Page 14 of Come Fill Me

Her powerful inner muscles tightened around his shaft, increasing the friction between them, making the wait for orgasm almost cruel.

Tearing her mouth from his, she came first, choking down a cry. Zeke wasn’t about to restrain himself. On an uncivilized growl, one born from a heritage of warriors, he tumbled over theedge, his come flowing into her.

Their tattered breaths mingled. She smelled of him, he of her. Damp with sweat and still breathing hard, he lifted his head and opened his eyes. They adjusted instantly to the room’s rosy glow, allowing Zeke his first look at her.

A blush deepened her olive complexion, complementing her reddish-brown hair, tangled from their bed play. Looking to be in her early thirties, she was decidedly sultry, her plump bottom lip, her sensual features the stuff of men’s fantasies.

Zeke’s cock stirred within her, wanting more.

She knew. Her lids fluttered then slid open. Hazel eyes, still drugged from sex, stared back at him.

As they had in his visions.

Liz Munez,his mind said, telling Zeke what his journey toward death had allowed him to forget. She was Carreon’s plaything, a tool to heal his injured men and now him.

All at once, everything fell into place, reminding him of why he was here and of her true intent. She’d poured her gift into him tonight and saved him so Carreon could learn of his people’s stronghold, using Zeke’s knowledge and visions to plan his next attack on them.

He clenched his jaw.

Immediate alarm flooded her features. Her expression pleaded.

This time, Zeke was unmoved. She’d brought him back so Carreon could torture him, and still she expected his forgiveness? His fucking understanding?

The most he could offer was not to hurt her deliberately, though that hardly meant he was through with her. He wasn’t. Not by some measure.

On that thought, Zeke leaned down. Liz’s face froze in terror then went slack with surprise as he brushed his mouth over hers, his touch exceedingly tender.

He needed her docile, not alarmed.

Still cautious, she tried to resist his gentle attention but failed, parting her lips to his. The pleasure of tasting her, of having her in this small way, lasted mere seconds.

Ending their kiss, he pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I know who you are, Liz, and you know that I’m Zeke Neekoma. Whatever you’ve been told about me, you better listen to this—Carreon’s going to kill you. I’ve seen your murder in my mind. If you want to live, you have to come with me.”

Chapter Three

Her skin stung with apprehension then went clammy with overwhelming dread.

Carreon was going to kill her? If she wanted to live, she had to go with Zeke?

What in the hell was he talking about? Did he believe they were alone in this room? Even if he did, was he foolish enough to think they had a clear way out of the mansion or that she’d actually leave with him? To go where? To do what?

They were freaking enemies. She’d seen that truth on his face seconds before he’d kissed her with such touching sweetness she’d nearly whimpered. Was it an act? How could it be anything else? He was playing on her previous response to him, using it to his advantage, thinking it would make her trust his lies more easily than she would Carreon’s.

No way. Not this time. She knew how men like him and Carreon charmed a woman to get what they wanted. At least initially. Once they assured their hold on a victim, they became hard and murderous. It was in their blood, both from their ancient warring tribes and the aliens.

Planting her hands on Zeke’s biceps, Liz pushed as hard as she could, grunting with the effort.

Zeke didn’t make any noise. Nor did he move.

Fuck. With all the strength she owned, Liz shoved the heels of her hands against his muscular pecs. Zeke lifted his face, his expression indifferent at her futile effort. Oh yeah? She dug her nails into him.

If he suffered any pain, he didn’t show it, nor did she see the kind of rage that flared so frequently in Carreon. Zeke regarded her with seeming calm, his irises as black as charcoal.

She mouthed,Get off me.

He did not.

She dug her nails deeper, intent on drawing blood or removing hunks of flesh if necessary.

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