Page 10 of Scorching the Alien Empire (The Klendathian Cycle #7)

Dracoth strides through the darkened opening, and I follow close behind, my excitement bubbling over like a beautiful star-struck groupie trailing a rock god.

The space is cramped, barely larger than a storage closet, but it’s the sight of numerous stacked metal crates that has me gasping.

“Open them!” I demand eagerly, my voice high with anticipation.

Dracoth doesn’t hesitate, bending to tackle the nearest box. The lid groans in protest, but nothing stands a chance against my red dragon. With a low grunt, he wrenches it open, the top clattering to the floor.

“Oh!” I exclaim, leaning in as golden light floods the dim room—light emanating from orbs. They look so pretty, casting swirling golden hues over the darkened walls like light reflecting off water. “Is this...” I glance up at Dracoth, my heart pounding, “that Elerium stuff?”

“Yes,” he growls. I squeal with joy, and even Mr. Frowny Face can’t hide a touch of excitement in his tone. Through our bond, I sense his delight and something else—relief?

“There are many,” he adds, plunging his hand deep into the crate, stirring numerous of the pretty orbs like pieces of chocolate in the most delicious mocha.

I snatch one up, cradling it like the precious gem it is, and feel my chest swell with exhilaration.

“We’re rich, Dracoth! Actually rich!” The orb pulses faintly in my palm, swirling as if alive. The thrill of it all—the beautiful carnage, our divine gifts, our Elerium treasure, my unstoppable power.

“Fuck me, Dracoth!” I demand, the psychotic murder drugs still roaring through my veins, making my heart thunder and my breathing unsteady. “I need your heat inside me.” Tearing at his armor pointlessly, I have no clue how to remove it, just desperate to feel him against me.

His lips crash onto mine, blazing intensely, as though they could devour the very air I breathe. My stylish leather clothes and cloak fall away under his relentless grip as if they were paper.

The cold, stale air bites at my bare skin, drawing me to him like a chilly moth to a flame. Like he always does—we’re destined to repeat this dance together forever.

I laugh huskily against his mouth, biting his lip as his massive hands grab greedily at my backside, pulling me into him. He takes advantage, slipping his warm tongue into my eager mouth. My desire builds, opening myself for him, letting him use me for his pleasure.

He’s rough—always is—demanding more, claiming every inch of me. His touch is not the tender affections of a timid loser, but the primal, molten desire—the kind only Dracoth can ignite.

His flurry of clawed embraces makes me pant as he squeezes and kneads my breasts, ass, and legs.

The heat rises within me, a pale reflection of the hotness radiating from him.

A squeal comes unbidden as his brutal, powerful hands turn me around and press me forward.

My body arches instinctively, slick and ready for him, beckoning him to do more, ready for him to enter my body and my soul.

I hear the metallic thud of Dracoth’s armor hitting the floor behind me, a sound that sends a thrill coursing through me. My gaze catches on the glowing Elerium boxes, their golden swirls hypnotic amidst the frantic chaos. An idea seizes me, wicked and irresistible.

“Fuck me over here!” I exclaim, my voice thick with excitement as I rush to the crates. Running my hands through the shimmering spheres, loving the hefty weight of them and what they symbolize: wealth, possibilities, and my power.

It turns me on more, the heat between my legs building like one of Dracoth’s miniature suns. I can hardly wait.

I need him!

Dracoth surprises me from behind, his searing claws grazing down my neck, just shy of breaking skin. A guttural groan escapes me, a mix of exquisite pain and unbridled pleasure. My head falls back, baring my throat as I surrender completely to him—the only man worthy of my submission.

The divine brand on my chest flares like embers stoked to life, as Dracoth’s claws trace the runic pattern, each rake of his claws igniting molten fire beneath my skin. They trail downward, pausing to knead my heavy breasts and tease my tender nipples.

I writhe under his touch, every nerve alight with anticipation.

The heat blazing from my chest and between my legs begging to be released.

His other hand forces my legs apart, and I gasp as his molten fingers explore my slick folds, kneading and stroking with merciless precision.

My legs tremble, the intensity threatening to overwhelm me, but Dracoth holds me steady, claiming every inch of me with his unyielding strength.

A deep groan escapes me as his massive palm presses against my entrance, and I clutch his hand, bucking against him.

His heat surrounds me, overwhelming and consuming.

