Enthralled: The Sex Goddess Page 6

  Jane lost count of the number of couples—there were several more than the five women who’d dressed her—and the variety of offerings, but by now the meaning had become clear: these were mates who wished and hoped for her so-called favor in their sexual endeavors.

  To her surprise, none of the couples included Devilish Grin. Instead, he stood off to the side along with two other men, watching the proceeds with dark eyes.

  When it appeared all the pairs had received their good blessings, Cold Eyes turned to Jane. His expression was cold and flat. “And now…for your pleasure, goddess—you must make your choice.”

  “Choice for what?” But her heart began to thud, for Devilish Grin and the two others he was with had come to stand before her. As before, the man in front of her fixed her with an insouciant gaze, his eyes hot and filled with promise.

  Oh, God. Jane could hardly breathe. And by now, her head had begun to feel light, and her mind hazy while her body seemed startlingly awake and aware, as if the slightest breeze or the barest touch would cause waves of sensation rippling through her.

  A distant roar filtered through the twilight, causing Cold Eyes to glance toward the jungle. He turned to Jane, a small smile playing about his lips. “And now we bid farewell to your man Jonathan.” The lion’s roar sounded again, perhaps a little closer now, and Jane shuddered, ruthlessly forcing from her mind the image of her fiancé, torn asunder and lying in a pool of blood. Her stomach lurched, helped surely by the amount of intoxicants she’d ingested, and she rose unsteadily to her feet. Poor Jonathan.

  Cold Eyes didn’t seem to have any similar regrets, and gestured to the men again. “You have the pleasure of making your choice from any of these three men. Our goddess must be pleasured. Unless…you wish to take on all three of them?”

  The three candidates stood in front of the dais, bare-chested and muscular. As she looked at them, Devilish Grin whipped away his loincloth to reveal his massive erection. Jane couldn’t hold back a gasp—nor control a sharp pulse from her little pip—and from the sound of it, she was not the only woman to react thus. The other two, not to be outdone, followed suit, tearing away their clothing to reveal every inch of their bodies as well.

  Although Devilish Grin sported the largest cock, each was a fine specimen of man, and Jane actually felt weak in the knees as she considered what to do.

  The only man she wanted, the only one she could have any real, deep desire for was Zaren. But her body didn’t seem to understand that. As she stood there, Jane’s breathing deepened and her mouth dried, while the rest of her seemed to fill and throb with anticipation.

  “Very well, then,” said Cold Eyes, as if to make the decision for her.

  “I choose him.” Jane forced the words from her lips, pointing to Devilish Grin. She’d already had his hands—and mouth—on her. And he seemed the least of the three evils. So to speak. Her belly gave a little flip as he met her eyes with hot, knowing ones.

  Then, with a triumphant, jaunty smile in place, Devilish Grin vaulted onto the dais next to her. Jane turned to look at Cold Eyes. “Where shall I take him?”

  “There,” he said. And pointed to the throne Jane had just vacated.

  She gaped at him, the blood rushing from her face. “No. Not here. Not—”

  “They must to see it for themselves, goddess. All of them must see. You will show them your pleasure or suffer the consequences.”

  “What consequences could be worse than that?” she shot back. Her heart was thudding harder, and even though she still simmered in the midst of a pleasurable haze, her words were strong.

  “Do you truly want to find out?”

  Jane swallowed hard. There were many worse things that could happen, she supposed, than taking her pleasure from the man in front of her while on display. “Hanging in the sun for a week and letting anyone or anything have its way with you” was one.

  Before she could respond, Devilish Grin moved behind her. He gathered up a handful of her hair, wrapping it around his fist and arm, and, using his other hand, slid it down the front of her body. Jane quivered when it came to rest between her thighs, covering her exposed mound. He stood behind her, his cock brushing the side of her hip, his warmth emanating from his dark body to her pale, white one.

  “Oh.” She couldn’t control a gasp when he spread his fingers wide enough to cover her swollen nether lips, then began to caress and tease her. He edged a knee from behind, urging her legs to open a little more as his fingers slipped and slid through and over the folds of her quim.

