was strained, which thrilled her. It meant she was getting to him, too—and it should have shocked her, how much she needed to believe she could.
Helena had to fight to open her eyes as ordered and when she did, she nearly came all over him again from that alone. Tyr’s harsh face was stark and set, his dark gold eyes a raging fire, and when he fed her his fingers covered in her own cream, it didn’t cross her mind to do anything but suck on them.
She pretended it was his cock. That enormous cock that battered into her so gloriously, over and over, as if he could keep going like that forever. She believed he could. She believed in that moment this man could do anything.
So she took his fingers in her mouth the way she’d sucked him off in the lobby. She tasted herself, the sharp musk of her own desire, and the flavor exploded through her, making her rock herself that much harder against that implacable hold of his.
She met his gaze, his cock deep in her pussy while he thrust his fingers into her mouth, her nipples tingling and aching from the way he’d tormented them, and she thought that molten, volcanic heat that burned in him was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life.
This is the most beautiful thing that has ever happened in your life, Helena told herself in some kind of awe or wonder, the sentiment welling up from some undiscovered part of her only he’d ever touched, and it was true. It was. This was elemental. This was perfect.
He was.
“Damn you,” Tyr m
uttered, which she didn’t understand, but he tore his fingers away and then he slammed his mouth to hers.
And then he kept the promises he’d made in one way or another since he’d demanded she stand up in the rain. He ate her alive.
His mouth was nearly brutal on hers, wet and dirty and gorgeously filthy, and she exulted in it. She met it, exulted in it. She tasted him, her, and her own sharp need. His hand cupped her breast, a little too hard, but that was perfect too, so damned perfect she tried to shove herself into his callused palm. That arm around her middle was like an iron bar and her legs ached from their unnatural, spread-wide position, and she loved all of that, too.
Because he pounded into her and he pounded into her, that cock of his so hard and so ruthless she was coming again without warning, jolting and jerking and crying into his mouth, red hot and sweaty and he didn’t even pause. He kept going, throwing her from one wild shattering straight into the heart of the fire all over again.
Tyr moved the hand at her breast to her pussy then, as his thrusts started to change rhythm and become erratic, almost uncontrolled. Finally, finally, he found her clit and started to rub it in rough little circles. Helena squirmed and she moaned, and she had no idea what she was saying, what she was doing. She tried to clench around him to try to ease the wild tension or hasten the inevitable shattering or something, but he was relentless.
And he was in complete and total control. Of her. Of this.
Her whole world was the slick, hard way he surged into her and that wicked hand on her clit, his tongue in her mouth and that tough warrior’s body surrounding her. Helena was lost in it. She was reborn in it. She thought she might have died in it, over and over again.
He pressed down hard on her clit and then he slammed himself into her, even harder than before. Once. Then again. And on the third beautifully ruthless thrust she exploded, bucking against him, not caring if she made that high, keening noise or if the entire damned planet heard her because he was coming, too. He was jerking himself into her again and again, scalding her with the heat of it, so hot it made her shiver and clench all over again.
The world could have ended again. Maybe it did.
For once in her life, Helena didn’t care either way.
It seemed as if whole seasons had passed before Tyr shifted her against him, making her realize she’d drifted off somewhere. He unhooked her legs from the chair’s arms, and she blew out a breath as they slid back over his, not knowing what to feel besides that deep tremble in her leg muscles. She cherished every ache in her limbs, in her breasts and her pussy. She was a little bit afraid of the matching one in her chest.
And he was still lodged deep inside her, and Helena thought maybe she was a little afraid of that, too. Of how good he felt. Of how right he felt. As if her whole life she’d been staggering around in the dark without knowing it, not realizing that she’d been built for this. For him.
Maybe she really could share her mission with him after all, she thought idly. Almost dreamily. Maybe she wasn’t destined to be so alone after all. Maybe the point of losing her parents, of seeing Melyssa’s true selfish colors, had been to find this man and all his lethal brothers to help her do what she’d found so damned hard to do all by herself. He’d wasn’t thrilled about Krajic, but that didn’t make it him an enemy. Maybe it made him the perfect ally.
Maybe he was a part of this thing she needed to do. Not a detour from the path she was supposed to be on, after all.
Tyr wrapped his other arm around her as he sat forward, crossing them both over her and holding her there so she could look out over the party that raged on around them, no matter how quiet and peaceful she felt inside.
“We could have some more sex,” he said, his voice shockingly, hideously cool. It slapped her. Hard. He might as well have used his big, tough hand and knocked her to the ground. “But that’s kind of greedy. I’m the war chief. It sets a bad example to keep such prime pussy to myself.”
He was still inside her. That was what Helena focused on, as if coming to terms with that would somehow make what he was saying all right. Or palatable, anyway.
It didn’t.
