by Cynthia Sax
“Then let me put love into words you understand. You are the only mate for me.” His Storm dusted off his shoulders, her gaze fixed on her task. “I would face termination for you. When you are happy, I am happy. When you are damaged, I am damaged.”
Ary blinked, her feelings echoing his. That is love? Excitement bubbled within him, as light as her laughter. “When you look at me, do you feel heat here?” He placed her palm over her heart, her hand small in his.
“Yes.” A smile lit her face with a brilliance greater than Sila’s two suns, her beauty dazzling. “I feel heat when I look at you, intense heat.” She wiggled against him, her hips sending fucking messages to his spicka.
The communicator in his pocket beeped and Ary sighed, now was not the time interval for fucking or additional word sharing, when the ship’s crew was waiting for them to disembark. “Our people gather to greet us. We will share our intense heat in our domicile once the greeting is complete,” Ary promised. He clasped his Storm’s hand and walked with her, the doors sliding open and shut around them.
Warrior Krol loomed in the corridor. More warriors lined the narrow space, positioned at his side, the males large and heavily armed, daggers and zbrans holstered in their garments.
“Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko.” Warrior Krol nodded curtly. “Talker Storm Nazwisko. We will escort you.” His tone allowed no disagreement.
Ary gripped his Storm’s hand tighter, his concern over her safety returning. “Are there numerous Silans?”
“Numerous.” Warrior Krol grinned, his eyes swirling black, the aggressive male fearless in face of possible damage. “Honor our status, Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko.” He slapped Ary’s back, the impact rattling his ridges.
“I will honor your status, Warrior Krol Nowak,” Ary conceded, having no choice. He glanced down at his Storm, and she met his gaze, her blunt teeth worrying her bottom lip. He squeezed her hand, wishing to comfort her.
They walked through the ship together, their fingers threaded together. The Silan crew lined the corridors, hailing them as they passed. They offered Ary the same salutation as his Storm and Warrior Krol, their tones reflecting genuine respect, an earned respect.
My people. Ary held his head high, meeting his fate with that truth warming his heart.
They strode through the vessel doors, Warrior Krol surging before them, clasping zbrans in both of his big hands. A roar of raised voices swept through the brightly lit docking bay, the noise deafening.
The blinding lights temporarily damaged his vision system. Unable to detect possible threats to his mate, Ary pulled his Storm back against him and turned, shielding her with his body.
“My Ary.” His Storm stared over his right shoulder, her lips forming a pink circle. “Are your people always so happy to see you?”
Ary spun around to face the crowd. Lejno. His mouth dropped open. Silans stood shoulder-to-shoulder, smiles stretching across their ridged faces. His dam and males of his same lineage waited by a large central pillar wrapped with wide purple ribbons, the color honoring his mate’s talker status.
Representatives of every Silan status filled the docking bay, the males grouped by the color of their garments. Welcoming banners waved, the words written in both Silan and English.
“A mate for every Sila!” his Storm read. “Our ruler has chosen wisely. To protect Sila! I honor Ruler Arystokrata Nazwisko’s status as ruler.” She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “These aren’t protesters. These are your supporters, my Ary.”
“Our supporters,” Ary corrected, a churning ball of heat building in his chest. “Our people.”
The Silans hushed, watching him as though they expected him, a ruler, to address them. Do they desire my words? Ary studied his people, the Silans he’d led for years without truly knowing. Have they always desired my words?
His Storm shifted closer to him. “They’re waiting for you to speak,” she whispered, banishing Ary’s lingering doubts.
Ary hooked his arm around her waist. “Or for you to speak…excessively.” He grinned as he teased his mate, his heart light. A ripple of conversation rolled through the crowd. “You are the talker.”
“But you are their ruler.” She spun, rotating in his embrace, and she gazed up at him, her eyes filled with mouth-drying faith, faith in him, in his ability to fix his people’s damage. “They need inspiration right now, not excessive words.” Her voice lilted with humor. “Share your vision of the future with them.”