  Jane shivered as her body responded, tightening and filling, and when he suddenly slid a finger deep inside, she jolted and tried to twist away. But his strong hands held her firmly from behind, and she was helpless as those naughty fingers caressed and stroked and thrust inside. She couldn’t hold back a moan, she panted and shivered, and still he worked—faster and faster and faster, until the pleasure exploded inside. Jane felt herself pulsing around him, against his hand, felt her slick juices covering his fingers. Her body shuddered with release and relief, and when Devilish Grin released her, she nearly collapsed.

  Jane opened her eyes to find the crowd of villagers watching avidly. She was too exhausted and hazy to do more than look away and stand tall.

  Thank God. It’s done.

  “It’s done,” she said haughtily, turning to Cold Eyes. “Return me to my room.”

  “Done? Not at all,” he replied. “It’s hardly begun.”

  Before Jane could protest, he and Devilish Grin brought her to the throne, where she had originally been seated. Instead of settling her on the fur-covered surface as if it were a chair, the two men forced her to lie on her back, feet flat on the ground. Legs spread.

  Jane considered fighting them, but she knew any such action would result in her being restrained. And so she lay there, draped on another low altar, on display for the entire village…open, red, glistening, and throbbing.

  She closed her eyes.

  She imagined Zaren. Only Zaren, as heavy, warm hands slid down over her breasts. It was only Zaren whose hot mouth covered her exposed nipple, sucking on it and teasing it into a sharp, sensitive point. There was no one but Zaren there, and she blocked away the sounds from those who watched: the gasps and heavy breathing and even, she thought, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh.

  When the tugs of pleasure built up again, shooting from her nipple to her belly, to the tiny pearl between her legs, she imagined it was Zaren who settled between her open legs. Whose heavy, warm thighs brushed against the inside of hers, the coarse hair rough and titillating against her sensitive skin.

  She felt the prod of his thick cock against her and shuddered a little—for even thoughts of Zaren couldn’t completely banish the memory of its magnificent image. Her breath hitched as she imagined how it would feel, filling her, thick and long and full.

  He teased her, rubbing it around and against her ready opening as two powerful hands held her hips immobile. His rod slipped and slid around, and the crowd began to cry out and chant. Jane panted, whimpering a little as he teased, then moved back, teased and moved back and around against her, giving her pleasure, but not quite enough.

  Just not enough.

  A sudden roar of delight from the villagers had Jane’s eyes flying open, just as, a split second later, Devilish Grin slid himself inside her.

  She cried out, her eyes wide and shocked. It was beyond what she’d expected. She could hardly breathe, she was so filled, so stretched, so taut and hot and wet and ready. She tried to move, to buck her hips, to get more, but he held her in place.

  And then he shifted a little, at last, and she gasped and closed her eyes as he gave a long, slow stroke. She thought she might cry. The beginning tremor of more pleasure spiraled up inside her like a hot cyclone as he slid in, and out, and in—and then he stopped.

  She cried out in frustration and need. Her nipples hurt, her skin was on fire, her quim was ready to explode.

  The villagers re
cognized this, shouting encouragement, making animal sounds and other approving noises as Jane lay there, impaled and still. Desperate.

  Devilish Grin looked down at her with hot, knowing eyes, and she opened her mouth, ran her tongue around her dry lips. “Please,” she whispered, shifting her hips the little bit she was able. Needing him to move.

  His eyes hooded, and he pulled himself back, and then plunged inside her. Jane screamed and he plunged again, and again, and the next thing she knew, her world was dancing in explosions and hot lights. She had no control over her body; it shuddered and wept and pulsed and burned.

  And finally, finally, he pulled away, removing himself and his spent cock. Jane moaned and didn’t have the energy to move. She still trembled with little aftershocks, and her mind was hazy.

  “Very well done, goddess,” said Cold Eyes.

  His icy voice brought her back to the moment and Jane sat up. It’s over. This time, it must be over.

  “The people are well pleased, and for now you will be escorted to your new room—one that befits a goddess as exotic as you.”

