Billionaire Romance: MAXIMILIAN (An Alpha Bad Boy Contemporary Mystery Romance) (Mysterious Billionaires Book 3, Anthologies & Collections) (21 page)

              With a last intimate kiss between her legs, Tavos said, "I cannot wait any more.  I must put my
zazansa
in you and
shadaal
you this moment."

              In a carnal stupor, Stacey poured out the words, "Yes... please do it to me... please..."

              Tavos wasted no time.  In a flash he was up on his knees and spreading his legs wider.  The tip of his piece came at once to her wet opening.  Stacey felt as if she were on the precipice of a waterfall, about to plunge into joy.  In fact it was Tavos who took the plunge, stroking his piece smoothly and surely into her.  He burst the dam of her regroup virginity and slid himself all the way inside her.  Stacey made a sound that was both a moan and a scream, which Tavos could feel all the way up his shaft and into his bones and muscles.  And with that feeling he settled onto her and began to pump up and down, giving Stacey her first
shadaal,
the sex of her dreams.

              Stacey could only guess at the meaning of the words that fell hotly from Tavos's mouth as he lay on top of her and hammered away hard and fast at her former maidenhood.  They must have been the Sarmian equivalent of the Earth profanities that she had for so long dreamed of hearing the perfect boy grunt and groan while working his hardness inside her wet tightness.  She joyously received all the humping and thrusting that he had to give her.  She whimpered and moaned under him as the beating of his crotch against her mound and the sweet, savage sliding of his prong in and out of her made her entire body quiver.  "Oh, don't stop," she gasped.  "Oh, please... more... do it more..."

              Pounding into Stacey's depths with youthful fire and fury, never letting up a single beat, Tavos grunted,  "Yes...
shadaal
yes, I will do it so much more. 
Shadaal,
I will do it to you so hard, so deep, so long... 
Uuuhhh... UUUHHH..."

              Much as Tavos had resisted his heritage, it was in humping a woman that his warrior spirit showed itself.  Stacey was almost terrified at how thrilled she was by the sheer savagery of his passion.  Every stroke of his long, hard prong inside her was like the blow of some mighty weapon, struck by a conqueror who took her without mercy.  She tossed her head back and forth at the sheer intensity of his beating on top of her.  She welcomed the feeling that the pleasure of his animal, carnal thrusts would tear her asunder.  Tears poured from the corners of her eyes.  She groped his body everywhere: shoulders, arms, back, buttocks, thighs, her hands demanding more of his fearsome thrusting.  In the midst of pounding inside her, Tavos roared, "
Shadaal! 
I cannot hold it back!"

              Moving like a sexual acrobat, he kept himself sheathed in her channel while rising to his knees.  He licked his fingers and lowered them to the place of her greatest sensitivity and began his ultimate assault, strumming at her little love handle while still ramming himself in and out of her.  The pleasure was so overwhelming that Stacey grabbed a pillow and covered her mouth with it to muffle her scream, as the greatest ecstasy of all struck thunderously into both of them at once.  Where Stacey had felt herself going over a falls, she now felt a wave of ecstasy crash down upon her, even as another wave let itself loose from Tavos's weapon of passion.  His own wetness gushed into hers, cascading and flooding into her womb.  He made an incoherent yell of conquest—and then, conquered as well, he fell on top of Stacey and was still.

              Stacey lay under Tavos, panting, gasping, sobbing, wet and tingling down below where he was still lodged inside her.  In the wake of a first time that she would carry with her every day of her life, she was happy beyond all thought, beyond all expression.  She caressed Tavos's body up and down, savoring the sheen of perspiration on his hard male flesh.  They were quiet for a time and did not move.  At some point she heard herself say, almost breathlessly, "It's still light out.  How long can you stay?"

              His head resting on her bosom as if it were a pillow, Tavos replied, "Until morning.  Until you must go for your appointment.  I will escort you there."

              "How many times can you do it?" she asked.

              Tavos kissed her bosom.  His erection had already returned and he was ready to use it on her again.  He rose up to meet her face, kissed her, and replied, "We will lose count."              

              And Stacey moaned with renewed delight as he slipped his pulsing prong deep into her again.

              Tavos cancelled all of his massage appointments for the rest of the week.  He could recover the money in fees for interviews and speaking engagements as a pardoned absconder from the Sarmian wars.  He stayed with Stacey for the remainder of her visit, in her bed, lying between her newly slender thighs and making love deep inside her day and night.  Stacey Fagan ended up seeing very little of Nirvana Planitia after all.  But she did not care, as she did get to see every last centimeter of the body and
zazansa
of Tavos of Sarma.

THE END

Gasping for breath, the young woman contorted into a sitting position.

Her awareness of her surroundings still hazy and unreliable, she tried taking a look around, but it was futile. Everything she tried to lay her eyes on was blurry. Even so, it was apparent that wherever she had found herself, it was someplace new.

Heart racing and temples pulsating, she turned her attention to herself instead. Placing her hand in front of her face, she tried flexing her fingers and was barely able to feel any motion. Her vision now slightly sharper, at least up close, she noticed something she did not expect: her fingers, hand, and the rest of her arm had been placed inside some strange, tight-fitting glove.

