Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Actually… maybe I do.
“Taisha.” My throat is inexplicably hoarse. “On your knees, now. Show me you’re sorry.”
She understands immediately, sliding off the hoverdisk and onto her knees at my feet. I free my erection and she opens those full lips.
“That’s it, beautiful.” I push my throbbing malehood into her mouth.
She swirls her tongue on the underside, hollows her cheeks and sucks when I ease back.
“Good girl,” I praise. I’ve already forgotten about punishment.
All I care about now is the way my cock disappears into her mouth, the incredible pleasure rocketing through me.
“Taisha,” I murmur. “That’s so good. So good.” I’m jabbering. Soon I’ll be speaking nonsense. I hold the back of her head and thrust deeper, forgetting my cock is too big for her mouth.
She chokes, but doesn’t stop, still pulling hard.
I let out a string of curses and veck her mouth faster, burying my hands in her tight curls, forgetting to be gentle. She takes it, her big brown eyes lifted and glued to my face.
I shout and climax, pulling out to spill my rainbow-hued cum over her breasts.
She watches me, licking my essence from her lips.
I’m overcome by the need to give her the same satisfaction she gave me. I pick her up and toss her onto the bed, then pull her ankles high in the air.
My hand slaps down on her exposed ass with a crack and she kicks in surprise. “Did you think I’d forget your spanking?” I ask, although I have nearly forgotten it.
I spank her steadily, warming her flesh with my slaps, watching her ebony skin turn a shade more purple like mine.
And then I drop her ankles and thrust her knees wide. I’m dying to feast between her legs. Show her the reward she gets for submitting to my authority.
She shrieks her pleasure from the first lick. I hold her thighs open and treat her to my tongue, my lips, even my horn. It doesn’t take long to bring her to orgasm, but I don’t stop there. I pump the plug in and out of her ass as I suck her clit to bring her to a second climax. Then a third.
By the time I’m finished with her, her screams have turned hoarse and her entire body is trembling and limp.
I stand over her, panting. “Have you learned your lesson, little human?”
She smiles, cupping her own breasts. “Yes, Master.”
I drop my head to the side. “Yes, I believe you have.”
* * *
Taisha
Drayk falls asleep on my hoverdisk, the sound of his slow breaths soothing away the threat of any nightmares.
My entire body’s still buzzing from all the orgasms he gave me. I notice he still hasn’t claimed me fully.
He still believes he can’t mate with a human and keep his mind clear enough to be a judicial sage. It’s a piss-poor excuse if you ask me. Of course, I’m not cleared for mating, anyway. Not until my probationary period is over.
Part of me doesn’t want it to end. Not if it means leaving Drayk’s protection. Opening the floodgates to males petitioning to share me. And on Zandia, they often pair a single human female with multiple males. I can’t imagine.
The thought frightens me.
I study Drayk’s handsome face in slumber. The square, manly jaw. The smooth, hairless purple skin. He is both mighty and compassionate. Stern and playful. He may pretend he doesn’t care about me, but every time he touches me, it’s explosive, and I know I’m not the only one experiencing the raw passion.
He’s fast asleep, his face finally relaxed. It’s like he carries the entire planet of Zandia on his shoulders. Even that satchel seems so heavy on his shoulder.
The satchel!
I start and he murmurs in his sleep, rolls over, and continues to slumber.
Pulse quickening, I quietly slide off the hoverdisk and pad over to the door. I glance back, but he’s not moving.
I reach down and open the bag. It’s not locked; although it has a keycode area, it’s not set.
I push aside a comm unit, some techie things I don’t recognize, and there it is—my tiny worn brown satchel.
“Here you are,” I whisper, and tug it from his bag. I tiptoe over to the food prep area, which is hidden from the sleep space by a partition, and silently slide my bag open on top of the counter. Nostalgia hits me hard, because I imagine that the bag smells of firewood and soot, the burnt smell of the harsh wood we used on Romon-3. And that was the smell of Leylah, who spent so much time working in the barracks. For a second I think I’m going to fall over with grief, with the loss. Tears come to my eyes, and then I wipe them away. Take a breath. Leylah wouldn’t want me to lose my focus like this.
“Please, please be there,” I exhort. To my utter relief and gratitude, when I reach down under my spare trousers, there it is. The coin.