Page 18 of The Commander

He sat her down, bending over her mouth near her ear. “Done with you? Not at all, pet. Were you going for a walk without me? You only needed to meow and let me know you wanted to go out. That is how it works, right? Or was it another treat you were looking for?”

Cara aimed an elbow at his ribs. It did nothing. She tried to scratch at his skin, but he didn’t notice. “Let me go!” she demanded.

He did.

She fell forward, caught herself, and crab crawled back toward the side of the road, veering off in a panic. What should she do? There were no weapons. No escape. Maybe find a branch to bash him over the head? It wouldn’t help, but it was something. At least he would get the message that she wanted him to leave her alone.

He laughed at her as she slid down the bank. Laughed. It was a marvelous, deep sound that tickled the bottom of her pelvis. Something inside her squeezed with delicious anticipation.

She had to find something she could use to puncture that thick skin. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Why hadn’t she prepared? If she still had the big knife, that would have done the trick. One mistake after another was going to get her fucked. Again.

She moved, crashing forward in the clearest direction she could find. All her intentions were set to hide or fight. She was past tired—out of breath—giving up still wasn’t an option.

If he followed, he was soundless.

Keeping an eye out for defense options, every weapon she saw was too big to lift. She came across branches twice her size. A random car door tangled in vines. A rock the size of her head nearly made her trip again, but she didn’t have time to dig it out to make it useful.

There were no easy places for refuge that she could see, either. All the trees that she could climb had lower limbs that looked too weak to hold her weight or were too high for her to reach. She put distance between herself and the road, running blindly deeper into the murky dark of the woods. The next time she stopped, she was in an area where the trees were wide with age.

Where was he?

With a tree trunk behind her, she blinked the sweat from her eyes and tried to catch her breath. Think. She had to think. Control her breathing. Set a pace. Make a plan.

This was no good. She was making more sound than a tax truck stuck in the mud. Just her huffing would tell him where she was.

“Perfect spot, Kitten,” he said, casually stepping out from behind a tree as if he’d been waiting for her.

Too late for a plan, then.

Her heart was trying to burst from her chest as she screamed, sprinting to the right. He was a huge, terrifying creature, appearing out of nowhere. One second he was on the road. The next, he was in front of her, catching her and setting her down against the tree. Pinning her in place. How did he do that?

“Let me go.” Aiming a fist at his chin, he caught it.

She tried to knee him. He took the blow. Didn’t bother to sidestep. It was like kneeing a boulder. He captured her other wrist, brought them together, and twisted something—a rope—tight. She was tied. Captured.

“What are you doing?” She dropped her weight. Anything to get away. Fighting him with all she had. He was too strong.

Using the rope as a leash, the bastard dragged her to another tree with a lower branch. He threw the rope up and over it until she stood on her toes and twisted by her wrists.

It felt good to fight. Her feral, angry animal side took over and resisted with all she had. Don’t let him win and dominate her again. She couldn’t permit that melting, sweet pleasure to steal away all her rage, cover up her fear, or rob her of her revenge. “Don’t touch me, you monster,” she growled out the words like taking bites of his skin.

Fuck yes. She wanted to bite him. Make him bleed. How dare he tie her up?

She couldn’t win this battle. But somewhere, deep in the back of her head, a kernel of certainty assured Cara that she couldn’t lose. Losing to him might be a sensual disaster, but there was no risk in it.

“Look at how you struggle.” He stood back, male gaze eating her up from top to bottom, and zeroing in on her jiggling breasts.

For an alien, this man was so predictably male. He not only enjoyed every single one of her feminine traits, but he also exploited them, every chance he got. Raised up on her toes, her breasts moved every time she shifted her weight. He licked his lips while watching her.

If he were human, she’d use that weakness against him—kick him in the crotch or deliver a nose breaking headbutt while he was distracted by boobs. Unfortunately, he was built from stone, inhumanly hard all over under his mottled wrong colored skin.

Remembering the distinct feel of the silk muscle of his cock under her fingers, she knew he must be vulnerable there. If she could get to it. Hidden behind a skin seam that matched the one under his mouth, the area bulged and shifted like he had an angry snake trapped in the cavity of his lower belly.

Oh god. The awful, hilarious picture of her sitting on the end of his inhuman cock came out of nowhere. How big was it? How long? He’d put that wild firehose inside her, and it moved as if it had a mind of its own.

