by Isoellen
Leaning away from the kiss, she watched his mouth, wanting to see his tongue. The black and pale pink of it affected her, raw and suggestive. He licked his bottom lip, savoring their combined taste.
Humming, insides fluttering, she chased his tongue with hers. "Mmm. What that does to me," she said against his mouth.
He replied with a deep sound, his hands clutching her to him before he flipped their positions so she was on bottom and he on top. She squealed with the movement, eyes wide, but Doku-ni lifted a hand and brought a finger to her lips. As if fascinated by her, he brushed her lips back and forth in a light, intimate touch. Her heart leapt. Back and forth, watching her flood with unnamable wants. When she took a breath, he pushed inside her mouth, sliding over her tongue almost to the back.
This male kept turning her to liquid. The gush of it ran through her veins, shimmering in the light of his attention, and overflowing her core. Her body leaked moisture. She sucked at his fingers, though they were just at the back of her throat on her gag reflex, the need to do it, the want, a desire she knew was all her own.
Keeping his fingers in her mouth, he kissed and licked at the skin on her neck, her collar bone, her shoulder. She was so tender there that just his breath pebbled the skin and brought on a blush.
Arching and bucking, Annabell sucked harder at his finger. He was going to her breasts. Going to take the hard, desperate peaks in his mouth, going to suckle her. Pull, tug, hold her right there, one of the physical places on her body where she felt wholly feminine. Farm work, life, woe, accusation, six brothers, dead parents, and a husband who didn't know what desire was, had all in their own way tried to stamp out the things that she had always thought of as sensually, beautifully feminine.
And finally, she would get to revel in this part of her woman. Finally, she was wanted.
"Please, please, please," she begged around the fingers in her mouth, sucking harder. Hands on the thick wedge of his shoulders, Annabell tried to move him where she wanted him. Not one to be moved, Doku-ni deliberately slowed his activity, nudging and nuzzling at the weighty teardrop of her breast rather than using his mouth. His tusks were smooth but hard, and he brushed them back and forth against the sides, the undersides and the top of her breasts, twisting his head and holding his body up on his arms so that he could torment her.
Annabell writhed beneath him. That wasn't what she wanted at all. Unresponsive to her tugs, resistant to her movements and her begging, he lavished her with his attention but refused to yield to her demands. Unmet, her need grew. Her core clenched, and she felt fluid move between her legs. Spasms started in her belly, pulling contractions across her abdominals, and ending in her behind, lack of satisfaction becoming painful.
Unable to change his mind, make him do what she wanted, she began to cry.
He soothed her tears with kisses on the swell of her breasts and then all the way up to her mouth. He licked her tears, the sight of his tongue making her moan, distracting her from the discomfort of her hungering.
That seemed to satisfy him, because now that she was no longer trying to direct him, Doku-ni returned to her breasts. The first hot, wet touch of his tongue was a brand. Nerves she didn't know she had, discovered every whisper of breath, every drenching, basting of his heat. Trying to stay still, encouraging him with her moans, she cried out loud when he engulfed her nipple, sucking half her breast into his mouth. It was everything. Her body tightened and released in explosion after explosion, stars bursting behind her eyes.
The action yanked hard at emotions, needs. The pleasure, overwhelming. Annabell lost herself in it. Whimpering and crying as he sucked at one breast and then the other. He took his time, making her nipple swell, nipping, and tugging until pain spiked, and then kissing it away, only to start over.
It was everything she had dreamed of and wanted.
He left her breasts marked, raw, and swollen from the attention. Her hands found them, feeling the difference, pinching lightly, delighting in the echo that resounded through her body.
Kissing and licking his way down her body, he made his way between her legs, pushing them open wide. He pulled the fur and blanket to bunch them under her hips and adjusted her.
Annabell knew she was making noise. She tried to be quiet, aware that there were other Orki around them, but kept escaping. It was too much. Too wonderful. Realizing what he must intend, she trembled all over. Bending her legs over his shoulders, he centered his head between them, her center lifted up for his mouth so he could drink from her.
Long arms up her body, his hands climbed her ribcage, palmed her breasts. Gasping, she covered his hands with her smaller ones, pressing in. "Yes. Please."
Annabell didn't even know for sure what she was asking for, only that she needed everything. All of it. His hands squeezed, holding her breasts, his power restrained. The pain shot down her spine to that bump of flesh that currently held all her need, a ripe seed ready to burst. Moaning, she pressed his hands down, pressing herself into the harshness of his rough, battle-hardened hands.
He grunted at her, a loud sound to get her attention. Pleasure fogged her eyes, her brain, but she lifted her head, murmuring the refrain of, "Please, please, please."
His eyes were bright. Full of light and sparks. White with life, with centers of black that consumed her under the thick ridge of his hairless brow, speaking to her. His eyes said a thousand words, devotions, declarations, and ownership. Baring his teeth, captured in his hands, restrained by his gaze, her white Orki lowered his head. He showed her his black tongue like it meant something. Extending the pointed tip down, but not touching. Holding still, he told her things, but Annabell couldn't take it in, knowing he wanted something.