  Jane was too weak to protest when her wrists were pulled in front of her belly and fastened together. Then her locked arms were brought up over her head and connected to a rope or cable above.

  For the first time, she noticed the rope, dangling from a tree above them. She looked up and saw, high up in the tree, a cage-like structure. There was no way up or down that she could see, other than the rope to which she was affixed.

  “Yes, goddess. You will be safe up there—safe from those who might wish to partake of your divinity, and safe from any chance you might have of escape.” Cold Eyes turned to one of his men and gave a sharp command.

  All at once, Jane began to rise from the dais, dangling by her wrists in the air. She spun slowly as they pulled her up, up, up toward the aerie that was to be her new accommodations.

  She was halfway between the ground and the treehouse when a loud, bloodcurdling scream filled the air.

  Before she could turn to see what caused it, out of the corner of her eye she saw something hurtling through the air—right toward her. She was grabbed around the waist. The next moment she was airborne, flying toward the jungle, embraced by a pair of strong, muscular arms.

  Zaren.

  — VII —

  Zaren drew in a deep, long breath of Jane—Jane! at last!—as they landed on a high branch with hardly a jolt. Below, the people who’d held her captive were shouting furiously and running about, looking up into the trees to try and spot them.

  “Zaren,” Jane gasped as he sliced through the rope from which she’d been hanging—the only reason he had not simply kept them slinging through the air, away from her captors. She was trembling, trying to wrap herself around him as they balanced precariously on the branch. “You came!”

  Something flew through the air and embedded itself in the trunk far below them. An arrow. Her captors were not about to let her go easily.

  From his treetop perch, Zaren had watched them for a long while—the way they honored her, and bowed to her, and how the one large, dark man pleasured her. His insides tightened. Perhaps she would rather stay. Perhaps she had found a new mate now that Jonathan had betrayed her.

  “Jane,” he said, struggling to speak, especially now that she was near him again at last, all soft, warm curves, with her heavy, fiery hair and pale, smooth skin. The strong scent of pleasure and musk and her own beautiful essence clung to her more strongly than ever, and he couldn’t get enough of it. The delicious smell of her made his rod stiffen and the blood inside him sing and surge.

  Jane. This was Jane. His woman.

  “Oh, Zaren,” she cried as another arrow lodged itself in a different tree. She looked up at him then indicated her wrists, still fastened together. He had them apart faster than a snake strike, and she flung her arms around his neck, pressing herself against him.

  Zaren’s brain went empty, and his mind went hot. He was aware of nothing but the feel and smell of Jane. For the moment, for now, they were safe. Despite their shouts and activity, none of those fools below could scale this tall, smooth-barked tree. Their arrows would neither shoot high enough to reach them, nor make their way through the heavy leaves and branches to find their mark. He doubted those below could even see him and Jane, surrounded by the thick greenery in the dimness of twilight.

  For the moment, he had her.

  “Jane…” Zaren wanted to say more, but his words dried up. She was so beautiful. So unique. So delicious. So interesting. He gave in, forgetting everything but the woman in his arms, pressed against him.

  The next thing he knew, the trunk of the tree was behind him, solid and supporting, and he had Jane straddling his hips. Her full, pink lips covered his, her tongue thrusting sleek and hot inside his mouth. He groaned, his rod straining, ready to burst as she pushed against him, her breasts soft and lush against his chest. He was certain his heart would explode from behind its protective cage of ribs, for it was thudding so hard. His veins leapt and surged, heat filled him, dampening his skin, shortening his breath. Zaren was completely captivated by the woman in his arms: her scent, the texture of her skin, the weight of her long hair, the teasing jut of nipples, her hot, moist center—that beautiful place he dreamed of—pressed into the side of his hip.

  One arm curved around her waist, holding her safe and secure, while he found a nipple with his other hand. He teased it, gently rubbing it with the pad of his finger, and felt her quiver slightly against him. He bent to kiss the side of her throat, tasting the sweetness of moist, warm skin layered with an essence of spice and oil, and buried his face in her amazing hair. Jane sighed softly, and he felt the dampness of tears on her cheek when she shuddered softly against him.

