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He could have the room rip my clothes off.

He wants to do it himself.

He strides forward and I bite my lip as an urge wave hits me. It’s so cruel. I’m being played like an instrument. I need his hands on my body, his cock deep inside me.

Markrin rips my clothes off like they’re tissue paper. The cruelness of his smile scares and excites me. I wish I could feel his aura. I know the depths of his wickedness would only turn me on more as I really just how mean he’s going to be.

I’m used to being out of control with the three Aurelians. I’m used to being a bitch in heat while they rut me like beasts.

I’m not used to Markrin being in total control of himself even as his cock strains against his pants. There’s a rip as his steel-hard dick breaks through his pants, standing up and throbbing with his heartbeat. He steps back, toying with the ring, and I can see he’s holding the Mating Rage back, just barely.

“You’re going to beg for my cock, my sweet, beautiful Sawoot. But you’re not getting it until you’ve cum so many times you forget your own name.” His voice is dark, with a sadistic edge that only makes me hornier. He doesn’t have the brutal violence of Tar’ank or the sheer possessiveness of Garrick.

No, he has a refined, decadent cruelty that he’s finally exploring, while I’m helpless, trying to kick against the ropes of the room that displays me for his pleasure.

“Bastard,” I curse, my back arching as my body presents itself to him. He has the ropes loose enough that I can move ever so slightly. My body betrays me. I can’t resist him. I spread my legs wide for the alien warrior instinctively, my nipples hard, desperate points begging for his touch. I’m naked and helpless.

His eyes fixate on my wetness, and those bronze orbs roll back. He knows my wet, aching slit is the only thing that can bring him the future he craves. He needs me as bad as I need him. His nostrils flare, tasting my arousal, and he groans in need.

Even with the ring on, he’s still all-Aurelian.

He’s still a beast who wants to claim me. Mate me. Breed me.

Only this time, he’s keeping control. He’s going to break me like a wild filly, mold me to his will.

He runs his fat fingers on the inside of my legs as the vines pull me upwards, dangling me in front of him. Even his fingertips running over my skin is too intense. It’s ticklish, making me giggle and gasp as he teases and toys with my body. My legs are wide open.

Even if I haven’t started to beg for my cock with my words…

My body is already pleading for his dick.

“I’m going to have fun with you,” he promises, and his bronze eyes flash with excitement.

His fingers tickle me, trailing their way into my inner thighs. He grazes them past my slit, and I moan as I get a teasing, intense wave of pleasure. Then he ignores my need, sliding them past my wetness and running his fingers over my stomach.

I know he’s imagining my belly swelling up. That makes the Bond surge again as my own ache to be mated by the alien magnifies.

I was never self-conscious. With my triad, any doubts I had about myself melted away.

They worship me.

There’s no other word for it. I’m the one woman in the universe who can bear their children. The one woman in the universe who can help them save their dying race, help them build their empire and their future.

He’s never held back before. He wasn’t able to. It’s been fast, brutal matings, and now he’s staring at me like a work of art.

The Bondthrums.My mind melts. I need him inside me, as bad as I need air. “Please, please,” I gasp, losing my dignity as I beg.

“Oh, we’re just getting started,” he whispers, staring at me with wide eyes. He kisses my inner calf then trails his huge tongue up my leg. I whimper as he stops so close to my wetness, kissing and lapping around my pussy without giving me what I need.

My hips buck automatically, pressing forward, but I’m held back by the vines. “So desperate,” he growls, leaning forward and kissing my clit, then pressing his huge tongue against my desperate nub.

Lightning pleasure shoots through my body as he devours my clit, lapping and flicking his tongue as he feasts. His fingers trailing up my leg were too intense.

Now I can barely form thoughts.

My eyes roll back as I fight against the bonds, struggling against the vines as I try desperately to get free. The orgasm is going to break me. It won’t give me relief. It will just make me crave his seed more.

I need to break free. I need to pull the ring from his finger so he loses himself to the Mating Rage, because otherwise my mind is going to break under his torment.