Beth's Stable

by Amanda Milo

He licks them. He nibbles them. He covers his sharp-tipped teeth with his lips, and he gives me the gentlest inspection I’ve ever had.

  And it is an inspection—an erotic one, but still. “One is lovely, but two,” he rasps, his breath rough as he thumbs one of my nipples, teasing it until it could cut glass. “Two feels extravagant,” he says, palming them both, squishing them together. “And I approve.”

  He makes them bounce in his hands before he bends, falling on them like he might eat them.

  I’d be worried, but I’m too busy trying to breathe and stay standing. If he makes me come like this, he’d better be prepared to catch me because I think my knees are turning to actual jelly.

  “I love you both so much,” he declares on a groan, his voice vibrating right over my heart where his lips are, because he’s got his nose buried between my tits.

  It makes the spot between my legs clench so hard, my hands fly to his shoulders, and he becomes the only thing keeping me upright. “Oquilion? Time to show me some action. I need you!”

  For Oquilion, these are magic words. He growls around a mouthful of areola, making the muscles in my legs twitch and flutter. He obliges by beginning to draw away from my chest, but before he leaves entirely, he lifts my right breast, and kisses a spot that sparks a recollection of Tiernan doing the same thing.

  I laugh breathlessly. “What’s with the under-boob kiss? You guys all do it.”

  He rubs his thumb over the spot his lips have given attention to. “You have a mole right here.”

  I straighten. “I have a mole?” Then it dawns on me. “Ohhh—my tit freckle. I’ve seen it in the mirror; never had anyone pay it direct lip-compliments before—”

  My words end in a gurgle because Oquilion’s mouth is paying it a compliment again—and thoroughly.

  I had no idea the area could receive so much stimulation, not until Oquilion’s lavishing it with attention and he growls against it, making my head fall back before he eases from me and says, “Shame on your lovers before us.” He deliberately nuzzles under my boob to rub at my freckle-spot. “It’s very fetching.”

  “I believe you!” I gasp. Who knew the area under your boobs likes to be played with too? “We need the bed.”

  Without a word, Oquilion’s got his hands under my butt and around my back, my stomach squeezed between us, and he’s stalking to the bed. It happens so fast, I’m struck by the urge to laugh.

  Right up until he plops me down and rips off his shirt.

  I find myself chest-to-abdomen with him as he pulls me closer, and I like what I find. I’m suddenly starving for him, being pressed into these silky, hard-cut muscles. My gosh he’s tasty.

  “I take great pleasure in the way you look at me,” Oquilion says softly.

  My eyes jump to his, surprised that he’s not ogling my rack. He seemed really happy with his gaze glued there, and Lord knows I could look at his big, beautiful body for a lifetime. The avidity he shows with me is heartwarming—and sexy. “Good,” I tell him. “Because I don’t think I could stop looking at you without feeling very, very sad. Not being able to objectify you anymore would be a pastime I would seriously miss.”

  Oquilion’s lips tip up. “Is that right.”

  I nod. “‘Tis.”

  Now his smile goes happy-crooked. “Then don’t stop on my account—but I seem to remember being ordered to take you.”

  “Mmhmm,” I agree. “I’m still waiting.”

  “And so patiently,” Oquilion agrees-but-doesn’t-agree, brushing back a lock of my hair behind my ear. A girl could be forgiven for thinking the action has slowed, because she’d be mistaken. When his other arm shifts, I glance down to catch him springing his cock.

  It juts up at me, so, so happy to see me, throbbing with his heartbeat and covered in thick veins. I wrap my fingers around him just behind his wide, pre-cum leaking knob. Hard as freaking stone, too.

  His mating ring presses excitedly into the side of my hand, and experimentally, I push back.

  It collapses under pressure but in no way calms itself. While I explore it, Oquilion is content to explore me—albeit with a more feverish touch than before. His big hand sweeps everywhere and eventually, unfastens my skirt until I’m completely naked. His petting touches are wonderful, but this is as far as he takes us.

