Marked 1: Marked for Pleasure

Jennifer Leeland

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Conner is all military. He believes in his cause and his planet. He's determined to find the assassins that killed his best friend's mate before he takes out his next target, and he doesn't expect to live beyond the end of it. ...
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Conner is all military. He believes in his cause and his planet. He's determined to find the assassins that killed his best friend's mate before he takes out his next target, and he doesn't expect to live beyond the end of it.

Rhea's quest for the people who killed her parents leads her to Conner, the man with all the answers. The only way to get her enemies is to pose as Conner's submissive, which she does willingly, but what happens when he marks her as his mate?

  • Note:This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and content, menage (m/f/m, f/f/f), moresome (m/f/f/f, m/f/f/f/m), same-sex sexual interaction/practices (f/f), spanking, violence.
It wouldn't help to get impatient. Conner reminded himself several times to relax, take a deep breath. After three years, he was so fucking close. The men he sought would be here. They had to be.

Whatever the assassins had planned, it couldn't be good. And the fact that they targeted sexual establishments such as the Star of Pleasure only added to their anonymity. Most family members left didn't want to admit where their loved ones were murdered. He shook his head. The Blueshift Brotherhood was good. They targeted men who prided themselves on their religious purity or their wholesome image. When the victim was assassinated, his deviant practices were exposed, creating more political chaos.

To find a connection, Conner had been recruited by his government, given a bad boy persona, and sent after the group responsible. “Recruited.” What a word. He'd been eager. His best friend had died seeking these assholes. He wasn't going to fail.

Since he'd been chasing them, the Brotherhood had used germs, bombs, disintegrators, and every other type of weapon to eliminate their prey. Anyone caught in their web was collateral damage.

He tossed his bag onto the huge bed in the spacious bedroom. It seemed natural to the Terans to ask a Nyral soldier to go after the Brotherhood. His whole culture was based around bondage, domination, sadism, and masochism. He was the only undercover soldier left. One by one, starting with his best friend, they'd been eliminated by the very assassins they'd been chasing.

God, he was tired. Home seemed so far away.

No point thinking about Nyral now. He was far away from home and had a part to play. Interstellar bad boy with a reputation for being dishonest, disreputable, and dangerous. He ignored the knot in his gut at the things he'd traded to keep that reputation. His military career showed him as a traitor. Only a few knew he wasn't the dirty, rotten pirate who would do anything for filthy lucre.

He caught sight of his reflection in a wall mirror. His brown hair, cut short, and his fit physique all seemed the same, but there was a…tired expression, almost a jaded look, in his green eyes. To find the assassins, he'd become something like them. It chafed. Conner wasn't even sure if the man underneath the grime was still the Nyral warrior he'd been three years ago. Maybe the dirt wouldn't wash off.

Was it worth it? Fuck if he knew. But he was on this floating orgy to find the one piece of information that could end his exile.

Not to mention he had to stop the assassination of a Teran Five minister.

All five of the Teran planets had come together and asked Nylar for help. For some reason, the five human colonies had become targets of the Brotherhood, their politicians disgraced or murdered, and their political structure weakened. Up until now, the assassinations had been low-level, slightly powerful people. But this target? Ander Rylan, powerful, popular, and slicker than shit.

He sighed. It never ended. He'd get close, and the trail would dry up. This time, he'd been promised a name, the one behind the Brotherhood.

First he had to establish his reason for being there and spot his contact. It was always a woman and always a submissive. It was risky. There would be no hint, no clue. After all, if he chose the wrong woman, he might miss his chance. He checked his watch. Only ten minutes until showtime.

He dressed carefully, his leather pants and silk shirt revealing his status as a dominant. On his way out the door, he grabbed his bag of goodies. At these parties, he liked to use his own equipment.

Conner followed the directions on his HITU to the playroom and took a deep breath before stepping through the door. It wasn't really nerves. . . He took a moment to gather energy to be the dominant he had to be.

The room had seven people in various positions. He was the last to arrive. Four women were on their knees in the center of the room, each facing a different wall. Three men stood beside the door.

The rules were clear. Until all the members of the party arrived, no play could begin.

“I'm so sorry to keep you all waiting,” he announced as he summed up the men who were, in this scene, his competition and his fellow team members. “My name is Conner.”

One man bowed his head. He had the look of a fellow Nyral. “I am Surilan.”

The second man smiled. “Peter.”

The third man didn't exactly meet Conner's gaze, though he turned toward the door. “Domini.”

Surilan was about Conner's height with very black hair and dark brown eyes. His dark brown skin matched the leather of his pants and the sleeveless vest he wore. Black military-style boots gave him a sleek but hard demeanor.

Peter had blond hair and harmless good looks…that Conner didn't trust one bit. He had a blue stone the size of a pea in his ear and wore casual jeans and a T-shirt.

Domini wore a suit with a loosened tie. An unusual choice, but it suited him. His dark hair was spiky but extremely neat, and his five-o'clock shadow gave him a rugged look women would love.