Ary cupped her upturned face, meeting her gaze. “I love you, my Storm,” he blurted out, unable to contain his love for one more moment. “Without you, my vision would have no words.”
His Storm’s smile wobbled for one long heartbeat and then lifted, her expression radiant and her pale skin glowing. “It’d have no excessive words anyway.” She laughed, the tinkling sound flipping Ary’s stomach. “Go.” She pushed him forward. “I’ll be right beside you.”
Ary strode toward their people, his mate following him. He took a deep breath, looked out at the hopeful faces, and exhaled. “I am a ruler, your ruler, and I have learned many lessons on this voyage.”
Chapter Seven
Storm peered up at the small ship hovering above their big backyard. A talker hung out of the vessel, a camera in his purple-and-green hands, the green cord around his waist preventing him from falling to his death. “Sustenance,” he barked.
“What did I eat this morning?” She smiled into the camera, supplying the question the Silan male didn’t have the English words to ask. He nodded, his eyes swirling with excitement, interviews with human females providing a launch pad for many news careers.
“I ate toasted white bread with strawberry preserves, human breakfast item one hundred and twenty-two on the fabricator,” Storm recited, amused by the Silan’s fascination with every aspect of her life.
“My Ary poured me a container of sweet, blue jaggodda juice, grown in the beautiful Dolina Valley.” She smacked her lips. “It was so good,” she raved, deliberately mentioning a different region in every interview she’d given over the three weeks, winning Ary more and more support from his people.
“I hope to see the Dolina Valley soon.” She ran her fingers through the curls Silans fixated upon. “I wish to explore all of Sila.” Storm sighed. “But we haven’t yet had the time. My Ary has been working from sunrise to sundown.” She glanced at the two suns brightening the spaceship-cluttered sky. “Striving to realize his dream of a mate for every Silan.”
Awareness fluttered the tiny hairs on the back of Storm’s neck. The talker’s gaze lifted over her right shoulder and Storm glanced behind her. Ary stood on the Earth imported grass, his arms crossed and his legs braced apart, his mouth flat.
“My Ary has returned to our domicile.” Excitement zinged through Storm, his mid-morning visit unexpected. “If you don’t mind, I’ll continue this interview later.” She waved at the talker. He bobbed his bald head and pulled his body into the moving ship.
“My Storm,” Ary rumbled. “Have you completed the project we spoke of last sundown?”
“The big project?” Storm turned around, facing him, aware of the ships monitoring every word they spoke, relaying the information to millions of watching Silan males. “No.” She stared at Ary, her heart pounding, unwilling to hope. “They couldn’t have approved it already.”
Ary’s lips twitched as though his happiness was too great for even a superior Silan ruler to contain. “We leave at sunrise.”
“Oh my God.” Storm ran toward him and leaped into the air. He caught her easily. She wrapped her arms around his torso and her legs around his waist.
“Council gave you permission to approach the Earth leaders?” she whispered into his ear. “I thought I had a lot time for the ‘Welcome to Sila’ informational package.” She thought of everything she had to do and her stomach dropped.
“My Ary,” she wailed. “You said it could be months, even years.” She smacked his back ridges.
“Be st
ill.” He slapped her ass, his palm felt through the thin talker garment, the impact heating her skin.
Ary walked with her into their sprawling mansion of a home, the metallic doors rising and lowering around them as they entered, sealing them off from the intrusive world. A stone bridge moved to meet his approaching footsteps, a manufactured stream running through the space.
“Greetings, Fish Howard and Fish Win,” Storm called to the lizard-like blue fish swimming happily in the water. Ary chuckled, having laughed for hours after she first named them.
“We approach the female fixer first,” he murmured as they passed a display of hanging chains, the building’s architecture incorporating a mishmash of designs from every region of Sila, the result bizarre by Earth standards, yet mentally stimulating.
“Win is an astrobiologist.” Storm’s correction earned her another arousing cuff to her ass. She moaned, rubbing her mons against his stomach.
