Breeder (11 page)

He closed the gap and captured her face between his palms. For the longest moment he peered into her eyes. She ached for him with a ferocity that caused her knees to tremble. His scent, so warm, so
him
, filled her nose, her lungs, her being. She floated on a cloud of his subtle musk and spice, the fragrance of hope. He grabbed her, clutched her against his broad chest, and she discovered his heart raced too. Against her lower abdomen, his erection laid proof to his warning he intended to “take her,” but instead of stirring alarm, his arousal caused yet more yearning, more wetness to pool between her legs. More aching.

He cupped her head and flattened his other hand on her back. For the longest time, he held her. Then he brushed his mouth against her hair. Her temple. No one had ever touched her so with such tenderness.

Whisperflies. Fields of them took flight. So many that she could rise and drift away on the draft of their wings. She clung to Alpha’s hard biceps. She didn’t care if the coupling hurt.

With his lips, he grazed her jaw. Her cheek. Her eyelids, which fluttered shut.

“Say my name.”

“Dak,” she whispered.

His breath warmed her face for an instant; then he pressed his lips to hers and stuck his tongue into her mouth.

Omra’s eyes sprang open. He stared back, his gaze lit by that blinding fire, but he continued to move his mouth, to lick, to stroke. She closed her eyes. Sensation spiraled. Awkward. Foreign. Intimate. Satisfying. He tightened his arms around her and pressed a little harder, continuing the invasion.

When he broke off, she felt bereft, her lips swollen.

“That’s called a kiss,” he said hoarsely.

“A kiss?” She practiced the alien word. “Do it again.”

She’d issued an order to Alpha! But no chastisement came, and he placed his mouth on hers once more, filling her with his scent and taste. He was a rare liquor, reserved for those of the highest rank, the kind served to Alpha himself. And she’d been permitted a goblet from which she’d been granted freedom to drink her fill. She threw off caution and mimicked his movements, twined her tongue around his.

He groaned, a rumble of such pleasure and satisfaction, her knees did buckle, but before she could collapse at his feet, he lifted her into his arms and in two strides deposited her on the sleeping platform. And he shocked her yet again when he proceeded to disrobe. His uniform shirt fell away like it had been whisked off by a village magician, and his booted foot coverings and pants followed.

She stared. Alpha proved a sight to behold. Coiled muscle, mass, and power personified. Without the cover of clothing, his shoulders were even broader, his chest wider. Sinewy arms appeared like thick tree branches, his thighs like logs. And between them? A massive specimen jutted forth. No wonder penetration had hurt. She marveled his member had fit inside her at all.

Instead of anxiety, anticipation welled, causing trembling and lightheadedness as if the room spun. She wanted to touch his manhood, to clasp his shaft, rub her fingers over the cap, even lap at the man essence beading at the opening, but courage and boldness deserted her. She raised her gaze to his face and found him observing her.

“I will do what I can to minimize your pain.”

“It is all right.” She smiled to reassure him. He looked so conflicted.

“Take off your shift.”

She disrobed, then rolled to her side and folded it to conceal the embarrassing wetness that had seeped out of her and darkened the fabric.

The Commander growled, not a pleasured-filled noise but a shocked, furious one that shot fear through her. What had she done to displease him? He grabbed her thigh and flipped her onto her stomach. “What is this?” He traced a line across her back, an area still tender after yesterday’s chastisement. Corren had been angry, brutal. He’d discovered her in the stable feeding forbidden scraps to the beasts. He’d dragged her outside, cut a branch off a tree, and stripped it of its leaves.

“I do not know what you mean.” She stalled, trapped in a dilemma.

Alpha radiated anger, but his touch was featherlight as he ran a finger over a welt on her buttocks. One across her thighs. “I should have flogged him unconscious, and then roused him and whipped him again. How often did he do this?”

The sun never failed to set that Corren hadn’t devised some reason to discipline her. His ingenuity inflicted pain on the inside without leaving outward marks—until yesterday when he’d lost control. If she lied to Alpha, and he later discovered her falsehood, she would pay dearly. But if she confessed that Corren punished her every day, sometimes twice, and he chastised Corren for
his
disobedience, the beta would exact retribution at first opportunity. Alpha’s responsibilities resulted in long absences from home, during which time she was at Corren’s mercy—and he had none.

