Page 16

Zorn

The geyser is interesting, a display of nature’s power, but I’m far more interested in my powerful attraction to the female at my side. She’s more than I ever could have hoped for—pretty, smart, and her fierce protectiveness reveals so much of her character.

Not to mention the interest she displayed to my rock-hard cocks.

I may be leaving in a few days, but if I ever have another opportunity to touch her, I’m not going to stop like I did last night.

That is, if she’ll have me. By the heat of the kiss we just shared in front of all these people, perhaps she will.

“Newt-lover,” the evil female hisses at us as she and her child walk toward us the moment the geyser stops gushing.

“Hover. Now,” I say as I slip my arm around Annora’s waist and move us toward the parking area.

“Against the laws of God!” she repeats, as she practically steps on our heels. “If God doesn’t strike you down, the people should rise up and put you in your place.”

Annora stops mid-stride, turns, and approaches the female.

“Listen, bitch, leave him alone. I don’t know what scripture you read, but if there is a God, she just wants us to be happy. And nice to each other.”

The female pulls out a pamphlet and presses it into Annora’s hand. “Read this. Repent and God will forgive you.”

Annora splutters, then turns, slides her arm around my waist and we speed-walk to our hover.

After I sit in the passenger seat and she slips behind the wheel, she holds her head in her hands and mutters, “I hate when people pervert the scriptures to justify their hatred, bigotry, and prejudice.

“I’m going to find a private place for us to decompress for a moment,” she says as she hovers from the parking area.

When we land in a shady wooded area near a small lake and a grove of trees, I grab a package of food and a bottle of water from the back of the vehicle and hand them to her. We went into a store when we refueled our first day and she’s been eating from our cache since then.

“I know I’m stress-eating,” she says around a mouthful of food, “but that was awful.” She takes the last bite of her packaged brownie and licks her fingers.

As unpleasant as the last hour has been with the horrid female and child, it’s relegated to ancient history as I focus acutely on the way she eats.

There’s something about the almost imperceptible noises she makes that must arouse my primal instincts.

Or maybe it’s the pink tongue. Or perhaps the fact that she knows I’m getting hard for her.

Slowing her motions down, she exaggerates each lick and bite.

She’s stopped eating altogether and is sweeping her tongue at the corners of her mouth to wipe away imaginary crumbs that might be clinging there.

To avoid leaping across the van and finishing the job her tongue started, I tell her, “You were impressive back there. Brave to stand up for me. But you don’t need to.

I don’t care what strangers think of me.

” I reach to grip her fingers in mine. My attention is caught, fascinated, as I observe our differences.

Her hand is pale pink, mine is painted in bold blues. Her flesh is soft, my scales are textured. Her small hand is swallowed by mine.

“Are we really so different?” she asks, also looking at her hand in mine. “We live, we learn, we long, we . . . love, isn’t that more important than the things that separate us?” Her green gaze reaches for mine.

“I think so and you think so. Isn’t that all that matters?”

It’s suddenly so quiet in this hover. We could be the only two people on the planet—or the universe. Her gaze spears into me as the corners of her mouth tip into the tiniest smile.

“That kiss back there. What was that?” I ask as I replay it in my mind. Was it just her way of shutting down that evil female? Was it a physical expression to show her support of the newt her mother saddled her with? Or was it more?

“That kiss?” Her smile widens and her eyes flash with what? Desire? “A prelude. An appetizer. A beginning.”

My cocks pulse against my jeans. “Prelude to what?” I ask, not wanting to jump to any conclusions.

“More kissing.” She turns toward me and grasps both my hands in hers. “Maybe more than that. But right now I’m dying to have my first real kiss, not in public like a moment ago. I’m dying to feel your forked tongue stroking mine.”

“Obscure,” she says to the hover. Every window in the van darkens except for the sunlight drifting in through the roof.

“Privacy,” she tells me.

“You’d feel good in my lap,” I say as I exert the slightest pressure on her hand to pull her toward me.

She sits crosswise, with her hip snugged against my cocks. It’s shockingly intimate, yet innocent at the same time. Bending toward her, I kiss her softly.

This time I’m fully aware, not off-balance like I was with all those people watching at the geyser. No, now I get to savor.

