Excerpt - Unedited Work In Progress - Best in Breed
This is an excerpt from the sequel to MINE. The book is called Best in Breed...and it's incomplete. Enjoy!
Chapter Two
Like prized pets competing for Best in Breed, the men were paraded before the Assembly. Their handlers kept them close, tethered on short, jewel-studded leashes. Down the center aisle they came, single-file, their oiled bodies glistening, their finely honed muscles rippling with every step. Malique watched as they circled the room, eyeing them closely as they climbed the red-velvet covered stairs to line up center stage. She examined each head-to-toe, not particularly impressed, but hopeful just the same.
Most of the captives were well-trained, and having accepted their fate, would approach their assignments with gentleness and even enthusiastic tenderness. Malique quickly recognized, and then dismissed, these more domesticated candidates. She had a yearning for something a little more exciting, a little edgier…perhaps even a bit dangerous.
"Look there, darling. Isn't he simply glorious?" Ambrosia, Malique's sister, pointed toward the far end of the stage.
Malique turned, taking in the tall, broad-shouldered man who, along with his trainer, stood off to her right. She squinted against the spotlights' glare, examining the man's hard, unforgiving features. Covered in nothing more than a breechcloth, his silky black hair hanging long and loose, tousling about his shoulders as he gave a quick shake of his head in response to something his trainer said to him, the man looked more feral cat than human. His brows were like dark slashes over hooded, breathtaking green eyes. Even at this distance, Malique could see them sparkling in the theater lights, reflecting a coldly calculating intelligence. She could almost see his mind working, taking everything in, plotting…
"Gloriously dangerous. That one is not fully broke." Malique kept her voice low. If one of the trainers were to overhear such an analysis, their discipline of the offending candidate would be swift and harsh. "From where does he hail?"
"According to Captain Stillwell, he was captured outside the badlands, wandering near the Prism River. By the looks of him, he'd been traveling for weeks, most likely on foot."
"By the looks of him?" Malique once again eyed the tall, dark candidate. "He looks in fine shape, to me."
"He's been here nearly three months."
"Three months! And I am only just now learning of his presence?" Malique started to rise. "I'll have Bradley's head for this –"
"Malique, no!"
Malique paused, glancing down at her sister. "Bradley knows I am to have first choice and a personal say in all new candidates' training. He knows the rules."
"The man was ill, near death, truth be told, and spent more than two months in the infirmary. He's only been with his handler for a few days. Look at him. You can see he's still wild, untamed."
Sinking back into her chair at the high table, Malique exhaled sharply, releasing her anger. She'd been like this for days, on edge, constantly ready to fly off on a tangent at the slightest provocation. Her gaze once again returned to the object of her interest. "If he's been in the infirmary, then you cared for him. You knew about him, too, and you didn't tell me."
"It wouldn't have mattered. He wasn't ready for you."
"Does he have a name?"
"He has not given it." Ambrosia chose a succulent piece of fruit from an overflowing trencher and popped it in her mouth. She chewed carefully and swallowed before she continued. "And since I released him to his handler, he's been quite uncooperative. I fear for his life."
Malique raised a brow. "His life? We're not barbarians, 'Brosia. A candidate has not been executed for disobedience since before my reign."
"I am only relating –"
"If you raise that whip to me again, I'm going to shove it up your ass!" The venomous, masculine voice rang through the Assembly, causing a collective gasp from the audience.
Malique didn't have to look to know who had dared to speak so outrageously. She leapt to her feet and raced down the stairs, ignoring Ambrosia's warning to be careful.
"Nay! Do not strike him again," she said, striding across the stage. She held out a hand. "Give me his lead."
"But my lady, he's dangerous. I don't think --"
"I didn't ask you to think!" Malique shouted, her temper once again getting the best of her. Belatedly, she remembered her position and regained her composure. She lowered her voice and spoke through clenched teeth. "Give me his lead."
"Yes, my lady." The trainer reluctantly handed over the bejeweled leash, and then stepped back, as if preparing to run at the first sign of trouble.
Malique wrapped the leather rope around her hand, then eyed its length, following it up – and up – until she found herself staring into the angriest eyes she'd ever seen. If looks could kill…
"I would have your name," she said, holding his icy stare.
To her surprise, the candidate smiled, though the action held no warmth. He bowed deeply, his dark head coming within a hair's breadth of her waist. "Beaufort LeBlanc, at your service." He straightened. "And who are you, gorgeous?"