Fortunately, she lay on her stomach so Alpha couldn’t see her face. She opened her mouth to lie, but the Commander spoke first. “He will not strike you again. I give you my word.” His lips followed the same path his fingers had traced.
What is he doing?
Her heart ceased beating, then nearly leaped out of her chest when he trailed his tongue over her flesh. The wetness burned across the welts, and his jaw rasped where it grazed, but every nerve ending fired in a contrary storm of pleasure.

He grasped the lock-ring. It emitted a hum as the device read his genetic code, then clicked open. He pulled it off and tossed it. It landed near her head, coated by her moisture. Embarrassment heated her face. Something was seriously wrong with her the way her body kept leaking. Fortunately Alpha was willing to overlook her indiscretions.

As this was her second coupling, she knew what to expect, so she raised her hips to accommodate the thrust of his manhood, but he inserted a finger into her passage instead. Pressure. Fullness.
Pleasure
. She squeezed her muscles. It only got better when he penetrated her with a second digit.

He groaned that satisfied rumble that caused her stomach to flutter every time she heard it and removed his fingers.

Now
he would mount her. She lifted her lips.

But he rolled her over.

And did the unthinkable.

He licked his fingers
. The ones that had been inside her—the ones slickened by her moisture. Omra’s jaw fell open. But when he knelt and kissed her, she forgot her shock. She met every stroke of his tongue with a curl of hers, teased him for the joy of hearing him groan. The vibration of it sent little tingles dancing through her.

She flailed, uncertain what to do with hands that had become useless appendages until they settled on his head. She threaded her fingers through his hair, marveling at the softness, such a contrast to everything else about him. From there, she followed a natural path to his neck, his shoulders. Biceps bulged as he braced himself on his forearms.

He wedged a leg, strong and hirsute, between hers and pressed against the apex of her thighs, inciting a melee within—comfort and discomfort, satisfaction and dissatisfaction.

His attentions grew rougher. He kissed her almost harshly, but she relished the abrasion of his chin, the crush of his mouth, the way his tongue plundered. His stony manhood dug into her leg, smearing a trail on her skin. Men ejaculated—she knew that, but hadn’t realized they leaked beforehand. Perhaps it was normal to produce moisture? Her own wetness trickled between the moons of her buttocks.

He relinquished her mouth to deliver tingling kisses to her neck, and she moaned in rapture and rolled her head to the side. He nipped; she arched. He soothed each place he bit with his tongue, and she whimpered.

He lifted his head. She stared at him, seeing for the first time an open countenance, her Alpha naked, his expression revealing the same yearning that gripped her.

A spot of red stained his cheeks. “Your eyes are beautiful like the violet Parseon moon.”

Before she could respond to his astounding comment, he ducked his head, hesitated, and then captured her left nipple between his lips.

From nipple to womb, a sweet, shocking current flowed. Omra grabbed the covering on the sleeping platform and twisted it in her fist. He sucked on the tip, and she gasped.

He ceased his delicious torment to peer at her. “Am I hurting you?”

“No.” She shook her head. Her nipple had tautened to such hardness that it hurt, the sensation tugging on an invisible rope that seemed tethered between her legs. She throbbed there too. But the pleasure-pain came from within. He hadn’t caused it. Or maybe he had, but if she said so, he might not continue. She arched her back, bringing her breast closer to him, hoping he would get the message.

He did. He licked the tip, drew rings around it with his tongue, and blew on it, his breath cooling her steaming flesh. He pinched both nipples. Tugged them. Rolled the buds between his fingers, watching her face the entire time.

Sharp longing knifed through her. “I like that,” she said tentatively.

The blaze in his eyes incinerated her. He crushed her mouth and plundered its recesses, his demand somehow so supplicating, she responded with fervor, eliciting a growl that caused her toes to curl. Finally he broke off the kiss and worked his way down her body, brushing, licking, nibbling. Warm breath tickled her abdomen, and a tiny giggle erupted from her mouth. She squirmed. With a smile on his lips, he proceeded to tease until she protected herself by splaying a hand over her stomach.

