Checkmate Page 14

  He grinned up at her, one hand wrapped securely around each of her hips.

  “O-kay. That’s just about perfect.”

  “Dean, aren’t you supposed to tie me to something? I don’t think we’re supposed to be standing up…”

  “Now, that’s where you’re wrong. You just have to be bound. Not necessarily bound to anything. Believe me, I’ve checked. And I would lay you down, I’m sure your legs are tired, but I don’t have a blanket, so…” He pressed a kiss to her stomach, just below her belly button, sending a torrent of butterflies undulating through her belly.

  “And this way, I have you at my mercy.” The gleam in his eye was positively wicked. “Now, hold still. I wouldn’t want you to fall over.”

  Her mouth dropped open as his hands slid down her hips to her thighs, and then inward, his thumbs dipping between her legs to her inner thighs, stoking upward before delving right in, touching her gently, then parting her, exposing the most sensitive part of her body to the cool night air.

  She quivered in apprehension and anticipation. It felt like her soul was being exposed to the universe. And then Dean dipped his head and inhaled her scent. He shot her one more wicked smile and then, holding her securely by the thighs and holding her open with his thumbs, bent his head and slowly licked her, traveling up her damp flesh until he hit the sweet spot.

  “Ahhh. Dean. I don’t think—”

  “Hold still, Aster. This is where you submit.”

  And then he licked her again, sending shivers of exquisite sensation cascading through her body. And again. And then again. Her legs trembled and she groaned. She didn’t think she could handle much of this and just when she was certain she couldn’t take any more, he changed his angle, pushing his tongue along her cleft now from the top, and holy Maiden, the feel of it… rippling waves of pleasure building on one another, but he was still only concentrating on that sensitive bud at the top of her sex. Then he shifted one hand so that he could push a finger inside her, and it was so good she nearly fell over.

  “Hold on, Aster.”

  But there was nothing to hold on to as his tongue and his hands worked their magic and she was helpless to do anything but tremble and moan, and squirm, and do her best not to fall. He did something, adding another finger she suspected, and started stoking something inside her, and all of a sudden it was too much— deep powerful waves of pleasure washed over her, and her knees gave out. Somehow Dean managed to get an arm around her waist and keep her from falling without letting up on his ministrations.

  Little electric shocks were still pinging and ricocheting through her body when he withdrew and stood up, spinning her on wobbly legs so her back was to him. He untied her wrists then pulled them in front of her and retied them.

  Grabbing her shirt from the ground, he knotted it loosely around her neck by the sleeves. What in the world? Spinning her to face him, he grinned and slipped her bound wrists around his neck. “There you go, Aster. Now you are tied to me.” He winked. “Symbolic of how we will be tied together for the rest of our lives.” She was still blinking in mute surprise when he hoisted her off her feet.

  “Up you go,” he said, his voice tight, and her legs instinctively closed around his hips. Carrying her, he headed for the edge of the embankment, and she was still trying to figure out why when he pressed her back to the trunk of a tree.

  Ah ha. The shirt was to protect her back. So Dean. Even in the heat of the moment, examining all the angles.

  And then he was shifting her onto one arm, lining up their bodies, and pressing the round head of his erection against her opening. He pushed then, against the resistance of her body, and she let out a little gasp.

  “Ahhh. Aster. You’re so tight.”

  His voice was strained and she felt her back press into the tree as he pushed in deeper, slowly pressing past her resistance with a slight burn of pain. And then, with one liquid velvet push, he was inside her. All the way inside her. And it was Dean— and she could hardly believe it.

  He rested there, his forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard. “Just give me… a minute,” he panted. “Maiden’s blood, Aster. You’re tight.”

