They will pay, and my kidnapper will tell them where I am. And then they will come for me. Again.
But I don't want to think about that right now. All I want to think about right now is the man sitting in front of me, spending his time, effort, and materials to make me comfortable in what little time I have left here.
I ditched my guards because I wanted some time away. From everything. From everyone. I wanted privacy. Disconnection. I wanted to exist incognito for a few weeks, without the pressures and expectations that come with my name. With the job I'm about to start.
Oddly, I got exactly what I wanted, in a way that I could never had anticipated. Somehow Lohr is exactly what I needed. No, he is who I needed. I've never met anyone like him, and I'm not talking about his species.
Despite what I know about the Fetoji—despite what I thought I knew—he's helping me because it's the right thing to do. The decent thing. Because he's a good guy.
Because he likes me.
We don't have much time left together, and I don't want to spend what we do have thinking about how I got here or who put me here. What matters is what I can get out of this experience, now that it's happened.
And, of course, what I can do for Lohr, once I'm gone, to repay him for his kindness.
“Don't worry," I tell him. "This isn't about you. This isn't even about me. This is about my parents. Someone wants a ransom and when they get it, I will be rescued."
"Ransom." Lohr’s forehead crinkles as he puzzles out something he doesn't understand. “‘Payment demanded for the release of a prisoner.’”
"Yes. My parents are very wealthy, so I've been at risk of this my whole life." No need to give him the specifics. "I have a full-time guard detail. A bunch of men trained to protect me."
Lohr’s eyes widen with sudden understanding. “Because you have no defense capabilities. No claws. No sharp teeth. And your nose is practically worthless."
I laugh. "No, those things are true for all humans. I'm vulnerable because my parents have something that everyone wants. A lot of money. My guard detail is supposed to keep me safe, but I have to admit I never really saw the threat as very likely until now. So, occasionally, I ditch them and go off on my own, under a fake name. I pay for things with unregistered credit vouchers, so that I leave no financial trail. I wear sunglasses and hat. Sometimes I change my hair color. And I never do anything flashy or extravagant. I've found that if I keep my head down, I'm usually perfectly safe on my own. But this time…"
"This time someone found you," he says. "And that someone put you here for safekeeping?"
"It sounds strange, I know. But I can't think of any other reason for me to be here. Whoever kidnapped me was smart enough to know, somehow, that if he put me here with you, I would be safe until the ransom comes in, and he would be spared the cost and effort of caring for me. It's actually kind of brilliant."
He nods slowly. "But that means that whoever put you here knew that I would find you. Quickly. And that I would not hurt you."
"Yes," I say. He has me thinking now. "And whoever that was must have had access to the planet during the maintenance period. Otherwise, how could he get through all of the—” I bite off the rest of that sentence. He deserves to understand why someone would kidnap me, but he doesn't need the details about my family. About this planet. If I told him the whole truth, he would—
He would hate me.
It's selfish of me to keep that from him. And he's going to find out eventually. But I can't bring myself to ruin this yet. I just…can't.
“Anyway, until the ransom comes through, I've decided to think of this as a little vacation.”
Lohr puts his work down and frowns at me again, and I can see him thinking through the term. “Vacation. An extended period of recreation.” His frown deepens. "Recreation?" His gaze loses focus as he thinks that one through as well. "Leisure. Relaxation. Enjoyment."
Shit.
"This is amusement for you?” His gaze narrows on me. “Entertainment?"
"No, I just meant–"
"This is in my life. These are just the things I have to do to survive. I have to hunt. I have to clean my kills. I have to store my resources. I have to fetch water, cook food, and repair my traps if I want to live. But I’m taking time away from all of that to help you. Because I had no idea this was entertainment for you. Because you said you were not tourist. Not a customer. That you were not a voyeur. And I guess you're right. You're not just rolling through here for glimpse, like the other humans, on your way to the next enclosure. You're lingering. You're getting to witness the savage and his barbarian lifestyle up close and personal."