Another round of gasps and excited whispers filled the room. Malique's cheeks grew warm. From anger, or excitement? Beaufort LeBlanc's cool appraisal set her heart pounding, but his familiarity, at least his public familiarity, had to be checked.
"I am Malique Carlisle, Empress of Sutherland, and you may address me as Empress or my lady. Understood?" She gave a light tug on his lead to emphasize her words. When he didn't answer right away, she took a step closer and lowered her voice. "Listen and listen well, Beaufort LeBlanc. I am trying to save your incredibly sexy ass here. Do not fight me – especially not in public – or I shan't be able to halt your execution."
For the first time since she'd set eyes on him, the candidate smiled in earnest. The warmth of it – the purely sexy hotness of it – set Malique's blood on fire, and her damn knees grew weak.
"My incredibly sexy ass and I thank you for your intervention," he said, he, too, keeping his voice low. "What now?"
"Now, you pretend to be properly chastised, and don't you dare contradict me." Without giving him a chance to respond, Malique turned back to the frightened handler, holding out Beaufort Le Blanc's lead. "I claim this candidate as my own. Take him to my suite, immediately. I'll be there to relieve you shortly."
Without a word, the handler took up the leash and turned away, giving a sharp tug to indicate the candidate should follow. Malique held her breath, but then released it in relief when her newly acquired playmate docilely followed his handler down from the stage and out a back entrance.
Ignoring the curious stares from the members of her court, Malique returned to her seat. She slipped into her chair, casting a sidelong glance at Ambrosia. "Don't say a word. Not one word."
"I wasn't going to say anything," Ambrosia said, and then chuckled loud enough to draw more attention their way. "Not a thing. I knew, from the moment I set eyes on him, you'd find him exceptional. However, when you're through with him, can you pass him on to me?"
Malique sipped her wine, pretending an interest as the entertainment began in earnest, with handlers taking center stage, one after the other, to put their candidates through their paces. Finally, she turned to Ambrosia with a grin. "Of course you can have him when I've finished with him. If there's anything left, that is."
###
"Where is he?" Malique swept into her apartment, slamming the door behind her.
The startled trainer jumped and spun around, nearly losing his footing. "He – he is in your bedroom, my lady."
"Really?" She drew off her long, white, kid-leather gloves and tossed them on a nearby chair. "How interesting. And you left him alone?"
"He said he wished to nap, my lady." Shuffling his feet, the trainer stared at the ground.
"Well, if he wished to nap, by all means, he should nap. Did you offer him some of my finest wine before tucking him in for the night?" Malique's voice rose with every word. "Leave me, now!"
"But my lady, what if he should wake, what if --?"
"What if, what? He needs a midnight snack? Needs you to scrub his back?" She waved off the red-faced trainer, giving him her back. "I said, leave, you useless moron. I'm certain I can handle my new candidate's needs from here."
Without waiting for a response, she stalked down the hallway, her fists balled in anger, nails digging into her palms. Handsome he might be, spectacular, even, but her new playmate needed to be brought down a few pegs and put in his place. Men were only useful when they were brought under control. She wouldn't break his spirit, but he'd have to learn to behave.
Pushing open her bedroom door, she glanced in, prepared to blast candidate LeBlanc for his temerity. Instead, she moved into the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
He lay atop the bedding, sprawled on his back, one tanned, muscular arm thrown over his eyes. His broad chest rose and fell in a deep, regular rhythm, which told her he was, indeed, fast asleep.
Malique let her gaze drift lower, drinking in his glorious abs, which were covered by a light trail of hair, leading down to a thick, curly, dark bush. Nestled between his outstretched thighs, his flaccid cock drew and held her attention.
Malique closed in on the bed, moving quietly so as not to awaken him. Standing over him, she removed her dress, the zipper's slide sounding overly loud in the silent room. Her gown dropped to the floor in a puddle at her feet, and she bent down, started to remove her sandals, but then thought better of it. He could remove them for her, later, when she'd draped her legs over his shoulders and spread herself open for that enormous cock.
Nude, she climbed onto the bed, straddling her new candidate's steely thighs. He didn't stir, not even when she positioned her dripping pussy directly atop his groin. Malique raised a brow, certain he was awake. What game did he think to play with her now?
"Beaufort LeBlanc, look at me."
He opened one eye, his full lips twisting in a half-grin that did crazy things to her heartbeat.