  Dean sucked in a shallow, stuttering breath, feeling like his lungs were refusing to inflate. Aster’s tight heat surrounding him was better than anything he’d ever imagined, the scent of her in his nostrils, the taste of her on his tongue—

  He began to move inside her slowly, trying for leverage as he held her up with a hand under each thigh, just where they met her buttocks, one of his very favorite places on a woman—and often overlooked—at least so far as he had been able to discover. The sweet, wet stroke of Aster’s body on his was exquisite torture, the tiny noises she made with his every movement ratcheted up the sensations, and the knowledge that it was Aster—this was Aster—was enough to have him gritting his teeth, even though he’d barely entered her.

  Always before, he’d been collecting data as much as releasing pent-up need. If I stoke here, this happens, if I press there, another set of responses. And maybe it had become a habit, because he couldn’t seem to turn it off. But he really should have studied this position because he knew there was a way to leverage her weight against the tree without crushing her—He shifted slightly, leaning against her more, pressing his thighs under hers, and—oh, yeah—that was it.

  The new position allowed him to move more freely, pushing into her a little faster, a little harder, feeling the golden friction of her body surrounding his, the tight clasp of it almost too magical… Okay, yeah, that was a little too good. Time to move this along—

  He bent his knees slightly, angling his hips, searching for that spot inside her, pressing in, angling just a little more and—yes—Aster’s deep-throated moan told him he’d found it.

  He moved against her harder now, thrust into her, the rhythm of it rising up through his body, and Aster’s quick pants telling him he was doing it right, which was a damn good thing because he could feel the pressure building, the pleasure expanding, tingling along his spine and gathering, heavy, beneath the base of his cock.

  He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up long, but she needed to come first—before he bit her—needed to actually be coming when that happened, all the texts agreed on that point. Right now he wanted to throw them all off a cliff because there was no way he could hold off against the wet velvet slide of her, the heat, and the perfect slippery pressure as she squeezed him tighter—

  “Ahhh… Aster,” he ground out, shifting, pressing, trying to mesh their bodies so that he could press against the top of her sex with each thrust, which was almost impossible in this position, and why for the love of the Maiden hadn’t he practiced this because—

  He gritted his teeth and bent his knees a little more, feeling that dangerous tingle start at the base of this spine—and yes—made contact as he pressed completely into her, almost shooting off in the process as Aster gasped and clenched around him—

  Fighting hard against the urgent need to break the rhythm, to pound into her, he let out a deep groan and bit her hair at the back of her neck, tugging it with his teeth. She let out a startled squeak—and thank the Maiden—began pulsing and clenching around him. That little tug of pain and possession had been enough to push her over the edge.

  He roared as he let go of her hair, bucking into her hard, and finding the juncture of her neck and shoulder, let his canines come down, biting down on the muscle there. And marking her as his—claiming her with a wild rush of pleasure—as the power blasted through him and into her through the bite. Deep, throbbing pleasure exploded through him in great geysering blasts as Aster moaned and gasped and quaked against him.

  He felt the power drain from his body, leaving him tingling and raw, as if he’d lost at least five layers of skin as well as part of his essence. What was left felt naked and exposed. And sensitized, like an antenna— picking up data from the air. And where her skin touched his, the soft flannel glide of it was like nothing he’d ever ex
perienced. Warm and soft and sensual, little ripples of awareness sliding over him with every brush of her skin.

  A profound feeling of happiness, of rightness, settled over him. He could feel that part of him that was inside her now, sense it becoming part of her, connecting them now and forever as she went limp in his arms, replete with satisfaction.

  Chapter 16

  Queen’s Gambit is also a very old opening. It can be quite effective. In it, White offers to exchange a wing pawn for a middle pawn, in order to gain control of the center board. However, if the gambit is accepted, Black cannot hold the pawn long as it quickly becomes vulnerable to White’s Bishop. This is why it is not considered a true gambit.

  — From the Journals of Aster Ardennes

  Dean’s legs felt wobbly and his arms trembled with exertion as he hoisted Aster higher in his arms. Stepping back from the tree, he let Aster slide down his body, carefully placing her on her feet. Lifting her hands from around his neck, he untied them, rubbing her wrists gently.

  “You okay?”

  “Um… yeah. Shaky. That was… Wow.”