It does not seem to end with my arm.
Swiftly, she directed her gaze toward her legs and abdomen, struggling all the while to keep everything in focus. A couple of seconds later, it was certain that she was right: her whole body was covered with the material. It was black, stretchy yet strong, and strangely comfortable.

Was this thing fitted for me?
Though disturbing, the thought seemed to have been right on the mark. The bodysuit was tight where it needed to be and featured properly sized pockets for every protrusion, be those fingers or feminine curves.

Mary Anne, you stupid, immature brat! What have you gotten yourself into this time?
She tried to conjure forth memories, but flinched at the intense headache that invoked.

Alright, I guess that’ll have to wait.
Her vision now completely recovered, Mary Anne decided to focus on the strange room instead. It was smooth, like the inside of a slightly bent sphere. The walls and everything else were the color of freshly polished chrome. The furniture, appliances—or whatever they were supposed to be—appeared as if they had sprouted from the floor itself. Some of them, like the bed she had awoken in, were recognizable for what they were. Other objects, like the bizarre multi-limbed contraption in the shape of a freshwater hydra, easily defied any categorization.

The hydra.
A disgusting creature, Mary Anne recalled, but the animal itself was not as important as another fact. The device had reminded her of one of the many things that Miss Paulson taught in her biology class.

The same Miss Paulson who disappeared without a trace, some eight months ago.
She shuddered, the insides of her lower stomach contracting at the thought.
Is this what happened to her? Have I disappeared without a trace as well?

The lingering sensation in the back of Mary Anne’s head; the very same memories that she had decided to keep at bay due to the significant pain they caused, now exploded. Images, sounds, sensations, the whole jumbled lot expanded inside her mind, threatening t0 crush it under the immense weight of its own incoherence. Pressing on her temples with the palms of her hands, Mary Anne screamed, the entire room spinning around her shivering body. The sound she made, however, she did not hear, for her consciousness had gone somewhere else.

                                                       
Yesterday

It was nighttime. Or very early in the morning, depending on your point of view.

Mary Anne was back in her hometown of Wayward, a backwater little place located somewhere within the less civilized parts of the United States. She had just left the house of her best (and only) friend Andy, after their traditional horror movie marathon.

They don’t make them like they used to,
she concluded while musing on a scene from one of the films—
the moon was up in the sky, just like it is now. It was full, and coldly beautiful.
The clear white orb stared back into her eyes, welcoming her presence as it had so many times before.
If only I could sit down and talk to it… who knows what stories it could tell…

One step at a time, she paced toward her home, a rather droll place she lamentably had to share with her parents. Suddenly, she felt something dragging at her coat. Startled, Mary Anne turned around, ready to kick whoever it was right in the ‘nads. However, that turned out to be an overreaction, for it was nothing more than a large bush that had caught her overly long garment.

I’ll have to remind the… whoever it is that lives here to take better care of their plants.
Carefully, she freed her coat from the grasp of the overgrown plant, taking special attention not to damage it. Once it was loose, Mary Anne ran her gloved fingers over its smooth fabric once before letting it dangle by her fishnet-covered legs.

Clothes like this don’t come cheap in these parts
, she reminded herself, standing in front of the house whose owners she could not remember, staring down at her own body. A short, intentionally ragged black dress; a pair of high-heeled boots in the same color; and a decorative corset. Getting that stuff in Wayward was not easy, even nowadays.

Do you have to be like that?
Mary Anne could hear her father’s voice echoing within her head, saying what he usually would.
The others are talking, you know?
Her mother always followed along shortly, not deviating from her predictable behavior. They were always the same, and so horribly boring.

It will be difficult for me to marry some local shmuck if everybody thinks I’m a Satanist or a lesbian, right?
Good.
She stared into the window of the house again, realizing that the identities of its occupants didn’t interest her in the least. Best of all, it didn’t bother her at all that she didn’t care.

Angry at herself for spoiling the wonderful mood she’d had going, Mary Anne resumed her walk home. But the train of thought she had embarked on earlier didn’t let her off the hook as easily as she’d have liked. Ever since she could remember, Mary Anne had been an outsider. Boys, girls, adults—everyone looked at her as if something was wrong, and it only got worse with age. By the time she had graduated high school she had turned into a cynical, albeit beautiful, girl, whose cutting tongue didn’t let anyone near.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The Christian teaching of “turning the other cheek” having found no ground within her, Mary Anne was perfectly willing to respond in kind. Her parents, however, would have none of it, having expected their little girl to get married, or at the very least betrothed, well before that time.

Still, I didn’t think they’d go that far with their Stone Age way of thinking...
Their reprisal had come without warning. One day the people who were responsible for Mary Anne’s presence in the world had decided that she was not to be allowed to go to college.