The monster of her own want drove her mad, though. It clenched and yanked in ruthless contractions. It trembled in whining, unfilled, must-have-everything-right-now demand. It ruled her.
Shaking her head, she sobbed, "Please, please, please. Don't know what you want. Don't know. Just do it. Do something. I'm dying. Please, Doku-ni. Need you. You."
Annabell was a mess of jabbering words. Helpless.
Lowering his face, he tormented her woman's place as he had her breasts, rolling his tusks over the surface, back and forth. Not giving her what she wanted.
Annabell's pleas escalated to screams, but he made that harsh sound again, so loud she felt it in her chest. At the same time his hands grabbed her sides, jostled her, demanding she pay attention.
"What? I don't know. Please."
Without words, he used what he had. Moving his eyes over her in possession. Squeezing her. Lowering his head, showing her his decadent, sinful tongue.
Seeing him do that drove her mad. "Yes. Yes. That. Give me that, please. However you want. Whatever you want. I'm yours. I'm yours, just please, make this feeling of emptiness and pain go away," she cried.
Eyes flickering, his face changed with a fierce, greedy desire. He gave her that growling, aggressive sound, lighting her up in an instant. Screaming, Annabell's body took her into a climax, a beginning with no ending. Her muscles undulated, her flesh pulsed. It felt wonderful—awful. She wet herself because of it. Liquid splashed between her legs, escaped and she did not know why it was happening. She had never done such a thing.
Doku-ni lowered his head, tongue out, to take in everything she expelled.
"No. You can't," she moaned, not meaning a word of it. Wanting him. Wanting this. Inexplicably aroused by everything he did.
He licked, torturing her more, not giving her relief, growling harshly. Drinking up her feminine. Wanting every part of her, even the mess, a disgusting gush between her legs. It was forever before he finally touched her in the places where she needed, his tongue going between the swollen petals of her vulva.
Reaching for his head to push him deeper, show him what she needed, he responded by catching her fingers in his teeth, just enough to pinch, and then spitting her hand out of his way and going back to doing what he wanted. Annabell was ready to
howl in frustration, but nothing she did would hurry him forward. He kept her desire hovering, shimmering intangible waves of heat and rippling flesh.
Savoring her, eating at her, making her toes curl and fingers clench, Doku-ni thoroughly wrecked her. His hands over her breasts, squeezing, sometimes rubbing over her nipples, his face between her legs, he lavished her with attention. Sparks popped behind her eyes, but it wasn't enough; not deep enough, consistent enough. Nothing she could do would hurry him or change him.
Until he showed her he knew exactly what he was doing as he reached the stiff, maddened peak of her clitoris, working it with his tongue. Growling into Annabell, he filled her up with vibrations. Her sparks became explosions, stealing her breath. Mouth open, caught in a fall from grace into exquisite pleasure, Annabell's body seized hard, taking her over.
He stopped the growl just long enough for her to collapse and take a breath before doing it again. The power of it jerked her hard into the next orgasm, sending her soaring. It was like nothing she had ever felt. The first link in a fire-forged chain, his giving of pleasure moving into her, and taking over, taking ownership, creating a bond she could never escape.
Never wanted to escape.
Three, four times he did that, wringing all the moisture from her body and then going down to her center, and sinking his tongue in there. She felt it. Felt him licking at her walls, felt him lapping, his teeth pressing at her softest, vulnerable parts.
Everything. This male wanted everything. No part of her was crude or disgusting. Giving her joy, taking joy from her. No one forced him, and his reasons had nothing to do with practicality. This was a raw, primal exchange, with everything she had fantasized about, and more. Because he didn't stop. She lost count of orgasms, large and small, when they started and when they ended. He gave her endless amounts of pleasure. That was all she knew.
Eyes opening and closing, she saw the overhang of rock, the light of the Child in his journey across the sky, the branches from the trees, birds, and small things moving about. The world was awake, singing songs of life, overcome now and then by other cries, other pleas. Annabell had not been the only woman receiving pleasure, and they were out in the open, all in the same space.
The memory of her mother started to say something about proper, but Doku-ni did something, filled her right at that moment, so that she had to look and see. His hands clutching at her breasts, one hand found her nipple, pinching as he filled her again.
In her. In her with his finger. One. Then two. Pushing deep, pressing against her inner walls, using a pumping, sawing motion that hurt. She was so aware of him inside of her, penetrating her in an imitation of sex.
Inside. Inside. Her white Orki was inside of her. Filling her. Completing her dreams.
She would have cried, screamed, wailed, overcome with emotion, but the orgasm that took her, after all the others, wrenched her body hard and fast. Sent her up, sailing. Instead of continuing to drive her, this time his hands gentled. His mouth kissed her mound, her belly, her thighs, soothing. His purr returned, and she couldn't hold on to wakefulness for another second.