The women's names were not given and wouldn't be until play progressed. He studied them. They were all so vastly different, they could have played the four seasons.

One had long, curly black hair with beautiful blue eyes. Even lowered, he noted their unusual color. She was pale, with slender hands, arms, and legs, giving her a lean, hungry look. Next to her, a woman with shoulder-length red hair, coppery and shining. Her eyes were hazel, and she had freckles. Very nice. The next woman had luxurious brown hair and sparkling brown eyes with sweet curves and wide hips.

But the blonde was perfect.

Lean and muscular, she had short blonde hair and generous breasts that jutted out, barely contained by the V-neck of her blouse. Her black skirt wrapped around her thighs just above her knees, and the lines of her neck were tense. She wouldn't be a compliant submissive.

He studied them all thoughtfully, but the blonde was the closest thing to his perfect submissive. Was the blonde the right one? Perhaps not, but his contact was aware of his preferences. It was tricky. He liked them with fight, with a little spice. Women who submitted too easily weren't going to do a damn thing for him.

Immediately he made his choice.

The rules were clear. Two men could top one woman, but in the end, the submissive chose the dominant she wanted. In the past, he'd managed to become the right woman's choice. After all, he was good at this game.

Conner glanced at the vid screen in the room. Each woman had a small wristband with a different color. Each wristband color corresponded with a number. The blonde chose third. The black-haired, first, and the redhead chose second. The woman with the brown hair chose last. The trick was to give the others a chance to choose one of the other men and not him.

On one wall, a myriad of toys waited for use. Nice toys, though he'd delve into his own supply eventually.

Domini moved to the blonde immediately. Conner slid next to the woman with the silky brown hair. Peter chose the mysterious dark-haired, and Surilan didn't seem to mind ending up with the redhead.

It was like a dance. All four men seemed to wait for the music to start. But instead of music, a sultry voice filled the room. “All these women are hungry to submit…to the right Dom. Choose your play toys carefully. Begin.”

He turned to the wall, already decided on the equipment he wanted for the little brown-haired vixen on her knees. His ability to read submissives would serve him well here. She was a submissive with a low tolerance for pain. Her unmarred back showed she'd never been flogged properly. The lack of marks on any part of her body marked her as a relative newbie to play.

She'd be an easy sub, too easy for him. He chose a dildo with a vibrating end and an automatic thrusting device. Then he obtained a flogger with soft, buttery strands that would give no pain unless he wielded it with a lot of strength. Controlled, it would titillate, not mark.

He turned his attention to Domini's choice. Conner almost smiled. The man was way off.

Domini had chosen a cane. He probably hoped to break the blonde. But she struck Conner as one who would give no screams, no cries, unless the Dom demanded it. And Domini was the type to want the pain, the blood. Fool. Waste of playtime. He'd have to distract them all and step in sooner than he'd anticipated.

His chosen submissive kept her gaze lowered and her hands loose. Her long brown hair shrouded her face. He lifted her chin to stare at her. She met his gaze, and he began to stroke her pussy with the dildo. When the toy slid inside, her body melted immediately. Easy. Too easy. The dildo did its job and brought a flush to the woman's skin. Pretty. He pushed the soft, silky strands of her camisole off her shoulders, and it slithered down her arms, baring her small, pert breasts.

“Do you like nipple clamps?” he whispered in her ear.

A wrinkle showed on her brow and was wiped away quickly. She wanted to please. She would say “yes” and not enjoy it. He could make her love them, but there was no time. He sighed. “Don't speak.” He slid his hand over her neck and thought not of her supple throat, but the tight cords he'd seen on the blonde. “I want you to roll your nipples in your own fingers, but don't come. Not until a dominant says you may.”

Her lovely, manicured fingers pinched her hardened peaks, and her breath came in gasps. The flush spread over her skin. While her eyes were closed, Conner shot a glance at the blonde. Domini had her splayed against the wall, his cane thudding against her skin. Bruises were already appearing on her back, adding to the white marks that showed the blonde had taken a flogger before. Conner ground his teeth. Some Doms just got off on the power trip. He hated that aspect of these clubs. On Nyral, such a Dom would be retrained, taught the true meaning of power.

The thought reminded him of the job he had with the little brown-haired mouse. Her first flogging would be a taste, just a taste. He slipped the strands over her skin, and she shuddered. His first swing was light, controlled. She gasped and stopped rolling her nipples, her eyes wide. The second strike was harder and left a light pink trail. She moaned and began to twist her tits in a frantic movement. More strikes, all relatively light, pinkened her skin, and her hips thrust the dildo deeper into her sweet little pussy.

He stopped, and she whimpered. “I am not the right dominant for you, my dear.” She didn't seem to hear him. He glanced around the room. The other men's attention was riveted on the brunette at the edge of orgasm. In the silence, he made his move. “Submissive Three?”

The sultry voice came into the room. “Acknowledgment required.”

The blonde's voice was low and sexy. “I accept.”

One more task.

Conner leaned down and told the brown-haired woman, “Come for me.”