  Dean grinned. “Yeah. Me too.”

  “Shaky? Or wow?”

  “Both.” He grinned down at her. The joy of the moment was about the only thing keeping him on his feet. “I have to say there is nothing I’d like more than to lay you down right now and collapse in a heap next to you—but this isn’t exactly the place for it. Let’s get you back to my car. If you haven’t checked out of your hotel room, maybe we can head back there.”

  Aster nodded. She couldn’t think of anything better right now than a shower and Dean in that fluffy, king-sized bed. And not necessarily in that order, either. Her legs trembled as she pulled on her much-maligned bra and extracted her underwear from the pile Dean had made of her jeans. She had to hold his arm with one hand to get them on. At least her shirt had avoided the mud, having landed on a patch of ferns the first time he tossed it aside and spending the rest of the time tied around her neck. She pulled it off, untied the arms, and shook it out. A little crumpled, but otherwise fine.

  Her jeans, she noticed as she bent to retrieve them, had not fared so well. She was just trying to brush off the worst of the mud when Dean snatched them out of her hands.

  “Hey!”

  He gave her a playful smile and snapped out his claws. Then he ripped them right down the middle until he had two useless jean legs, one in each hand.

  “Hey! What are you doing? I need those to get through the lobby of the hotel.” But it was way too late for that particular objection. Aster felt her dreams of a hot shower anywhere in her near future slipping away.

  “You can wear my shirt,” he said with a satisfied smirk.

  “Wonderful. Your shirt, my bare legs, and sneakers? That’s going to be a good look.”

  “Yeah.” His smile broadened. “It is.”

  Aster shook her head, but she was too tired to argue about it. Somehow she’d never thought Dean would go all cave-man on her with this type of display of dominance. Even if it was traditional.

  He raised his eyebrows at her. “I didn’t rip your panties,” he said, like he expected some kind of award.

  When she just gave him a get real look, he continued.

  “Approximately ninety percent of the time, panties are destroyed during the mating ceremony, but that’s not necessary. Only that something be torn. And that the woman look suitably disheveled, although that part is more tradition than necessity.” He smirked at her again. “We’ve got that covered though.” Then he shook his head, as if trying to get back on track. “But I understand that most of our females don’t enjoy going commando, unlike the males…” He trailed off, probably noting her incredulous look.

  “What?” He looked a little hurt. “I wanted you to be comfortable.”

  Trust Dean to have studied which article of clothing to destroy for maximum effect while causing her minimal discomfort. She couldn’t help smiling at him.

  He stood there—gloriously nude—and completely unselfconscious against the backdrop of the peaceful stream and the green tangle of bushes and trees that enclosed them. It was a very pleasant view. This man was hers now. And he was exactly the man she’d always wanted.

  “Okay, my scholarly Romeo, come over here and give me your arm. We have a bit of a hike to get back to your clothes before we can find your car.”

  The smile he gave her was beautiful. Happy, and earnest, and relieved. He came over and put his arms around her, kissing her deeply before helping her to sit on the log and gathering her shoes and socks for her. And he did very chivalrously offer her his arm to lean on the whole way back to his clothes, as gallant as any knight, and still completely naked. It was adorably romantic, especially since she really did need his help. Her legs were like jelly. She couldn’t remember ever being this tired. And he didn’t seem to be in much better shape.

  Just as she was eyeing a particularly inviting patch of ferns, they rounded a bend in the stream, and there in front of them was the scene of the crime. Where Marten had caught her. Where the challenge had taken place.

  Aster felt her stomach tighten as she looked wildly around. She hadn’t thought of Marten once—not once since Dean had told her to run—but now she was in a panic. What if he was here waiting for them?

  But it only took a moment to realize he was gone. Dean’s neat pile of clothes sat where he’d left them beneath a clump of trees. There was no sign of Marten beyond some kicked-up dirt and mud where the fight had taken place. Although his scent still lingered, it wasn’t recent. Aster still couldn’t help glancing around nervously, expecting him to pop out from behind a tree any second.