  Zaren pulled back enough to look down at her in the dim light. “Jane?” He smoothed the tear away, his heart now thudding quite differently.

  She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the edges, and his sudden spear of fear dissolved. “Yes,” she said in a bare whisper. “Oh, yes, Zaren, please.”

  She reached down between them, her fingers closing around his jutting rod, and Zaren caught his breath. Yes, he thought. Yes, oh yes, oh now!

  He held perfectly still, afraid that if he moved, the pleasure, the beauty of the moment, would be over in an instant. And yet, at the same time, his body strained for release, for her. She was his world, his very breath, the element that surrounded him now, and he wanted to join with her.

  She shifted against him and her delicate finger slid around the tip of him, smoothing the small drop of moisture over the head of his insistent, raging thing. Blazing heat shuttled through him and his lungs became restricted. Zaren felt the tree shift beneath his feet, and he had the presence of mind to curl his toes firmly into place, to tighten his hold on Jane, even as his entire being focused on her hand, on the sensations there, where he would soon explode. Everything was there: his need, his breath, heat, arrows upon arrows of delicious sensation…

  She fondled his sac, her fingers brushing through the sensitive hair there, teasing and tickling him as her hot mouth tasted his neck, his shoulder. Her tongue slid around the curve of his collarbone, into the gentle dip, then to the side of his neck. She bit him gently, as if to mark him hers, and sucked hard on his flesh as she teased that hard, throbbing part of him that was in no need of teasing.

  “Zaren,” she whispered, shifting against him. He felt the sudden heat and wetness of her pressing against the tip of his engorged rod, and he nearly lost his control. It took superhuman effort for him to keep his mind focused, to shift her up and into place.

  When he filled her, Zaren couldn’t hold back a guttural cry, a sound that was echoed by Jane. For a moment, they simply stilled, holding each other, joined, one, anticipatory.

  Her hot, slick sheath surrounded him like a fist, her mouth fitted to his like a lush, sweet piece of fruit, his hands filled with curves and warmth and softness. Zaren closed his eyes, afraid to move, for he neve
r wanted this moment to end.

  It was Jane who twitched against him, who gave a little pulse around him, and his eyes flew open. Her face was right there, her eyes heavy-lidded, her mouth full and glistening, and she looked at him with the same deep want he felt.

  He moved. She gasped and bit her lip. Zaren kissed the poor lip and moved again, and again, and again. There was nothing now but the rhythm, the heat, the slide, and the vigorous thrusting. She shuddered against him, crying out into his shoulder, and still he pumped and thrust until his very awareness shattered into wave upon wave of white-hot pleasure and release.

  She trembled against him, clutching his shoulders with her hands. Skin shifted, slick and hot against the other’s, their breaths mingled just as did their bodies. Zaren closed his eyes, holding her close, inhaling her familiar scent, now meshed with that of his own satisfaction and release. Mine. My woman. My mate.

  At last, he became aware of the jungle again. Of the sounds of night birds and the predators of darkness—and of the desperate men below. Still searching for Jane.

  Zaren released her, settling her onto the solid tree branch next to him. His body hummed and his knees were shamefully weak, but he must ask. He must know. It was difficult to marshal his words, his mind shattered as it was, fear tingeing the back of his mind, but he must. He drew in a deep breath.

  “Jane,” he said, gathering his words carefully. “You go with me?” Though he believed she had been a captive, he would not take her unless she agreed.

  He would not be Jonathan.

  Even in the dim light, he saw her eyes open wide. Shock. She flung her arms around his neck. “Oh, yes! Zaren, yes, I will go with you! I will go with you always. Forever.”

  A hot burst of pleasure and joy swelled inside him, and, scooping an arm around her bottom, Zaren seized a strong vine. With Jane pressed against him—her breasts, her warm skin, the sweet-scented hair, the heat of the special, delicious place between her legs—Zaren launched them off the tree branch.

  He gave his bloodcurdling yell—this one of triumph and victory—as they flew through the air, brushing against leaves and vines, disturbing birds, butterflies, and insects.