Page 46 of Galaxy Gladiators Romance Box Set #11-19

Chapter Twelve

L yra

Although I’d given up on our relationship over the last lunar , I desperately fantasized about Vartan when I was alone in my bed at night. Vartan was right, though, I needed to nap first.

I’m rested now as I awaken with a lazy smile, climbing up from the depths of sleep with a hard male body pressed to my back. He’s thrown his arm around my waist, and his open palm is tight to me, keeping me close just the way he described—so no light could peek through.

“I thought you’d never wake,” he whispers, then dips his head and licks my neck at the hairline. How could he know those little flicks on my sensitive skin could catapult me into arousal? Is it the flicking? Or is it the warm gusts of breath that rustle my hair? Perhaps I’ll never know. What I do know is that my nipples have already tightened into hard buds.

The flicks transform into bites. Nothing that would break the skin, mind you, just enough to feel the scrape of his teeth. They telegraph his need. Or maybe it’s his cock, poking at the small of my back like an iron rod—it speaks so loudly of his lust.

“I’m going to do things to you, Lyra,” he husks into my ear. “Things we’ve both been dreaming of. I want only one thing. That is to give you pleasure.” His hand finally touches me, almost weightless as it settles on my hip, then glides over the rounded hump and slides down the silken flesh of my thigh.

“No. I want two things, Love.” He waits until I turn my head to look over my shoulder at him. “I want you to tell me if anything I do doesn’t please you.” He pauses to make certain I get the import of his words. “I don’t want you to tell me if I hurt you, Lyra, because it should never get to that. You’ll do this one thing for me, right?”

He’s such a good male. I can tell he didn’t want to bring this up, didn’t want to remind either of us of the disaster of our first mating attempt. But it had to be said, and he’s male enough to say it.

“I promise, Vartan. But we’re not going there today.” I turn away from him and let him stroke me. My eyes drift closed as I allow all my attention to follow the path his roughened palm takes as it slides up hills and down valleys. Every piece of flesh he touches becomes expectant, wanting more.

His teeth nip my ear. Little bursts of pain that turn to pleasure. When his tongue flicks in, I gasp in surprise as it causes electric sparks to cascade from my ear all the way down that side of my body.

“Good?” he asks. I can feel his head tip away from me in question.

“Mm-hmm,” I say lazily.

“Show me what it feels like.”

We’ve talked a great deal since that night in the hotel. I know he’s not a virgin, but he doesn’t have a lot of experience, either. Swift exchanges in a barracks after your body is battered in a gladiatorial fight don’t exactly teach you the finer points of lovemaking. What did he say after our shower? We’d learn together.

He turns away from me to lie on his side and I roll behind him, letting my nipples trace parallel paths along his back. He sucks in a quick breath. He likes that.

I smash myself close to him and bite along the muscular cords of his neck.

“Mmm,” he says as he reaches behind him and tugs me closer.

When I lick the delicate swirls of his ear, at first he tosses his head in a shiver, then nestles back against me and demands, “More!”

“Greedy,” I say around his earlobe, then flick his ear, delve into it, and flick again.

This. This is what it should have been like the first time. Two willing participants who are having an exchange, not giving gifts. His obvious arousal arouses me in turn. I feel that swirly feeling in my pelvis and smile. We’re just getting started.

I nudge him to lie on his stomach, then straddle his waist. As my knees press into the mattress, my folds spread open on the warm, red skin of his ass. I trace the markings on his back with the pads of my fingers.

There are scars. Thick short ones that must come from being stabbed. Long thin ones that tell the story of being slashed. There are interesting variations on his skin that must be a sign of his race.

“I’m memorizing all your markings. One day I want to know the story behind every one. The stories you want to tell, that is.”

“Mmm,” he says lazily. “Not much to tell. I’m a gladiator. I’ve gotten into scrapes. One of the first things I noticed about you was your perfect skin. I found it hard to believe you could grow up without one mark on your pretty flesh.”

“Yours is more interesting,” I say as I lean low and drag my nipples up his back, grazing along his flesh, one on either side of his backbone.

“Yours is more beautiful.” He reaches behind him to try to cup my ass, but I push his hand away. I like being in charge of my big male.

I’d been shy when this began, truth be told, maybe a little afraid. This little pause as we play with each other, get to know each other again, has calmed my fears.

I roll off him onto the middle of the bed, lie on my side and announce, “I’m ready.” I figure I should tell him, he had to know I was stalling.

