Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Melina spits on my cock, and I'm both repulsed and aroused at this. Before I can ask why, she leans forward and takes my now-wet member into her grip.
A ragged gasp chokes out of my tight throat. “You—wait—"
“I’m not sucking your dick,” she tells me. “You get my hand.”
I’m barely paying attention to her words. I’m lost in her touch. I've never felt anything like this before. When I imagined rutting with a female, I thought perhaps it would feel a bit like using my hand—pleasing, and leads up to a satisfying release. Even that is frowned upon unless you're one of the few Salorians chosen to be breeders. I am not one of the chosen, because my bloodlines are mundane and my strength in mind-speech average. I've touched myself in the past, always furtively, always knowing that such actions are weak and frowned upon.
But this…her touch…is different. This is intense and as her hands roam over my genitals, I can’t think. There’s pleasure, yes, but it’s overwhelming and something about this feels strange. I can't think, not with her hand working me like that, like she's squeezing my spirit out through the head of my cock itself. "Wait," I breathe, as my sac tightens under those massaging fingers. "W-wait—"
She doesn't, though. She only moves her hand faster, adding pressure at the tip. I gasp again, the release boiling out of me before I can take control of the situation. I spurt onto her fingers and she immediately rears back, wiping my spray on her dress. "Hot."
"Seed," I wheeze. "Fires—"
"Doesn't matter," Melina says, and continues to work me with her hand, angling my cock so the rest of my release sprays on the cool tile floors. She moves her hand up and down my shaft, squeezing me and pumping me as if it's her goal to get every bit of my seed onto the ground, and I shudder underneath her ministrations.
I've never felt…anything like that. I’m overwhelmed. Shocked. Astonished. Mortified and fascinated at the same time, and even more mortified when I realize that was done in a matter of seconds.
I reach for her chin, only for her to bat my hand away.
For the first time, Melina looks up at me. She spits on my cock again, a bit of steam rising into the air when her cooler saliva hits my cockhead, but she ignores it, continuing to work her hand up and down my shaft, sending shivers through my body.
"I'm going to let you in on a little secret," she tells me in a low, hard voice. Her eyes are full of hatred as she gazes up at me, her hand continually milking my cock and making me shudder. "You're the same as every other man that shows up here. You may surround yourself in art and wear pristine robes and pride yourself on how high and mighty you are, but at the end of the day, you're using the same fucking playbook every other man does out there. You say you're in this to lead the city, but we both know you're just here to get your dick wet." She gives my cock another squeeze, and I can't stop the hitch of my breath in response. "Every man with just a little bit of power decides he needs to use it to bend women to his will. Doesn't make you smarter, Azar. It just makes you the same shitty little dictator as everyone else. You're not special. You're sure not bringing anything new to the table. You're just getting your rocks off by lording your power over women and forcing us to service you." She tilts her head, giving my cock one last squeeze. "Am I done here?"
I gape at her.
She nods as if I've answered her question. "We're done. Next time, warn me that your seed is scalding so I can be better prepared." With that, she wipes her hand on her shift, gets to her feet, and stalks across the room, leaving me naked and limp-cocked, standing in front of the splatters of my own release.
And I am…ashamed. This should have been my greatest moment and instead I feel like a monster.
Melina shakes her hand, and I realize her palm is bright red. I know my seed has burned her. I…should have known that, but it did not occur to me. Humans aren't as warm as my people. They are not like the drakoni, born with fire in their veins, or my people, who channel their fires inward.
"I harmed you—"
"I'm fine," she says, drawing back when I reach for her. "In the scheme of things, I've had worse." She pulls away, as if the last thing she wants is for me to touch her, and I realize just how little she wanted this.
I thought after we negotiated that…I don't know what I thought, truly. Perhaps that we'd outline terms of her surrender, like two generals meeting on a battlefield, and then she'd fall gracefully into my arms. Instead, she spat on my cock and jerked it with all the excitement of the maid that cleans the laundry for the barracks soldiers. For some reason, I expected more enthusiasm. Not a grudging yielding that makes my cock shrivel.