She’d sat in his lap, his member slithering in and out of her core, vibrating, while he’d held her pinned to his chest. A hands free dick. She hadn’t answered those questions for herself yet. How had his girthy, long, inhuman cock fit inside her once virgin pussy? Something must be wrong with her. It wasn’t physically possible. She should be torn apart and bleeding out.

She had to scream to hide the blush along with her own laughter at her visual absurdity. What was wrong with her?

She must be breaking apart from the stress at last. If Brenda saw her now, she would see Cara’s face and think she was crazy. She took a breath and gulped all the unwanted conflicts away. “What does it take for you to get the message?”

“Did you leave a message, Kitten? I’m sorry, I didn’t see it. Did you call the help line?” He answered calmly, his tone full of amusement.

“Help line? Leaving was the message.”

“No, leaving was the invitation.” His tone dropped. She felt it in her center where her pussy clenched. That was the only warning she got before he put his hands on her shirt and ripped it down the middle.

“Very nice. That’s how you should welcome your mate,” he murmured as his fingers danced over the hard, swollen buds of her nipples.

“What if I don’t want to be your mate? What if I want you to forget this nightmare happened to me?” She kicked at him.

“Want? Forget? Nightmare? What’s this ridiculous talk? Oh, you must think you have choices still.” He took a step back, rounded her body until he was behind her. She felt his fingers play over the ropes at her wrists, as if testing them, checking for something.

“You know I was forced out of Dalewood. I’m not some freaking wanker. You had your fun—got your dick in my pussy. Now you can just let me go back to my life.”

“Are you saying you have a life to go back to?”

His warm naked torso lined up with her back, and he rested his hands at her hip, digging his fingers in as he waited for her answer. His skin had the strangest texture—smooth, but with fine, thick hairs. Not as soft as rabbit fur, not that long. More like the hair around the eyes of a doe.

“I think I’ve made it clear I don’t want you.” She spoke that lie with conviction, ignoring how she’d opened herself to his earlier advances and granted permission for his demands.

The alien had manipulated her, but she’d enjoyed it. Maybe she’d even screamed out an enthusiastic yes, but that didn’t mean she’d agreed to the mate thing or the feelings he’d coaxed from her unwilling mind.

“Why don’t you want me, pet?” He ran his finger slowly down her spine, vertebra by vertebra, to the waistband of her pants. As soft as a whisper, tingles chased the touch. Her nipples stiffened to the point they burned. She’d cover them and pinch them with her own hands if he hadn’t tied her.

The surge of need made her lose track of the conversation.

“You were saying?” His finger tickled the crack between her bottom cheeks.

“I don’t want to be in a relationship with one of our fucking alien overlords. Who does that?” She forced the words out in an angry rush.

“Who indeed? You do, it seems. I can hear your heartbeat, how your breath rushes in your lungs, how the blood moves through your veins, getting everything plump and ready. I can smell how your body grows juicy, getting ready for fucking. Rutting. Mating.” He purred the words above her ear while he thrust his finger down the crack of her pants, just to the edge of her back entrance.

On her toes, she could barely move. She had no control. She arched her back as much as she could, trying to move his touch to the places where she needed it. He made her lose her mind. Was she going to toss aside her humanity just to get him to lower his hand?

Returning to her front, he shredded her pants from end to end. Did he have claws in his fingers? She didn’t see anything obvious, but her bottoms just fell away in ribbons when he swiped his hands down her hips all the way to her feet.

Cara brought up her legs, trying uselessly to keep him away from her. He didn’t notice her attempts to resist him. “Pretty, pretty mate. You look and smell good enough to eat.”

He knelt in the dirt, palmed her ass, and put his face against her chest, growling with pleasure.

His unabashed desire was Cara’s undoing, the final switch on her libido, robbing her of her will. Yes. It looked like she would give up the goods for his touch.

Her pussy sang songs of liberation as his craving for her flooded her senses, a drug she inhaled with every breath, turning her on as if he thumbed her clit like a switch. It was wrong and awful and terrible. She was a bad person for this, but Cara couldn’t make herself care.

Licking at her skin from collarbone to ribcage, he smothered his face against her as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Big hands scooped her up, made her small, supported her weight, and lessened a burning stretch in her wrists. He removed her discomfort, and her good sense evacuated as well with it.