"No!” I reach for him, and he pulls away from my touch. “That's not what I–"
"I know those words too. They were all in the language dump. Savage. Barbarian. Uncultured. Uneducated. Untamed. They're your words for us.” His eyes look cold for the first time since I met him. “You define us by the things we aren't. The things you find lacking in us. The things you find different and amusing. I may look like an animal native to your homeworld, but that doesn’t make me an animal.”
"No!" I grab his hand too fast, too hard, and his claw scratches my skin, drawing blood, but I hardly notice. "I find nothing lacking in you. Nothing. I don't think you’re savage or uncultured or any of that. I didn't understand you at first," I admit. "I was here once before, and I had a bad experience with several members of your species. And that's what I expected from you at first. But that's on me. I made assumptions. And I should've known better, because of all the things people think about me that aren't true.
“People assume that because my parents have money, I must be spoiled. That I'm vain and frivolous. And maybe that's true at times, but it's no more true for me than it is for any other twenty-two-year-old woman, just now figuring out who she is. So anyway, my point is that I'm sorry if I’ve done something to give you that impression. And when I called this a vacation… That was just me trying to sort of…reclaim what's been taken from me. I mean, I was kidnapped and thrown out of a shuttle. I'm just trying to turn that around and take away my kidnapper’s power. To make this into something enjoyable, despite what he intended to be."
"And I'm part of that?” His gaze is still hard, but he has not pulled his hand from my grip. “I’m something enjoyable for you to do on your vacation?"
“No, I… I really didn't mean it like that."
His hand tightens around mine and he gives me a slow grin. "Because I'm actually okay with that part."
"You asshole!" I punch him in the shoulder. "I thought you were actually mad at me." And the thought flayed open my heart.
"I am. And since this miscommunication was your fault, I think we’re going to have to solve our differences my way this time." His brows rise with the insinuation, and I look down to see that he is hard. Again. He stands, my unfinished shirt forgotten, and tugs me to my feet, already growling deep in his throat in that seductive way he has of wordlessly communicating his intent.
“Ooooh,” I gasp. "Are we going to settle our differences with a grudge fuck? Because I have to be honest, I'm not really mad at you right now."
"Give it a minute."
I expect him to pull me into the hut and bend me over the table, but instead, he takes my shirt in both hands and pulls it over my head. "Hey!" I make a grab for my shirt, but he pulls it out of my reach, dangling it over my head. “We're outside! Anyone could see!”
"There's no one here."
"But there could be."
"The same thing was true that day in the stream.”
"Yes, but I was caught up in the moment."
"Like I said, give it a minute." He tosses my shirt over his shoulder, and when I lunge for it, he catches me around the waist, lifting me from my feet. Rather than setting me down, he lowers me to the ground on my back, and when I feel something soft beneath me, I realize I’m lying on one of his clean, soft pelts. He plants one huge hand on my sternum, and the tips of his claws are
a warning for me to hold still.
But I know he won't hurt me, so I shove at his hand, and he begins to growl. "If you keep fighting, I might accidentally rip your clothing,” he warns.
"Accidentally, huh?"
"You would really be forcing me to do it."
He has a point. So I hold still while he jerks my pajama pants and underwear over my hips and tugs them off. Because I have a new plan. As soon as he—
Lohr tosses my pants aside, and I shove him over, intending to make a run for the hut. A play for some privacy, just in case. I know there's no one here, but I also know that someone could be here any moment, and the last thing I need is for my rescuers to find me in mid-orgasm.
But he catches me before I even make it onto my feet, and this time when he holds me down, I know I will not make it back up until he’s damn well ready to let me go. “Stay," he growls, his grip on my arms pinning me to the pelt. Then, before I can object, he begins to make his way down my body, licking me with that raspy tongue all…the way…down.
