by May Sage
She wished she was one to take charge but frankly, she had never had to. Having these goblet size breasts and larger hips did guarantee that she’d had more attention than she knew what to do with her whole life, she’d never needed to ask anyone for sex.
How should she go about it? Could she?
She was engaged in that inner ramble when she saw them.
She’d met the woman before, she worked in town, and had never warmed up to her; now she saw why.
She wrapped her arms around Beneth’s neck and pushed her boobs on his face; while he seemed rather unimpressed, he didn’t exactly push her away either.
She was grateful. This was exactly what she’d needed: a dose of reality.
They were hosting yet another banquet she didn’t really know what for, so like the consummate socialite she’d been raised to be, she smiled and socialized, never giving away a thing. That night, she didn’t even cry. She didn’t even shiver.
The next day, she woke before sunrise, when she knew Beneth normally left for his patrol. He seemed surprised to see her when he looked up from his breakfast.
She was very polite and also very firm.
“I’ve been here for three months now. I’m no spy and you know it. Let me call my brother.”
Beneth
He was speechless, completely taken aback. Where had that come from? She was settling in his home, he’d seen it. She was happy, relaxed. Well, she had been before today.
Now he wondered what he’d overlooked. Did she have a stronger bond to her family than what he’d understood it to be? Was she home sick?
“There are… circumstances beyond your control or mine. You cannot go.”
It would kill him, and worse yet: it would kill her, too. There was no doubt that this woman was his mate – he’d just needed her to come to that conclusion, too. In time, she would.
Beneth would have loved to just open his mouth and say it but it wasn’t their way: men couldn’t possibly claim a mate. There was a reason why it was the woman’s job. They were the ones who bore children, the ones who bled and dealt with pain – the strong ones. It was only fair they were the ones in control.
“Do not mistake me for a child or a simpleton, Beneth Tharshen. Talk to me as an equal or not at all. What reason could you possibly have to detain me here?”
Because you’re mine, he wanted to scream. Instead, he returned her glare with one of his own, in silence.
“When my brother finds me – and he will – he will ask me if I have been treated fairly here. I will answer sincerely. Do you want to start a war with the most powerful empire in the galaxy?”
She was beautiful, when she was angry. A little bit funny, too.
“If I must,” he replied.
Over this, he would.
“You will do one thing for me.”
This sounded like an order. His hard length twitched at her tone, imagining her saying just what she liked in other circumstances.
“In every system linked to the empire that Karsh visits, there will be a temple dedicated to Nphies, goddess of light.”
It was all he could do not to roll his eyes; as though he might not know of their major deities.
“He will draw a cross with a piece of chalk at the back of each statue he finds.”
Beneth frowned.
“You think I’d get my men to leave distress signals on your behalf?”
“I think you will do as I say, and tell my brother I’m alive the only way you can, if you want to ensure that my family doesn’t blow up your planet with one strike once they find my trail. If Calden and Jaycn think I’m gone, they will.”
Thirty-One
Duh
“You’re holding a sun worship,” she repeated flatly.
Alright, enough was enough. She was tired of bringing up stuff that was just too eerily similar between their cultures without getting more than an annoying smirk in response.
“You’re Klints,” she accused Beneth, and the infuriating mountain shrugged.
“Took you long enough to get there. But for the record, wench, you’ll find that it’s actually the other way around.”
Xian stared in disbelief, not because she doubted his words, but because she didn’t understand how she hadn’t known that before. No one said much about their homeland; she’d heard it called Klinton, but there was no trace of such a planet anywhere in the known world.
All along, there it had been, completely out of the Empire. She understood why it wasn’t openly advertised: many a Klint would hang his microchip to ride a dragon, given half a chance.
That might have been written on her forehead because he answered her unsaid question:
“We’re an ambitious race. Over the years, we’ve managed to tame and share the powers of the greatest creature on this planet. We’ve built ships and explored the stars for as long as any race. We’ve used whatever technology we want or need without endangering the health of the planet, or our own, for that matter. It was no surprise when some amongst us chose to leave for the stars. We’re proud that you’ve thrived – but you’re a populous nation, now. If one Klint out of a hundred wanted to come to live here, our city would be crowded. We’d have to beat back the wilderness, extend our territory. That’s not the way of our world. Dragnes is the healthiest planet to live on because we’re just five million.”
She understood, but that didn’t explain how all trace of them had been erased from their records.
Then, she got it.
“The Elders.”
His smile reached his eyes and he ruffled her hair.
It had been cropped short, military style, at her arrival. Now it fell on her shoulders, messy as hell.
“Clever girl. Your elders were born here; they do what they can to keep us safe.”
“So when I came, you thought we’d discovered this, and that I’d come to investigate it.”
Beneth shook his head.
“No, I thought you’d run into trouble and crash landed where you could.”
His lips had set on a severe line, now.
“Then why have you made me stay?”