  It’s clear that he’s letting me set the pace, and I could not find him sweeter. His patience (perhaps caution) is at odds with his obvious hunger, which is powerful, and building—made evident in both his gaze and his roving, starving hands. It isn’t long before I spin around and I encourage him to help me impale myself. Kneeling between his knees, we work me down until I’m sitting on his lap.

  Oquilion’s arms band around me right under my breasts as I give myself a thigh-burning workout, up and down. I find that the higher I raise myself, the better his cock feels when it strokes so lovingly inside me. It builds and builds until, without warning, my orgasm races through me like I’ve been struck by freak lightning.

  I collapse against his front, forgetting how to breathe, unable to make a sound. I may even start drooling. Oquilion gives me a minute to catch my breath, his broad chest punching my back, his body under mine still strung with tension as he pets up and down my sides, trying to be patient. When I make no headway to rejoin the moving, Oquilion grabs my hips to put me back to work over his cock.

  “Wait!” I gurgle.

  He growls, the rumble echoing through my body. But he goes still. The clamp of his fingers over my hips even lets up in pressure, at least slightly. Obviously struggling, he does as I ask and stops.

  I want to give Oquilion the full-service experience. I rise off of him, thinking that I’m going to end his sex-drought extra special—but I only get so far.

  We’re stuck together.

  In order to fully disengage, I need Oquilion to break suction on his mating ring first. Without a word (perhaps because he’s beyond being able to utter any) he rips his ring back for me to escape him, then squeezes it to his body, flattening it like a cock accordion.

  His hands won’t be able to hold onto my head or play much with my hair during this next part because he’ll be busy keeping his mating ring from attaching itself to my face. Shudder. That’d be creepy.

  But I intend to blow his mind.

  Wrapping both hands just behind his glans, I bring his tip to my lips for a lick.

  “Teeth...” Oquilion manages to grit out—but he trails off, and I glance up at him to see he’s looking stunned.

  I give him a full, sparkling smile. I’m not like the other aliens he’s used to.

  I don’t have sharp, pointy teeth.

  Careful to cover what sharpness my teeth do offer by curling my lips around them, I open wide and take in as much of his dick as I’m able.

  Oquilion gasps above me, making me grin around his thickness.

  Maybe he was already so close. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long for him. But with my first suck, Oquilion explodes in my mouth, filling the back of my tongue and throat with—

  ...HIS CUM!

  I moan around him—making him snarl above me—when I register the taste of his final pleasure: not bitter, not bleachy, not salty—he’s mountain robusta with a splash of coconut milk—and I’m in love.

  I suck him so hard, he shouts loud enough I nearly go deaf.

  If I’d known what Na’rith were packing, I’d have ripped their pants off the first time I had morning Joe cravings and withdrawals. If magic and coffee had a baby, this alien babybatter is it.

  Oquilion’s so good, I’m digging my tongue into his cock’s eye, my ears getting sung to by his died-and-gone-to-Heaven groans, and I’m thinking that if I’d known Ekan and Tiernan’s cum had this potential, I’d have demanded they pull out and go for a direct target so I could swallow down and lick ‘em clean.

  Missed opportunities, clearly—and I’ll be remedying that real soon.

  But for now, Oquilion’s freed up one of his hands, keeping his mating ring b
ack with the other so that he can pet my cheek and catch my chin, guiding me off of him. Probably feeling a little oversensitive.

  I can’t help but notice he’s still hard as rock though.

  Feral-looking eyes locked on mine, his breathing is ragged as all get out.

  I drop my hands to my lap, and his gaze follows, catching on the juncture of my legs before jumping to my lips.

  I smirk. “Having trouble choosing where you want to be next?”

  Humor dances over the strain in Oquilion’s wild eyes. “You could say I’m most definitely struggling to decide where I should plunder my Treasure.”

  Grinning, I mound the bedding up before I lie back, supine. (After I had to have Tiernan throw the brakes on our first session, I decided that the mounded-bedding step is not to be missed. This wonderful bundle of mine must be rocking on my major blood vessels when I’m lying on my back, which puts a crimp in their style, which means they steal my breath, which accounts for the wooziness. Oh, pregnancy. So fun!) “We’ve got time. I’m yours for the whole sleep cycle.”

