by Unknown
“Stay still,” he instructed. “I can help ease you.” Determined to keep her whole and well, he fetched a spray for the burn, though a little unsure the Jagan healing would work on her tender hide.
She stood steady while he bent to attend to the injury. “Thank you,” she said, and ran her pink tongue tip over her lower lip, almost as though she tasted his scent in the air. “You know you could have asked me to take the shadow suit off.” A flush of color came to her face. “I wouldn’t have minded,” she added, as a deeper rose stained her cheeks. “I’m trained to deal with cross culture requests from host planet inhabitants.”
“I'm not accustomed to asking a female anything,” he said, as admiring her curves and smoothness he covered the burn in a layer of thick foam. “Females do as they're told here on Jagan. According to the law book, a well-mated female is both compliant and obedient. You have nothing to fear. I will be a proficient mate.” He glanced up and explained with some pride. “I know the whole section on acceptable female behavior. I've made a study of the book in preparation for owning a female someday.”
“But you can’t own me.” Her brows drew together and her eyes showed her lack of understanding.
“You're confused and discomforted by the drone voices. They'll fade soon.” He hoped she’d accept his reassurance.
“It’s not the voices. I think I need to lie down, or at least sit. I’m so hot.” She edged back and looked around.
A sheen of perspiration coated her breastbone and she twitched. Her hips moved in very attractive tiny jiggles. The pretty little curls at the apex of her thighs shone a darker red shade than her hair. He itched to twine his fingers in them. He sent a fresh prayer of thanks to Kobis and searched into her dazed blue eyes. “I can’t believe no one has already claimed a treasure such as you?”
“I’m not from Jagan. I shouldn’t be here like this. On this mission I shouldn’t even be seen. My task is secret. The shadow suit has failed to shield me from view because of the damage in the crash.” She leaned on his arm. “I shouldn’t be fraternizing with you, not even to accept water. I’m not allowed to interact in anything but the briefest communication.” Her eyes sparkled like the night stars. “In debrief I’ll have to think of some kind of explanation as to why I am naked in this situation. Don’t you have a cloth to cover me?”
A flush of guilt rose from his chest, but he fought it down. Besides, as they moved forward in the mating introductions she’d have no need for a garment of any sort. Once he’d made her his, he might keep her always naked in their home. He could think of nothing more beautiful to look at. A throb of desire thudded in his groin. “I’ve no intention of covering your perfection. As my mate, it is your duty to be ready for me. It’s a necessity for our mating. I can’t mate you if you’re covered.”
“But I’m not your mate. Believe me, I’m not anyone’s mate. I’m not meant for mating. I’ve never received the protocol from the trade bodies to allow me to mate.”
He shook his head at her gainsaying. This wasn’t the sort of female he’d anticipated might be his, should he ever be lucky enough to have one.
Did she not know she should be thankful he’d rescued her from the possibility of a mating frenzy? Any Jagan female would be swaying in gratitude on her knees to sigh his praises, for he’d saved her from the dangers of a multiple mating with as many males who could catch her. As she’d no male to protect her, once they scented her ripe fragrance, every unmated male from here to the capital would fight for access to her. They’d be forced by their raging hormones, awakened by her heady scent, even if it meant thrusting her down on her knees out in the heat. They’d use her until they were done or until another male dragged them from her to take their place. He doubted such a soft creature as this would have survived such a forceful and vigorous chemical induced ordeal.
Besides, though she seemed quite unaware of the process, this female’s tantalizing anatomy was preparing her for him right now. Her hormones were already ripening her. He admired her pert nipples standing so proud to beckon his kisses. He’d lick them for a long time until they glowed hot.
Ansgar knew his attractions. The off world females he’d taken captive in his youth hadn't ignored his size and strength. Those he’d personally handled seemed impressed and he’d not changed in shape or size since then. He’d enjoyed the way they rubbed themselves against his hide.
Why, by the balls of Kobis, even the little drones reacted to him with a twittery kind of pleasure.