He turns toward me, cups my chin in his palm, and kisses me. Sweetly at first, the softest brush of lip on lip, then his tongue delves into me. We’ve waited too long for this. We can’t keep up the restrained facade. My hands grip his hard shoulders, his arms surround me as he sweeps me close, and we devour each other with our mouths.

The room is silent except for our heavy breathing and the unrestrained smacking of our lips.

He tastes good. I’d almost forgotten how much he reminds me of that day at the beach so long ago. Fresh and salty. And his smell is delicious and clean.

His cock presses against my stomach. I feel it pulsing there. I want to grip him, explore his thick length. I should wait, I know I should, but I can’t. I’ve waited too long. We’ve waited too long.

Our bodies are so tightly entwined I have to force my hand between us so I can grab him. I graze his flesh, which seems hot as fire. He sucks in a gasp, starts to say “No,” then lies on his back to give me better access.

As I grip him, noticing my hand can’t reach around his girth, I’m struck by the contrast of our skin colors. We’re different in so many ways. Instead of scaring me like it did that first horrid day we met, though, I find it enticing, sexy.

His cock is hard, redder than the rest of his skin, and covered with golden bumps and ridges. I trace a thick vein up his shaft, then watch as his eyes shutter closed in pleasure.

The females gave me a tutorial a few lunars back. They all chimed in with many ideas and suggestions about how to please a male. But by the appreciation on his handsome face, I don’t think pleasing him will need a strategy. By his reaction to just this simple touch, I think I’ll do fine.

As he sits up, I watch the muscles in his abdomen bunch showing every distinct hill and valley. I want to touch him there, but fast as lightning, he flips me onto my back, spreads me open, and climbs between my legs.

“Hold onto my horns,” he commands as he dips his head and breathes on my core.

The hot breeze pulls a startled “Oh,” from my lips, but my exclamation doesn’t slow him down. He flicks his tongue at my entrance and moans long and deep and low. His fingers bite into the soft flesh of my thighs, but it’s not his fingers I’m paying attention to.

Dear Gods, his tongue! So intimate!

After licking a path toward my pleasure button, he sucks the lump of flesh into his mouth as he hums in pleasure. Then he leads an assault—in all the best ways. The tip of his tongue flicks and the flat of his tongue circles, and then he sucks the whole area into his mouth again.

There’s no pattern to his movements. It’s wild and unfettered and driven from need and lust that’s been building for lunars —for him and for me too.

At times it’s so intense I don’t think I can bear it for another moment, then I lie back and give myself to him again. I thrust my mound up, to offer more of me, to give him better access.

My shameless display to him a lunar ago resulted in release, but his refusal to lie with me afterward killed the joy in it. I’ve rarely touched myself since.

Now, though, I know the feeling my body’s striving for. It’s building inside me. Waves of pleasure are swirling and eddying. To ground myself, I grip his horns more tightly, which pulls a moan of enjoyment from him. He likes my touch there, and I use my grasp to press him closer.

He’s lapping me with abandon. I feel beautiful and wanted and desired. Pressing my soles into the mattress, I lever myself up, so his mouth takes me harder. When he slips one finger into my entrance, it detonates something deep inside me and I explode with pleasure.

I’m not in control of myself, I can only sink into the pleasure as my limbs spasm in delight, my hands grip his craggy horns tighter, and howls of pleasure escape my lips. Wave after wave of bliss consume me as I reach the pinnacle of pleasure. Finally, I sag back onto the mattress and can only now lift my lids to look at him.

His crimson lips are bathed in my glistening juices. This at first seems wildly embarrassing. As I watch him lick his lips with obvious enjoyment, I observe my own emotions and watch my shame turn to pride.

“Get comfortable,” he says. His tone isn’t soothing. It’s more of a challenge.

I relax, and before I can take a full breath, he leans down and goes at me again. It’s not like it’s a task he has to tick off a checklist. It’s like a dracking mission he wants to complete. It’s as if his sole purpose in life is to bring me pleasure. I wholeheartedly approve.

Now that my body is primed and knows how to find the peak, the second time it’s a quick trip from start to finish. The third time, I begin to master the process.

Rather than letting it control me, I’m learning how to control it. How to prolong the final explosion by regulating it, holding it back. This time, the release is so spectacular I feel like I leave my body for long moments. When I float back down, it’s as if I’ve just returned from a trip to heaven.