The sensation is as arousing as it is rough—arousing because it is rough—his sandpaper tongue raising goose flesh all over my skin. Drawing my nipples into hard points before abandoning them. Awakening every single nerve ending in my body.
Each long lick draws a gasp from me, and I am breathing hard by the time his tongue dips into my bellybutton. He drags his tongue over the point of my left hip, trailing lower, and my body arches into his touch with a mind of its own. But when my hand tries to slide into his mane, his tail wraps around my wrist and forces my arm back to the pelt. Holding me there, immobile. Unable to direct his actions.
He doesn't care what I want, but he knows what he's going to give me, and he knows I’m going to like it.
"Wait," I gasp, twisting to look longingly at his hut—at the promise of privacy. In reply, he growls, and pushes my legs open to settle himself between them.
“You will have a chance to deny your consent," he mumbles against the sensitive skin on the inside of my left thigh. "I promise." Then he opens my legs until my bent knees kiss the soft pelt, splaying me wide open beneath him.
I suck in a sharp breath at the first feel of his tongue between my legs, gently circling my opening with just the smooth tip, which lacks the backward facing barbs the rest of his tongue has. He dips briefly inside me, and I squirm beneath him, whining for a second, until I’m sure this isn’t going to hurt.
His tongue and its barbs are ferocious. But they seem more blunt now than they were against my skin on the way down, and—
Damn, his tongue is long. It strokes inside me, and I have no control over the moan that slides up my throat. Of the way my body tightens around his tongue. Lohr growls in response—it’s his lustful growl—and strokes into me again. And again. And again, until he’s fucking me with his tongue, his hands beneath my ass to position me exactly how he wants me. His tail is still wrapped around my wrist, a reminder for me not to move. Not to try to take control of this moment and demand pleasure my way.
We’re still arguing, evidently. But now we’re doing it without words.
“Oh, god,” I breathe, as his tongue strokes that sensitive place inside me. I haven’t even told him about the g-spot, but obviously Fetoji women have something similar, because here, he clearly has the homefield advantage. “I’m still not mad at you, though, so this isn’t really a grudge—”
“Patience,” he growls, and his breath blowing over my exposed lady parts makes me squirm with need. Then he dives into what I know damn well was his goal with this all along. My “quick-start button.”
His first careful stroke over my clit brings my hips off the ground. I cry out from the intensity of the sensation. He’s clearly blunting his tongue barbs somehow—they feel kind of…relaxed—but it’s still a lot.
“Does that hurt?” he whispers, his hands clutching my thighs. Keeping them open wide.
“No, but it’s…intense. Remember how I said that it usually takes human women more than a few seconds to reach orgasm?”
“Mmm…” he acknowledges as he lowers his head, and I gasp when his tongue rasps over me again.
“Oh, fuck. Well, that’s not going to be the case—” I suck in another ragged breath as he drags his tongue over my clit, letting me feel every single hot, wet bump of those relaxed barbs. “—if you keep doing…that. I’m seriously going to come all over your face in, like, two seconds.”
“No,” he growls. “You’re not.”
“Ohhh, shit.” Suddenly I understand this game. We can’t grudge fuck unless we’re mad, and I’m not mad, so he’s going to— “No, Lohr, I’m an instant gratification kind of girl, at least by human standards. So there’s no need to—”
“Shh…” He drags his tongue over me again, and the tip of it curls around my clit on the tail end of the stroke, caressing it—fucking hugging it—and my hips buck toward him. Begging for more.
He’s never done this before. I know damn well he hasn’t, because Fetoji women don’t have clits. Yet somehow, he seems to know exactly what I like. What I need. Which kind of makes sense, considering how often he’s played with my quick-start button with his fingers. I guess the same general principal applies, but this is...
Oh, god this is good. This is—
“Lohr!” My free hand reaches for his head again, tangling in his thick mane while my other hand fights the grip of his tail.