Her keening cry held the attention of the other three men despite their intense play. Domini met his gaze. That's right, you prick. I want to get my subs off, not torture them.

The man hadn't done anything to get the blonde hot at all. Just bruises. Though he'd read that she could tolerate large amounts of pain, he was fairly sure the Dom hadn't turned her on. “May I?” he asked Domini. Conner placed his hand near the woman's pussy.

Domini's dark eyes blazed with suppressed anger. He didn't want Conner to touch the woman. But Conner played the game, and he knew the fucking rules. If she was dry, if the cane didn't do it for her, Domini was done.

Conner kept his gaze on Domini's face as he slid two fingers inside the woman's channel. Nothing. Dry as a bone. He glared at Domini. “She is dry. I claim her.”

The sultry voice sounded. “Accepted. Submissive Three, your new Dom is now Master Conner.”

A muscle jerked in Domini's cheek, but he moved off. The brunette had been claimed by Surilan, and the redhead now had the blond dominant spanking her. The dark-haired woman was the right one for Domini anyway. She loved pain and had several scars on her back and arms. The man could probably beat her senseless.

But now Conner had to take care of his submissive.

He released the blonde's restraints. She dropped to her knees at his feet, her breasts scraping the floor. A feeling of intense need swamped him. It was such an odd feeling that he hesitated for a heartbeat. In that moment, she lifted her head and stared at him. Pools of mystery, filled with hope, need, something. He couldn't name it, even in his own mind. It drew him to her as if she were a sun and he revolved around her. She lowered her eyes an instant after their gazes met.

The desire to make her scream with pleasure shot through him like a bolt of electricity. The mission didn't matter. All his burdens were forgotten as he slid his hand through her hair and turned her face to meet his. “I have what you need.”

Her body trembled, but he kept his hand buried in her hair as he twisted one of her nipples between his fingers. She gasped and licked her lips. He released her hair. “Sit up,” he ordered.

She sat back on her haunches. He still gripped her breast and reveled in the way she arched toward his hand even as her body rose.

He knew what he wanted. “Strip me. Slowly.”

She fumbled with the button of his leather pants. The zipper slid down, and his cock sprang free. She stared at his length. It moved naturally toward her sweet lips. But she wasn't done. She gripped the edges of his trousers and slid them inch by inch down his thighs, her breath hot on his balls.

He bent down to give her access to his shirt buttons. She flicked them open, her face near his, and a charming blush traveled over her face. Discomfort, almost shyness. Apparently, sex she could do. Intimacy frightened her. Well, he knew that feeling.

When her hands brushed his shoulders to remove his shirt, his face rested in the valley of her breasts, and he inhaled. She smelled sweet, a heady flavor of sweat and woman.

He laid his mouth by her ear. “Suck my dick.” He straightened, his cock tantalizingly near her mouth where she knelt in front of him.

Her hands rested on his thighs, and he thrust his hands in her hair. Her tongue flicked out to stroke his cock. Then he was in her mouth, and her sweet cavern engulfed him with erotic suction that almost made him moan. He thrust deeper to the back of her throat and held her head to keep her from sliding her mouth over his length. He was barely hanging on. It stunned him. He was all about control, and this woman was testing it, straining it. How was that possible?

The feel of her lips over his sensitive ridges made his senses spin. But he remembered he had to finish the scene. He yanked her head back, and she moaned in protest, a sound that made precum leak from the fissure that only wanted one thing.

Her pussy.

Instead of giving in to that desire, he gripped her arm and pulled her to a bench in the corner. He placed her over his naked thighs, his cock pressing against her belly. She squirmed and glanced back over her shoulder. Lost in his own sensations, he almost missed the expression that skittered across her features. Fear and need combined to create a mask he recognized. Consciously, she feared his hand on her ass. Subconsciously, she craved it. He slid his fingers over the marks on her back, the ones Domini had put there. She shivered.

He removed his hand and met her gaze. “Say your word.”

She bit her lip, and he thrust two fingers into her now-weeping pussy. “You will trust me, or you won't. Speak.”

“I won't say it.”

He nodded once and removed his fingers. He raised his right hand to spank her ass. His left hand captured one of her breasts in a firm grip. He rolled her nipple, and his right hand descended. The sound echoed throughout the room, and her body jerked. He struck her again, right at the junction where her pussy lips protruded and begged for attention. He slid his fingers over her slit, his other hand still on her breast.

Her body arched and squirmed in his lap. His cock ached to sink into her slick channel, but he wanted her crazy, out of control. He spanked her again, the slap of his palm tingling with the force. She arched into his blows, and her cream made her pussy shine and glisten. She was close. God, she was so fucking hot. One more and he hoped she'd explode.

When his hand met the crack of her ass, she screamed, and he caught the stream of cum from her sweet release with his fingers. He licked them, the salty taste of her filling his mouth with need.

His cock was iron hard against her stomach. He wasn't going to last much longer. He wanted inside her now.

Copyright © Jennifer Leeland


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