Fark.
“Come,” I said, leading her downstairs and to the kitchen. It was vast, with stone floors, large counter surfaces and the most technologically advanced cooking equipment.
She stood and stared. “I thought you only used that weird machine.”
I went to the food storage, opened the door. Filled with prepared meals. I had to hope that whomever replenished it ate what would have otherwise spoiled. “That is in space. Here on Trion, there are kitchens. Food is cooked.”
“By you or a chef?” she wondered.
I looked at her around the door frame. “A chef, of course. What rich person cooks?” I asked, my words so laced with sarcasm she couldn’t miss it.
“Got it,” she said, looking away. “I’ll stop poking the bear.”
I frowned, not sure what that meant. “There are many meal options to choose from. Shall I choose a variety for you to try?”
“Yes, please.”
I took various items and placed them on the table then retrieved serving utensils and glasses of water to drink.
I directed her to sit then settled myself across from her.
She touched a container, pulled her hand back. “It’s warm. I expected it to be chilled.”
I tipped my head toward the food storage. “It is cold within; however, the container begins to warm it once it is removed. I trust they will be all heated appropriately by now.”
Taking off the lids of each, she peeked at the food, then tasted a little bit of each. I watched her as she ate, quickly learning the Trion foods she liked and the ones she truly enjoyed. I ate my favorite dish, one I hadn’t had since I’d been on-planet last. We didn’t speak other than when I pointed out what she was eating, how it was cooked, and the spices involved. When she was full, she set her cutlery down, wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“I think I’m going to like Trion food. Perhaps that was why I was matched to the planet.” Her smile was bright and her eyes alive with teasing. She was fed and rested and… not her usual feisty self. Although this was the first time she was either fed or rested as well as not in danger.
“That is not the only reason. Trion culture satisfies your other cravings as well.”
My cock stirred again at the idea of spreading her out across the table and tasting her. There was time. We had yet to hear from Zenos although with the way time bended between Trion and other places in the universe, I expected it anytime.
“What other cravings?”
So she chose to be coy. She had not been so reserved while riding my cock. “Your need to surrender, to feel safe. To let go. You hunger to be conquered, gara.”
Zara blushed, bit her lip. “No. It wasn’t like that. I’m not like that.”
I arched a brow. “Really? Then it wasn’t your pussy that dripped at my command?”
Her mouth opened, and she stared at me wide eyed. As if while she was brutally honest and straightforward with many things, her sexuality was not one of them. I crooked my finger, beckoning her to me. She swallowed hard but stood and came around the table.
I turned and parted my knees, so she could stand between. “Gara—”
“Zara,” she countered.
“No one has called you an endearment before? Is that why you are so against it?”
She pursed her lips. “An endearment means there is a connection, something special between two people. We don’t have that.”
I stifled a smile, for I knew she’d perhaps knee me in the balls for it. She was good at denying herself, at avoiding what was right in front of her. Me. Of this… chemistry we had.
“Zara, gara, you do not feel the connection?” I set my hands on her thighs, slid the soft fabric of the shirt she wore--my shirt--up. Higher and higher.
She didn’t move. Fark, she didn’t even breathe. She could step back at any time, but she didn’t. My touch was something she wanted, the anticipation of what I’d do next was something she craved.
The air was still, the sun warm through the windows. The house was silent except for our breathing. No one was chasing us. No one was shooting at us. No one needed us. We were free to explore what this was between us.
I cupped her pussy, felt her desire. Her heat. She startled but didn’t move away. Her eyes flared. “Do you know what the nipple rings and chain are for?” I asked.
She shook her head but held herself still. I didn’t do more than pet her pussy. Slowly. Gently.
“They are for your mate to affix his medallion, so everyone knows who serves and protects her.”
“That’s sexist as hell.”
I offered a slight shrug. “It is the male who is kept, who is permanently chained to his mate.”
“I’m not your mate,” she snapped.
“You may not belong to me, but your pussy does.”
