Page 24 of Captured

He impales himself into me, deep and hard as his seed spills into my small hole, hot and burning.

My scream inflates, filling the small space of the bedroom with my voice, joining Rakir’s triumphant roar.

When it’s finally over, I don’t even know where my body ends and where Rakir’s body begins. All I know is that it’s right. It’s meant to be.

He lifts his weight on his elbows, allowing me to breathe freely. I gasp, breathing air in greedy, long lungfuls. His cock is still impaled inside me, but its hardness is starting to recede, its size deflating. He kisses the back of my neck, the contact sending flashes of erotic pleasure all the way to my still-aroused clit.

“Mine.” This time, he whispers the word in my ear. “You. Mine.”

He pulls out of me, holding his weight on his elbows, but doesn’t remove his body. His heat radiates through me, intense and comforting. I can feel his cum spill out of me and down on the mattress, but I don’t have the energy to move. I’m more spent than I’ve ever been in my life.

Finally, Rakir moves to my side and I growl in protest. I don’t want him to go away. Not now, not ever. He chuckles at my protest, and his hand moves up my spine, slowly. He’s savoring this, I can tell.

It’s an illusion, I know it. We’re nothing alike, he and I, on the opposite side of a war that has already spanned a generation. We can’t be friends, let alone lovers.

But right now, none of it matters. Right now, all that matters is that warm hand running up my spine and the delicious ache in my body.

“Sleep,” he says, his accent transforming the word into a deep purr.

As I drift back to slumber, I know this can’t be. Tomorrow, he will be my enemy again. But today, today he is my lover. My everything.

I’m his and he’s mine.