  Oquilion’s smile is slow and super, super sexy. “I don’t believe we’ll be doing much sleeping this cycle.”

  I sigh happily and wriggle against the blankets at my back. “I took a nap earlier today,” I inform him, “Because somehow, I thought not.”

  CHAPTER 40—PROW

  PROW

  Someone’s going to get a beating. The knock at my door is insistent though, so I drag myself out of my bed, scratching at my hair, which feels puffed out in every which way, like I licked the barrel of an electric pulser and liked what I was hit with.

  I jerk open my door… and find Beth on the other side. I bring my arms up to the doorpost and stretch, barely noticing the way her eyes rove my chest and shoulders, and up. “Ha, I’m dreaming or that teveker Oquilion roped you into one of his plots—”

  Beth shoves me backwards, and grabs the waist of my sleep pants. “That poor man is out cold, but I do have a mastermind plan that requires your participation. Get on the bed.”

  Am I fully awake? No. Do I want to be if it means this dream ends? Hells no. “Yes, narra—whatever you say, narra.” My body hits the bed so hard the frame makes a cracking noise, but holds.

  Beth’s grinning as she climbs up beside me and starts balling up my blankets and pillows, and settles herself back on them. “Okay,” she says, wriggling to get comfortable and grinning up at me. “Want to get a leg over?”

  “This dream I’m having is getting rather exciting,” I whisper to her reverently as I clamber up and lean in to capture her mouth.

  “Wait!” she stops me. “Before I forget—block your mating ring from pulling a facehugger when we get going, please, or this is going to end before it begins. All right?”

  Confused but happy to oblige her, I agree, “All right. What are we doing, exactly?”

  Beth fits two fingers over the edge of my sleep pants’ waist, and reveals the throbbing head of my club. She licks her lips, which makes my shaft shift from throbbing red to nearly purple. Gazing at it, Beth breathes, “We’re going to have FUN. Bring this closer.”

  I do.

  And when she opens her mouth, revealing soft inner silkiness and a whole lot of mostly-flat-but-still-dangerous teeth, I’m reluctant to insert any part of myself inside the area she’s indicating. I’m wildly attached to my club.

  Beth jacks me forward and engulfs the tip of me with her hot mouth.

  I hiss, feeling bliss but expecting pain.

  It isn’t coming, and I’m sure my pain receptors have just been overloaded when Beth swipes her tongue over the head of me and sucks.

  “Sweet Creator of the Nebula!” I roar.

  I come, right in her mouth, my seed shooting down her throat where I’ve half-crammed my cock.

  I back off of her rapidly. “Beth!”

  Eyes glazed, Beth grins up at me, licking her lips, even bringing up her thumb and swiping at a spilled bit of seed. My eyes widen when she laps herself clean and orders, “Tell me when you’re ready to do that again.”

  After one repeat, I want to enjoy another area of my Beth while I have her, and she obliges like a queen, rising to all fours and moving my bedding to where she can easily rest her spawn-heavy belly on the pile. When she’s ready, Beth looks at me from under her lashes. “Well, what are you waiting for? Climb on and ride.”

  Blissed out of my brainpan, I’m soon doing just that. My face contorts with pleasure as I rock her under me, kissing and nipping and licking between Beth’s shoulders. I cup her breasts and pound into her, stiltedly murmuring about how good she feels as I graze her nape with my teeth—when Beth tosses her hair back and twists to grin up at me.

  “Ride me harder, Koundy!” she shouts.

  My rhythm breaks—I’m instantly choking on shocked laughter.

  My hips punch against her backside jerkily, and I’m falling over her back, guffawing into her neck. “Beth-love, no! You didn’t just ruin my ending!”

  Beth wriggles her rump between us. “Doesn’t feel like you got ruined at all.”

  I’m still hard inside of her.

  Beth sounds so pleased with herself—and fair enough, she’s so cog-damned divine, she has every reason to be smug.

  “Let me make it up to you,” she purrs. “Break your mating seal and I’ll swallow you down.”

  Yap. There’s really no downside when your mate gives you an order like this.

  Really none.

  “I’m going to bake you all the things,” I vow to her.

  Her smile is broad and satisfied and lazy. “I’ll take you up on that later. For now, fill me up with something else you’ve got for me.”