He stared into his female’s wide eyes, assessed her lips squeezed tight together as he lifted his palm and stroked her shimmering hair. She gave a little whimper. Exquisite. A new and hotter surge of lust thundered in his mating cock swelling it further than he’d dreamed might be possible. He inhaled her rare fragrance again. No trace of maleness told of a prior claim. Truly, she wasn’t owned. Well, that was about to change right now.
Unmannered off world barbarian she might be, but she’d become his. He’d shower her with his mating scent, take her, mate her, feed her, mate her again until his body could no longer do so and sleep beside her. By moon set today, she’d be his satisfied and scent marked female.
He traced a slow finger over her warm cheek and down to her lips. “You’re almost ready for me, I know it. I won’t make you wait much longer,” he explained
“You're wrong,” she murmured. “No matter what else, I'm a Melan citizen. I’m protected by the Ritwillner Concourse.”
He rubbed his thumb along the outline of her lower lip.
“Oh,” she sighed. “Surely you know.” Another sigh left her and she closed her eyes. “The interplanetary treaty guarantees—” She reached out to slide one of her hands up his chest. “The safety of all trading crews is paramount. It is written.”
Lured by the delicate flesh he stroked a finger over her sculptured shoulder.
“I’m certain you can't own me,” she mumbled, as he pressed a kiss to the hollow at the base of her neck. He leaned in to lick and roll his tongue on her skin, savoring her taste.
Now, the details of the Ritwillner Concourse, or the debate about Jagan ownership of a captured off-worlder he wasn’t quite sure of in his present state, but whatever her origins, she stood here, in his bakery, naked but for her high laced black boots. This delightful male free female, who bore no other’s scent mark, her body pouring our sweet and seductive pheromones, she was meant for him and him alone. Kobis knew he meant to be a fair and just male. Interplanetary rules be damned, this female fulfilled every aspect he’d ever heard of as a potential mate. He’d tasted her arousal and her soft voiced words had grown more uncertain each time he touched her. She was his.
He ignored her next set of sounds and gently guided her closer.
“There must be someone—” She gave another little moan. “Interstellar contact.”
Despite her words, her aroma and her lips proved too much temptation. He’d kiss her deeply and begin the preliminaries of the ancient mating ritual. Those actions were bound to quiet her and push her consciousness to other things. He silenced her busy mouth with his lips and reveled in the soft smoothness of hers.
A surge of his fragrance rolled from him to entice her and further ready her for this, their vital first mating. He had to mate her fully to make her his and he’d much to do yet to prepare her for all of him.
He delighted in the way she clamped her sweet pouting mouth tight shut on initial contact as if she had no idea what to do. But after her first breath of his scent she opened her lips, widened them further with a groan, and accepted his stiff probing tongue. Just as she’d opened her mouth to accept his tongue, finally when he’d readied her enough, she’d open up her pretty pussy and accept the full length of his cock.
Delightful.
His breathing rate hiked up a notch in response to the tenderness of her body as she pushed her nude torso against him. By Kobis’ balls he’d never enjoyed anything as much as her little pleasured sounds when she brushed her breasts
against his shirt and wrapped her arms around him. The whimpers she made while he rubbed her rounded rear under his palms thrilled through him.
The aroma she exuded was oh, so sweet, and fired his urgency. He tilted her a little on his arm, so he could stroke his fingers between her thighs to explore her pussy.
She quivered in his embrace when he spread her inner leaves and after a few brief muffled sounds she breathed into his mouth, followed by sudden stillness, she pressed firm against his fingers. Small growls sounded from her as she worked her mouth with his and returned his deepest kisses, offering him gulps of encouragement. He slid his fingers around her succulent female opening. Shuddering, she moved her hips in time to his pace.
A fresh thrill shot through him, for the book stated that in the most potent and successful mating the female showed their enjoyment from the first contact. No one could imagine she wasn’t enjoying his attentions, and though her responses were rather primitive, she was wet enough to be bordering on cock ready.