Within moments I wonder how I ever settled for fantasies about Draalian females, with their thin lips like my own. Not like this, with Annora. Her lips are plump and ripe like juicy fruit. And soft. Soft as androvian fur.

I ply her with close-lipped kisses, getting the lay of the land as if this was a military operation.

Just as I do with an enemy, I discover her vulnerabilities.

With Annora, the weaknesses I explore are revealed when she responds with a deep breath, or gasp, or, better still, a soft moan from the back of her throat.

One of her small hands sneaks behind my neck, stroking the sensitive skin there. The soft touch is oddly stimulating. Her other palm cups my cheek in the tenderest expression of affection.

The next step on this military mission is invasion. My lips slide along the seam of her lips, gathering more of her scent and a sample of her taste.

“Annora,” I breathe against her lips. As close as we are in this embrace, as swiftly as we’ve been hurtling toward this, it pleases me that we’re in no rush. Pulling back, I resume kissing her.

The quiet, wet noises our mouths make are as arousing as the feeling of her lips on mine.

She pulls away for the briefest moment, touches one of the screens and returns to the exact place she’d just vacated.

Now Draalian drumbeats pulse through the air.

It’s what I’d asked her to play last night. It pleases me that she remembered.

The rhythm of the drums is primitive and beckons to something deep within me. By her reaction, it tempts her as well. She pulls me even closer, brushing her chest against me. The hard points of her nipples graze my chest through the thin black shirt I’m wearing.

Her tongue slips out between her lush, pink lips and licks my mouth. “Your tongue,” she says, more breath than sound.

I flick her tongue with mine. When she gasps, I pull back, worried I scared her, or worse, repulsed her.

“More,” she demands, both palms now on the back of my head to keep me in place if I’m foolish enough to pull away again.

My tongue is thinner than hers, narrower, too. The end of the forked sky-blue tongue is almost delicate. I flick it swiftly against her lips, then against the edges of her tongue. This elicits a deep groan of pleasure.

Her chest trembles against me, but I realize that’s not a bad thing when she moves to straddle me.

“I think your tongue is the sexiest thing on this or any other planet,” she says with an alluring smile, then sinks against me. Although her tongue invades my mouth, I have no desire to fight off the marauding army.

I taste the scent of her arousal on my tongue. A schematic of the female genitalia flies unbidden into my mind. This must be one of the hundreds of appendices they equipped us with on the journey here.

The little lump of flesh at the top of the seam between her legs is her pleasure center. The manual likened it to the head of my cocks. She’s rubbing it against me.

“Do you need release?” I whisper into the shell of her ear.

“What I need . . .” she says as she places my palms against her hardened nipples, “is for you to do every single thing you want to do to me until I say ‘no’ . . . or ‘no more’. Stop following the protocols they implanted in your brain and getting my consent at every turn. I promise I’ll let you know if I’m not happy. ”

Her message was clear. She doesn’t want a sexbot to perform as programmed. She wants a Draalian warrior. A Draalian warrior she shall get.

Gathering her against me, I stand and carry her to our little pallet in the rear. It’s still mussed from last night.

“Thanks for the clear direction,” I tell her as I pull her shoes and socks from her feet. “I’m not stopping until I hear ‘no’ or ‘no more’.”

Annora

The kisses were sexy, sweet, and arousing, but this, this is what I’ve dreamed of my whole life. No simpering sexbot saying the words designed to get me off. This is a real male who’s hell-bent on taking what he wants—and what he wants is to pleasure me.

He lays me down then straddles me, his knees outside mine as he pulls my t-shirt over my head, tossing it to the corner where it lands on top of one of the Jasons.

He pulls my sports bra over my head, then sits back on his heels and drinks me in. If his hooded eyes weren’t eloquent enough, the hiss from the back of his throat would clearly convey his meaning.

And, of course, I can’t forget to mention the massive erections straining at his crotch. I’m glad the jeans manufacturer is known for their sturdy fabric and double stitching, or his cocks would be staging a breakout.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, his voice rough. “Teach me everything I need to know,” he says as he dips his head and flicks my nipple with that forked blue tongue of his.

“Fuck,” I say, drawing out the word as if it was a sentence or a paragraph or a complete eloquent soliloquy.