She tried to step back, but I curled a finger into her. Her inner walls clenched down upon it.
“Whose hand is coated in your need?”
I pressed against her G-spot, waited.
“Yours,” she said finally.
Pulling my hand from her, I set her back a step, so I could stand. I went to the S-Gen machine in the kitchen, but I didn’t order up food. In moments, I opened the door and returned to my seat before her. I held up the item. Two golden spheres attached by a small chain that ran between them, and another, much longer chain with a marked golden disc attached to its terminal end.
She stared at it.
“It is time to show you the pleasure of a Trion female. Shirt off, please.”
I didn’t explain what the spheres were for. She’d find out soon enough. Her curiosity got the better of her, for she lifted my shirt off and dropped it to the floor.
“Ah, so beautiful,” I praised. “Feet wider apart.”
When she complied, I held onto a single gold ball and let the second, along with the chain, dangle.
“Um, what are you doing?” she asked when I carefully nudged the sphere up and into her pussy. It was an easy task with how wet she was. “I’m not much for weird sex toys.”
I didn’t say anything as I set the second sphere inside her.
Removing my hand, she gasped, and her hips curled back, a sign she was clenching hard to hold the objects within. The chain dangled down between her parted thighs, the medallion at the bottom offering some weight.
I watched her closely. Arousal, frustration, anger, surprise, so many emotions flitted across her face. “Isaak,” she breathed.
“You have your safe word, gara. Do you wish to use it?”
She hadn’t said no yet, a sign in itself she wasn’t rejecting my attentions. I wanted to remind her though that I would stop at any time. I needed to know her limits. I instinctively had an idea of what they were, but Zara was unlike any female I’d ever met. While she tested to Trion, she wasn’t actually from the planet. I didn’t know how deep her needs ran, but I was quickly learning.
“No,” she said finally.
“Don’t let the spheres fall out. Trion females are punished for such an infraction.”
Her head whipped up to look at me. “Punished? God, Isaak, it’s going to make me come.”
“I haven’t even turned it on yet.”
Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “On?”
I pressed a button on the remote I hadn’t allowed her to see, and her knees bent. She gasped, her hand smacking onto the table beside her. “Isaak! You’re being an asshole.”
“Ah, there’s the Zara I know so well.” Instantly, I turned it off.
“The neuroprocessor within will take you to the brink of orgasm, then retreat, never allowing you satisfaction.”
She glanced up at me, her cheeks flushed. “What’s the fun in that?”
“There is none. The female has her focus squarely on her pussy and not whatever wrongdoing she has been caught in. Those who see the medallion and chain know she has been… naughty.”
Her head swung left and right? “Who’s going to see?”
; “Claimings are public. A woman’s arousal and pleasure are to be shared and shown off.”
“Share and show me off and not only will I say my safeword, but your balls will be lodged so far up in your throat, you’ll be choking on them.”
Instantly, I turned off the vibrations.
“No!” she cried.
That was not what I expected to hear.
“You wish the device to remain on?”
She launched herself at me, the medallion at the end of the chain smacking me in the leg. I grabbed her and held her in my arms as she kissed me. Fiercely, wildly. I kissed her back. Devoured her. Turning, I reached out and swiped my hand across the dining table, clearing it of everything from our meal. I leaned forward, resting Zara upon the hard surface. Our faces were inches apart, her breath fanning my cheek.
“It’s not yours to control, is it? That’s what you like.” I understood. The stimspheres provided a different kind of lesson for Zara, that her pleasure, the look on her face of pure bliss, was mine to give her. Her eyes were closed, her lips swollen and parted. Her cheeks were flushed. “I will not share you, gara. Not ever. Your orgasms, your cries of pleasure, your sighs. The look of you now spread out before me is just for me. No one else.”
She arched her back and set her feet on the edge of the table. So uninhibited, lost to the power of the stimspheres. “You’ll not come from this. They are programmed to never allow a female to climax.”
“Isaak,” she whimpered, clearly wanting just that.
