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Lights Out! [The Huntsmen 1]
by Amber Green

Category: Erotica
Description: November, 1942: Headlines scream of war overseas, not of monstrous Hydes lurking in the blacked-out streets of New York City. Yet Hydes once driven underground by electric light have reclaimed the dark hours. The city's Guardian summons Huntsmen Jack French and his twin, Tommy, to combat the Hydes. Only half a step from becoming monsters themselves, the twins risk life and soul to protect the people of the daylight world. Their chances of survival are small indeed, but that's what war is. That's what Huntsmen do. Lorie volunteers for frontline duty in the secret war against the Hydes.Under Jack's intimate tutelage, Lorie becomes a perfect feeder--and the consummate bait. But when a beloved face becomes a monster's face, will she have the grit to do what must be done? [Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: anal intercourse, strong violence, voyeurism/mdnage, passing reference to m/m episode.]
eBook Publisher: Loose Id, LLC, 2007
eBookwise Release Date: March 2008

eBookeBook

48 Reader Ratings:
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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [241 KB]
Words: 50911
Reading time: 145-203 min.


She'd bit him. Bit him like an animal. He hadn't made a noise. She'd have howled if anybody bit her so hard. Guys are different. Or this guy is.

He wrapped all around her with his heat and his hard muscles. "I have you," he murmured. "I have you."

He did. He held her up when her own legs wouldn't.

Come morning, would he still wear the imprint of her teeth? She kissed the bite-mark. For now, he wore her brand.

His rod pulsed against her, insistent, like a bull at the gate. She touched it with her fingertips, trying to gauge its size and shape. His skin was soft, but thin, and under that thin skin was something clenched and rigid.

"Can you stand?" he asked, his voice a growl.

She could, however shakily. He turned her to the wall and leaned his chest against her back.

"Spread your feet, Shy. Grab the back rim of the tub. Hold it tight."

His chest pressed against her back, but an arm crooked in front of her hips kept her close. She bent forward and gripped the hard, cold edge of the tub. He moved the shower curtain to the outside. A draft raised gooseflesh as she adjusted her grip.

Jack reached outside the shower, and the jar scraped open. His hands returned to her, palms stroking while one long finger slid along her butt crack, trailing another chilling load of the thick lotion. She shuddered.

He kissed her neck lingeringly. "Don't be afraid."

"I'm cold!"

"Not for long."

Two long fingers pressed inside her again, more easily than before. She held on. The curving rim of the tub was solid, when the corkscrewing fingers up her bottom could not possibly be any part of her real life. This would be one of those rare and mesmerizing dreams she could never talk about.

One hand, large and capable, grasped her hip. "Exhale. Move every tiny mouthful of air out of your lungs. Empty yourself. Good. Now take the deepest breath you can. All the way in. As I push in, you push out."

As her ribs expanded, his rod--cock, she reminded herself--pressed against her, into her, stretching and burning as he worked his way through the tight opening. Owwww!

She clenched her teeth, trying to suck in some more air.

No good. It hurt.

He paused. "Again. Inhale deeply, and push."

She shook her head, panting now, fighting her instincts to jerk away. He flexed behind her, nudging deeper. She swallowed a whimper. Is this a baseball bat?

She shifted her weight, and he intruded another inch.

"Inhale! Now!"

It's too much! She lunged away, putting one knee on the rim of the tub to scramble out, but he caught her.

One forearm covered her mouth and one locked about her hips. He bent over her, ramming his slicked-up rod all the way in. Owwww!

She bit down hard, and pried her fingers under his arm. She couldn't budge him. Opening her mouth wider just got her too big a mouthful to chew. She raked a wet heel down his wet shin.

The impaling rod wrenched inside her. He grunted, but he still held her, controlling her struggles like she was a three-year-old pitching a hissy fit.

"Bite if you must, but don't scream and don't fight."

His voice, cold and calm, froze the fight out of her.

If this is sodomy, why would anyone have to pass laws against it? Only a lunatic would submit to this more than once.

He tightened his grip, half lifting her. His heart beat fast and hard between her shoulder blades. Either the calm in his voice or his galloping heartbeat was a lie.

When she had stood quietly in his arms for a moment, accepting him, he let her feet touch down again. She put a hand to the wall.

Behind her, he swiveled his hips, moving the whole length of his rod inside her. "Don't fight me, Shy," he said more gently. "You'll hurt yourself."

She tapped his arm, one-two, and he uncovered her mouth. She worked her jaw and took a few breaths, each one lessening the burning ache by a measurable degree but doing absolutely nothing for her seething anger. "Don't tell me I'll hurt myself when you're the one hurting me!"

"Point taken. What I should have said is, 'if you fight, you might injure both of us.' Speaking of injury, remind me later to show you how to fight. This flopping about and nipping hasn't done you a bit of good, has it? Now, bend forward."

She did, feeling instant relief as his rod took a more natural angle. This isn't natural.

"I'll move slowly for a while. Tell me when it starts feeling good."


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