He picked up her wrist and sucked each finger, stroking every digit with his tongue as if she were a delectable treat, holding her gaze the entire time. When he released her hand, she stared at her wet fingers, astounded.

A minor shock compared to what happened next.

While she gaped at her fingers, he scooted down the bed and positioned his broad frame between her thighs, pushed them wide, and exposed her sex. He bent his head and kissed her
there.

She went rigid with shock and pleasure. A molten surge of ecstasy rolled through her body. “Dak.” His name tumbled from her lips. He licked from her channel, which had continued to produce an inordinate amount of moisture, to a nub of flesh at the top that pulsed and throbbed with a keen tension, tightening with every swipe.

“Yes,” he ordered hoarsely, “say my name again.”

He parted her folds with his thumbs, and when he took aim at the nerve center again, she had no problem obeying. “Dak!” she gasped.

Omra pounded the platform with her fists, ineffective in staying the sensation rocketing through her, a rapture hearkening from part joy, part agony. She thrashed her legs. It did not deter him but spurred him to a more devious assault. He sucked on the bud as he had done with her nipples. Pleasure cut through her sex, her womb.

She grabbed handfuls of his hair. “Dak, please, please,” she begged, arching, lifting her hips from the bed.

He took advantage and slid one finger into her channel. No pain, only delicious ecstasy. Pressure and yearning for more. He continued to lick and suck the nub while he inserted a second finger and thrust both in and out, though never fully out.

“I need, need, need.” The words she’d been thinking burst out. Her body hovered at the brink of discovery, yet truth skittered out of reach. Her hips moved of their own accord to thrust at Dak’s face. She flung her head from side to side and grabbed his hair. She wondered if she was hurting him, but he gave no sign, only continued to flutter his tongue over the burning nub, as relentless as an invasive force marching through an unprotected village.

“You’re there, Omra. Give it to me,” he growled.

She had no idea where “there” was located or what “it” was, but at the sound of his rumble, the tension centered at her core drew tighter and exploded. Omra convulsed and shuddered with the most intense pleasure she’d ever experienced. She bucked her hips, flailed her legs, and tore at his hair. He licked until the last swell subsided, and she collapsed in exhausted surrender, the throbbing between her legs muting to a gentle current.

She still gripped his hair in her fists, and she opened her hands, relieved she hadn’t torn out a clump and left Alpha with a bald spot. How would he explain that?

Perhaps he wondered the same, because he chuckled, a lightness such as she’d never heard from him, not even the first day when he’d driven her home and they’d conversed so casually. The oddest lassitude swept in a need for slumber. If she closed her eyes, she would drift away, but Dak moved over her and kissed her. He tasted of himself and of a tang she recognized as herself.

With his kisses, he seduced a renewed response, and sleepiness fled under the assault of desire. Knowledge did not lessen her need; if anything, it was greater this time.

With his tongue between her legs, he brought her once more to the pinnacle, but before she could soar over the top, he halted. As need quaked through her, he shifted her onto her stomach and urged her to her knees. She scrambled to comply, eager for the completion. She would take whatever he gave her—pleasure, agony—she wanted both with him.

With his fingers, he spread her open, then positioned the head of his manhood against her swollen, aching center. Though she yearned for his penetration, courage deserted her then, and she tensed.

“Forgive me,” he said and pushed his shaft inside.

She stifled a gasp of amazement. His erection stretched her, but instead of pain, there was only pressure, fullness, pure sweet satisfaction.

He rocked in deeper, and a whimper of pleasure escaped her. He stilled.

“No,” she moaned. “Don’t stop, Dak. It feels…good.” Her head swam; she’d never fathomed this act could bring such gratification. Did men achieve this satisfaction every time? Was that what drove them to use females? If she’d experienced an iota of this, she would have been an avid participant.

No, she amended; she still couldn’t imagine experiencing this with anyone but Dak. She wanted
him
to do this to her. No one else.

Her passage felt stuffed already, but she squeezed her muscles tight around his erection in encouragement.
More
, she silently urged him.
More.