Tugging on the chain, I plucked the spheres from her, one at a time. The wet sound of her arousal indicating how much satisfaction her body found in them.
“You’ll only come from my fingers, my mouth, my cock.”
I gave her the first, slipping two fingers inside her. Yes, she was dripping with her need. Dropping to my knees on the floor, I pushed her thighs wide, tugged her hips to the edge of the table and devoured her, as if I hadn’t just had a meal. She was my succor, my survival.
I was drowning in her. The silky feel of her. The heat. Her scent. Her flavor. It was all as wild as she was. I could have continued to taunt her, to flick the little pearl until she was ripping out my hair and begging, but I wanted to witness her pleasure once more.
Slipping two fingers inside her once again, I worked her with those digits as my tongue laved her, licked her. I sucked and tugged, worked her clit until her thighs clamped over my ears, and she creamed my mouth.
Fark, was she perfect. Uninhibited.
Slowly, I stood, shucked my clothes, set my hand by her head and leaned over her as I worked my cock into her. She was sweaty and replete, lost to her pleasure. To what I gave her.
“Isaak,” she moaned, and she clenched down on me hard.
I held still. Waited, which was torture.
Her eyes blinked open, and I watched as they cleared of her desire enough to see me.
“There you are. Ready to get fucked?”
She lifted a hand and cupped my jaw. “I can’t say you’re a selfish lover.” Her voice was a mix of breathy desire and grumbling.
“You may submit, gara, but you will always come first. Always.”
The glazed look of desire in her eyes threatened my control. “Hands to your knees. Open yourself to me.”
She did as I asked, her hands pulling her legs up and back, exposing her pussy. Opening her up like a flower.
“More. Tilt your hips. I want everything.”
“Isaak.”
She said my name, not master, but I did not have the heart to deny myself, not when I knew our time together could come to an abrupt end.
I’d had enough talking. I pulled back, thrust deep. Took her hard. Took her as I needed it to know she was right here with me. Beneath me. Mine.
Her pleasure milked me hard, and I wasn’t strong enough to resist.
The orgasm built at the base of my spine, zapped the energy from my body and thrust it deep into Zara along with my seed. Setting my forehead against hers, I breathed in her air, her life force just as I gave her mine deep into her pussy.
11
Zara, Two Days Later
Nothing could have prepared me for life on Trion. At every meal, each bite was an explosion of taste and textures on my tongue. Sweet. Salty. Bitter. Rich. The food overwhelmed my taste buds the way the clothing seduced my skin. Except for the first night of our arrival, when I’d worn Isaak’s shirt, he’d made traditional Trion outfits out of the cool clothing-making machine. I didn’t know what the sheer, gossamer fabrics were made of, but they were softer than silk, light as air, and clung to every curve with constant caressing every bare part of me. I wore no underwear, no bra. I was beginning to feel like I wore nothing but nipple rings, chain between and air, the experience shockingly sexy.
I felt sexy. Beautiful. Adored. Me. I felt feminine.
Isaak constantly touched me, kissed me, fucked me until my eyes rolled back into my head, and I was lost to the pleasure. Guilt tore at me, thoughts of Naron, my dead mate, the guy perfectly matched to me by the Brides’ Program, made me wonder if I was living some kind of mistake with Isaak. He wasn’t meant to be mine nor I his. He wasn’t my perfect match. I hadn’t come all the way to space to be his. He wasn’t the Trion male the Interstellar Brides’ processing center had matched to me, and I felt… bad for being… happy with him. In so many ways.
Why did I want him so badly? Why did I miss his touch on my skin the moment he left my side? Why did my heart jump every time I saw him?
Why did I love the way he called me gara? Why did I submit to him so easily? I wasn’t that kind of woman. Never had been. I was a fighter. A scrapper. A girl from the neighborhood who had grown up tough.
This soft, submissive female was not me. This silk and gold and hair flowing free and loose down my back was not me.
