Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Omega Sector had taken great care of her. Had prepared her to submit to him more than the young woman might realize.
And only him.
Simin would have her on her hands and knees, ceremoniously presenting her slick flooded cunt and begging for his teeth to pierce her skin. And she would believe it had all been her choice.
Choice mattered to her, even if she never really had one at all. This was not a war the Heidron was ever willing to lose.
And now he was being summoned to go to her… to a female struggling through her first estrous.
A female he was going to keep waiting.
Rolling onto his back amidst the nest he would soon share with her, Simin let his eyes rest on the rut-swollen cock that had dripped beaded pearls of wasted sperm constantly for weeks. He smiled. Even now a fat droplet grew atop the slitted head of his crown, the tiny amount of fluid expanding with each beat of his heart. Watching that pearl grow, waiting to feel it run down his throbbing shaft, he imagined the velvet brush of a feminine tongue lapping up all he offered.
That first rush of come burst forth without so much as a single touch, a spray of scented rain falling to splatter clenched abs.
Hand smearing globs of white, he rubbed his spend on every part of flesh that would be level with her nose.
Before he so much as set a toe into Omega Sector, he would be coated in a tempting display. He would make it impossible for her to refuse.
Fisting the neglected knot that pulsated at the base of his member, he ran a measured stroke over heated flesh in a mimicry of slow sex. Down went that tight fist, another string of come shooting from straining cock to paint the hard muscles of his chest.
Everything had been prepared. His rooms cleaned, his bedding fresh for her to nest. She had never made one before, Etaine’s report on that particular fact leaving Simin with no idea of his kor’yr’s preferences. So he had every last item a nesting Omega might want, ready and waiting. A great deal of food had been stored to fortify him through the awaiting bliss. He would be potent for her.
Of course, Morgaine would dine only on fresh cock and be fed bellyful after bellyful of slick-laced semen. She would be drunk on him, begging for his knot to plug her sweet slit. Howling for her Alpha’s fluids, his touch, his attention.
He knew what to do to see her satiated and happy. Over the years, Simin had been with many Omegas during estrous. There was a chance even their aloof translator had tasted his cock—not that he remembered a single one of them when it was over. Because none of them had been her.
And Morgaine would be in their nest, saturated both inside and out with her mate.
Teasing the base of his cock, under the unsatisfied knot, Simin wrung out a fresh orgasm, and then another, and then another. He bled his sack until there was not so much as a spurt offered in climax.
Until the skin was raw and aching.
It was only fair that he suffer just as she did.
And still he kept her waiting.
An hour passed. Two.
A great deal of water was swallowed, tasteless food shoved down his throat as he gave his body back the nutrients it would require to feed her.
The chime came again, and he gave in to the overwhelming need to go to her.
But first…
Still hard, there was hardly a need to even stroke the inflamed cock bouncing between his legs. Starving for his kor’yr, all it took was imagining their life, the sweet moments they would share, and he was erupting all over again. Milking his knot with a bruising grip, Simin stole every last drop of creamy new seed his sack might make, painted his body with it, even rubbed a taste over his lips so that should he coax a kiss from her, it would be done.
And she would beg to submit.
Just as she should…
***
This was unlike the familiar pain Morgaine had been plagued with back at the settlement. Yes, there were shooting cramps that stole her breath and left her sweating, but they didn’t hurt so much as gnaw at her. Between her legs was a swamp of angry shocks and leaking need.
Empty, she was so empty.
Confined in her cubicle, she paced, arranged the fur on her bedding, moved it again. Over and over, all the while feeling as if none of this would do.
Where was the necessary pit full of soft things that must be arranged to ease the sting on her skin? Where was the man who might purr and lessen the tension that kept her teeth clacking together?
It was as if she could already taste spice cake on her tongue.