He turned his dark eyes to her and stared for a long time, as if willing her to come up with her own answer.
Then, he lied – he didn’t even bother to hide it.
“Because that’s what my people wanted, wench. Now if you’re done with the twenty questions, do you mind reviewing Temra’s plan for the festivities? You have a way with organizing parties.”
That made her muse, trying to weigh her own feelings on the matter. Was she annoyed as hell she’d just been brushed off, or flattered by the unexpected compliment?
Both. Probably both.
Beneth
He was in hell. Six months – a full season. The sun was stronger now and any day, Tsargarst would return to his hibernation.
His mate had yet to claim him, though. She was still completely in the dark.
Unless she wasn’t, of course. There always was the possibility that she may not want him.
His people had guessed. They’d started showing Xian the reverence they owed the WarLord’s mate, and every day, he saw more and more pitying looks from the servants who knew their masters weren’t sharing a room. The occasional female had been so good as to offer their company, but he couldn’t bring himself to even contemplate bedding a woman who wasn’t his beautiful, voluptuous, brave wench of a mate.
The night of the sun worship was the last straw.
She’d always stuck to attires similar to what she’d worn on her arrival: boyish, military uniforms – pants and tunics, hiding herself under their folds.
Tonight someone had convinced her to wear something flattering and he was brought to his knees.
Her dress was cut off at the waist, showing her toned belly, with a sleek, formfitting skirt poured around her curves; by all estimation, it was less revealing that what any other female had thrown over their frames, but the other women had ceased to exist the instant his ma
te had appeared, in his eyes.
He would not claim her: that custom was dear to his heart, and he wanted to know she chose this – she chose him, rather than her fancy life in the stars.
That didn’t mean that he could not screw her like he needed to.
Her hips swayed from side to side as she came to take her place next to him. He may or may not have drooled a little.
“What?” she grumbled irritably. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No, wench. I was simply wondering what your voice might sound like when you scream my name,” he replied casually. “I have come to the conclusion that your legs should be wrapped around my shoulders, sometime rather soon.”
Xian frowned and cocked her head.
“I take it you find the idea agreeable.”
“Just pondering upon the fact that my vagina might not feel quite so dusty if I’d worn a dress earlier. Males are fascinating.”
Given the fact that she’d just referred to her vagina, he felt rather justified when he said, “Let’s get out of here. I don’t think we’ll be too sorely missed.”
“Yes. Let’s.”
Beneth was used to sex. He’d easily fucked over a million times in his days.
By the time they’d reached his door, Xian had him roaring, groaning and begging for release. Her hands. It was her hands. While he kissed her, she roamed everywhere on his body, and her fingers burned holes on his skin. He might not survive too much of this madness.
How tempting it was to just take her here and there but she’d tortured him – now, it was his turn.
Throwing her on his bed, he climbed on top, pushing her legs apart as he crawled to her, and buried his face there.
She yelped, screamed, begged and scratched like a beast – ignoring it all, he carried on feasting on her flesh until she shattered around his tongue. Only then did the real torture start.
He aligned his shaft with her and pushed inside her, his fists clasped and his balls tightening at how tight she was around him. Just like that, he was ready to blow. Once fully lodged inside her, he stopped and closed his eyes, doing his best to find strength. Then, he withdrew and went back. Shiiit, he was really going to embarrass himself. He moved slowly, grinding his teeth, and exerting all the control he could, but…
“Please,” she begged, sounding desperate. “Harder. I need you harder.”
Oh, hell. He hoped she could overlook the fact that it was going to be finished before it really started.
Lifting her legs up in the air, he gave up and just pounded like they both wanted him to. One minute. One minute in, his seed was coating her insides. It wasn’t nearly as problematic as he might have thought as he didn’t even stop for one instant. Still hard, his balls somehow full again, in complete disregard for the fact that they’d just emptied themselves, he fucked, and fucked, and fucked until they both passed out.
It was only when he woke the next morning, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, her head against his chest that, for the first time in his life, he actually thought fuck tradition.
She was awake – only just, but he could feel it – so he just got it out of the way.
“You know you’re my mate, right?”
Thirty-Two
The good twin
Twenty Years Later
Alek
Some guys went to bed with a ten after a night out and realized that the girl was a two point five when they woke up, their make up all over their pillow.
Alek never had to deal with that kind of traumatic event. The girls were hot. They always were. Since before he should admit to it, females had thrown themselves at him. He generally let them fight it out until the winner could come and claim him for a night. If his overprotective mother had taught him anything, it was to stay the fuck out of female affairs.
That morning, he grinned. It wasn’t the first time he woke up with more than one girl, but three? That must have been a night to remember.
He didn’t. Little as he liked to admit it, he was a lightweight, big time – compared to full-breed Klint, in any case. He’d taken his younger cousin out for his eighteenth birthday and that meant showing off a bit – total fail.
