Swept Off Her Feet

by Camille Anthony

  She opened to him, giving him her tongue, which he sucked into his mouth, chewing lightly on it, gathering her moisture and sharing his with her, drawing forth an echoing wetness that pooled between her legs.

  Hands fisted in his hair, she drew on his tongue in return, drinking in his essence and losing herself in his heady taste. Her breasts felt tight and swollen against his heavily muscled chest. Shifting her legs back and forth, she rocked against the bulge of his cock, trying to stimulate her clit.

  Shaken, transported, she opened her eyes and was stunned to find herself flat on her back, her legs spread vulnerably open. Unnerved, she sought his gaze.

  He fixed his brilliant orange gaze on her as he wedged himself more firmly into her crotch, snuggling his massive cock between the splayed lips of her seeping cunt. He pushed himself up, straightening his arms, and reared up over her—Zeus to her Leda.

  She blushed to see the front of his jeans damp with the dew of her weeping pussy. She barely had time to recover from that provocative sight before he was pushing against the juncture of her thighs, rubbing his jeans-clad erection across her clit.

  A keening cry clawed its way out of her throat as pleasure poured over her. She cried out again, dragged her hands down the broad slick back of the man working the rough cloth of his jeans into the opening of her vagina. Almost frantic with lust, she rose against him, urged him to press into her again and again.

  Their mingled scents wafted heavy on the air, a loamy, perfumed aroma reminiscent of a steamy tropical forest. Like some primal animal, she slid against him and he responded, moaning and growling his gratification.

  She speared her fingers into the thick growth of his black hair, reveling in the silky slide of the curling strands against her hands and wrists as she caressed his scalp.

  He choked back a groan. His cock surged against her lower belly, jerking and growing impossibly larger under the erotic stimulus. His terat softened and dilated.

  With another dark groan, he gathered her breasts in both hands, aligning her nipples with his terat, then slowly, slowly eased down over her.

  Fascinated, she watched her nipples disappearing into his chest, watched as her areolas were also engulfed.

  He looked down, caught her gaze. A dark glitter of lust shone in his eyes. A strained smile stretched his handsome lips. As his mouth swooped down, parting her lips for another lush, wet kiss, he began a gentle undulation. Using his chest muscles in a way surely designed to drive her mad with desire, he rose and fell against her. He crushed her under his weight, his terat opening to force more of her flesh into the cavity of his powerful chest. Alternately, he lifted his chest away from her, his terat clamping tight to the swollen nipples, elongating her mounds. He proceeded to milk her with a strong, rhythmic suctioning.

  “Oooooooohhhhhhhhhh! Oh, my god!”

  This was where her nipples belonged! These glorious feelings were what her breasts were designed for. No wonder her ex-husband’s mouth and tongue had never satisfied her, never called forth her passion.

  Every single nerve in her nipples was on fire. Something, some enzyme or substance inside the prince’s terat seeped into the buried crests and stung like a thousand tiny mosquito bites, swirling together both stinging pain and escalating delight. The pleasure was as sharp as the pain, the two intertwining in such a way that she could not separate them. The alien sensations spilling through her drove her half-wild. She screamed, thrashing beneath him, her captured nipples throbbing, burning, and igniting in the grip of his rapture-inducing terat.

  Caught up with her in this storm of sensation, he ground his cock hard against her juicing mound, cursing aloud the barrier of his clothing. His muscles trembled. Sweat poured from his skin as he drove his hips at her.

  “Come for me, Nippa!” He growled at her, lifted her hips, dragging her pussy across his jeans-clad cock. He pressed himself to her, chest to breast, and pushed her swelling mounds up with his hands, feeding more and more of her flesh into the hungry, dilating mouths of his terat.

  “Gift me with your life-changing fluid!”

  Shivering and quaking, she fell deeper under his spell of pure eroticism. She mewled and panted as his heavy body blanketed hers, pounded against her, bore her down into the soft mattress. He wrapped her in heated darkness until her only thought, her only reality, was the hot, liquid pleasure bubbling up within her, building to an explosion, the magnitude of which she had never before experienced.