Kisses landed everywhere except where she might want them. Cruelly, he avoided her mouth, her neck, her nipples, and lower. Instead, he covered areas in between, laving her with the hot brand of his tongue.

Once he was done with the front, he spun her and went to the back. One palm went between her legs, cradling the wet split. His lips rubbed against her shoulders, his tongue tracing patterns on her skin, marking her up with alien vows and promises that sank into her cells.

Slowly, he descended, trailing kisses down her spine, lingering at the hollow of her lower back. That untouched, unexplored place was so sensitive there, it made her hips jerk and her nipples tingle anew. He lavished attention on every inch of her, stirring a profound, aching desire. She felt alive, cherished. Each caress carved her into a beautiful, feminine creature. Female to his male. It felt heartbreakingly good. Beautiful.

“You are delicate, but strong. How have you survived this world? Where did you come from? Have you always been alone?” he asked.

It felt as if she’d been alone for a long time. Not growing up in an alien town, other humans had eyed her with suspicion when she left the safety her dad had made for her.

Only Brenda approached her. “I have to get to my friend. She needs me. Please let me go.”

“Do you really want me to let you go?” His face was above her butt, that hand still between her legs. He curled a finger up, just enough to tease. Moved it.

She gasped. That was very nice. Just not nearly enough. She bit her lips to keep from asking for more. Deeper. Harder. Give it to me.

“I will have to be careful with you. Must not break my mate.” That should scare her, remind her of their differences, of his ability to tear her to pieces. But instead, it warmed her heart. He meant it. She knew that she knew that she knew.

“Why do you want to go back to Mister Danov so much?” he asked with a casual nip of her butt cheek.

“No. Not the pig. Brenda. Needs me. She’s pregnant.” It was hard to answer in the haze of lovely pink pleasure.

“With child?” His face went between her butt cheeks after he asked the question.

Cara wanted to squirm away, but the way he held her, with just his hand as her perch, she could only kick her legs. “No, no, no.” He smacked her thigh.

It was a shocking, sharp slap. She yelped, startled. “Don’t!”

“Mate. There are consequences for denying me what I want. All of you is tasty to me. Good to the last drop. You can fight, resist, run, and I will happily play with you. But I have caught you. Fair and square.”

“Fair and square?”

“That’s right. That’s what they say, yes?”

“You watch too much ancient media.”

He didn’t answer that, too busy lifting her higher and following the crease in her behind from the back. Hot and smooth, his face and mouth went well beyond her comfort zone. She had to resist. It was so sensitive there.

He gave her ten more leg slaps. The sting on her skin was intense, building up — remarkably unbearable. “No more, please.”

“Then hold still for Daddy.”

“Oh god, what is wrong with you?” she moaned. Had he really just said that? She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry.

He moved away for a split second, then forward again, his skin hotter, softer. Without seeing it, she knew that he’d revealed his true self, opening his lower chin, which had a distinct smooth, silky texture. Like before, when he’d cut her and put his face against her neck, she felt a shimmering tickle right at the pucker of her ass.

She made noises of protest and pleasure while he hummed as if happy with what he’d found. Were they both freaks? How could this be right? That question ceased to exist when he lifted her high enough that her fingers could touch the branch she was tied to and put his face fully between her legs.

Licking into her, one finger rubbed at her clit, rough, pressing hard enough to hurt. It wasn’t like in the shower; she’d never come like this. But it still activated her like a go button, and she could feel a release of fluid that shouldn’t be possible.

That was what Brenda had meant when she talked about the ham handed cruel pounding men thought would get a girl off. Cara suspected that it wouldn’t work for her either if it had been anyone else.

But Bastian was singular. Every damn thing the alien did to her, her pussy screamed,

“Yes!”

He made raw noises against her exposed flesh until the sound entered her bloodstream. Thighs trembling, butt wiggling, she widened her legs to give him deeper, better access.

The feel good vibes of his sucking and licking, with the press of his thumb, were hit and miss. A tease that felt good but evaded the whole point. Did he not want her to orgasm?

He seemed to be enjoying himself, giving her his moans and grunts of enjoyment, letting her know he liked what he tasted and experienced. Cara liked his moans. Really liked them.

As if he could tell how much, he stopped, lowering her to her toes and turning her again.

Showing her his full face.