“Sladky matka, mate,” Ary growled, stalking into their bedroom, his boots landing heavily on the tiled floor, the dazzling rainbow of colors reflecting all of the Silan statuses. “Allow me to talk.”
“Talking is not your status.” She arched her back, silently pleading for more punishment. “You must honor my status.”
He choked back a noise suspiciously resembling a chuckle as he heated her flesh with his big palm. “I must punish you for your disrespect.” The playful blows rained down on Storm’s curves, drawing more moisture from her pussy. “I am your ruler. Listen to your ruler.” Ary flung her onto the massive bed.
She gasped, her ass burning with each bounce. “I’d rather fuck my ruler.” Storm opened her thighs and squirmed, grinding her abused flesh farther into the covers, the friction sublime.
Ary’s gaze flicked to the camera positioned over their bed, their interactions studied by Silans wishing mates. “We will fuck now and talk later.” He ripped the green fabric away from his body, his cock springing free, hard and vibrating.
“Or fuck now, talk later, and fuck again.” Storm kicked off her boots and wiggled out of her purple suit. “See how wet I am for you?” She spread her pussy lips, shamelessly showing her pinkness to her big alien and to the other Silans watching from their homes. “I’ll need you multiple times.” She circled her clit with her thumb, her caresses teasingly slow.
“I will fuck you hard the first time.” Ary stroked his shaft, his ridges rippling, his cock head dark-green. “You will scream my name, my Storm, and your pussy will gush with lubricating liquid.”
“I’m already gushing, my Ary.” Storm held her fingers out to him, her skin glistening. He leaned over her, heat radiating from his muscular form, and he sucked the juices off her fingers. Her pussy throbbed to the tug and pull of his lips, his suction greedily intense.
“I need more.” He grasped her ass and she hissed, his fingers sliding along her battered ass cheeks. Ary raised her hips, bringing her pussy to his lips. He extended his long green tongue and swept over her from ass to clit.
“My Ary!” Storm wiggled, struggling to escape his exquisite assault, her legs dangling in the air. His grip on her ass intensified, his fingertips biting into her skin, and he lapped at her folds, laving them with his tongue.
“Yes, more, I need more.” She kicked her feet over his shoulders and straddled his head. His eyes gleamed, darkness mixing with the light, the movement seductively hypnotizing. “Fill me with your tongue,” she ordered. He pressed deeper into her pussy, reaching inside of her entrance with his tongue, his chin pushing against her. She held him to her, her fingers splayed over his skull, finding purchase in his ridges. “Drink me dry.”
She lifted into his thrusting tongue, splattering her juices over his cheeks, grinding her scent into his skin. “Grab my ass harder.” Storm moaned as he complied, his fingers driving sweet pain over her ass cheeks, branding her flesh. “That’s it. Suck me.” She rubbed into his lips, coaxing him higher.
He chuckled, his lips humming against her, and she cried out, riding his face harder. “My clit, my Ary.” Her voice raised as her passion grew. He nuzzled her clit with his flat nose and she whimpered. He blew his hot breath over the bundle of nerves and she bucked. “I need…I need…oh, my Ary, please.”
Ary, her ruler, her mate, mouthed over her with his stern, powerful lips, pleasuring her with the single-mindedness he applied to every other venture. Storm trembled, unable to resist his touch, her body his to command. “I’m so close.” She grasped him tightly, her thighs shaking and her head light.
“Come for me, my Storm,” he ordered, his low voice coiling down deep inside of her. Her passion wound so tightly, her lungs ached. I need…I need…He covered her clit with his lips and lightly pricked her sensitive flesh with his sharp, pointed teeth, the pain intensely sharp.
“My Ary!” Storm pulled his head down as she thrust upward, slamming her pussy into his face, her wet flesh smacking against his. Stars burst around her, the heat blazing, and she called his name over and over while he sucked, draining the liquid from her body.
“I love you.” She sagged, her limbs limp, her legs remaining hooked over his shoulders. “No other man eats pussy like you do.” She peeked up at him, waiting for his reaction. Her possessive male growled, his face darkening, and she grinned.
