Page 18 of Deep Within Me

She stared at him.

He ignored her and opened one of the doors. “Go on.”

She backed into the room, noting its limestone walls, the same as those in Jacob’s, decorated with similar snake totems in vivid hues. However, this space was three times as large. She regarded the wide bed of a rustic construction, its design matching the nightstands and lamps. What tourists would paythousands for in order to possess authentic Indian art and craftsmanship.

“What’s going on?” Liz asked, wanting to know what Zeke was thinking. What worried him about her.

He closed the door. Its spring lock clicked faintly. The moment he touched the limestone wall, it glowed as it had in Jacob’s bath and room, the rock a soft golden shade, lending a dreamy, cozy feel to this space.

The setting should have relaxed then aroused Liz with what was surely coming.

Zeke’s silence precluded that.

More questions poured from her. “Why won’t you let me heal anyone? In the Jeep, why did you ask if I’d fallen asleep? Wait.” She interrupted herself even though he hadn’t said anything. Liz shook her head. “You said I’d passed out. Why? And why did my father ask how I was feel—”

He stopped her with his kisses on each corner of her mouth, surprisingly tender and gentle, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

Unable to resist, Liz twined her arms around his neck and sagged into him. “Zeke—”

“No more questions,” he said with a sigh, his mouth on her ear, his body pressed close. “Not now. Just hold me. Please.”

His weary plea did more than any command. The love Liz heard in those few words touched her soul. Drawing him as close as she could, she nestled her face against his neck and suckled his skin, enjoying its salty flavor.

Zeke inhaled contentedly. His tenderness didn’t last. With one hand on her back, the other on her ass, he held her tightly against him, his strength precluding any escape. She lifted her face to assure him she wouldn’t leave.

He never gave her the chance. Zeke sought her mouth, his tongue demanding entrance, his kiss impassioned as though thismight be their last chance. Their only time to seek comfort in each other’s arms.

Liz matched his intensity and desire, driving her fingers through his hair, grinding her pussy into his thickened cock. Zeke grunted in what sounded like pleasure. She moaned, proving hers. The sounds they made were uncivilized, delicious. They fueled her reactions.

All too soon, Liz needed a full breath but ignored it. She pushed Zeke’s tongue aside so she could slip hers into his mouth. They kissed greedily, their hands clutching, touching, caressing.

Only when her lungs burned for air did Liz pull her mouth free. Her lips brushed Zeke’s stubbled cheek as she whispered, “Not enough. I want you deep within me.”

Chapter Four

A little more than fifteen minutes ago, Carreon had reached the strip club. One of many enterprises his father had built, which Carreon had then taken for himself.

He sat on the black leather sofa in Ernez’s office, an ice cube pressed to his injured ear. Most of the Chivas Carreon had poured was already gone, drunk to blunt the pain. Fat lot of good the booze had done. The ache in his lobe had moved to his jaw. It throbbed as though an abscessed tooth caused the discomfort rather than his ripped skin.

Carreon kicked the cocktail table. It tottered on the carpeting, threatening to spill over before coming to a halt, still upright. Through narrowed lids, he regarded the area.

Although it was furnished with an expensive sofa, matching chairs, and a chrome desk with a glass top, it didn’t own the opulence of his stronghold. He should have been resting there tonight as Roberto tortured Zeke to learn the content of his visions. Dr. Munez should have been in his room down the hall with no possibility of escape, while Liz…

Carreon gulped the last of his drink and splashed more of the liquor into his glass.

He pictured Liz in his bed, her hot, tight cunt sheltering his cock, her buttocks marked from the whipping he’d given her for defying him in the least.

In his fantasy, he imagined teaching her obedience to all that he willed, ordering her to strip and accept—no, to welcome her punishment.

Meekly, she would pull off her garments, while he remained dressed, knowing it would enhance her feeling of being naked and vulnerable. Without further direction, she would climb onto his bed and go to all fours, her head lowered in submission, her ass lifted in offering to appease his anger and lust.

She wanted his strong hand, his ruthless command of her flesh.

He wouldn’t immediately grant it. Instead, he’d make her wait and wonder about what he would deliver. Pleasure? Pain? A bit of both?

He’d run his hands over her plush ass, cupping her buttocks, separating them to further expose the tight ring of her anus and below it, her moist slit. Playfully, he’d explore her body, the delicate folds of her sex, her furry mound, then her snuggest opening, pretending not to know where to linger.

She wouldn’t dare speak or demand. Not even a pleasured moan would escape her lips as he focused on her rigid nub. She was his to enjoy in whatever way he deemed appropriate.