by Alana Khan
I pirouette, but the gown isn’t made for this so I stalk to the foot of the bed, as if I’m on stage at the Met. But this is better than the Met—I have an audience of one. The kindest, handsomest male in the universe. But that doesn’t matter. What matters right now is that he’s also the sexiest.
His nostrils flare, his dark eyes are hooded, and it’s obvious that at this moment I’m the most important thing in this male’s world.
I untie the sash, pull it through its loops, and slide it free. Do I have the nerve? Yes. I approach him, thread the sash behind his neck, and dip to his lips. Tugging lightly, I pull him toward me the final inch until our lips meet.
This time, I’m the aggressor. I ravage. I invade. I plunder. I’m plundering the pirate! Then I withdraw, nip his plump bottom lip, and step back.
I dig deep inside me and find the courage to be the female he’s fantasized about for months. Fearful Brin is slain, lying on the floor on the other side of the room. Brazen Brin is here.
“You want this?” my voice is husky. I slide the sides of the kimono open to show a healthy portion of my breasts. “You want to see these?” I decide to make a stand, the robe doesn’t open until he answers.
“Yes,” his hoarse voice is so deep it’s almost a whisper.
I shimmy. With each twist the fabric glides farther down my shoulders, exposing more of me. I know the exact moment my pink satin bra is exposed because his eyes dip closed for a second and he makes that sexy moan in the back of his throat.
“You like what you see?”
“It’s getting more obvious why they call you Beautiful Brin.” His gaze flicks to my face, but lodges back at my chest. Oddly, this thrills me, making my mouth dry with desire.
I let the silken gown drop to the floor. It pools around my feet. I’ve been exposed before. Partially or fully naked in front of hundreds of men, maybe more. But I’ve never felt naked and empowered before. I do now.
Stepping back, I close my eyes, take a breath, and dance. I took ballet from preschool to the date of my abduction. It all comes back to me as I pirouette, now unencumbered. Plies, arabesques, postures with arms up and tilted back as if I’m about to launch into flight.
I catch his gaze and smile. Not a happy smile, or a glad-to-know-you one, but a sexy smile that hints, no shouts, that I’m going to be naked under him in moments. I can’t wait.
To end my impromptu performance, I lithely leap onto the bed and stand, straddling him, my feet on either side of his hips, my arms out to him.
“Brin.” His eyes flick from my face all the way to my feet. They roam up and down, drinking me in. His hands bracket my waist and tug me to the bed so I’m straddling him, my core settled right on his thick, cloth-covered cock.
Pulling me toward him, he perches me on his stomach, then snags his hand behind my neck. Pressing me forward, his lips lodge at my ear. His warm breath barely makes a sound as he whispers, “You laid out a feast for me. Are you sure you’re ready for me to partake of it?”
I pull away just far enough to look into his eyes. “You’re the best male I’ve ever met, T. And the sexiest. I’m ready.”
A slow smile lights his face, then he flips me so I’m on my back with him straddling me.
“I believe you asked for kisses,” he says as he leans down, closing the distance between us inch by inch. His fingers lodge in my hair, pinning me down—as if I had any desire to escape. With excruciating slowness, he licks the seam of my lips first in one direction, then the other. The tip of his tongue flicks against them, a silent request to enter.
I open myself to him with a sigh and he slips in—exploring, touching, tasting. We’ve been teasing each other for days with our go-slow game. I feared that giving him permission would make him pounce, but we’re exploring each other with exquisite languor.
“T,” I breathe, my fingers gripping his muscled shoulders. I discover this isn’t a game of me yielding and him taking. It’s like relay races back in grade school. He’s the aggressor for a moment, then he hands the baton to me and I’m in charge.
I explore the warm cavern of his mouth, reveling in his cinnamon taste and the intimacy of the act. My hands slide down the hard muscles of his back to the firm mounds of his ass. I’ve watched him shirtless for days. I picture every tribal marking on his colorful back. Some day soon I’m going to trace them with my fingertips.
He pulls away and kisses me on the lips, then nips his way along my jawbone to the cords of my neck. It both tickles and sets me on fire at the same time. My nipples are hard peeks rubbing against the pink silk of my bra. I can’t wait for him to set them free so I can slide them against the warm skin of his chest.
His tongue laves the hollow of my throat, then slicks downward in a straight line to rest at the top of my bra, between my breasts. Instead of following my unspoken wish and tearing my bra off, his fingers pluck my hard nipples through the fabric of the bra. This pulls a hiss of pleasure from me.
The go-slow game has never been this maddening before. The pleasure is exquisite and he’s not even touching my flesh. He scrapes my hardened nubs with his thumbnails, then plucks and twists again, both filling me with delight and teasing me mercilessly at the same time.
My clit and core are already begging for his touch, but he’s going to kill me first with the delicious slowness of his touch.
One finger slides under the fabric, traveling back and forth under the top of the cup. He’s still an inch away from my desperate nipples. “T, touch me,” my demand is subdued and breathy.