She saw the flat, squarish plane of his forehead, the solid black deep set demon eyes, his wide nose, and dark blue-black skin the same color as his cock. His entire chin was spread open like the wings of a butterfly. Or not. She didn’t know what to compare it to because, hidden beneath the delicate skin, was a horror her drugged brain couldn’t take in.

The majority of his teeth were on the top. It looked like two rows of twice the needed number. Teeth on the bottom as well, as sharp and nasty as two-inch-long snake fangs that would anchor a deadly bite. Between the fangs in the front were short spikes. Hidden by his bottom lip, the top teeth dominating, she’d missed the second, thin tongue just behind them.

Letting her watch, he retracted it into a little shaft, lowered his pointed, bigger—almost normal—tongue and snapped the flared flaps of his chin closed.

Drugs. She was still drugged by his scent or something because she didn’t care at all. Instead, she was captivated by the sight of his too long forked tongue licking his lips, the tip of it going down over his chin and jaw, catching every bit of shiny stuff on his face. Tasting her. He was licking up her arousal.

Cara couldn’t speak. There was too much happening in her head and in her body. That chin thing looked a lot like the curled lash of a butterfly tongue, and all those teeth…she didn’t know how to put it all together.

Her stupid body stayed incomprehensibly aroused. He’d shown her his most vulnerable self. The way to kill him. She knew it. Understood it in the deep, dark recesses of her brain. He would never show himself like that to anyone but his forever mate.

“Your cum is as delicious as your blood, my pet,” he said as if he wasn’t aware of how stunned she was.

Cara squeaked.

“Speechless from my attentions, are you?” He put his hands back on her breasts.

Pinched a nipple. “Tell me of your friend, Kitten.”

That question was the last thing she expected. “Brenda?”

“Yes. That friend. Why does she need you?”

“Food. Remember? We’ve been eating other people’s food for a week. They said they wouldn’t support us or keep helping us.”

“I think I’m going to have to talk to Mister Danov when we are finished. He has endangered you.” He squeezed at her chest again, as if fascinated by her fullness, not taking his eyes off them.

Would he help them? Set things right in Dalewood? In all the weeks she’d been here with Brenda, she’d never seen him, just the muzzle heads. Before she could ask, he caught her nipples between his fingers, pulled, lifting them away from her chest. She went up on the tips of her toes as far as she could to follow them.

“Lovely,” he murmured.

The agony of it zinged down to her core and made it clench. Sensation shot all thoughts of asking him to do anything but make her come from her head. She was leaking more than humanly possible. Brenda didn’t do this. No one did this. Other women didn’t have their own slick cum running down their legs.

“My pet was out hunting to feed her friend, Brenda. Is this person a rebel? Were you hunting with a knife too?”

He released her just before it became too much. Still on his knees, he again cupped her center to support her weight and crowded closer. She opened her legs and let him in.

“Tell me, Kitten. Where did the big knife come from?”

She couldn’t think not to tell him. “Brenda gave it to me.”

“There is human DNA on it.”

“Is there?” Cara didn’t really care right now.

Leaning forward, he nuzzled at her breasts more until she felt a pinch on her nipple and heat open over her breast.

His lower chin. He’d opened it again.

It was the tenderest of intimacies when she should be afraid and horrified. But nowhere in her brain and body could Cara find the correct reaction for the sight and knowledge of his monstrous differences.

Craning her neck to see, she realized he’d bitten her enough to break the skin and that ribbon of a second tongue must be slurping up the blood. She couldn’t really feel it—the action was lighter than a mosquito bite. What she felt was the heat of his exposed face, his teeth, the circling pressure of his teeth, the lash of his big tongue, tugging at her with gentle suction.

Her mate feeding on her blood at her breast. She moaned.

“Where would your friend get the knife? Is she a rebel, pet?” he asked against her skin.

Knife? That big thing? Why did that matter? What mattered was he had stopped sucking at her to ask more stupid questions. She wanted more. The rhythm of his mouth on her tit was oddly satisfying. Had she ever felt more feminine?

He had a hand on her back, the other between her legs where she knew she was soaking his palm. Supporting her. Loving her.

“I’ve known Brenda for a while. Bad taste in men. Not a rebel.”

“Where did the knife come from?” he persisted, teeth and mouth brushing at her skin when he spoke.

“Andy. A guy named Andy. I told you. Please.” She didn’t want to talk about that. She wanted him to cut her down from this tree and put his cock inside her empty pussy. She needed that slide and vibration so badly.

