by Robin Lovett
Assura glances at me with questioning brows raised.
I bow my head. Challenge accepted.
She bites her lip and walks to the center of the enormous bed on the dais, her feet dipping into the softness of the gigantic mattress. I cannot take my eyes off her. She is there. She is ready. The tilt to her walk, the swivel of her hip, she’s taunting me.
The referees relay to me everything she said, and I already heard. They ask me my hard limits, of which I have none. They detail rules to me and how I must obey them, and if I try to give Assura anything she doesn’t want, they’ll stop me.
I hear them, but what I’m really watching is Assura.
She turns to me and slips her hand inside the robe, running her fingers up her inner thigh and licking her lips while she does it. She watches me, hard as stone and erect as steel, like she’s thinking about tasting it.
That can be arranged.
When the referees ask me final questions, I ask them for a couple things I’m planning, whispering and covering my mouth to be certain Assura can’t hear or read my lips.
Koviye laughs and claps his hands. “Good luck. She may hate you when you’re done.”
“She will be too far gone with ecstasy to care,” I say, loud enough for her to hear.
Her gaze heats over me with a questioning eyebrow raised. The referees release me to go to her, and the loud chime sounds.
Time to begin.
She stays where she is as I walk to her, and for the first time in hours, I’m allowed to talk to her. My heart is pumping blood so fiercely through my veins, I hear the beats in my ears.
“Are you ready for this?” I ask, my voice hoarse with impatience. The question as much for me as her. I do not think I am ready for this. But I have no willpower to stop myself. Nor can I, with the population of Fellamana watching.
I am on a speeding train and have no idea how to get off. Until I crash.
Her inhales are rapid, and a sleek sheen of perspiration shines over her skin. “It’s showtime.” She parts the tiny buttons that close the robe between her breasts and her navel.
“We have to fight first,” I mutter, almost unthinking, too enamored by watching her fingers to think about any of my plans.
“We will,” her voice is low, tuned as though for my seduction, as if that were necessary. I watch her fingers work, desperate for every inch of skin she exposes. I never knew a belly could be so sexy.
Her movements are so slow, teasing. She’s completely aware that every eye is on her, mine as well as thousands of Fellamanas’. She inches the robe off her shoulders.
It is a stunning effect. It silences the crowd, who are quieter than they have been all night.
The gradual revealing of her glorious human skin to all of us is breathtaking. And not just for me. There’s an audible gradual gasp from the crowd. Even from afar, the softness, the smoothness of her from head to toe without variation in texture or skin tone, is an anomaly to me and the Fellamana with their varieties of energy colorings.
I wait for us all to soak her in. Then, wanting to see all of her, knowing the crowd will as well, I say, “Turn.”
She does, slowly, enjoying the show and our avid attention. She faces me again and does something I do not expect—a backflip, into a handstand.
She makes a circle around me, cartwheeling and tumbling, exhibiting her exquisite strength and flexibility. The crowd, despite their trained manners to remain silent, lets out a gentle clap of appreciation.
She lands in front of me again, out of breath but smiling. “Your turn.”
“I have no need to please them.” I leave it hanging in the air without saying—I have only the need to please you. I cannot bear to say it aloud, but she grasps my meaning.
Her gaze darkens in desire and wanting. “Then what are you waiting for?”
I walk toward her. Her stance is lazy, deceptively so, one hand resting on her cocked hip. A whirring sounds above us, and my first surprise for her comes lowering from the suspension apparatus: a pair of chains, a leather cuff hanging from each.
Her laugh echoes low in her throat. “How the hell are you planning to get me into those?”
“Voluntarily.” I step closer. “You will want it.”
A growl vibrates from her chest, and fury streams from her eyes. “Never.”
It does what I suspected it would. She crouches and launches at me. I’m tackled to the ground. The first step of getting her into those chains.
Chapter Nine
Assura
He’s a fool. Delusional and pompous.
