Claimed by the Beast(31)

Although that too was a gray area. They wanted to kill him. She,  strangely enough, found herself feeling sorry for Lance. She knew what  they said was right, that Lance was unpredictable. But the more she  thought about it, the more she knew Lance was as much a victim as she  was, as they all were. The real bad guys were Dennison and these other  scientists who would keep them prisoner, treat them as specimens, use  their bodies, their DNA, for profit or worse. Lance was sick. His  disease was killing him and he had been able to make something good out  of all of the evil of the past years. He had somehow come up with a  serum to cure his disease. He just needed more time to perfect it, and  if he could do that, he could cure this illness not just for himself but  for so many others. He wasn't evil. Rachel didn't believe that, even  after what she had been through with him. He was desperate and he would  need to learn to manage and control the beast, but how could he without  more samples to work with?

The way Lance wanted to do it wouldn't hurt anyone. He would take an egg  from her and create matter with which to work. She could give that to  him and if she did, then he was no longer a threat. Perhaps even an  ally. One to stand against Dennison along with Marcus and Elijah. The  greater danger, as she saw it, was Dennison.

The fastest most effective way to deal with this was to use her as bait. But Marcus wouldn't hear of it.

She heard the water switch off and soon Marcus walked into the bedroom.  Her body reacted to seeing him like that, bare naked chest dripping wet,  a small towel wrapped around his narrow hips, well-muscled legs peeking  out from underneath.

"Feeling better?" he asked, looking at her as he dried his hair with another towel.

She inhaled then exhaled. "I don't see why you won't even consider my idea," she began.

He shook his head and took a deep breath before speaking. "Rachel," he  said, sounding stern. "Why you think letting this man, this scientist,  who kidnapped you and is essentially interested in using you as a  specimen-who meanwhile has absolutely no control over when he shifts or  what he does when he is that creature-why you think you would be safe to  allow even a tiny possibility of him taking you again-I cannot even  begin to comprehend. This discussion is over." She opened her mouth but  he only raised his eyebrows. "Over. I mean it Rachel. He is out of  control. Even if his intentions were good, were noble, which I doubt, he  is out of control. You will stay out of this. We're not discussing it  again."

"Fine," she said.

"Go have a shower so we can go," he said.

"I'll stay here," she said, refusing to look at him as she folded her  arms across her chest. He was wrong on this one and he was just being  plain stubborn. "I don't feel much like shopping."

"We just need to pick up a few things."

"Are you going to spank me if I refuse to go?" she asked, turning her face to his, sounding like a brat even to herself.

"No," he began, his tone telling her his patience was wearing thin

"I mean, isn't that what you do? Spank me if I don't do what you say?"

He inhaled, looking as if he were counting to ten before responding. She  stared at him meanwhile, her heart racing, her brain asking what she  was thinking, why she was provoking him.

"Go have a shower. Elijah will be here soon, I want to be back before he gets here."

"I'll just wait here for him."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and touched her face. She folded her  arms across her chest. "Rachel," he began, turning her face to his.                       
       
           



       

She snapped it away.

"All right," he said, pulling the covers off her and gripping her by the  arm. "You're behaving like a spoiled brat who didn't get her way."

"Stop it! Let me go!" she called out.

He ignored her and pulled her so she lay face down across his lap. "If  you want me to spank you," he began, his hands rough on the waistband of  her shorts, "then I will," he said, pulling her shorts down.

She reached back to slap his hands away, but he only grabbed and held  her wrists at her back. "Marcus, stop! Ow!" she protested, trying to get  free.

He spanked hard. "Is this what you want?" he asked, continuing to lay fast, hard smacks across both cheeks.

"No! Stop it, it hurts!" She wondered if the people in the other rooms could hear her being punished. "Please."

He reached for the hem of her panties.

"No! Please wait."

"Wait for what?" he asked, pausing, resting his big hand on her bottom.

She turned to look at him. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, tears falling from her eyes.

She watched his own eyes redden for a moment. "Rachel, I can't take a  chance of something happening to you. I won't. I know what these men are  capable of. I've been at the receiving end and I've watched my brother  slowly wither away. I'm sorry, I won't budge on this."

The mention of Collin brought back the pain of those years that Marcus  had been gone. The pain of the massacre of his family. She allowed her  body to go limp. "Okay," she managed.

He pulled her closer but kept her over his lap. "Put your hands and feet on the floor," he said, releasing her wrists.

She glanced at him, aware of the hardness against her belly, and did as  he'd said, the sudden throbbing of her pussy replacing that of her  bottom. Slowly, he slid her panties down to mid-thigh and pulled her  legs apart. His hands then began to circle her cheeks, rubbing her  thighs, dipping in between her legs, just touching her sex, her swollen  clit.

"You're wet," he said just as one finger slid into her pussy.

She could only moan as he scooted her farther forward so her hips were  even higher and her head was nearly to the floor. His finger continued  to push in and out of her slowly, and she could feel the sticky residue  of herself on her thighs. With his other hand he found her clit and  began to massage the swollen nub, sliding his fingers, wet with her  juices, up toward her bottom hole. She arched her back, opening for him  as he pressed into her ass slowly, taking his time, sliding all the way  in then out again and again until she was panting with desire.

He added a second finger to the first and rubbed her clit harder.

She made a sound and squeezed her eyes shut, gripping his leg with both  hands when she came, lifting her bottom into his hands as he pushed deep  into her ass and pinched her clit between his fingers. When she  released his leg, he pulled out of her and slid her to her knees between  his legs. His towel had fallen open and he gripped his cock with one  hand. He brought the other to the back of her head while she watched him  stroke himself, his thick cock glistening. She opened her mouth and  leaned toward him, but he gripped a handful of hair and held her so she  could only extend her tongue out, licking the tip, tasting the few drops  there while he stroked. She reached to touch him.

"Put your hands on my thighs and keep them there," he said, his voice sounding different.

She did, glancing up at him while she still tried to pull forward, to lick him, to take him into her mouth.

"Please," she begged when he gripped her hair more tightly, standing, lifting her so she was kneeling up.

"Open your mouth and look at me."

She opened her mouth and met his eyes.

"Open wider."

She opened as wide as she could and he dipped his cock into her mouth,  closing his eyes for a moment and throwing his head back with a sigh as  she wrapped her wet lips around it, still trying to take more of him  than he would allow.

"Slow down," he told her.

He allowed her to suck for a few moments longer as his cock swelled. He  then abruptly pulled her off, her lips making a smacking sound when he  did.

"Turn around, on your hands and knees, ass high," he said.

She moved fast, spreading her knees wide and arching her back deep as he  knelt between them. He gripped her hips and dragged her back, pulling  her cheeks apart, resting just one finger on her asshole as he thrust  his cock into her pussy. He fucked her hard and fast and when she felt  him slow, felt him swell and throb, she reached back for her clit and  came as he did, her orgasm frantic as he released inside her with a  satisfied, almost wild groan.                       
       
           



       





Chapter Eighteen





Lance watched the man who had come for Rachel walk out of the hotel.  Finding Rachel had been easier than he could have hoped. He was almost  drawn to her; both her scent and her mind acting as a guide, a map. He  had driven to Tucson, unwilling to take a chance on an airplane in case  he shifted mid-flight. But now that he was here, he knew he wasn't too  late.