“No,” he growls as he pries my hand free from his hair. He forces my arm back onto the pelt and gives my inner thigh a little warning nibble.
“Ow!” I squeal, but he's already licking to soothe the bite. Then his attention returns to my clit, licking and circling it relentlessly, and in seconds, I’m panting, my hips arching toward him, my arms straining against the grips of his tail and his right hand, because I need to touch him. I need to— “Lohr, oh, god, I’m going to come.”
His tongue goes still. He drops a sweet little kiss on my poor, swollen clit, then he rocks backward and begins nibbling at my thigh again, keeping my nerve endings alive with little bites and licks that remind me just how close he is to where I need him.
“Noooo!” I moan as my clit throbs. I can feel moisture dripping from my opening, and he must too, because his head ducks between my thighs again, and I feel his rough tongue lap up the drip. “Please. I’m so close. Please, Lohr.”
“No,” he growls, but this is his pleased growl. His satisfied growl. He’s having fun.
“Let me go. I’ll do it myself. Just—”
“No,” he growls again, and my groan must sound as desperate as it feels, because finally he starts licking again. Right where I need him.
“Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank—” It doesn’t take long. Three or four strokes of that magic tongue, and I’m right back on the edge, gasping with every rough drag of texture across my clit. I need it. It’s just out of reach. My thighs are starting to clench around—
Then he stops. Again.
“Okay, that’s not funny!” I snap, and he laughs. The fucker laughs at me!
“Are you mad yet?” he whispers against my thigh, punctuating the question with another raspy lick that comes just close enough to my outer lips to remind me what I’m missing. “Because this doesn’t end until you’re ready for that…what did you call it? A grudge fuck? Are you mad enough for that yet?”
“Yes,” I snarl, fighting his grip on my arms with everything I have. “Right now I hate your fucking guts.”
He laughs again. “Good.” He gives my clit one more brutal, blissful lick, then he lets me go and stands. “Get your ass in the hut and bend over the table.”
11
Lohr
Syrie scowls at me as she heads into my hut, but I can still smell her arousal. I can still taste it. She's caught between frustration and need—between competing urges to hurl angry words at me and to bend over and present me with her cunt—which is exactly where I want her.
Inside, she hesitates, glancing from the table to the bed a
nd back. Then she turns to me with a suddenly sweet expression. "I want to show you something.”
“No. You want to bend over and beg me to fill you. I can smell the truth of that in your scent. You are desperate for release.” As am I. But it will not come quickly. Not with this marvel of a human woman and her brutally patient cunt.
“Yes. I mean no, this time I want—”
I take her by both shoulders and spin her around, then I plant one hand in the center of her spine and apply an even pressure, gently forcing her to bend over the table. I need to be inside her, and she needs that just as badly as I do.
I slide my hand down to feel between her legs, and I find her still dripping and swollen. She groans when I slide one finger inside her, but then she plants her palms on the tabletop and presses against it, trying to push herself upright, despite the pressure of my hold on her. “You are angry," I note.
"Observant as always. Now let me up,” she snarls, and my cock swells almost painfully. She's stunning in the grip of anger, even if that anger is really just frustration and need.
I withdraw my finger and nudge her stance wider with one of my feet. “Take out your anger on my cock. It will be a glorious expenditure of energy, then we can collapse into bed together, secure in the knowledge that no animosity yet exists between us.” I nudge at her opening with my head, which has already begun to weep for her. “Do I have your consent?” I already know she wants to mate, but the words are important to her.
“No!” she snaps. “You do not have my fucking consent. Back the fuck off!”
I step back and let her go, both confused and relieved to realize that her frustration has bled into true anger. This will be a glorious “grudge fuck” indeed. So why is she glaring up at me, instead of bent over the table?
"I don't understand. Why did you deny your consent?"
"Because this isn't what I want."
Oh, yes. Now I remember. “Your body wants to mate with me but your head does not. Right?"
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