Page 10 of Come Fill Me

From the side, one of the men, possibly Carreon, cleared his throat.

At the sound, Liz went still, her lips no more than an inch from Zeke’s shaft. Surprised that she’d been about to kiss it, not recalling her intention to do so, she jerked away.

Light-headed, she placed her palm on Zeke’s hard belly, her forefinger tracing his navel. Black hairs circled it then arrowed down to his groin. With a light touch, Liz directed her palm to his right pec, the pads of her fingers brushing the small point of his nipple.

Nothing happened. The areola remained smooth.

She increased the pressure of her caress.

He didn’t respond.

She wanted to run from the room and shout for her father, knowing instinctively she’d never reach him before Carreon intervened. Strands of hair clung to Liz’s neck, suddenly stickywith perspiration. Taking Zeke’s hand, she folded his thick fingers back then laced her fingers through his, pressing their palms together so their lifelines touched.

A spark similar to static electricity passed from her to him.

She didn’t wait to see if it had any effect. To do so would have her agonizing about failure. Instead, she trailed her other hand up the inside of his arm to his pit.

The utter masculinity of that hair stole her breath. As Liz stroked the unruly tuft, releasing a wave of his heady scent, she regarded his heavy brows, long spiky lashes, the shadows they created on his cheeks.

She fought the urge to lean down and press her lips to his. Still touching him, she glanced at his nostrils, seeing no movement. Beneath his lids, his eyes were still, like those of the dead rather than someone who merely slumbered.

Was he fighting her because he wanted to continue his journey to the other side? Was he able to do that because of his unique bloodline and heri—

“What’s taking so long?”

Flinching at Carreon’s voice, Liz released Zeke’s hand. The tips of his fingers grazed her nipple and the curve of her belly before coming to a rest on her mound.

She should have stepped back but didn’t. Her hair swung forward, hiding her face as she looked down at his hand.

From the side, a chair’s legs skidded over the wood, as though Carreon was jerking it closer to the bed.

“Touch his wounds,” he instructed. “Heal him. Make him conscious.”

She argued, “If I go too quickly, he’ll die.”

“What in the hell are you talking about? You’ve never taken this long before. I’ve watched. I know.”

“He’s not one of us, Carreon. I haven’t any idea what to expect.”

“Then find out. Touch his wounds, not the rest of his goddamn body.” He leaned up in his chair. “You need to be fucked, Liz? Is that what this is about? Fine. I’ll fuck you raw and so will my men, just as soon as you heal him.”

A wave of heat, uncomfortable and overwhelming, rose to Liz’s chest, throat, and face.

Carreon regarded her, his expression sly. “I might even let him mount you. Give him a bit of pleasure before the pain. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Liz?”

She turned away.

Carreon’s command tore across the space. “Touch his goddamned wounds.”

Her palm hovered above them, wary of moving closer as though facing the sting of a flame.

“Bring her father in here,” Carreon ordered.

“No. Don’t, please,” she begged. Bracing herself for the worst, she rested her palm on the blackened holes left from the bullets.

A second ticked by, followed by another and another with no response. Her lids slid down, and her stomach clenched. Frightened, Liz pressed harder. And then, it happened. Not Zeke stirring but his skin constricting.

She stared at the bullet holes, the size of pinpoints now, nearly healed. Once more, she rested her hand on him, the tips of her fingers over his heart.

---