"Yes, my lady, what can I do for you?" His question came out in a sleep-roughened whisper, and the way he said 'my lady'…my God.
"I think the answer to your question should be quite obvious." Thrown off kilter by both his behavior and her reaction to the man, Malique spoke more harshly than she intended. "Unless, of course, all of this—" She indicated his body with a wave of her hand. "—is just for show?"
"Not for show, my lady," he said, "but not for sale, either."
"Who said anything about purchasing your services? You silly man, I own you already. You're mine…lock, stock," she paused, rubbing herself over his still-flaccid member to emphasize her words, "and cock."
Beau raised a brow. "Surely you've heard that ancient expression? You can lead a horse to water…"
Malique grinned. So, she'd found herself a man who thought he could outsmart a woman, had she? A challenge. What fun! "Oh, Beau, I'll lead you to the water, all right, and by the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging me to let you drink."
Without hesitation, Malique slipped lower, coming to her knees between his legs. She held his gaze as she dipped her head, dragging her tongue along the length of him. He sucked in his breath, his cock twitched, and Malique smiled inwardly. This would be no contest, but she'd known that from the start. All men were the same, at their core. Absolutely perfect and necessary for some things, but completely predictable in almost every way.
With a sigh of pleasure, she took him in her mouth, sucking him deep. He grew instantly, ragingly hard, and he fisted his hands in her hair, pulling her closer.
Malique took him all in, allowed him to thrust against her face, allowed the head of his cock to slide down her throat. Purposefully she milked him with her mouth, showing him just how good it could be, how good it could feel, and how powerless he was to resist her.
With every long, languid thrust of his hips, Beau moaned, the sound rumbling in his chest, and everywhere their bodies touched, Malique felt his muscles tense and quiver, like tightly strung bows. She continued her ministrations, giving him pleasure, waiting…waiting…
"Enough." She suddenly released him, sitting back on her heels and licking her swollen lips. "Now, about that drink?"
With a low growl, he sat up, gripping her shoulders and tossing her to her back on the bed. Roughly, he spread her thighs and rolled between them, entering her in one swift, harsh thrust.
Malique cried out, grasping his shoulders and digging in her nails as he stretched and filled her and pounded into her as if driven by demons. He didn't kiss her, hell, didn't even look at her, while he pumped and withdrew and pumped and withdrew, battering her willing flesh, deeper and deeper still.
Malique's legs began to tremble, and her toes grew numb as her orgasm built, low and intense. "Oh, yes! That's right. Oh. I knew you'd be good."
Beau looked down, finally looked at her, and the expression in his eyes made her want to scream. "No! Don't you dare! Beau, I demand --."
And then it was over. One moment she'd been enjoying a glorious fuck – a never-before-experienced-one-of-a-kind-amazing fuck – and the next, she lay naked, alone and exposed on the bed, her entire body trembling with unsatisfied need. Oh, he'd come alright. Quick as a cat, he'd found his release, the evidence of which mostly dribbled down her left thigh. He'd pulled out at the last moment, taking himself in his fist and finishing himself off, leaving her aching and empty and angry as hell.
Beau stood beside the bed, and when she looked up at him, he leaned over, placing a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose.
"Thank you," he said, "that was wonderful. Just what I needed. Man, you give great head. Never would have expected it from a lady like you."
"You son-of-a-bitch." Malique struggled into a sitting position, brushing her hair from her eyes. "How dare you? I could have you beaten to within an inch of your life."
Beau bent over and retrieved his breechcloth. When he straightened, his expression had turned serious. Deadly serious. "You could, but you won't."
"What makes you so sure?" Malique's voice wavered and she cursed inwardly. How the hell had he managed to turn the tables on her so completely?
"Because you chose me for a reason. Because you recognized something in me that none of those other men have."
"Oh? And what's that?" Malique raised a brow. The man had an ego the size of the Euliptic Ocean.
"A brain, and a strength of will to match your own." Beau sat on the edge of the bed. Leaning over, he ran his thumb across one of her hardened nipples. He sat back and smiled. "Not to mention my incredibly sexy ass."
Malique shook her head. Delusional. He had to be crazy. She'd chosen him for his brain? But she had noticed his confidence, had sensed the dark edges to his personality. His strength of will? His pride? Perhaps. She stretched lazily then reached for his hand. "I think we should start over, Beaufort LeBlanc. I would like very much for you to make love to me." She paused as he met her gaze. "If you're willing."
He answered her by reaching over and extinguishing the light.