Behind me, I can feel the searing size of his cock brushing against my back—a promise of what’s to come, and my body quivers with anticipation.

His fangs graze my neck, sending shivers down my spine, while his free hand roams possessively over my body, gripping, squeezing, and claiming.

He’s like a beast consuming me totally and utterly—my red dragon.

He rhythmically rubs my most sensitive spot.

Breathy moans squeeze through my lips as my body coils tighter and tighter under his blazing assault.

When the release comes, it’s a fiery explosion of bliss.

A guttural scream tears from my throat as waves of ecstasy ripple through me, leaving me trembling and breathless.

My legs give out, reduced to useless jelly as I collapse into his unyielding grip, my body shuddering in the aftermath of pure, toe-curling pleasure.

Before I can fully recover, Dracoth bends me forward with ease, his monstrous strength pinning me against the glowing crates. My cheek presses against the cool surface of the Elerium orbs, their golden light reflecting the wild hunger that burns between us.

“Breathe some fire into me, my red dragon,” I giggle mischievously, arching my back to give him a teasing glimpse of what he’s done to me—what he’s missing.

“Only you can endure it,” he growls near my ear, his deep voice sending shivers through me. His heat radiates in waves, but nothing burns hotter than the throbbing cock poised against my juicy, eager opening.

A sharp gasp tears from my throat as he enters me fully, exploding any traces of my composure. He’s so fucking massive—so impossibly thick and deep that he pushes me to my limits, as he always does.

Each punishing thrust sends molten heat spiraling through me, bubbling like lava deep in my core, searing my heart and soul.

I love it! I want it hotter—hotter than Arawnoth’s blazing realm, hotter than the sun—so it could burn me to ash, obliterate my pain, and leave nothing but this perfect, all-consuming bliss.

“Your strength now matches your beauty,” he grunts, his voice raw and half-mad as his rhythm intensifies.

“Yes!” I scream, my breath hitching with each relentless thrust. “You did this to me, you crazy giant bastard!” I struggle to laugh between the guttural croaks his massive cock is ripping between my clenched teeth.

Outside, a muffled voice breaks through the haze.

“Damn if I don’t almost feel sorry for old Duriel,” Balsar comments from outside our little sex room.

I gasp as my eyes dart to the melted entrance, while Dracoth doesn’t stop, only slowing his relentless pounding.

“Something’s wrong. They’ve been in there a while,” Jazreal’s voice grows closer, tinged with concern.

My cheeks burn, but the thought of them seeing me like this—being brutally fucked, utterly exposed—sends a wicked thrill coursing through me.

“I thought I heard screaming,” Jazreal quips as he steps into view, his green eyes widening briefly before settling into a knowing smirk.

“War... War Chieftain!” Balsar sputters, his beady eyes growing as wide as the Elerium orbs I’m resting upon.

“Please forgive the intrusion. I didn’t realize.

.. you two were...” His gaze lingers on my breasts for a heartbeat.

Either due to them bouncing so beautifully or because Arawnoth’s brand is glowing like a furnace, I can’t tell.

I throw my head back with manic laughter, twisting my lips into a mocking sneer—until Dracoth’s slow, deliberate thrusts pull a groan from deep within me.

The blend of exposure and power is intoxicating.

Even with them watching, I’m still in control, capable of crushing them in an instant if I wished.

I buck against Dracoth, a silent plea for him to unleash the raw force like I know he can, like I know he wants to.

He doesn’t disappoint. His clawed hands dig into my hips as he pulls me onto his molten manhood with brutal, blazing speed, driving me toward that fiery edge once more.

“Secure the remaining ships and recruit survivors who absolve their shame,” Dracoth commands, his deep voice struggling to maintain its usual level tone. I smirk, giving him a playful, naughty squeeze, hoping to distract him further.

“And take a crate,” he adds with a dismissive flick of his wrist. “The Shorthairs’ loyalty is to be rewarded.”

Balsar’s sweaty face flushes with shock as his gaze shifts to a nearby box. “I cannot,” he says, suddenly straightening, his tone unusually solemn. “We did not earn this gift.” His nod is sharp, almost reverent—Captain Serious Face in full force. Dracoth must be rubbing off on him.

“Take it.” Dracoth’s unyielding tone crushes any chance of further protest.

“At... at once,” Balsar stammers, rushing over to grab one of the crates with his stubby fingers, his awkward movements a waste of precious resources in motion.