He slides up my body, kissing a path with lips drenched in my cream. When he arrives at my mouth, the kiss is deep and hard and heartfelt. Tasting myself on his lips is so much more erotic than when I tasted my cream on my fingertips.

“Need time?” he asks.

I can’t help but smile, even as he can’t quite hide the smug look on his face. He has every right to feel self-satisfied. Knowing he can give the female he loves so much pleasure would make any male feel like a conqueror.

“I don’t need time.” I lift my head to kiss him. “I need more .”

“Demanding,” he reprimands, but his eyes are lit from within as he teases me. In response, I give one of his ass cheeks a scolding spank.

“Little Lyra wants to play with fire?” He rolls off me, then surrounds my waist with his heavy arm. “She wants to tease the big, strong gladiator?” He bends his head to the breast nearest him and scrapes the tip with his teeth while his hand plucks the other nipple so tightly it makes me squeak. I’m not sure whether it was from pain, or surprise, or . . . pleasure.

“More,” I repeat, this time my voice is almost as deep as his.

“More you shall receive,” he says as he cups his hand between my legs, then pierces into me with his thick middle finger.

I don’t know how such an invasion can feel so good, but it does.

“You’re so wet, Lyra. Wet for me. I can wait . . .”

“No! Now!”

Vartan

Gods, I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to repeat what happened on Hyperion. That won’t happen, though. We’re communicating now. She knows what she wants.

I cover her, my forearms near her head, my knees between her thighs.

“I love you, Lyra.”

“I love you, too. Now, Vartan. We’ve both waited long enough.”

Placing myself at her entrance, I swipe the head of my cock through her thick cream. She presses her head against the mattress, her lids closed, her lips pursed as she pants through them.

I don’t get lost in my lust as I did last time. This time I watch every expression that crosses her lovely face. Her knees are pointing to the ceiling, her feet on my thighs. She’s pressing me against her with the soles of her feet. I let her dictate the pressure and the timing by her movements.

She nudges me, and I surge into her. We do it together. Our coupling is wordless, but not without sound. She’s cooing with pleasure. I’m huffing, not from the exertion of the act, but the effort of holding back, going slow.

“So good, Vartan,” she says, her lids slammed shut.

I wait, wanting her back in this room with me, until she gazes at me again.

“Really,” she reassures.

The act of sheathing myself in her is bliss. It’s like the difference between seeing a piece of cake and eating it. Anything that went before, the things I did with other females, doesn’t deserve to be called by the same name as this. What I’m doing right this moment with Lyra is perfection.

She releases my horns and places her palms on my ass. She’s lost to me for the moment, in a cloud of lust so deep and potent she can’t keep her eyes open. She’s functioning on impulse, and her impulse is to press me into her.

“So full, Vartan,” she coos. “So deep.”

I’m all the way in. To the hilt. The expression of bliss on her face couldn’t be faked. She’s in heaven.

I thrust, ensuring I’m as far as I can go, then drag myself out, even my tip.

“Ohh,” she moans, as if grieving the loss of me.

I press in, hoping she enjoys the slow, tight slide as much as I do. Clutching the hard muscles of her backside, I continue the gradual, unhurried journey. Out and in again. I use my grip to leverage her, to keep from scooting her up the bed. I keep her where she is so she can feel every ince of me, every thrust and glide.

Her palms skate up my back, lodge on my shoulders, and her fingers dig in as she hangs on to enjoy the ride. Although I had no worries that I was botching this, I’m relieved all the same when I feel her internal muscles ripple around me. I know now why some describe this act as an opportunity to see God. It is indeed otherworldly.

“Vartan!”

Her core grips me harder, her nails bite tighter, and she moans with a combination of surprise and pleasure as her muscles writhe and dance and grip my cock. My balls tingle as I shoot into her. This release is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

I fall to her side, clutch her to me, and notice we’re both slick with sweat. Lyra’s beautiful face is flushed.

“Precious,” I tell her as I swipe an errant strand of hair off her face. “More precious than gold or diamonds, Lyra. You.”

She kisses my lips once, hard, then dusts me with soft little brush-kisses that touch every part of my face.

“Sleep,” she says with a smile as she plops her head on my bicep. “Talk later.”

I have no idea how she does it, but I could swear she’s asleep. Just like that.

Lucky me. I get to caress her face and stroke her hair and slide my palm from her shoulder to her hip. Over and over.

I kiss her again, then nuzzle my head next to her and vow to any god who is listening that I will protect her with my life and never leave her.