Paax: Warlord Brides (Warriors of Sangrin Book 1) Page 4

  Mercy leaned forward and kissed him. Hungry and possessive, like a glutton at a feast, his mouth reached for hers. His hips bucked automatically, searching for her pussy.

  This time when Mercy moved against his shaft, he lifted his hips pushed into her ready and slick tunnel. No lingering at the entrance. Mercy did not pull away but met his thrust with enthusiasm.

  Mercy rocked forward. He was in her deeply. His large hands gripped her thighs. She lifted and lowered herself back onto his cock. The first convulsions of an orgasm welled deep in her. Mercy locked eyes with Paax. She rocked faster, lowering herself on his cock forcefully, her ass slapping against him. She tilted her hips just enough for his member hit the perfect spot inside of her. Suddenly, her hips jerked uncontrollably. A cry escaped from her, louder than she intended but she was beyond caring.

  Paax’s fingers dug into her hips to coax her into movement but she would not budge until the last of the quaking left her. “Paax,” Mercy whispered. “I want you to bend me over and fuck me hard.”

  He lifted her off his cock like she weighed nothing. She knelt on a cushion, facing away from the fire. The light illuminated the smooth, pale skin. His large hands caressed the perfect round of her ass, giving it a slap and delighting in the jiggle. A thick finger parted the swollen lips of her sex and then Paax filled his bride again.

  His wife.

  His.

  No one would take her from him. No one. Not even his twin.

  His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips. He marveled at the contrast of his skin against the pale, almost pink expanse of her smooth skin. Worries surged that his grip was too tight and would bruise this delicate flesh. She was so delicate underneath him.

  Mercy rested on her elbows and let her head hang. She pushed against Paax’s mass, as if to disprove his concerns about delicate humans, meeting each of his forceful thrusts. Shameless and loud moans escaped from her. Her thighs quivered. In the morning he would rub her down and sooth aching muscles, tend to any bruise or blemish on her skin but now was not the time to be gentle.

  His hands wrapped around her hair and pulled her back with a stinging yank. Yelping, Mercy was off her elbows and her back pressed against Paax. His lips were at her ear. His teeth nibbled forcefully, not breaking the surface but leaving red welts. “I’m going to come all over your pretty little ass, wife” he said, voice a growl.

  She moaned in reply, pussy clenching with anticipation. His little Earth woman liked the dirty talk. He could do that. “Or should I fill you tonight with my seed? Make you round with my sons?” One large hand cupped her breast; the other found her clit and applied direct pressure. Her moan grew more urgent. She was close and he was merciless. Mercy squirmed away, to lessen the sensation, but Paax was too strong and held her in place. He had her completely.

  “I want to see your face when you come, wife.”

  “Yes!” Her voice shuddered before dissolving completely into a cry. His hot breath pressed against the back of her neck. She would come soon and nothing could stop it. “I want you,” she said between pants, “to fill me up, husband. Every drop.”

  Paax gave a yell, snarling, and pushed her down onto the fur rug. The weight of him pressed her into the white fur. He covered her completely, hands planted on either side of her head. His hips thrust against her exposed behind, pushing into her. Mercy pushed herself up on to her elbow but Paax swatted her hands away. Another stroke pushed her forward, breasts flattened against the fur. Another stroke and she was pushed forward, the cheek of her face pressed flat.

  “Yes, husband!” she shouted.

  Paax growled. He gripped her by the shoulders, shoving her towards him with each thrust. His muscles tensed. His cock twitched and pulsed. Soon. Her thighs quivered. Suddenly flushed, she was going to overheat and melt. She cried out. Paax matched her cry. He leaned forward, fangs sinking into the tender flesh where her neck joined her shoulder. He emptied into her, fangs biting deep enough to taste coppery blood. Her muscles clenched his cock, milking every drop, just like she asked.

  He fell on top of her, covering her small form with his bulk. Tenderly, his tongue laved the bite marks. The healing agent in his saliva closed the wounds quickly. His mate. His wife.

