Assassin For the Pale Breed by K. R. Jones

Heat Rating: Fire

Content Warnings: Does not contain an HEA. This book is the second book of a series.

Fleeing the love of his brother's wife Timothy and his women penetrate the heart of an ancient empire.

She was dressed in one of the strange wraps that the women of a Trade Merchant wore when they ventured into public. It was a rich light green silk, beyond the price of any cloth he had seen on a woman other than the witch metal fabrics the Pale Breed wore as both armor and seductive decoration. He could see her long neck pulse with excitement and her green eyes reminded him of Dee's all consuming green witch fire. He felt his member harden almost immediately.

She unwrapped the packaging, seven winds of cloth, each revealing more and more of the strangely colored smooth skin. And, with each wind of cloth the smell of her perfume increased. He felt his nose begin to burn a bit and his blood began to surge. The cold tingling around his neck was a distraction, but it was enough to keep him from losing his senses. Instead, he managed to stand there as she stripped when his blood urged him to seize her.

Finally she was covered only by a golden mesh across her flat belly and a golden half cup bra that lifted her firm conical breasts up and outward. Tiny green emeralds outlined her smooth dark brown aureole, accentuating erect ruby painted nipples. She pulled a string; the bra and mesh dropped to her feet. Now without a word, the exotic beauty stood naked with only a light green half mask hanging from the mid nose over her mouth.

She breathed slowly and whispered, "You are brave, so young and strong."

He smiled and walked by her, turning his head, keeping her in sight, lingering with his eyes over her intoxicating body. She studied him for a moment then waved her hand acknowledging the importance of checking the lock on her door. He touched it, not to jiggle it. Just by touching he could tell it was locked. He had some Skill, no matter what Lady Reaper said. Then he pulled from his false belt a wedge of wood and deftly shoved it into the door crack. All the Lady Reaper's lectures had instilled in him certain instincts, despite his protests. Key or no key, anyone wanted to enter the room would have to break the door out of its frame.

He stepped toward her and she ran to him. Her intoxicating perfume almost took his breath away. She rubbed herself against him with a desperation he would have normally suspected, but at that moment he knew it was his desire for her reflected back. The coldness around his neck continued to pull at his thoughts, but she was warm, full and someone else's woman. As she rubbed against him, her long fingers opened his vest carefully, not ripping buttons as a village girl in heat might do. When the vest slid off his shoulders she pulled his head down by the neck and he tasted her warm full lips for the first time. This was no ceremonial kiss on the cheek.

Her tongue was strong and insistent. He let her take over for a moment as his hands grabbed her haunches and helped her rub her naked hairless mound back and forth across the bulge in his pants. She gasped, bit at his lips and lifted her long legs around his hips. He leaned back to keep their balance as she laughed lustily and opened his shirt. She bit his shoulder and pushed the shirt off his shoulders. Pain stabbed as her nails dug into him. The healing stone would be getting a workout when this was done.

He managed to walk her to the bed and put her down. She sat on the edge and grabbed his belt buckle. He quickly undid it so she wouldn't find the slits and storage pouches tucked into the overly wide and falsely thick leather. The draws on his pants were opened quickly and her throat made tiny grunting noises as her arms strained to pull down his pants, stopping at his thighs when his member sprang outward to her mouth.

Village girls had no skill at sex compared to the High Plateau women who bedded men as men would bed women. The soldiers and magic workers were expert, but they were nothing to compare to the House Breeds. He had visited every House Breed the Great Mother's House had to offer and there were a dozen new ones every cycle. Before this he would have said no woman could use her mouth as expertly as the House Breed of the Markov Family. They proudly claimed to be descended from the Great Mother, a legendary whore from the Age of Technology. He had believed their brag, but this hot, strange foreign beauty could give the hottest of the House Breed a fair run for his money. This was the type of female contest he approved.

While she seemed to swallow his long member, her sharp claws curled around his buttocks, flexing against his hardness. She moaned in ecstasy and trembled. It was all he could do to keep from shooting his fluids into her early and cutting the session short. The air seemed to pulse with the motion of her tongue. He had to have her properly. He grabbed her hair and pulled her mouth off him and pushed her on her back. He pulled down his pants and almost ended the moment of passion by falling on his ass as he untangled the cuffs and shed his boots.

She propped herself up on one elbow and traced her manicured nail down her sweaty flat belly, spread her tight lips and rubbed herself, opening her legs and flicking her tongue. As he finally extracted his feet from his boots and socks he came to her, grabbing her ankles, lifting first one foot and then the other up to his shoulders. She bit her light green painted lips and fingered herself roughly, moaning and writhing. She used her toes to rub the sides of his face and then placed one foot on his chest as if challenging him to push forward against her strength.

She spoke for the second time only, throatily demanding, "Inside me. Deep! Hurt me!"