He lands hard on his back beneath me, so fast the breath is knocked out of him.
“I’d like to see you try,” I seethe in his ear, then maneuver him into a headlock.
I don’t miss that while I’m on top of him, his cock is steeled in an erection so fierce, it stands forward from his body and gouges into my thigh.
I can’t stop myself from rubbing against it, making him moan.
It makes me moan, too, wishing I could ease the ache swelling between my thighs. I’m throbbing. It’s unbearable. I want so badly to just fucking fuck him already, godsdamn it. But he had to go and get those handcuffs.
Plus, they want us to demonstrate our fighting foreplay.
Perhaps that’s why he did it—the handcuffs—to incite my anger, so we didn’t give in to lust too quickly. I won’t admit how smart that is. It’s too infuriating. It makes me want to bite him, so I do.
I sink my teeth into his ear, and he groans a sound so low, it echoes around me. I’m sure the spectators can hear.
“What’s the matter?” I say. “Does your hard-on hurt too much to fight back?” My arm squeezing his throat, holding him to my chest, my breasts lodged against his neck. “You like this pose too much.”
His free hand wanders over my hip, his fingers pressing into my thigh. “Not as much as you’ll like this one.”
He twists my leg, forcing me to let go of him and roll onto my stomach. I have no choice, or he would’ve dislocated my knee.
“Bastard,” I grit. My vulnerable human joints, with no armor, are a serious weakness.
He traps me with his enormous body, straddling my legs and anchoring my wrists. He drags the tip of his cock along the seam of my ass.
I squirm and moan. I can’t help it.
His cock is like this aphrodisiac. He does it again, until it almost tickles. It must be torturing him. It makes me arch my pelvis in to him, my body desperately seeking to have him within me.
“You want it,” he whispers in my ear. “Admit it. You will do anything to have me inside you again.”
I buck beneath him, failing to dislodge him. “Damn you.”
“You will even let me put you in those cuffs, if that’s what I demand first.”
Anger rages in me. I can’t let him know how badly he’s right. How much my whole body is screaming for him. He hasn’t figured out yet that my inner thighs are wet, I’m so ready for him. I’ve been thinking of nothing but how I want him for the hours we’ve been watching these cursed Sex Games.
But maybe letting him find out is exactly what I need to do.
I go lax beneath him, soaking in the blissful weight of him over me. It’s so easy, I like it so much, I almost fool myself into thinking this is really what I want. “It’s true,” I whisper.
I chant to myself. I’m faking it. This isn’t how I really feel. It’s a ploy. But it comes too naturally to be false.
He eases his hold on me. “What’s true?”
I relax my legs between his, letting them widen, and he lets me, releasing his thighs around my hips. “I’m so wet for you,” I plead. “Feel me.”
He moves his knees to between mine and glides down between my thighs.
The tip of him hits my opening, dipping into where I’m wettest. The cry of pleasure and longing I let out is not fake.
He swears in a language I don’t understand, and his head falls onto my shoulder. “Your cunt is so read
y to be fucked.” He nudges deeper inside me.
I widen my thighs, slightly, letting him in just an inch.
His hips surge on instinct, his cock butting against me, but my legs aren’t open wide enough for him to enter me. A brutal groan sounds from his throat.
I hadn’t counted on, or I’d forgotten, how big he is. Just letting him in that small bit has the tip of him butting against my G-spot. It makes me want to come just from him hitting me there.
The pleasure nearly knocks me out, it’s so good.
I rock my hips against him, not opening further, just feeling him rub me. The base of his long cock slides between my cheeks and…
Oh…
Something else is nudging the entrance to my ass.
I still. I’d forgotten about that confounded piece of jewelry the Fellamana put around his cock. Those devils. It feels so good, him probing at both my entrances, I almost lose myself.
But not quite. I remember my plan.
His grip on my wrists has loosened enough. Just like I hoped.