“I am, BB.”
“Touch me here.” I try to drag his hand to touch the little nubs that are begging for him.
“I will, BB.”
He continues the maddening tease, back and forth. I inch down so my clit can rub against the steel rod under his pants. Striking up a delicious rhythm I garner one moment of . . . not relief, but the promise of it. He pulls me toward the headboard as he clucks his tongue.
“Slow, B.” He rewards me with a pinch to one nipple, then the other. This almost quenches a need, but I still feel so empty between my legs.
He unfastens my bra and tosses the gossamer pink fabric to the floor.
“I can’t go slow anymore, B,” he husks against my nipple right before he lips it, then scrapes it, then pulls it into the warmth of his mouth and suckles.
I hiss in pleasure. “So good.” My fingers grip his head. I want to keep him right where he is. I don’t want him to pull away . . . unless it’s to go lower.
He spends long minutes lavishing attention to first one nipple, then the other. I’m torn between loving this exact thing he’s doing, wanting it to continue forever, and wishing he would move his attentions to the ache at the apex of my thighs. I’m dripping wet for him; my desperation is growing.
He sits back on his heels and commands, “Open your legs, B.”
I comply and his knees slide between mine, pressing me open even wider.
While he continues his relentless attention to my breasts, one hand slides up the inside of my thigh from my knee to the crease between my leg and my sex. He pauses there, perhaps giving me time to protest. My answer is to wiggle in his direction, so his fingers graze my outer lips.
“Yes, T,” I answer his unspoken question.
He arranges me so I’m more open for him, then rubs the back of his knuckles up and down along the seam of my sex. “Ahhh,” he sighs. “So wet for me, Brin.”
I hiss in pleasure and try to garner more of his touch, but he keeps the pressure butterfly-soft, just traveling up and down as if there was no point to this exercise other than drenching the back of his hand with my cream.
“Are you trying to kill me Thantose?” I moan against his lips.
“If pleasure can kill.”
I realize Thantose has a mean streak at the same moment he flips his hand and cups my sex with it. The heel of his hand presses on my clit, and one thick finger lodges at my opening. How can this be both delicious and torture at th
e same time?
“I need you inside me, Thantose,” my voice is deep and rough.
“Right here?” He slides one finger in me so slowly I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and bite to keep from begging for more.
“Yesss.”
“Is this what Brin wants?” he asks as that one finger fills me with agonizing delay, then pulls out again. “Brin’s drenched. She needs this.”
I groan and thrust against him, garnering pressure from the heel of his hand against my needy nub.
I bite his earlobe, probably harder than I should. I’m in a fog of pleasure and need and I hate the go-slow game.
A moan of satisfaction escapes me when a second finger joins the first, “Yes, Thantose, please.”
“Beautiful Brin wants this?” he asks as his thrusts become harder and slower, like a steel piston. A moment ago I thought I wanted faster, but no, this, this hard, slow pounding with two fingers, that are now joined by a third. Yes, this is what Brin wants.
“Yes, please.”
Those fingers penetrate deep inside me, pounding so rhythmically and slowly that they command my full attention.
He dips his head and muscles his shoulders between my thighs, then flicks my clit with his tongue, his fingers now pounding into me. His lips sucking, his tongue flicking, his hand pistoning, all of this together loosens the floodgates inside me.
I pull my heels toward my bottom, open my knees until they touch the bed, and focus on the quivers building deep inside me. The energy doubles, then triples, then bursts free as I come apart under his expert touch. I moan his name as I spasm in ecstasy.
Even after I thought the maelstrom was over, he manages to wring every ounce of ecstasy out of me, pulling little aftershocks of pleasure from me until I tug his mouth off me and haul him toward me so his head shares a pillow with mine.
“Thantose.” I smile at him. Perhaps my first genuine smile in ten years.
“Brin.” He smiles back. This isn’t one of his usual easy Thantose smiles, this is full of affection . . . and promise.
I bask in this magic for a moment. I promise myself that no matter where life takes me, I’ll remember this night as my first time. Nothing that came before was consensual. It doesn’t count. Tonight, with Thantose, will be special for so many reasons.
“Go to sleep B. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
I turn on my side and sling my leg around his slim hips, sliding myself closer. “I know we never discussed it, but every game has a finish line, T, and I don’t think you reached it.”
“It’s okay, Brin. We can wait—”
I cut off his idiotic statement by grabbing his head with both hands, pulling it toward me, and kissing the daylights out of him.
“I’ve waited long enough, Thantose. You said tonight we’d act out your fantasy. I don’t believe for a moment that it ended with this gorgeous cock . . .” I reach down, slide my hand into his pants, and stroke said gorgeous cock from base to tip with my palm, “pulsing and unfulfilled.” I feel a bead of his liquid pooled at the tip and my mouth waters to taste it.
“How did your fantasy end, T?”