“A celebration like this means you have all kinds of options,” he continued, so easily, as if his words weren’t like nails dug deep into her tender skin. He nodded at the nearest raider. “Theo there is a boat builder. He’s old and twisted and famous for his massive dick. I’ve warmed you up enough, it might not hurt.” He dropped his head close to hers as if he couldn’t tell that she’d gone stiff with horror, and then jutted his chin at the next raider on the other side of their table. “And next to him is Cary. We inherited him from another clan to the north. An odd little bastard, I won’t lie, but he can do a little magic with his tongue. He likes to lick ass and freshly used pussy especially.” His arms tightened around her as she flinched and tried to pull away from him. “Problem, Helena?”
“I don’t—”
She didn’t know how she stopped herself. She was breathing too hard. Her eyes were blurry with tears, and her stomach had dropped so far toward the floor she thought she might never find it again.
This was what she’d asked for. This was what she wanted. He wasn’t doing something to her. He was talking about sharing her with these tough, scary men because that’s what she’d said she wanted. That was what being a camp girl was.
And his cock was still inside her and worse, impossibly, it stirred. She couldn’t help herself. She clenched against him, and Tyr laughed.
“God, you’re tight,” he said, approvingly, and she was truly sick in the head, she understood then, because even now a compliment from him made her flush with pleasure. Even a compliment like that. Even now, when the things he was talking about horrified her. “Everybody loves a tight cunt, sweetheart. And you’ll learn how to properly take a cock down your throat eventually. It’s too bad that Riordan had to leave, because he’s a dedicated ass man, but that’s okay. I’m betting this is a virgin ass, and there will be no shortage of takers to get a piece of it.”
“Please.”
She shouldn’t have said anything. She couldn’t say anything.
“Please what?” His voice was dangerous and aloof.
Helena felt something huge and black and suffocating expand inside of her, and she couldn’t see a thing now, with all that wet heat clouding her eyes, betraying her.
She pulled in a breath. “Please, I can’t wait. I’m so excited.”
Helena said it. She heard herself say it. She felt her lips move. But it didn’t sound like her—it sounded like a sob. It sounded broken.
And then Tyr made it worse. He picked her up, pulling out of her and setting her on her feet again in a single swift movement that felt a whole lot like unbearable loss. Helena thought her knees might not hold her, that she might simply crumple to the hard floor and there was a part of her that might not have minded that. But he reached out and steadied her, turning her to face him as he did it.
“Funny, you don’t look excited.”
Her lips were so dry. How had they gotten so dry? “Well, I am. This is my dream come true.”
Tyr eyed her as he tucked his cock away, still lounging there before her like he didn’t have a care in the world. He probably didn’t. This was all fun to him, she imagined. An unremarkable night in his life as war chief of the barbarian horde, knee deep in sweet and joyful camp girl ass—images that made her feel as if her stomach were filled with sharp blades. Helena had a mountain-sized stone parked in her belly, apparently, making those blades cut into her that much deeper. So deep she tasted copper in her mouth.
“That would probably be more convincing if you didn’t sound like you were standing at a gravesite,” Tyr observed after a moment.
Helena finally managed to blink back the threat of tears, and concentrated on the threat of him instead, which was quite obviously the greater worry. “I don’t know what you want from me. Cartwheels?”
“That would be one way to announce the fa
ct you’re raring to get started in your new career, sweetheart. Go ahead.”
In her head, she did it. She turned her back on him and walked into the crowd, then threw her hands up toward the far-off ceiling before pitching herself forward toward the ground. She doubted she’d make it that far. She imagined there’d be hands on her before she started, or maybe she’d flip upside down and find herself held that way, a face buried deep in her pussy. She was naked and there was nothing here but sex, everywhere she looked.
And even in her head, where she did all of those things and more, the man she pictured doing it with was Tyr.
In reality, she was standing in front of him, doing nothing. Again. Because she didn’t know what to do. She only knew she didn’t want to do the things she’d claimed she’d wanted. And that admitting that would be a bone-deep betrayal of everything she’d thought she was.
You should be willing to do anything, Melyssa! she’d snapped at her sister once. Mom and Dad died for this. They were murdered. They sacrificed everything—how can we do any less?
But it had turned out that Melyssa was fine with doing a great deal less. Helena was not. She’d always been so sure that if given the opportunity, she’d do absolutely anything at all if it would get her closer to her family’s goal.
Absolutely anything. Even this.
“Do you need me to pick someone out for you?” Tyr asked, still in that obnoxiously cool way. He stood then, a slow stretch up from his chair to tower over her, and her little asshole of a body flickered to life again, all licks of flame and that same not-quite-slumbering hunger. As if what mattered wasn’t the vows she’d made or the people she’d lost, but him. Only him. Are you still feeling shy? I just fucked you like we were on a stage, Helena. You don’t have any secrets left. Not from a single member of this clan.”
“I don’t…”
I don’t want to do this. But she had to. And looking up at him now, at the way his dark gold eyes fastened on her with a ferocity that made her neck prickle, she thought it might kill her. It might actually kill her.