  He kissed the top of her head. She rolled over, eyes bright in the firelight. His rough fingers stroked the side of her face, traveling down her slender neck to those delicious breasts. His hands caressed the expanse of her abdomen, resting above her womb. His sons would grow here. He couldn’t wait.

  “Paax—” she started to say.

  He shushed her with a kiss. “In the morning, little star. Let me hold you and touch you because I do not believe you are real yet.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “Little star?”

  “Yes.”

  He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. “The Mahdfel word for star is murce. Murcie would be the diminutive. Little star.”

  “That’s lovely.”

  “As are you.” His wife curled next to him, content to let his hands rove and stroke.

  No one would take this from him.

  No one.

  Chapter Five

  Mercy

  Mercy woke alone in an unfamiliar room in a large bed. Paax must have carried her upstairs during the night. A mug of tea, still steaming, waited on the nightstand, along with a plate of fruit and toast. Produced from the reconstructor, the toast tasted of cardboard smothered in butter and jam. The fruit was good.

  Wrapping her hands around the mug, Mercy inspected the room. The furniture was quality but simple. The walls were white. The carpet an uninspired tan. Again, much like the other rooms, the bedroom was functional but sterile, devoid of personality.

  Mercy pulled back the curtains revealed a bright blue sky over a snowy white landscape. The sky was a hostile shade of blue without the clouds. Glare from the reflected light on the snow hurt her eyes. The lawn and driveway hid beneath a flat, uniform surface.

  A familiar male figure shoveled the pavement, the scrape of the shovel breaking the morning silence. Paax did not wear a shirt, his plum skin flush with activity. His shoulders strained with exertion, muscles moving smoothly. Her husband.

  Admiring his fine physique, Mercy sipped her tea.

  He paused to wipe sweat from his brow and faced the window.

  Naked, Mercy stood in the window, not ashamed. She remembered licking the sweat from Paax’s skin last night and desire flared in her once more. She couldn’t explain it but she was insatiable when it came to her husband.

  A hot shower worked out the stiffness in her muscles and relaxed nerves. Mercy dressed in a knee length white skirt and lavender blouse. She pulled her dark hair back in a bun.

  Alone downstairs, Mercy explored. The air had a slight chill. She’d ask Paax for winter appropriate clothing soon.

  She found the study easily: the first door on the right of the foyer. The study seemed to be a combination library and home office. Books stuffed shelves, books on top of books, spines neatly face out. The shelves held discarded mugs, and paperbacks mid read, opened and face down.

  A desk faced the windows with a tablet computer and stacks of notebooks. Books were piled on the floor. A couch with deep seats, good for napping, sat along the interior wall. The throw blanket half on the floor testified to the naps.

  Paax was a slob.

  “I recognize that look,” Paax said, standing behind her. “You’re horrified. The cleaning bots don’t come in here. I can’t risk them disturbing my research.”

  “This is research?” Mercy gestured to the empty cups on the bookshelves.

  “I need a little chaos to think.”

  He stood close to her. What was the morning after protocol? A quick kiss on the lips? A firm handshake? They were married, Mercy decided, and it was silly for married people to be shy. Warm and flush, Mercy stood on her tiptoes and landed a kiss on his kissable lips. He responded eagerly, hands firmly on the small of her back. />
  Oh yum.

  “Tell me about your research.” What was she doing? That was the least sexy thing she could have said. Bend me over the desk and fuck me now, as an example. She should demand that he eat her pussy until she screamed his name but no, she asked about research.

  “Oh, it’s really interesting. Mahdfel have an accelerated healing factor. It’s one of the things the Suhlik engineered into our ancestors.” Paax’s pulled away, his voice excited. The Suhlik did many things to the Mahdfel before they rebelled, including making it so they only bred sons.

  “I believe the healing factor can be used to reverse the aging process.”

  “Reverse aging?”

  “Well, that’s simplistic. I’m focused on accelerating cellular regeneration and rejuvenation.”

  Mercy scanned the room, recoiling at the piles of unstable books and notebooks. “And this is your research?”

  “Only the reading material. Let me show you my lab. It’s a basic set up.”