More importantly—more of a confusion than any other thought swirling in my head—if he wasn’t supposed to be mine, why was I falling in love? That completely freaked me out. How could I be feeling this way for him? He was so annoying. So frustrating. I wanted to strangle him and kiss the life out of him. I didn’t trust men let alone love them.
Feet bare, I curled my toes into one of the deepest, softest rugs I’d ever walked upon and ran my hand over the edge of a statue of a beast that looked like a cross between a horse and a bear.
“Sure feels like me,” I muttered to myself.
“What are you worrying about, gara? I recognize the look in your eyes.” Isaak appeared in the large room as if from nowhere and wrapped his arms around me. The heavy weight of his armor pressed into my body through my thin gown, and I gasped as the rough edges made contact with the sensitive flesh of my bottom. Isaak had spent a good amount of time making my backside burn last night. Spanking me because I still would not call him master.
I couldn’t. I knew if I did, I’d be lost. Totally screwed. In love. In too deep to save myself. Feeling this way was one thing, but admitting it aloud to myself and to Isaak was something else entirely.
If I called him master, I’d get hurt. I still didn’t completely understand what had happened between Isaak and his parents, and I didn’t think he was a criminal on Trion. But even so, not once had he said he wanted to stay.
No, he paced the house like a caged beast while I reveled in the cold stone walls under my hands, the soft desert breezes coming through the open windows. He’d told me about the time bend although it didn’t seem real, but the two days we’d been on Trion had been much longer for Ivy and Zenos. It had been weeks for them. Weeks to work the Cerberus angle, yet we’d had no word from them. I was just glad for the break, for a moment to just… be. I wandered the enclosed gardens, listened to birdsong I’d never heard before, touched flower petals so soft I scarce believed they could be real, and never wanted to leave. Yeah, I was weird and sappy, but there was peace in this house. Peace. Power. Safety. All the things I’d left Earth to find.
Hot sex with Isaak wasn’t going to be enough for me tho
ugh. I didn’t want to live in a tiny room in a spaceship. I was well aware that Isaak didn’t want to live here. I wasn’t an idiot. This thing between us was incredible, but it wasn’t going to last. I wanted to be settled. He wanted to roam. To search the galaxy for… I had no idea what.
I’d done the same thing. Volunteered because I was searching for something more. Something not found at home. I now believed I had it here on Trion with Isaak. Was it him I wanted or this place? The answer came easily. It wasn’t either or. It was both. I wanted to be here with him.
“Gara.” Isaak turned me in his arms until I faced him, my breasts crushed against the hard outline of his armor. The contrast made my pussy clench with heat.
“Yes?”
He blinked, startled. “No protest this time?”
I huffed out a little laugh. “No.” I didn’t have the heart, not when I knew this was like some kind of dream, and any moment Ivy and Zenos would call and force us both to wake up.
Two fingers under my chin, Isaak angled my head up until I gave in to his unspoken demand and looked him in the eye. “What are you thinking, Zara? I don’t like what I see in your eyes.”
I frowned and tipped my eyes away but not my head. He wouldn’t let me. “What do you see?”
His thumb caressed my cheek, and he lowered his forehead to mine. The air between us mingled, as if he was buried inside me, and we were one body. “Nothing. No fire. No defiance. Only emptiness. And pain.”
Surprised that he was so observant—the first man I’d ever met who had a clue and paid attention—I closed my eyes to hide the stark grief his words cued in my body. I shuddered, icy cold dread making its way from the base of my spine to my lips. I licked them. “I’m worried about Ivy and Zenos.”
It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. I was worried for them, but it wasn’t the top of my list.
Isaak wrapped me in his arms and pulled me even closer, used one hand to cradle my head to his chest. “Zenos is a Forsian hybrid, gara. Ivy looks human, but she has enough Hive tech in her body to make her nearly his equal in both speed and strength. Perhaps even more dangerous, but don’t tell Zenos I said that. They are strong. I command you to cease your worrying.”
Rebel Mate (Interstellar Brides® Program Book 20) Page 11