He doesn’t answer. Is he still deciding if I’m ready for this? I pull his t-shirt over his head and wrestle with the fastener of his pants until he takes pity on me and removes them.
I drink in the sight of him. I was treated to hours of watching him nude at the Meris society. But it wasn’t like this. It never held promise like it does now.
“How did your fantasy end? Were you inside my mouth or down below?”
He grips my hips and rolls us both so he’s lying on his back with me straddling him. He notches his cock at my slit, then gazes into my eyes and grins a trademarked Thantose pirate smile.
“I’ll leave the decision in your capable hands.”
I wiggle onto the head of his cock and my eyes flutter closed in ecstasy. Evidently both of us have been dreaming of this since I offered myself to him on Primus months ago.
I lean forward and kiss him on the lips. I want to say so many things, write a book, send smoke signals to everyone I’ve ever known. I want to pour barrels of old shit into the deep crevasse on planet Kallion and detonate it with a bomb. I want this minute, right here, right now to signify my rebirth—a brand new Brin who isn’t Amrus’s hinzeer.
“Hang onto my eyes, T. Keep me tethered.” And sweet, beautiful Thantose does just that. He holds my hips tight without directing me, and his gorgeous gaze locks with mine.
I pulse down on him inch by inch. I focus on him and our connection, and the stretch I feel as I give myself to him. Even though I’m in complete control of the pace and the depth, I feel possessed. I love it. And I love him. I’m not ready to say it and I’m not certain he’s ready to hear it, but I do. And I tell him with my eyes.
I’m fully seated on him, but I wiggle down to garner another fraction of him. I feel owned by him, which is odd because the first thing he says through his haze of pleasure is, “You own me, Brin. You own my heart.”
I roll us so I’m on the bottom and he thrusts into me with endless tenderness, his gaze still connected to mine.
“All good?” he asks.
“Perfect,” I say. And it’s true.
What’s happening is sexy and delicious and so much more. We’re two people connected by gossamer strings. I’ve never felt like a precious commodity before, but the look on T’s face screams how important I am to him.
He dips his head and drops the softest kiss imaginable on my lips, then bites them as his hips take up a new rhythm. He pistons into me, pressing my head into the pillows against the headboard.
His tempo is relentless as he batters into me. Somehow, it’s like I feel him under my skin. Then my awareness moves from our emotional connection to the magic that’s gathering in every quadrant of my body.
Thantose is pounding into me. Each thrust presses every sensual button I possess. His pelvis grinds my clit and his thick cock slides inside me touching every nerve ending. Suddenly, he bumps a magic spot deep inside me and an orgasm I didn’t even know was building releases in my depths and ricochets to every muscle, cell, and fiber of my body.
It hits me so hard and fast I moan in ecstasy so loud I put a hand over my mouth to stem the noise.
“Say my name,” he orders as he holds my gaze.
“Thantose!”
He releases into me with a grunt, still moving his hips in the perfect rhythm.
“Come one more time, B.” He bumps my bundle of nerves with every thrust and even though I thought it wasn’t possible, I do just what he commanded, my orgasm whipping through me like wildfire in an arid forest.
He drops onto the bed next to me, grabs me around the waist and hauls me next to him, and peppers me with little kisses, each one making a little ‘smack’.
“How’s B?” He spears me with a serious gaze.
“Fanfuckingtastic. How’s T?”
“You Earthers sure know how to curse. What a great word. I’m fanfuckingtastic, too.”
Chapter Eleven
Thantose
Since Brin’s sleeping, I take the opportunity to take a visual inventory. Gods, look at that mouth, it’s the perfect shape and the perfect color. And that flaming hair, it matches her complexion as if painted with a palette of the Gods. Who did I please to earn the privilege of waking up in my bed next to her?
“T?” Her eyes pop open.
I wonder if she’ll regret what we did last night. I knew I shouldn’t have had sex with her. We both knew she wasn’t ready.
Her face lights in a happy smile. I’ve never seen this expression before. I didn’t think it was possible, but she’s more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her.
She launches at me and kisses me as if I’ve been away at war for a decade. “Thantose, last night was magical.”
It doesn’t sound like she’s full of regret.
“Yes, BB. Magical.”
“Let’s do it again.” She reaches for my cock, bu
t I jack my hips back.
“Is this a reflex, B?”
“This is a reflex.” She grabs my hand and drags it through her feminine folds to show me it’s early in the morning, she just woke up, and she’s dripping wet for me.
I close my eyes and exhale heavily. After giving her a sweet kiss, I tell her, “We’ve got a lot to do today.”
“I’m sure we do. I’m all-in to help you as soon as we’re done in bed.”
Brin
I glance at our reflection as we hurry through the reflective metal hallways on our way to the Ataraxia’s exit. Holy crap, look at that handsome couple. My red hair is swept up in that artfully nonchalant way Valeria taught me. I’ve got it down to a fifteen-minute process. The style makes my eyes look bigger and greener for some reason.