  Behind the main house was a red barn. Some things were universal, Mercy noted. The old barn housed the lab. A quick journey down the shoveled path through the cold and snow and they were safely inside the building.

  The door slid closed. Sunlight streamed through the windows, creating pools of light. The lab had a deep chill in the air. Mercy wished she had asked for a coat. She shivered.

  “Lights.” The lights flicked on with a hum, revealing a room with lab benches with black epoxy resin counters and built in sinks. Gleaming new equipment, and refrigeration units with clear glass doors, dotted the room. The concrete floor had several drains. In the corner was a large, intimidating computer. The set-up seemed new and expensive. Near the door was a large, old fashioned desk similar to the one in the study.

  “This is your basic lab?” Mercy asked.

  “Nothing like the facilities on the Judgment but it serves my purpose.”

  The concrete floor radiated cold. Mercy shivered.

  “Let me turn up the heat,” Paax said. “I hardly notice the cold.” He handed her a lab coat resting on the back of a chair.

  Grateful, Mercy wrapped herself in the coat. “Why is Omas so interested in your research?”

  Excited, Paax went to a bench with a microscope. “Mahdfel cells are excellent reproductive machines. Repair and replicate; again and again. Copy after copy.”

  Mercy nodded.

  “But the code gets corrupted. Mutated. The one millionth copy is not as good as the original, but it gets the job done. The twenty billionth copy works but only half as well. It breaks down.” Paax turned on the microscope. He placed a slide on the stage and adjusted the knobs.

  “I think I follow,” Mercy said.

  “What happens when we age. Pigmentation goes gray. Collagen decreases. Cartilage breaks down. Repairs on the cellular level slow. Everything takes longer to heal.”

  Enthusiasm transformed his face to an almost boyish quality. “How old are you, Paax?”

  “Afraid you married an old man?” He lifted his head from the scope and a devastating smile spread on his face. No man had the right to be that sexy. “Earth years do not correspond with Mahdfel years.”

  “Humor me, old man. I’m twenty-five Earth years old.”

  “Seventy-six.”

  That seemed an impossible age. “Earth years?” Mercy asked in shock. Paax appeared in the prime of his life, vigorous and bursting with carnal energy.

  “Mahdfel life expectancy is longer than a human's. Barring an accident, there is no reason for me not to reach two hundred. I’m not that old.”

  “And your research would extend that further?” So much for growing old together. Mercy could expect to reach ninety, maybe one hundred. The best case scenario was seventy-five years with her husband, and he still would have decades left.

  A sudden fear that Paax would trade her in for a younger wife swept over her. She knew nothing about this alien man. He didn’t seem shallow enough to abandon an elderly wife but he also didn’t seem to be seventy-six years old.

  Paax pulled her to him and planted a kiss on his forehead. “What troubles you?”

  “Nothing. I’m being silly.”

  “You are upset at the age difference,” he guessed. He lifted her chin upwards and held her gaze, eyes searching for the source of her distress. Mercy tried to deny his voiceless question but could not.

  “No, just… I won’t live as long as you. I’ll get old and you’ll leave me for a younger woman.”

  “You are my mate, Mercy Drake,” he said, voice firm and resonating in the quiet of the room. “Mine. I will not let you go, not now, not ever.”

  A relieved smile spread on her face. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’m so needy. My emotions are all over the place. Please continue explaining your work.”

  Paax adjusted the scope to her height. “What if we can introduce a compound to encourage the native Mahdfel heal factor to increase? Here.” Mercy leaned over the lens. He stood near her, radiating heat.

  “What am I seeing?”

  “If you were a biologist…”

  “Well, I’m not. Explain it simply for me, please.”

  “Those cells are young. They have all the qualities of a sample taken from a twenty year old subject.”

  “Okay.”

  “Those cells are taken from a seventy year old subject and they are fully restored to youth.”

  “Where did you get the sample?”

  “Omas.”

  Mercy straightened and looked Paax in the eyes. “This is what he wants so badly.”

  Excited, Paax went to another bench. “I’ve developed an experimental compound. It encourages cellular restoration. A fountain of youth if you’re poetic.”

  “So this serum can make anyone super strong and healthy?”