  “Where do you think he is? Why isn’t he here, waiting for us? Or, come to that, why didn’t he come after us?” Her voice only rose a little as she asked. She couldn’t quite steady her racing heart though.

  Dean led her to his clothes, and she leaned on one of the trees while he bent to retrieve his shirt.

  “I won the challenge. Why would he wait? And coming after us would have been completely against the Law.” He sniffed at his shirt, an odd expression crossing his face.

  “He hasn’t shown any honor so far.”

  Dean turned to her, his face unreadable. “That’s not quite true, Aster. Everything he’s done so far has been in accordance with the Law.”

  “He faked surrender to get my father to let his guard down! He killed my mother!”

  Aster didn’t like the placating look in Dean’s eye. Not one bit. “It’s not against the Law to change your mind about surrender, Aster. He hadn’t quite offered his neck. I agree it’s a grey area—”

  “A grey area! Are you insane? I can’t believe you’re saying this! Next you’ll try to tell me he didn’t kill my mother in cold blood.”

  “Aster, we both know he didn’t kill your mother in cold blood. She attacked him. He accepted the challenge. Yes— he was too forceful about it, in my opinion, but her death was an accident. He was defending himself.”

  Aster was beside herself. How could he defend that monster? That rabid dog? If she had any energy at all, she’d wallop him. As it was, she could barely stay upright leaning against the tree. Aster narrowed her eyes. Just wait until she got her strength back.

  “It was an accident that never would have happened if he hadn’t shown up and ripped my world apart,” she said coldly. “If he hadn’t tried to claim mating rights like some barbarian, my mother would still be alive.” And crap. Her voice broke on that last word.

  “I know, honey.” Dean took two steps and enfolded her in his arms. Aster felt a wave of despair slam into her. Her mate was defending her enemy, all her plans for revenge had failed, and her parents were still dead.

  Wrapped in Dean’s arms—in his comforting scent—the dam gave way. He was warm, and solid and so familiar she wanted to just fall into him and give up all her struggles. She should be stronger than this. She should be able to handle Marten and all the pain he’d caused—but sh
e couldn’t.

  Dean didn’t say a word, just stroked a hand up and down her back as she dissolved into tears. Sometimes, he was smarter than he looked.

  Later, quite a while later, once she had herself under control again, Dean retrieved his shirt. Wordlessly, he held it out to her. She made a face of distaste. It looked damp and clammy. She wasn’t looking forward to putting that on. But when she went to pull it over her head, she stopped.

  “It smells like him!”

  Dean’s face was grim. “I know.”

  “But— why? How did his scent get on this? He didn’t even touch you.”

  Dean’s mouth twisted. “It’s clearly meant to be a message.”

  “What message? I’m not wearing this!”

  “You have to. You can’t walk through the streets of Albany like that.” He eyed her bare legs. “That’s a little too debauched.”

  Aster grimaced. He had a point. Her shirt didn’t even cover her underwear. She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I still don’t get the message.” She gritted her teeth as she struggled into the cold, wet thing that smelled faintly of Marten. Yuk. At least it came down to mid-thigh. Good thing it was only a long-sleeved tee, because she was going to burn it.

  “The message is, I may have won the challenge, but he’s still my Alpha.”

  “Oh. No. He is not my Alpha. I’m joining my brother’s pack.”

  Dean looked up from struggling into his wet jeans and smiled. “Good. Me too. You can call him as soon as we get to my car and tell him.”

  Aster sighed. She wasn’t really looking forward to that conversation. But try as she might, she couldn’t convince Dean to do it for her. Even when she batted her lashes at him.

  Sitting in his Jeep ten minutes later, she gritted her teeth and pressed send.

  “Oui?” Lucas’s deep voice on the other end of the line was unexpectedly dear. Emotions crashed into her with the force of a wrecking ball. For a moment, she couldn’t speak.

  “Allô? Dean?”