He spent a long time instructing her mouth in its duties while he stroked and rubbed her heated flesh. She quivered, whimpered soft sounds, and secreted her nectar on his palm.
Her trembles grew stronger with her rhythmic gasps, and he tightened his embrace about her, penetrated her mouth with his tongue until she gave low grunts of pleasure. She sucked on his lips as he stroked her clit to take her deeper into the ritual. Knowing he’d begun her hot flame, he moved his palm away and smiled at her moan.
Another waft of his mating scent rose. She gave a low cry after her next breath and grasping his shoulders she latched her leg over his thigh. Working her hips hard she humped her pussy against him like a naughty little Dramond in heat. He could hardly believe her wild response.
Sweet creature, she showed him her need so urgently, but in a blatant way no Jagan female would consider. He kissed her again and his pleasure increased with her low groan.
She swirled her tongue around with his while she whimpered, thrusting her crotch against him, and his head grew dizzy.
When finally he let her mouth go, she lolled in his embrace, stared up at him, wide eyed. Her lips looked a little swollen and rosy red. She still held one of her thighs curled tight around the top of his, so her hot pussy was mashed against his solid muscle.
“What was in that tablet you gave me?” she murmured.
He inched her away from his thigh and dipped his palm to brush a caress between legs in an effort to calm her. “The tablet was a silencer to drown out the telepathic communications of the drones. It isn't the tablet you feel within you, it's the water readying you for mating. Your response shows no matter where you are from I am the mate you want.”
Her eyes widened. “But I’m not permitted. It’s not possible.”
How could she question him? He shook his head. “I promise you it is so. On Jagan when an adult female finds her mate and drinks the water he offers, her hormones interact with the chemicals in the water. I thought it was known that the process is inexorable as it readies females for their mate.”
“But I’m not from Jagan.”
He caressed over her hair, stroked along her shoulder, and she quivered at his touch. “Even if you are an off-worlder, you have chosen me, and your body is already prepared for our mating. From now on you’ll always respond immediately to my scent.” A fresh wave of his fragrance from his quills shimmered in the air.
She closed her eyes as she breathed in and with a sigh she sagged into his embrace. He tightened his arms around her languid perfection and kissed her forehead.
“Before noon today, you’ll beg me to mate you, my female. It’s the way here.” He wasn’t sure she’d heard but that didn’t matter. It would happen anyway.
To be continued….
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Water Games
By Tara Quan
Kailee Chan squeezed her eyes shut as water cascaded. The scorching blast reddened her skin, its sting distracting her from the countless questions whirring through her brain. Her sham of a wedding had evolved into an obscure arrangement, a marriage in limbo between true affection and a business contract. For the sake of a family that considered her beneath their interest, she’d filled another bride’s shoes.
Corporate maneuverings had forced Damien Walker to the altar. Her uncle’s adopted son had accepted her hand as a peace offering, their union a gesture to appease the nepotistic board of Sanctuary Hotels. Unable to see beyond his American heritage and dark skin, her relatives continued to pretend the scion’s eventual ascension would never occur. To them, trust could only be forged through blood ties, a conviction which had fostered an inefficient and top-heavy executive roster.
To survive another decade, the company had to evolve. Although the hospitality chain’s monetary value paled in comparison to Damien’s current net worth, loyalty tied him to its future. Many believed his adoptive father loved Sanctuary Hong Kong more than his family. The boy Waijan Chan had rescued off the streets of Las Vegas would never allow his legacy to turn into ash.
Change was in the wind. It had been for quite some time.
Having spent her life as a fly on the wall in her uncle’s palatial estate, a poor relation with no claim to the clan’s fortune, she understood better than most why her husband had agreed to the alliance. With his father’s brother entrenched in the corporate infrastructure, and her cousins on the verge of spending the company into the ground, speed had been of the essence.
Marrying his enemy’s daughter would have been the most expedient solution. When his bride fled the country hours before the wedding, Damien had settled for his enemy’s niece.