  Her head reeled. The tips of her breasts stretched. Her areolas puckered. She whimpered, drowning in sensation, awash with lust and teetering on the edge of a massive orgasm. It felt as if a cauldron seethed within her, filled with bright, effervescent juices threatening to bubble over. Every muscle in her belly clamped down.

  In blind reflex, her hands locked about his shoulders. She clasped his waist with her legs, held on for dear life. Her thigh muscles clenched against his heaving flanks. “Devtorvas! Help me…I feel…I…oh—oooooohhhhhhh!”

  It started in her toes. Lapped around her ankles and rushed up the backs of her legs. Skimmed across the plateau of her flat stomach to sparkle through her system. Her senses ignited. Achieving lift-off, she screamed and convulsed. Her spine bowed, thrusting her breasts into his terat—a flood of liquid lightning burst free, gushing out of her spasming nipples.

  Freezing above her heaving body, he let out a mighty shout as her ejaculation flowed into him.

  She screamed again, writhing in a maelstrom of sexual delight.

  She went limp with momentary satiation. Above her, chest heaving as his terat muscles milked every drop of what she could only think of as cum from her spilling crests, he chanted his praise of her.

  “Yes! Yes, my own, come for me! Give me all your cum! Let me milk you dry!” He locked their mouths together in a torrid kiss as the exchange, the pleasure, went on and on…and on.

  Chapter Seven

  Wordless moans escaped Nnora’s lips. Her body performed a series of slow, sensual undulations, riding out the dwindling surges of the ecstatic completion pulsing through her. Never before had she orgasmed so completely, never had the relief from her pava-driven arousal lasted so long. But even now, she sighed with reawakened longing as Devtorvas leisurely shifted his body.

  He lifted his chest away from her, sliding gentle fingers between them to help ease her reddened nipples from his still-contracting terat. She couldn’t help the despairing mewl that escaped as her flesh slid free of the hot confining grip of his chest cavities.

  “Are you sore, Nippa?” he asked, clearly mistaking her inarticulate moans for ones of distress. “Poor dearling, let me soothe you.” The prince lowered his head and brought his facile tongue into play, tenderly licking at her still inflamed tips.

  His tongue was anything but soothing as he unhurriedly lapped at her breasts, already overly hot and sensitive from the special treatment Devtorvas insisted on lavishing upon them.

  Moaning, she bunched her fists in his hair and pressed his head to her flushed skin. Incredibly aroused, she squirmed beneath him, begging without words for more of his attentions.

  As if he could read her mind, he gave her what she wanted. He took first one straining bud, then the other fully into his mouth, drawing on her erect flesh with firm pressure, finally drawing forth a cascade of words.

  “Yes! Yeeees! Oh, God! Please, please…please don’t stop!”

  Cupping his cheeks in her palms, she trailed her hands across his jaw. The hollowing of his cheeks as he pulled at her tight, engorged tips, sucking them into the heated cavern of his mouth, had her hissing with excitement. Through the connection of his skin and her palms she felt the tugging, biting movements of his lips and teeth as he fed at her marble-hard nipples.

  Incredibly, a pounding, relentless climax ripped through her. Liquid fire gushed from her spasming cunt. She marveled at how easily he seemed to bring her to the edge of grinding orgasm with just his mouth at her breasts, when she had never managed a single one from
Ron’s cock.

  A second, stronger delightful thrum of pleasure rippled throughout her body and she cried out, shivering. All thought ceased as her muscles fluttered and her nerve endings snapped and tingled. A wave of bliss swept through her. She felt all light and tingly, as though the finest champagne sparkled in her cunt.

  Her pussy contracted on nothingness and she pumped her hips up toward Devtorvas, instinctively seeking a deeper mating, seeking to fill her yawning emptiness. She bit her tongue, barely resisting the urge to beg Devtorvas to please fuck her…

  Damn it all. Much as he had the ability to rock her world, she didn’t know this man. Beside all that, she never fucked on the first date.

  Oh, but he certainly knew how to use his mouth to weaken a woman’s resolve.