“You ready to let me fuck you?” he rumbles, his chest vibrating against my back.
“Not yet.” With a surge of strength, I elbow him in the armpit and toss him off me.
I roll away from him and land on my feet. I steady myself in a defensive stance—as best I can when I’m so inflamed; all I really want to do is lie on my back and spread my legs for him.
Nope.
Not yet, anyway. We have to give the crowd the fight demonstration they want.
And I am not letting him put those handcuffs on me, no matter how much I’m dying to be at his mercy. I swore I’d use this time to repay him with pleasure to make up for the pain I’ve caused another Ssedez.
Soon. I know exactly what the Ssedez needs to feel mindless ecstasy—techniques that on humans would be bitter agony.
He maneuvers into a crouch, and the ferocity in his gaze is unmistakable. So are his fangs, extended brutally past his lower lip.
Gods. I’d get on my knees just to have him bite me. It makes no sense. I don’t know why I should want him to bite me, but those fangs drip with something, a venom I bet is an aphrodisiac. I want every pleasure he has to give me.
I shake the thoughts from my head. Focus!
He doesn’t get up from one knee, his breathing heavy, and his hand sneaks down to squeeze his cock. He winces.
He’s in pain. He’s so aroused it hurts.
I smirk—he’s right where I want him.
He gives a come-at-me gesture. “Give it to me.” He can’t stand. But he wants me to attack him anyway.
“With pleasure.”
I swing a kick at his head, which he blocks, deftly, but he doesn’t see my punch to his shoulder until it knocks him on his back.
The surface of the bed is soft. Too forgiving. It’s meant for sex, not fighting. I’m unable to pivot fast enough to swing at him again.
I expect him to roll and come up standing, but he lies there, his gold-plated body spread out for me like a meal. Every inch of taut muscle, every hard plane and rigid line is ready and waiting for my taking.
I circle him, stalking him. “Had enough?”
His breath sounds in rapid bursts that aren’t fast from physical exertion. It’s pure lust. “No,” he smiles.
I can’t decide if he’s lying still because he’s too fired with a need for sex to fight back, or if he’s playing me. One way to find out.
I lift my foot and prod at his erection with my toes.
He groans in agony and grabs my foot. He swings his leg to knock me off my feet, and I land on my back.
I scuttle to my knees, but he grabs hold of me—one arm binding my arms, the other holding my back against his chest.
I could fight him off. I could twist from his hold, but his hardness against my ass is so fierce, and I need it, crave it. The will to fight drains from my limbs.
“That’s it,” he breathes and turns his head so mine falls back on his shoulder. It exposes my throat to him. “Is this what you want?” His hot voice drips over my neck.
He scratches his fangs up my throat.
I shudder and arch my neck farther. “Oh gods, please.” I want to find out what his bite feels like.
His hand binding my hips releases me, but I have no thought to move. He slips his fingers between my thighs.
I’m aching for it, so the first brush of his fingertip over my clit sends a bolt of excruciating pleasure up my spine. My back bows, and I cry out.
He sucks air through his teeth, and even as he circles my clit and I rotate my hips into his touch, his hand shakes. “Do you surrender?”
I’m tired of fighting. That has to be enough for the crowd.
I just want to give in. To feel what he makes me feel and let him inside me until I’m mindless, flooded with orgasmic euphoria. “Yes.”
He takes his hand away, and I whimper from the loss.
But then I hear it, the sound of the chain.
I look to see his hand pull down one of the cuffs hanging from the suspension bar. He lifts my hand and wraps the cuff around my wrist. But he stops. He’ll have to release my chest, use both hands to fasten it.
I could fight him off. It would be so easy.
But I don’t want to.
“Do it,” I whisper, vibrating with anticipation and the explosive need to come, preferably with him buried inside me. I don’t want to resist him anymore.
I don’t know why, and I’m too out of my mind with lust to care but…I want to be his.