“You are an embarrassment, young lady!” her father had bellowed the loudest he could. “The people laugh behind our backs every day, all because of your stubbornness! You act as if something is wrong with you, and you do it on purpose! And don’t get me started on that appearance you maintain! Fine! Do as you wish, Mary Anne. Don’t act as if I am preventing you from
being yourself
, as you insist on calling this mockery. Do not, however, expect to get any support from us for as long as you insist on maintaining this ridiculous attitude. I will not release a crazy girl into the world. Understand?”

That monologue had been far more significant than it initially seemed. First off, Mary Anne’s funds were drastically reduced, limiting her ability to shop and outright preventing her from leaving the town. Second, her father had proclaimed that, until she proved that she was capable of forming and keeping a serious relationship with a man, her family would not support the rest of her schooling.

Friendless, unpopular, and deprived of money, they had thought that she’d relent. Instead, all that happened was that Mary Anne became even bitterer than before. And the couple of years that had passed since then had not done much for her wellbeing as she became increasingly desperate for some sort of friendship.

That position was filled by Andy. Always a bit of a slow learner, the youth was every bit as dull as most of the town’s younger (and older) population. What he had going for him, though, was a rather good heart, which made him a tolerable candidate for the position of Mary Anne’s only friend.

It went slowly, their first few meetings mostly consisting of the young man’s attempts to get into her panties. Mary Anne’s parents were so glad by that development that they even considered increasing her allowance. But they were glad that they hadn’t when it turned out that her interest in Andy was purely platonic.

It took some time, patience, and effort but finally, after several long months of direction, she had finally managed to place him right where she wanted him: the far reaches of the friend zone. It was a mutually beneficial relationship—Mary Anne would have the company of another, non-venomous person, and Andy would get the chance to expand his little mind, to whatever degree that was possible. Horror movie night was the strongest tradition of their two-year-long friendship, occurring once every week in the dead of the night (or morning).

This isn’t a solution, though.
Mary Anne didn’t need to articulate that to know that it was true. Making the situation tolerable was not the same as sewing up a wound; it was much more akin to a common Band-Aid.

Horror movie night and the occasional midnight stroll isn’t going to cut it for any longer, I’m afraid.
She could feel it. The longing for something new, something
different
, kept on consuming more and more of her recent thoughts.
If I don’t solve my problem soon, there’s no telling what I might do…

Suddenly, she froze, her current line of thought interrupted by something that she couldn’t quite make out. It was next to her house right along the way, less than fifty feet in front of her. It had the shape of a single, moving orb of light, less than an inch in diameter and followed closely by an unusual blur. Right at the moment she noticed it, it stopped moving—the blur disappearing but the orb still blatantly visible, staring at her without making a single motion.

What the hell is that?
She wanted to check it out, her curiosity piqued by the unusual sight. But flashbacks from the movies soon took over, sending Mary Anne into fight-or-flight mode. Breathing in deeply, she turned around, taking one more look at the still-present glowing little circle before she tensed every muscle in her body and ran in the opposite direction.

Her breathing getting faster and faster and her footwork following closely, Mary Anne got to the edge of the neighborhood within less than a minute. Turning around the sharp corner, she pressed herself toward the wall, doing her best to stabilize her breathing while remaining as silent as possible. Her vision was blurring, the ground beneath her appearing less flat and stable—a clear indication that the pace of her breathing was not sufficient.

Better to feel bad for a few minutes than get caught by whatever that was.
Suddenly, Mary Anne felt foolish.
Whatever that was?
The idea seemed beyond silly. While it was possible that she had indeed seen something, the far more likely scenario was that she was simply tired and seeing things.
It seems I was right. I am losing my mind out here.

Carefully, Mary Anne crept closer to the edge of the wall at her back, peeking behind it while hoping with all of her being that she was indeed going insane.

Nothing was there.
I think I might be the first person in the world to actually feel relieved to be hallucinating.

A moment later, there was a thump. The dull, heavy sound came from right in front of her.

Please tell me that it’s not real.

Shivering, her lungs now hurting from both stress and lack of air, Mary Anne turned her gaze back to the front and immediately wished that she hadn’t. Standing in front of her was a swirling, expanding mass of inky blackness, grotesquely positioned around a glowing white orb. In less than a second the thing shifted between several different colors, finally settling on an unusual variant of polished chrome.

Please tell me that I have simply snapped.

With the thing’s shape now easily discernible, Mary Anne’s mouth instantly went dry. The sight before her dwarfed that from any sci-fi film: a towering, bipedal mass of metal. The thing was humanoid, somewhat similar to a mixture between a human being and a large cat, standing on digitigrade legs. But its head was something altogether different—somewhat elongated and devoid of any feature other than a single, glowing eye.

The metallic creature had spent barely more than a second in its visible mode before it started emanating an unpleasant, dull buzzing, a sound that became less and less bearable with each agonizing moment. Following suit, the white light became more and more intense, finally culminating in a single brilliant flash of light.

And then there was nothing.

                                                                     
Now

Out of air, Mary Anne still held her head with the palms of her hands. She was trying to produce a scream that she no longer needed, the pain having ended a good while ago. But the shock to her system was so great that her mind was still lagging behind her body. Shivering all over, from her fingers down to her toes, she forced herself to inhale mere moments before what felt like another unconscious episode in the making.