  Every inch of her skin registered the wet sweeps of his tongue, the boiling heat and pressure of his suckling mouth, the hard firmness of his teeth as he bit down upon the ultra-sensitive tips of her breasts. Those sharp nips, bordering on the knife-edge of pain, shot clear down to her pussy, igniting a firestorm of lust. Though she struggled, ever conscious of the sharp-eared guards in the next room, she could not constrain her cries. Raw shouts of pleasure rang through the air.

  Long minutes went by before he lifted his head from her heaving breasts to meet her heavy-lidded eyes. His gaze possessive, he grinned, his wide smile infectious enough to coax forth one of her own. “So, Nippa-mine, there was nothing to be affrighted of, eh? We have shared now—lips, breasts and terat—and the sharing was sweet. Your sweetness has taken away the pain of my long years of waiting.” His voice sounded strangely gruff.

  She dragged her sex-dazed eyes open. The liquid sheen of tears blurring the beautiful burnt gold of his irises shocked her almost as much as her powerful surge of protectiveness toward him, witnessing his strong response to their lovemaking. If this man bottled his potent masculinity, he could patent it and make a fortune. Yet he watched her from behind eyes drenched in tears, gazing upon her as if she were his only salvation, his green oasis in a dry desert. The thought that he trusted her enough to allow her to see inside him like this moved her deeply.

  “You are crying,” she whispered. The area about her heart grew tight as she fought welling emotion. Incredibly awed, she searched his expressions, trying to read all the emotions flashing across his face. She lifted a tentative hand towards his cheek, touched a tear with the tip of her finger. “Why?”

  “I cry with joy, Nippa…with thanks to the Creator of All for fashioning you for me. With joy in knowing I have finally found the one woman who completes me.” He seemed unashamed of his tears.

  She marveled at his openness, at his willingness to share the depths of his emotions with her.

  The prince had a way of constantly surprising her. His reactions threw her, not fitting the normal “male” responses. Most of the men she knew were so busy being macho they often forgot—hell, never learned—how to be sensitive.

  “For long, empty years,” he continued, his quiet words recapturing her attention, “I struggled to be a worthy leader for my people, yet in all that time, my heart remained locked away, frozen by grief and despair. While I mouthed platitudes and hawked hope to my people like a deluded priest, exhorting them to look to the future and work toward a better tomorrow, I never really believed my own words. I didn’t believe that you—your existence—was possible. I never dared trust that the realization of my own deeply held hopes and dreams could happen. Yet, here you are—here we are, together.

  “You will never know how the feel of you, the sight of you beneath me, fills my heart and satisfies my soul’s greatest longings. To see your beautiful breasts—plumped and pink from the working of my terat—heaving with the pleasure I have given you, to feel you limp and satisfied…I am content. Together, we will build upon the good beginning of our bonding, explore the limits of your body’s capability to withstand the pleasure I will heap upon you.

  “But for now, I need to rest.”

  The prince’s half-smile looked both winsome and weary, making her want to offer him her breasts as his pillow. But such an offer would reveal to Devtorvas the successful outcome of his deliberate seduction. Still she admitted, if only to herself, that the prince had thoroughly seduced her by his gentleness, his openness and finally, by the mind-blowing, muscle-clenching multiple-orgasms in his arsenal.

  Orgasms that lasted, by damn. She stretched boneless beneath the heavy body of the man who had reduced her body to a puddle of orgasmic completion.

  “Yeah, I’m tired, too.” A sudden yawn stretched her jaw. Her lack of manners embarrassed her, but those three—or was it four?—orgasms had worn her out, leaving her too limp to lift a hand to politely cover her mouth. Well, at least the prince could see she had all her own teeth.

  “I have not slept since before arriving at your father’s realm and the enjoyment of your irresistibly abundant charms, while a delectable treat, has taxed my reserves. The only weapon I can lift right now is the one pressing against your sweet pussy…and that because it requires no effort on my part. My cherzda rises for its mistress as the sun rises for the new day.”

  She blushed, both at his blunt words and at the feel of his arousal pressing against her clit through the scratchy material of his jeans.