Annabell slept.
Chapter 11
Why Am I So Hot?
The white Orki carried her back to the main area of the camp after finishing the morning routine. Scattered in the shallow divot of solid granite, the sight of their bedding mess irritated her enough to make her fingers twitch. That needed fixing. Everything about it was wrong. She couldn't imagine how they slept there.
He threw them down that morning with haphazard abandon. The male didn't know what he was doing. It wasn't right. Not right at all. The pile lacked what she needed for comfort, no mattress, not enough soft materials, it was in a bad place, and a mess of rough lumps.
But not here. Open aired, exposed to everything and everyone, anything could attack them. Her Orki was a warrior, but he couldn't make a proper bed, and the position of it left them both vulnerable. The moment he set her down, she rushed over to fix it and find a place for a better bed, gathering everything up.
Rudely, he stopped her. The unwanted interference rubbed her nerves like a bristle brush, and she growled at him.
Ignoring her, his face passive, he took the saddle blanket back with a jerk. That unflappable calm of his was a slap in the face. She would ignore him. When he threw it over the back of the war beast, Annabell tried to snatch it back.
The war beast grouched, nosing at Annabell and pushing her out of the way, while Doku-ni finished with the gear and saddle. It became a battle between the three of them because the two stupids didn't understand Annabell needed the thick quilted thing to fix the bed. It smelled safe and homey, and she wanted to use it. The two of them plotting against her and refusing to listen to reason.
They wanted to travel. She did not. The sky was dark; it was time to rest. The hour had come for her white Orki to lie down and let her climb all over him. "I don't feel right. I don't want to travel today. We should stay here. Let the others go on, there is a place against the wall that looks more comfortable." While she talked, she inched closer to the saddle pad, ready to take it back as soon as she had a chance.
Doku-ni bent down, nuzzling his cheek against hers—putting the music he made in his chest closer to her. The sound eased the building tension under her skin. Urgency softening at the sound, she drifted into relaxed compliancy.
With Annabell distracted, he finished his tasks while the big oaf of a war beast pushed her muzzle into Annabell's middle, making her own kind of rumble. Different in pitch and feel to Doku-ni, and lacking the liquifying effect on her nerves, the sound comforted her. It wasn't the same, but it was nice, friendly, like a hug.
Once the group moved, he gave her water, making her drink. She wanted to press her nose under his chin and breathe in his delicious self, fill her ears with his purr. Why couldn't he give her what she wanted? Why did they have to keep moving?
In the back of her mind, her unnatural behavior scandalized her ideas of her years of Righteous Way humble life morality. She couldn't summon the will to do things differently. Last night occupied all her desires, plaguing her with visions of a repeat performance. She wanted him to make her come again.
Nothing mattered but getting his cock inside of her body. Knowing him better would have to wait. Time would tell if his temperament complemented hers, if he angered with ease or if he used cold indifference to punish her. With no ability to speak, she had yet to learn if he was the type of male who humiliated her one moment and in the next, confess life-long love and devotion. She didn't know what he liked and didn't like. She lacked all the basic important information. But he was hers. And she wanted this magical thing to happen between them.
On their journey again, Annabell couldn't get comfortable—the position on the back of the war beast kept her from climbing him the way she wanted. Her fur pelt and the blanket, meant to warm her and keep out the elements of the swift ride, hid the prize she most craved. He wouldn't help her. Why wasn't he making love to her? Had she done something wrong?
The shape of him beckoned and tempted her hands and mouth. She kissed and petted, trying to coax him into behaving like a proper male. A male who desired her back. Mad impulses streamed through her mind: to rub her naked breasts across his mouth, to force-feed him the wet slick between her thighs, anything to get his attention.
His resistance caused an increasing panic. Didn't he want her anymore? Was he like Mark after all? Did he think that touching should only be at certain times and in certain ways? She envisioned that black tongue between her legs again, his finger pressing on the walls of her feminine passage, and she wanted. Struggling to find comfort, she discovered a position that brought the hill of nerves at the top of her slit into contact with the hard bar of his manhood. She hissed in satisfaction. That. She needed that. Her white Orki could relive her hurting.
"I need to make love. I think I need you inside me," she told him, her hips dancing. She would be clear.
He grunted,
adjusting her upright in his hold, away from his cock.
She whined with helpless disappointment. Self-consciousness gone, she kept trying to explain. "I need you to do it."
His hand slipped from her belly to her throat, clasping her in the hold that she knew would take her breath. His other arm crossed across her front—firm, tight, frightening.
And good. So good. He was going to take her over—make her do whatever he wanted. Her mind went straight to sex, to him putting that hard cock inside of her.
"Fuck me, White Eyes." The profane words spilled out.
He didn't budge.
Ready to do anything to get what she wanted, she begged, "I want this. I want you. Don't you like me? Don't you want me? Fuck me, please."