“Andy.” He said the name and switched breasts. She felt another sharp prick.

“Did you bite me?”

He hummed. She assumed that was a yes. Nuzzled closer, he sucked at her skin harder. Then pulled away to ask, “This Andy that came to argue with the human, the Brenda, before you left to check your traps for meat?”

“I don’t know. Can’t.”

His fingers teased her vulva. She was so close, but the stroking pets were not enough.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she managed. “That Andy.”

He nodded, returning his mouth to her breast until most of it was in his mouth, his lips around his sharp upper teeth, protecting her skin from them. A finger moved, deep and rhythmic.

“Why is the knife important? Can we just?” She tried to move her hips, to arch into him for deeper contact.

He turned, pulling on her until her breast dropped free and he could nuzzle at her with the hard planes of his face and the rough burr that covered every inch of his skin.

She liked it. The way his eyes closed, the way he tipped his head and rubbed at her like a cat.

“Where did Andy get it?”

It was so hard to talk. “Don’t know. Brenda found it.”

“Where?”

“She said he was hiding it with a bunch of old car batteries.”

“Car batteries?”

“Under his bed or something.” A small voice in the back of her head told her that wasn’t something Andy would want an alien overlord to know, but she couldn’t make herself care. Andy was a shit, wasn’t he?

On the edge of what she needed, she didn’t know if she should ask him to stop because he was killing her or beg him for more because she needed to come to live. “Oh, god. Please.”

He pulled away. His tongue moved fast and tentacle like before his chin and mouth closed so that he could present her with a smug expression. “No, Kitten. Bastian. Your mate.”

“Asshole,” she whispered, trying to keep from smiling.

“Humm. Is that what you want me to do next?”

“No. I want you to cut me down. I can’t do this anymore.”

“But I am being very gentle with my little kitten, aren’t I? You deserve a switching for running away from me.”

“You left me.” The words just popped out, as if she were angry. That wasn’t what she wanted to say. He’d left her alone for five minutes, and not that he’d captured her and used her body at his discretion without any kind of permission.

That was messed up. Cara knew it was messed up. But she’d said it, loud and clear, and couldn’t take it back. The commander looked very pleased by the admission. “No, darling. You left me. But I came for you, didn’t I? I will always come for you, Kitten. Always. Wherever you are, that is where I am.”

“You are just saying that,” Cara told him. Because no one could keep those kinds of promises anymore. Who would dare make them in this world? Her dad had said he’d always be there for her, until he wasn’t.

The muscles in Bastian’s arms flexed. He stood up.

Alarm flared inside Cara. He was leaving. She knew it. Why was she so irrational about it? She had no idea. He’d altered some fundamental part of her head with his scent, his mouth, and all the pussy clenching pleasure. She didn’t know how to get back to the person who was terrified of aliens that she’d been two days ago.

Instead of leaving, he put his hand on the rope and tugged. Just once, lowering her until her arms could drop and she could stand. “Now move slowly, pet,” he murmured.

Every nerve ending in her arms, shoulders, feet, and calves buzzed in angry reaction as if they’d fallen asleep. She almost tipped forward into him.

Keeping her steady, bracing her weight, he followed the lines of her muscles, rubbing.

“Oh, don’t,” she protested. She never liked that crawling ant feeling. This was terrible.

He made that laugh noise while rubbing at her neck and joints. “This was nothing. You were only there for a few minutes. I’ll have to build up your tolerance.”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“No? You don’t think so?” He massaged until the tingles faded, and his fingers were finding where the muscles in her arms, neck, and shoulders had been stressed. The arches of her feet hurt too.

Nothing changed in his demeanor despite her noises of complaint. If anything, he appeared amused. She had a sense she’d be in this position again. Her core throbbed, still empty but entirely too hopeful.

Arms embracing her, Bastian hugged her against his big frame, sharing his extra heat. It would be too much to ask any woman not to snuggle close, warm herself, and find comfort.

A giant wall of hot rock. The muscles of his belly felt armored, firm, and tight under her hand. She wouldn’t be surprised at all if bullets bounced off his gut. What was he made of? No human felt like this. Between his hips, she could feel his cock, moving like a sentient thing in its protective pouch. Hungry.

It made her hungry, too.

She really wanted to see the thing. Curious, she willingly touched him, smoothing her hand over his lower ribs, his abdominals, trying to see if she could feel the lower seam that shut away his male organ from her.