Well, maybe not entirely, he admitted, when he felt a warm sheath wrap around his length.
Oh, hell to the yes. Whatever they said about the girls of Dejaan and their suction, to him, there was no hole as nice as a human mouth.
“That’s it sugar,” he praised the girl, and her friends started waking up in their gigantic bed.
There were a few giggles, then he had lips on his balls, his nipples, and a pussy above his mouth.
Sometimes, it was good to be the owner of Earth.
The knock did register somewhere in his mind, but he was too busy to pay much attention to it, so two seconds later, the door opened in front of someone he vaguely registered as an employee. Boring beige uniform. Nothing past the idea of mousy brown hair registered.
Ava
“How was the presidential suite, hon?”
She opened her mouth, and closed it again, wondering how to formulate what she’d just witnessed.
“Occupied. The guy’s still there.”
To her surprise, Laura giggled.
Her manager, an uptight thirty-seven year old woman always in a chignon and wearing rectangular glasses, was no giggler.
“Lucky! Might see him again today. That is one fiiiiine man,” she sighed.
Yes, Ava didn’t doubt it, and the bus-full of girls in his room obviously agreed, too.
Ava wasn’t attracted to assholes, regardless of how cute they could be – she’d dealt with her fair share of guys just like him, and they weren’t worth the effort.
Well, she wouldn’t actually know, to be fair; they didn’t exactly wine and dine her. Ava only interacted with them after the good part.
Ana was the one who got the chocolates, the multiple orgasms and the presents – Ava just got the backlash whenever her twin sister decided to screw them over and let her take the blame for it.
Ana was a conwoman – not even a good one, at that. She just got guys wrapped around her finger long enough to reach their wallet, then she took what she wanted and took off. Ava wasn’t judgmental but it didn’t take a jury to peg her sister as a complete and utter asshole.
Ava had changed her hair, coloring it brown, and she’d also moved about twelve times over the last five years, but it didn’t matter: there always was someone who found her and tried to make her pay for Ana’s doing.
She never walked anywhere without proofs of Ana’s existence – photos, documents – to ensure anyone who went for her would stop and actually consider whether she was guilty. That generally failed – they didn’t really care, hence why she’d come to the conclusion that the rich, young and gorgeous guys her sister marked were assholes.
Ava had zero curiosity for the asshole from the presidential suite. Guys – even nice ones – were the last thing on her mind: she just wanted to live her life without getting assaulted every three months.
“Here he is,” Laura whispered, and instinctively, Ava turned.
Oh.
Well then, ok.
She got it. She got the giggling. She was pretty sure a little chuckle escaped her lips, too.
Fuck that man was hot. Tall – very much so – and broad, but lean, too. He filled his suit like the underwear model he most probably was. His just fucked hair – quite aptly name, in his case – was short on the side, and a little longer on top. It looked like it had been dyed black, but frankly, even painting his nails wouldn’t make him so much as metrosexual: he exuded pure masculinity.
“Holy shitty hotness.”
He smiled, glanced her way and winked, although she was pretty damn far, and it hadn’t been so much as a whisper.
Sorry panties, she thought as she drenched them on the spot when his amber eyes did the smoldering thing she’d read all about.
That was ludicrous. For Christ’s sake, she’d seen the guy get
ting busy with way too many people just a few minutes ago.
He started to walk away, towards the empty receptionist desk, at first – then, changing his mind, turned he back, to stroll right to her.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What did she do now?
Learning the whole breathing thing again might be a start.
“Excuse me, do I know you?” he asked.
She knew a line when she heard one, but the guy genuinely looked puzzled.
There was no doubt – none whatsoever – that she’d never seen him before, so she shook her head.
Bugger. It meant he’d met Ana, then. They were identical twins; well, they had been, before Ana’s boobjob and Ava’s constantly changing hairstyles.
“Mh. I would have sworn… Anyway, nice to meet you, sweetheart.”
His hand brushed her fringe away, burning where they grazed her skin, and just like that, he was gone.
Ava never thought of the gorgeous asshole. She didn’t think of him when she cleaned the presidential suite. She didn’t think of him whenever cute guys hit on her. She definitely didn’t think of him before going to bed, when she was taking care of business with her hands.
She stayed at the Wythe Hotel longer than usual; it took all of four months for a random guy to call her Ana.
Then, as usual, she packed up her shit in her crappy car and moved on to the next employment that wouldn’t ask for a reference.
Thirty-Three
Punishment
Cedar
He’d known that day would come eventually. He’d managed to avoid it thus far. Whatever problem Calden sent his way, he’d done his utmost to either ignore it, or solve it from the cold cell he’d inhabited for twenty years. That was what he’d deserved. Actually, he deserved worse; but at the back of his mind, he’d often wondered what he’d do if a situation arose where his involvement might have been essential for the greater good. Stay away, or step in? Staying away from everything he loved was a just punishment for his offense – but it was also selfish.