  When we reach completion on both our parts, we rest only long enough to be able to repeat a variation of the mating, harder this time because it takes work to break my seal even though I’m happy to finish in Beth’s mouth at her urging—but then Beth falls over, panting. She slaps herself on one beautiful, beautiful tit. “Okay, I’m sorry; my jaw’s too sore to go on, so you have to do the work between these babies.” She squeezes her tits together, making wicked images dance behind my eyes. “Shoot right here though...” She lets her mouth fall open and shows me her hot, wet, red tongue, ready to catch everything I’ll fill her with.

  This image will be burned in my memory base forever—thank Creator. “Filthy…”

  Beth grins up at me. “Perfect.”

  CHAPTER 41—PROW

  PROW

  I had Beth for breakfast.

  Then, after we’d dozed a bit, she insisted she have more of me—and I’ve been whistling ever since we rolled out of bed this rotation. Qolt’s nostrils had flared when I’d strolled onto the bridge. His scowl had deepened, but he asked no questions, and I offered no secrets. Besides, if Beth visits his berth, he’ll be strutting around with his own cog-damned grin soon enough.

  We’re still on course to Breslin’s settlement, but an innocuous ping sent to me alerts that we’re about to encounter a small delay. The Comm is from an old friend, and seeing his message has me shouting “Detour!” and shoving Qolt out of the captain’s seat where he’s stationed himself today—I think, solely to stress out Oquilion, who is incapable of being convinced of Qolt’s competency to pilot until the man’s head can be professionally examined. (However, not even concern for Qolt’s condition can wipe off the grin Oquilion’s been wearing since Beth rode him ‘til he wore out. And who can blame the machaii? Our mate is exquisitely voracious.)

  “What’s got you in such a cheery twist now?” Qolt grouses.

  I flip to the navigation panel to change our course. “Pasutha sent a Comm to me. He said he needed to see me urgently.”

  “Oh yeah?” Qolt asks, genuine warmth entering his voice before he remembers he’s supposed to be a sour-tongued machaii. “I can see why you’d be excited.” He tips his head, considering. “Always thought you two made a fine pair, if you swing the fins, gills, and webbed hands way—”

 
“Stuff your yammerer cannon,” I tell him good naturedly. “He says he’s in need of a favor—and catch this frequency: he says he’s helping a Gryfala who’s in desperate need of a ride home.”

  Qolt goes still. “Yanak bull pies.”

  Destination programmed, I kick back in my seat. “No jest.”

  Qolt looks disbelieving. “How did an Aneark get ahold of either a Gryfala—or a human, in case that’s really what she is?”

  He has plenty reason to be skeptical. Anearks are a semi-aquatic race. Gryfala and humans… are not. “He told me he rescued her from The Underwater Pleasure Dome.”

  Qolt recoils. “Nebulas far and wide! They trapped a female underwater and forced her service in the Dome?”

  I grimace. “Most females volunteer to work there, so it’s possible that she…” I don’t finish, because it’s too outlandish to believe that a Gryfala would ever choose to be contracted willingly. When any female signs up for brothel life, she’s doing it because there are no better prospects at home—when their will not to starve trumps their desire to live free.

  However, Gryfala are always born into a life of privilege. There’s no scenario in which the sky-soaring females would prefer to be kept contained in a simulated environment under an ocean at the beck, call, and servitude of the males of the sea. If Pasutha’s Gryfala companion is a human like Beth, or if she’s somehow a true Gryfala that got pulled down, the fact is, the Dome took her, and kept her there against her will.

  Captive in the Dome’s service could have been Beth’s fate had Ekan not managed to win her. Sometimes, I could almost hug that annoying machaii.

  Qolt breaks into my thoughts. “Are Pasutha and his female being pursued?”

  “You bet they are. Pasutha’s locked down in a coastal town not far from the beach they surfaced at. The Gryfala was exhausted so he found a place for them to hole up, but the Dome isn’t taking kindly to the escape. They’re canvassing the area to apprehend her—and kill him.”

  “How far away is he?”

  “We happen to be just a half span away from Pasutha’s position.”