He uses both hands to lock the cuff around my one wrist. I lift my other hand, surrendering, letting him bind the other.
The crowd cheers.
Chapter Ten
Gahnin
I stand away from her, and she rests on her knees. Her head is bowed. She stares at the ground, her arms raised overhead, locked to the chains hanging from the suspension rack.
The power in her pose stuns me. I cannot do anything until she lets me. This is not what I expected, but I like it. More than I ever thought I would. I never would’ve believed something like this, with a human, could be so good.
I stand and face her, watching her.
The crowd is silent, waiting for my next move.
They do not know—it’s not I who have the next move; it’s her.
She inches her head up, until her chin is tilted back, and her gaze drifts hungrily over my cock and rises to my chest. I wait until she meets my eyes.
Air gets trapped in my lungs. Her gaze is the exact look I was hoping for from her, though I hadn’t prepared myself for how it would impact me.
Gratitude. Arousal.
She likes it. It turns her on.
“Please,” she whispers, so low I almost can’t hear her.
“As you command,” I murmur with a bow of respect, something I never believed I could feel for her kind. I nod at the referee manning the pulleys on the chains. I wave at him to raise them.
They lift, and Assura stands. She wraps her hands around the chains above the cuffs for handholds.
When her hands are just above her head, but her elbows still bent, I halt the referee. I walk a circle around Assura, trailing fingers lightly up and down her body. Goosebumps sprout on the path of my touch, and she visibly shudders.
I clutch one of her breasts and stop. “Okay?”
She’s gasping, her breathing jagged with impatience. “Just—fuck me. Damn you.”
I chuckle. Not even with her arms restrained has she relinquished control. She needs something else, then.
I walk over to the props table, and, knowing Assura is watching me, I peruse and make my choice. I hide what I pick up behind my back.
“What is it?” she demands.
I stop in front of her and hold up the black strip of cloth.
“No distractions,” I murmur. “I do not want you thinking about the crowd. Only what I make you feel.” I wait, giving her the opportunity to refuse.
She sneers, “Bastard,”
but nods her head just enough to mean “Yes.”
I can’t help my smile of pride; once again, my guess at what she would like is correct. I take the black strip of cloth I picked up and cover her eyes with it. I tie it in a gentle knot at the back of her head.
I wait for her to get used to the darkness.
She turns her head left and right, searching and failing to see.
I glide my hands over her sculpted ass, across her hips, and around the front to her ripped abs.
She hums, relishing in the touch of my hands. She leans back against me, arching her breasts, drawing my hands to them. I do as she wants, and she moans with pleasure when I trace her nipples. I circle them, then give them a tight pinch.
She jolts with a sigh.
I do it again, lightly brushing, followed by a tight tug. Then to keep her guessing, I alternate, circling one nipple while pinching the other.
She tightens, her body gathering, her arms straining to hold herself up by her grip on the chains. The sheer strength of her biceps curves into the muscle of her triceps. There is nowhere on her that is not muscled.
When she’s gripping so hard that I worry she may come just from my torture of her nipples, I stop and back away.
She groans in frustration.
I make no sound. I want her to wonder where I am, to not be able to guess what I will do next. I walk a slow circle around her.
She turns her head, trying to find me. “Gahnin!”
I hold my breath so she can’t hear me. I pause in front of her, far enough she can’t feel me, then reach forward and stroke through the curls at the apex of her thighs.
Her knees grow weak, and she’s forced to hang on with her hands. She arches her hips in to my touch.
I inhale to ask her to spread her legs, but she does it before I get the words out.
One touch of her soaking wet cunt, and my control shatters. I cannot waste another moment and not taste her. I force my fangs to retract back into my gums and swallow all the venom in my mouth.
I fall to my knees in front of her.
She moans, “Yes,” and lifts her leg over my shoulder.
I have barely a moment to take in the sight of her soaked, glistening folds. She’s greedy for my cock, for me to make her come. I sink my face between her thighs.