  “I may be momentarily weakened by our love-play, but you may be at ease, fem, and worry not that your rest will be broken.” His hand absently soothed the pebbled skin of her abdomen. “Nothing and no one can slip pass the force field GanR’dari has set up in the outer room. My men will guard us vigilantly. We need fear no intrusion as we refresh ourselves with sleep. We will need our stamina when we take the last step together.”

  He repositioned them, snuggling close to her, allowing his head to rest upon one full breast. With a sigh, he nestled his cheek against her, rooting for a nipple. Finding the stiffening crest, he slurped it and the surrounding flesh into his mouth and settled down to suckle.

  “What last step?”

  Suspended in the lingering euphoria joining with him had brought her, physically drained by her orgasms and that peculiar breast thing, she admitted to being confused. She had never before ejaculated from her breasts, yet pearly liquid had flowed from her nipples in an ecstatic stream and like a starving cat, Devtorvas had greedily licked up the residue not absorbed by his…chest cavities, his terat.

  She really needed to have a talk with her stepmother. Barring that, she’d just have to overcome her monumental embarrassment, her reluctance to appear ignorant in his eyes, and ask Devtorvas for an explanation. She was a teacher, for God’s sake—her hardwiring demanded she have answers to every question. And boy, did she ever have questions.

  She cocked her head, trying to get a glimpse of his face and snorted, finding he had drifted off to sleep. Obviously, her questions would have to wait. While he slept, his body a dead weight atop her, his possessive grasp had slackened, but his mouth remained latched onto one of her nipples. She squirmed under the forceful pulling—this was no babe at her breast—feeling the tug at her nipple clear to the center of her cunt. Her womb contracted and the pungent smell of arousal wafted on the air. Not again!

  At her slightest movement or heavy breath, Devtorvas’ lips tightened on her crest, his cheeks hollowed with the strength of his suckling. He would draw on her nipple rapidly, only to ease back into slackness as he eventually slipped deeper into his snooze.

  Biting her lip as need spiked anew, craving his mouth’s attention at her other breast, she carefully, slowly, eased her nipple out of Devtorvas’ slack lips, and replaced it with the neglected one.

  The muscles of her belly clamped down and her cream spilled out to slick her upper thighs as his mouth performed its instinctual work, drawing hard enough to hurt before softening into a series of gentle pulls.

  Through all this, he slumbered on. She tentatively draped her arms about his muscular frame, filled with conflicting emotions. This man had invaded her home, threatened her with abduction and
taken gross—all right, so there was nothing gross about it—sexual advantage of her.

  She should be terribly angry, shouldn’t she?

  Instead, lying here beneath him, she luxuriated in the first lasting orgasms of her pava cycle. For once, the pava cravings had been satisfied. For the first time in a long time, she experienced freedom from the perpetual ache of unrelieved arousal.

  She shifted her hips a little, settling into a more comfortable position. Lying under the sleeping Prince, she had plenty of time to delve into her emotions and motivations. Without her pava cycle influencing her, she realized she felt an intense attraction for this man. She could no longer blame it on physiological needs…it wasn’t just her body involved. Her current state of arousal had nothing to do with being in pava and everything to do with the man draped over her.

  She craned her neck to garner another glimpse of him. He had proved a selfless lover. The muscles in her cunt clenched as she relived the pleasure he had given her. For that, alone, she felt like falling on her knees before him and—hhmmm…Now, there was a thought.

  She chuckled.

  She had never tasted unflavored cock as Ron, who had a “thing” about oral sex, had sipped at a glass of wine the two times he had eaten her pussy and insisted she drink wine the rare times he allowed her to suck his cock. She’d never known if the wine was to purify her mouth for him or to make his dick palatable to her. She no longer cared, but the fact remained…she had never tasted unfermented cock. And she wanted to.

  Suddenly she wanted to know everything about his…what had he called it…his cherzda? Yes, that was the word he’d used.

  Her eyes drifted closed as she imagined unzipping his pants and slowly pulling them down to reveal the long, heavy cock she had handled only through his jeans. What color was it? Did their people practice circumcision? Could it really be as thick around as it had felt to her wandering fingers? She hadn’t felt the head of it—was it tapered or flared? What would he taste like? His body gave off a heady forest-like smell that made her want to set her tongue to his flesh and lick…everywhere.