He chuckled, “Looking for something?”

Cara blushed and stopped as if she’d been caught getting into the sugar stash.

His hand covered hers, and he moved it to where she could feel the slightest indent in his skin between the bands of muscle. “Kitten, you may touch your mate whenever you wish. I find I enjoy it.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

“I do not understand your human ways. You are such a confused, emotional species. I know that you look at me and see a monster, and this causes you conflict—at the same time, you have inside you a hidden genetic code that makes you the perfect mate for a prime battler. We have awakened that code. Now, all you need to do is stop all your human over thinking and give in to who you are meant to be.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. “Code?”

“Did you think this is the first time the Sarrian have been to your world? Or that this is the first time the blue planet has been visited? We claimed it out from under the noses of others and planted our mark here. Our meeting awakened the sleeping DNA and activated dormant genes to make you the mate of a prime battler. My mate.”

“Sleeping DNA?”

“Just stop thinking so much and hating me because you think you should hate me.”

Her mouth opened to say that she didn’t hate him, but she stopped, forcing it closed.

“Touch my cock.” Pushing against the line in his belly, it eased open, like finding the pouch of a possum. His cock sprang up, thick and ready, pink fluid welling at the tip.

His scent was strong here, musky and foreign. Cinnamon, tobacco, coffee—all the rare and warm things from childhood she remembered from living in old bookstores. Safe smells. Comfort smells. Delicious. She found herself bending to the domed tip, to the two slits there, and licking.

He gasped, a tremor rocking his body. “Fuck, Kitten. Just like that. Kiss your mate. Willingly. Hungrily. Take what you want.”

He did more than give her permission. It was affirmation. Acceptance. Whatever her desire or curiosity, she could do. It filled her up with all a kind of thrilling power. It felt like freedom, like doing what she wanted, when she wanted.

She opened her mouth to take more of him. He was thick, but the flesh rippled and changed under the pressure of her lips. At first taste, she couldn’t open wide enough to fit him very far, but there was plenty of give to him, transforming to fit between the roof of her mouth and the flat of her tongue until he fit so that she could suck him.

Hands going to her head, he fisted her hair and pushed her head down. His body shook all over with his extreme reaction to her mouth. Arms twitched. Thighs rocked. She hoped he didn’t fall on her because there was no stopping now.

Demolishing him like this, hearing him vocalize with hoarse groans and swear words, how good it felt, was her new favorite thing. “Yes, pet. Yes. That is very good.”

He took control, shoving his member to the back of her throat. It started to vibrate, and she gagged, choking, unable to breathe. Twisting in reflex, she moved her head away.

“No, Kitten, don’t stop,” he pleaded.

Struggling until he let her pull back all the way, she took a breath and dove in again as if she planned to sink to the bottom of a lake. She wanted to prove to him, prove to herself that she was up to the challenge. The expression on his face emboldened her. Her pussy pulsed eagerly in agreement. She liked him begging, restraining his strength, giving her time. He deserved a reward for that, didn’t he?

The skin was soft, thin over muscle and veins, not at all scaly and snake like, and yet, having it in her hands and mouth did make her think of snakes. Or throbbing tentacles.

Good thing she didn’t have any fears there.

He gave her another beautiful, full throated groan. “So good, Kitten.”

She had to clutch her own thighs together, rubbing. With him standing, and the height difference, kneeling wouldn’t make this any easier. Bent in half, tied hands braced at the Adonis belt indent of his hip, she shifted her stance to hold him in her palms. His penis bulged so much she could feel thrumming veins under her fingers.

Could it lengthen and thicken at will? He could kill her with a dick like this. Giving head to an alien invader was as dangerous as it sounded. She did it anyway, chasing his flavors and smells. Working him over, she stroked his shaft in time to the bobbing of her head. She’d seen women do this for men in exchange for food and luxury rations. He seemed to like it as much as they did.

Thick, somewhat oily musk and pink spice fluid filled her mouth, escaped her lips, dripped off her chin, warming everything it touched with sweet little tingles. Was it effervescent or something? She must be covered in the stuff because she tingled everywhere. To keep going, she had to concentrate—pull back and breathe—swallow and not panic.

“Fucking amazing, Kitten,” he growled, his hips bucking toward her. Cock swelling even more. She pulled away; it was too much.