What she couldn’t make sense of was why they remained together. Through clever financial maneuvering, Damien had acquired majority shares in Sanctuary Hotels this weekend. The Hong Kong-based old guard no longer mattered. His control over the company was absolute. While the world believed them on their honeymoon, her husband had orchestrated a buyout to eliminate any doubt over who owned the ailing conglomerate.
He’d returned to her side with news obliterating his single reason for keeping her. On the same day, he’d muddied the waters.
With rough, choppy movements, she soaped her raw skin. Like seaweed, her hair clung to her rounded shoulders and small breasts. She ran her palms down her narrow hips, followed the path to her sallow, skinny legs. She was no beauty—neither compared to the bride he’d been promised, nor the countless women willing to throw themselves at a billionaire’s feet. He could have anyone. Why had he settled for a toy another man had long since broken?
Part of her craved the peace that could only come with faith. She yearned to interpret his words and deeds as evidence of enduring attachment. But she’d once before fallen victim to false facsimiles of love, and the price for her mistake lingered to this day. She refused to trust her judgment. His tenderness could be a mirage, the product of her wild imagination and lingering hope. She couldn’t rely on a lover’s protection, when it could be a fleeting promise already slipping through her grasping fingers.
Long before they’d wed, Damien had been her friend and mentor. He’d already earned her respect and loyalty. If she allowed him to claim more slivers of her heart, the crushing pain after the inevitable fall might destroy her soul.
Even now, after the scant moments they’d spent together, she missed him to the point of distraction. She kept replaying their interaction earlier this morning, when she’d knelt at his feet on the dock outside, her arms bound and her mouth at his mercy. Mere minutes after he’d climaxed against her tongue, he’d carried her to his room and used his fingers to drive her to wanton madness. Exhausted, she’d succumbed to the deepest sleep she’d partaken of in years, only to wake up to an empty house she would never consider hers.
Pressing her forehead against the cold wall, she struggled to encase panic in a shield of indifference. At his command, she’d confessed her secrets. Aware of
her past sins, in control of their family’s future, her reluctant husband wielded more power over her than any being on this earth. She had nothing left to give that he had not already taken, nothing to offer not already at his disposal.
The heavy wood door opened with a slam. Distorted by the glass screen, the intruder’s silhouette took the form of a lurking phantom. The shuffle of fabric truncated the din of falling water. Her lungs ceased to function as she pressed her back into the corner, her instinct to flee warring with recognition.
The scent of Damien’s cologne, blended with minty aftershave and masculine sweat, calmed her nerves and triggered an unwelcome response. Heat bloomed between her legs, its intensity far surpassing the shower’s temperature.
The barrier between them swung in, revealing a sculpture carved from obsidian. Muscles rippled over her husband’s chest and abdomen. His biceps flexed as he placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and kicked her escape route shut. Sapphire eyes gleaming in the warm light, he bent his neck. His hot breath scalded her forehead. “You’re in the wrong bathroom.”
Lifting her forearms to cover her breasts, she tried to melt into the stony nook. For the first time in their acquaintance, they both stood completely naked. “You can’t come in here. I locked the door.”
With a gruff chuckle, he bit the mark he’d left above her collarbone. “I have all the keys.” Pressing closer, he inserted his hand between her legs. When she tried to shift away, he pushed a finger against her opening. “Including the one to this.”
Shame burned her cheeks when her body responded to his touch with slick moisture. Clenching her hands into fists, she turned her face to the side and fought to stymie a moan.
“How was your nap?” He swirled his tongue behind her ear.
Her vision blurred, regaining clarity after several blinks. “I woke up alone.”
His teeth scraped, the pain matching the stretching sting at her core as he crowded her. Less than an inch separated her chest from his lower ribs. “I had a business meeting, and you needed rest.” His knuckle abraded her as he pushed, the delicious friction making her toes curl over the coarse slate floor. “You’ll get very little sleep tonight.”