“We will carry out your orders, War Chieftain,” Jazreal states, clamping a hand to his chest and bowing his head respectfully before turning to exit.

“Aww, leaving already?” I purr, my laughter dripping with mockery as I savor the flicker of surprise crossing the unmarred half of his face. “Why don’t you stay and enjoy the show?”

My gaze slides to Balsar, who looks like he might explode in panic if his face flushes any further. “Both of you,” I add with a wink, watching him recoil like a scared little piggy. My laughter turns hysterical, relishing the look of confusion and fear radiating from them.

“Leave us!” Dracoth roars, his voice a monstrous thunderclap.

The effect is immediate. Balsar stumbles in his frantic rush to escape through the melted doorway, while Jazreal bows once more and exits gracefully, his movements fluid as ever.

“Princesa,” Dracoth growls, his voice low and deep, the dangerous edge sending a shiver through me. His clawed hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back with a sudden, powerful jerk.

“You are mine,” he declares, each word a molten promise. His other hand clamps firmly behind my neck, his fingers coiling with enough force to quicken my breath and stoke a delicious fear deep within me.

“My bonded Mortakin-Kis,” he rumbles, leaning closer, his weight bearing down on me, his breath searing against my ear. “I will kill you before I let another have you.”

“Yes,” I croon, grinning wickedly as he punishes, pushing deeper inside me, forcing me to take all of him.

“Only yours, Dracoth,” I whisper, my voice a mix of purring submission and unbridled desire. The thought of his possessiveness—his strength alone to claim me, his ability to burn me in his roaring flames—sends my mind spiraling.

“Yours forever,” I gasp, my words ragged as he hammers into me with brutal force. His molten length claims every part of me, ripping through both body and soul.

“Make me eternal,” I cry, my voice trembling with ecstasy. “Your wife, your Mortakin-Kis, your Goddess.”

The flames inside me roar higher, fanned by the sheer intensity of his passion.

Yes, I am divine!

My body blessed by Arawnoth’s fiery will. The scent of our charred enemies proves it. Together, we are an inferno—unstoppable.

“Make me a ring out of this,” I laugh throatily, snatching up an orb of Elerium. Its swirling hues dance like liquid sunlight on the darkened walls, momentarily distracting me from the fire raging between us. “A Goddess ring!” I cry, delighting in the brilliance of the idea. “Promise me, Dracoth!”

“Yes,” he growls, his voice raw and manic, claws digging into my hips with an urgency that sends sparks of pain and pleasure rippling through me. His thrusts deepen, each one more demanding, more consuming.

Grunts and ragged breath squeeze through my restricted airways as his pleasure builds higher.

The heat of him, the sheer intensity of his presence, coils tighter and tighter.

I can almost feel his balls begging to pump me full of his hot seed.

It’s intoxicating! I want all his liquid metal burning deep in my core, want every part of him.

“Promise me we’ll reach the top, Dracoth,” I gasp, my voice a guttural plea, torn between bliss and desperation. “Promise me we’ll be like the Gods them—”

A squeal cuts me off as the fiery tension inside snaps.

A scream of blissful release erupts, a fiery explosion deep within my core reverberates through my body in shuddering waves of ecstasy.

Trembling, my eyes roll back, my vision blurs, and my legs turn to squirming jelly.

Unknown sounds spill from my lips, raw and unbridled, as I lose myself in the trance.

But Dracoth is merciless, relentless. He clutches me tighter, pulling me onto his searing length with a ferocity that steals what little breath I have left. I am his, utterly and completely. He uses me like a beautiful fuck toy, desperate for the release only I can give him.

“Yes, Princesa!” he roars, his voice a guttural snarl that resonates with unchained desire. “We shall have it all. This I swear!” His words drip with fervor, a solemn vow carved into the molten core of our shared madness.

His thrusts grow frantic, his rhythm unraveling into raw, primal desperation.

When he finally comes undone, the roar that escapes him is earth-shaking, monstrous, a declaration to the universe itself.

The walls tremble under his voice as jets of his blazing seed fill deep inside me, a molten warmth that seeps into every part of me, leaving me cozy and whole.

I collapse into his arms, my body melting against his as he holds me close. His panting breaths match mine. The both of us spent, recovering from the delicious insanity that is ours alone.

This was the day Pulsar’s moon trembled.