  “In a cnau shell, yes. It encourages muscle growth and heightens the senses. Injuries heal quicker. I’ve hypothesized that it stalls the aging process but I need more data.”

  “This is amazing!” His smile was infectious. Mercy wanted to throw her arms around him and plant a kiss on his gorgeous mouth.

  “Yes, but I’ve had a few setbacks.” Paax opened a black and white lab notebook. Glasses emerged from his front pocket and rested on his face. “The formulation is unstable.”

  “It has a short shelf life?” Harder to manufacture and ship, but other drugs faced similar problems.

  Paax shook his head. “There are psychological side effects from prolonged use. Bursts of anger. Irrational thinking.”

  “And this has happened to your brother?”

  He nodded, mouth turned down at the corners. Gone was the boyish joy. “My twin and my Warlord. Yes. I did not consider the consequences when I started him on the regimen.”

  “A regimen?”

  Paax flipped through a notebook. “He was seriously injured. Without his mate, he… Omas did not want to live. He wasn’t healing properly. The clan needs their Warlord. I had the serum in development. Early results were positive. I was certain it was the only thing that could bring him back.” He glanced up from his notebook, a sad smile. “It is rather impressive, isn’t it? The way I brought my brother back from the grave but condemned him to be an unstable monster.”

  “I’m sure he’s not a monster.” Probably, right? Mercy knew less about Omas than she did about Paax. They only had the encounter on the stairs where he sniffed her.

  “Remarkable.” Referring to the formulation and in no way talking about the lurch in her stomach when he looked down at her, passion burning in his bright blue eyes. “Such compassion for such a little thing.”

  “I’m not little.” Damn that sexy man.

  He moved swiftly forward and claimed her lips. Mercy moaned with desire in the back of her throat. A slow kiss. Thoughtful. All the time in the world to let lips brush against each other, for tongue to scout the horizon beyond. Her hands drifted to his horns, caressing them in long strokes.

  He blazed a trail of kisses from the corner of her m
outh, across to the earlobe and down her neck. His tongue laved the curve where her neck joined her shoulder, the area he bit last night. He growled possessively, “Mine.”

  “Yours,” she said. Her fingers undid the buttons on his shirt. Kisses went down to his chest.

  His grip on her hips tightened.

  Mercy went to her knees, cold concrete forgotten, and undid his fly. His cock eagerly greeted her. Mercy kissed the tip and glanced up at Paax. Their eyes locked and she took him in her mouth as much as possible. He grew harder in her mouth, swelling and stiffening. She ran her tongue around the head and down the underside, along the length of rigid veins. Both of his hands gripped the back of her head, urging her to continue.

  Mercy grabbed the shaft with one hand and cupped his balls with the other. She kept a slow pace down the length of his cock and back up again, around the head. All the time in the world. She steadily increased in the suction until his hard cock pulsed.

  “Mine,” Paax cried, hands clutching her head, fingers tangled in her hair.

  She did not pull away as he came. She swallowed every last drop. His member twitched as he came. She waited until he finished and rose, skimming his body with hers.

  Paax lifted her. Without a word, he sat her down atop a black workbench. Pushing her skirt up to her hips, his hungry fingers tore at her soaked underwear, yanking down the fabric.

  He ran his hand along her thighs, outside and then parting them, all the while maintaining eye contact. Little kisses journeyed from her knees towards her inner thigh. Stubble brushed against delicate skin.

  He spread her legs wide like a specimen to be examined. He paused, his hungry gaze gobbling up the view of her pussy. The bright light through the windows cast his face in shadows. “You’re gorgeous.”

  A finger parted the downy hair and pushed further in, finding wetness. His eyes did not leave her pussy. His fingers slowly spread the slick evidence of her arousal. She throbbed with desperate need.

  He pressed his face in, breathing deeply. “You smell amazing, wife. I bet you taste even better.” His tongue flicked against her clit and his fingers worked in and out of her. Mercy didn’t last long before she clutched his horns and begged for mercy. His tongue did not cease its relentless teasing, spearing into her, and he drank every creamy drop of her release.