“If that is what you do when you stop over thinking, I’m going to have to keep you naked and mindless with pleasure, aren’t I?” Picking her up, he took her back over to the tree where he found her.

Her hands were stiff, fingers aching; it was hard to hold on with the movement. She squeezed his waist with her legs; not that it mattered to Bastian. The powerful bastard carried her like she was a doll. Lifting her up, fingers making sure her pussy was spread, he speared his cock into her.

It was Cara’s turn to shout. He must have a second brain in his cock, or at least have command of it like he might command his fingers. Because it got bigger, firmer, and rammed home inside her just how she needed it. The head rubbed perfectly against her g-spot before bouncing off her cervix.

Hitting that wall should hurt more. It was only her second day of having sex. The psychedelic drug in his scent and taste convinced her otherwise. All she did was grunt with the force of his thrust.

“I think I will keep you like this. My cock in you until you are too fat with child to do so. I’ll have a harness made so that I can carry you everywhere and keep my hands free to go about my business. I will have new clothes made for you so that the grunts don’t get a peek at anything I don’t want them to see.”

What an image that created in her mind. His cock moved in its own rhythm, doing most of the work, strumming her vaginal walls with vibrations. Hands on her hips, pushing her onto himself, it was as if he wanted inside of her as deep as possible.

She didn’t hate the idea. Or the thought of being harnessed to him with this pleasure relentlessly forced onto her every day. The wicked, perverted idea sat there in her mind’s eye. Them walking together to the school. She’d wear one of his shirts and hide her face to smother the moans of endless, saturated feeling.

What was wrong with her? Really? Cara clamped her mouth shut to keep from shouting out “yes, yes, yes,” afraid he might just do something like that.

“I’m going to breed you, Kitten. Over and over.” His words burned with grave intensity. A vow. A prayer. “I want my seed to take root. My children to fatten you until I have to carry you everywhere because you’re too big to walk. I’ll sing the songs of the goddess to your belly and bless her for bringing you to me.”

“Bastian,” Cara managed his name, overwhelmed. Tears pricked her eyes, but she didn’t know why.

“No one and nothing will take you from me. I will pave the way to our home with the blood of your enemies and fill all the rooms with the laughter of our children,” he said into her hair.

Her pussy tightened around him. He must have known she was close. Felt it. Heard it. Responding with just right timing, he joined her, cock moving faster, riding her harder. His head fell back as she felt that weird, high pleasure of something feathering over insides, gently touching her center, attaching, and tugging.

“What?”

“That is me connecting to my mate. To my Kitten. That is our oneness, the gift of the goddess. And here is my seed,” he grunted. She felt the sound reverberate in his chest as whatever the oneness was had attached them together. There was a gentle give and take, a tug that felt amazing and scary at the same time. An awareness of how deep he was, that they were connected, threaded together. Tearing them apart at that moment would not be good for either of them.

This was the moment that altered Cara. The change that had broken and remade her, a thing his body did to hers, that joined their souls together. She cried out, a groaned, agonized sound that matched his, her body shaking in his arms as they orgasmed together when his cock thickened and finally spilled his semen into her waiting womb.

It was so much. Too much. Her consciousness flickered.

“Stay with me, Kitten. Stay with your mate.” The connection released. Cara orgasmed again, clenching around the pulse and swell of his penis.

“What a good girl you are,” he praised. “Look at how you glow in my arms, my mate.” He nuzzled her head.

Lowering them, he sat, careful not to jog her from her position on his cock. His member stayed put, but it changed shape, shrinking some. “You will take a breath,” he announced.

As if he didn’t need a moment, too.

Her forehead against his pectoral muscles, Cara did nothing but breathe, her head going fuzzy. Stop thinking so much, he’d said.

She had a dozen questions. A thousand. But something he’d said or done had eased the fears and worries. He’d changed her again. She couldn’t guess all the ways, but another fundamental transformation had taken place in her being, her character.

Was it acceptance? Had she admitted to herself that she liked this? Wanted him?

Cara didn’t know. That answer was dangerous. He’d told her not to think. So, she wouldn’t. That wonderful rumbling purring noise of his filled up the silence of the forest creatures and calmed her breathing even more, until she was drifting, almost asleep.

“I think we will go to your friend. Talk to Mister Danov. Meet this Andy. This must be settled. I cannot have you walking around the country by yourself.”