His eyes narrowed. “You talk excessively.” Ary flicked her legs off him. Her body smacked against the bed and she gasped, her curves tender and raw. “I have an alternative use for your mouth, talker.” He straddled her torso, pinning her ass to the mattress, and he cupped the back of her head, drawing her upward. “Suck my spicka.”
Storm opened, allowing him to push his cock head past her lips. Ary groaned. She swiped her tongue over his slit, scooping up his sweet pre-cum, his flavor uniquely his. He shuddered, his ridges rattling, as she grazed her teeth under his rim and sucked.
Ary twisted his fingers in her curls, his grip severe and unrelenting. “Take all of my spicka into your hot mouth.” He gave her no choice, pushing deeper, forcing her to accommodate his substantial length.
She slid her tongue under his shaft, bumping her lips along his ridges, teasing him with her teeth, and he breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling. His tip tapped the back of her throat and she sputtered, wrapping her hands around his base, preventing any further movement.
“Sladky matka, my Storm,” he rumbled, his head tilted backward, his chin raised proudly. “Your mouth is made for me.” His cock vibrated against her tongue.
She gazed up at him, her lips stretched around his girth, and their gazes met. She held nothing back from him, showing him all of her feelings, and he did the same, his green eyes glowing with pride and love and lust, their connection more than physical and emotional, but a bond soul-deep, spanning universes and species.
My alien prince. Storm squeezed his base, and Ary grimaced, his cock bobbing against the top of her mouth. He wouldn’t last long, his shaft hard and his balls cloistered tight against his body. She drew back, his shaft shiny with her saliva, and she nipped at his cock head with her teeth. He inhaled sharply, digging his fingertips into her scalp.
He likes it rough. She moved into him, her bared teeth scraping along his thin skin. His cock gyrated erratically against her lips, dancing with arousal, and she smiled. His tip pressed snugly against the back of her throat and she closed her mouth, slowly, steadily biting down on his shaft.
“My Storm,” Ary squeaked, his fingers flexing and releasing in her hair.
Storm worked his cock, sucking as she pulled back, biting down as she lunged forward. Ary guided her up and down his shaft, rocking into her movements harder and harder, his male musk teasing her nostrils, the wet sheen of his skin covering her cheeks. Storm’s world centered around her alien male, loving him, pleasing him, urging him closer to satisfaction.
His balls smacked her chin, their rhythm building. She dug her fingernails into his ass as he ravished her mouth. With every thrust, he pushed his shaft into her teeth as though he wanted, n
eeded the pain. His jaw clenched, beads of perspiration rising on his forehead, his eyes darkened to the blackness of space.
“My Storm.” His thighs shook. “I will…I will…”
She bit down on him and the metallic taste of blood burst upon her tongue.
“Druzka,” Ary thrust hard and roared, shooting fierce jets of cum down her battered throat, bathing her with soothing warmth. She swallowed, savoring his sweetness, and he jerked against her, his ridges rattling.
“I love you. I love you.” He filled the silence with his passionate declarations, the words falling uncensored from his lips.
As I love him. Storm sprinkled kisses over his shaft and stroked him with her fingertips until he stilled, the rigid authority drained from his body. Outside their chambers, Ary was a ruler, responsible for millions of Silans. In their bed, he was her mate, his pleasure her priority.
She met his gaze and smiled, his heavy eyelids and upturned lips softening his rugged countenance. “I love you, my Ary.”
“I love you, my Storm.” He drew her upward and rolled until she lay on top of him, his muscled arms wrapped around her tightly. “You may talk excessively now.” He chuckled.
“Honor my status, ruler.” Storm slapped his chest.
Ary’s laughter rolled through the room and Storm’s smile widened.
About Cynthia Sax
Cynthia Sax lives in a world where demons aren’t all bad, angels aren’t all good and magic happens every single day. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you”, they will do anything for the women they love. They live passionately. They fight fiercely. They love the same women forever.
Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali and Chicago.
Cynthia welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.