Page 31 of The Commander

Bumping over holes and grooves in the road, they slowed, jolting Cara from the sleep she hadn’t realized she’d drifted into. She sat up, wincing with the reminder of pain in her arm.

Outside the line of the truck’s front light, there wasn’t anything to see, just road surrounded by the wild yellowed green of tall grass and the night. The moon and stars must be hidden behind the rotating cloud apron created by the Cyclops. It appeared randomly, every few weeks.

Dad had told her cities like Greater Louis once burned so bright, night transformed into the thick heavy gray of an old man’s dirty sweater. The collapse of the world’s energy plants came with benefits—when the clouds weren’t in the way. It was hard to consider the dark night a benefit.

She glanced at Bastian, but the cab of his alien-made truck had no light unless he waved a hand over the right panel.

She couldn’t see a thing, but she felt him—his mood — a weird energy in the air that hadn’t been there before. Something was different. Wrong?

“What’s going on?” She rubbed her eyes, peering into unnerving black.

“I saw road signs behind us. I’m going back to look. You’ll stay here,” he said, his voice a lovely low rumble. If nature had decided to do something interesting at the dawn of time and shoved a demon, a panther, and a tyrannosaurus rex together, it would sound like Commander Bastian.

The sound sparked an unexpected warmth within her. What was going on? Had she woken up horny? They were on the run. Her shoulder reminded her of its tenderness with a dull throb, warning her not to tense up too much, but she still found the energy to lust for the alien. Damn. Did it ever stop?

“Stay inside the truck, Kitten,” he commanded as he exited the vehicle and shut the door.

The truck hummed a low and almost comforting sound, a subtle counterpoint to the night-creature calls outside. Their alien transport was years ahead of the rusty junk heaps she and Dad used to bounce around in—motorcycles and cars, all running on corn fuel, all dying young.

Cara huddled in on herself, arms crossed, trying to ward off the chill that slithered in through the opened door. Her blanket, of course, was way in the back. Typical.

Minutes ticked by like hours, each one stretched out in a long elastic pause of nothing. She waited. Her stomach growled. Food—also in the back. Great. He’d told her to stay put, but seriously? Where was a flashlight when she needed one?

At least the cab warmed up fast. No blanket needed now, but the confusing tension remained, a tight knot in her chest. If she killed the engine, she could hear Bastian coming. The idea sounded good, but then she’d have to find the off switch in the black when she couldn’t even see her own hand in front of her face.

Darkness. A quiet night. Two things she hated—they felt like hunkering down waiting for raiders to pass, afraid to breathe. She’d spent years outrunning life’s desolation but managed to forget how heavy the empty night became. With Bastian around, his manic energy filled the space. Now? The night compressed her with suffocating force.

She was this close to saying screw it when his presence announced itself. Footsteps. Or a sound that her soul identified even if her ear missed it. Her mate, coming closer, returning to the truck from the back. Awareness bloomed inside her, an insistent connection whispering clues about his location, his mood, his desires. Clues she sure as hell hadn’t picked up from his eyebrow-less face or predatory grin.

She sat up straighter, trying for casual, but jumped like a startled rabbit when he yanked her door open.

“Mate.”

“What did you see? Where are we?” She covered her nervousness with questions. The same weirdness poured off him in waves, raising the hair on her arms, causing her belly to flip.

“Come here.” He reached in, a phantom stepping out of the night, hitting her with a wall of chilly air and exotic, wild scent. The layered shadows didn’t bother him. All the aliens must have better eyesight then, because the lights on the front of the vehicle didn’t do a thing for her. They beamed resolutely forward and nowhere else.

“What?” She leaned away from his big body, taken aback.

“Get out of the truck. I want to fuck my mate.”

His words knocked all arguments right out of her. Well. That was the strange tension she’d felt. Her insides liquified with agreement. That happened to be something she would like too.

“My shoulder?” she asked as she swung her legs out. Moving it too much would bring the pain back and no one wanted that. The meds and nap had helped her considerably. She didn’t like pain.

“I can be careful. When I wish it.” He waited until she moved, instead of grabbing her. The patient action dissolved the last of her anxiety. That self-control ability of his pushed her attraction buttons in the most unexpected ways.

When she moved, he moved with her. Her legs wobbled. She reached out, braced herself against him. His shirt was gone. His pants. Everything.

“Your clothes?”

“I don’t have to wear them anymore. Never needed them.”

Of its own mind, her hand traced what she could reach of him. He had bones where he shouldn’t, what felt like extra tendons. Strength and power in every line. There had only been a couple of opportunities to touch him, and there were still things about him she had yet to understand.

He didn’t let her linger, drawing her away with a supportive arm around her waist. They went to the front of the truck. The light let her finally see his magnificent body, something she wasn’t sure she’d ever get accustomed to.

He was a demon, an impossible monster from legend. So tall that her nose bumped his chest, just above the rows and rows of abdominal muscles. Strong enough to pick up a fully grown man and toss him like a stick. Gentling that strength, he pushed her back against the hood of the truck.

“Brace your arm,” he instructed, folding the other over her chest to hold it.

“Okay.”

He lowered himself down her body and knelt so that he could unfasten her pants.

“Bastian,” she whispered his name, overwhelmed. She wanted him. But this? The night? The hood of the truck? She had no idea what she was doing.

“I won’t hurt you, Kitten. Not unless you deserve it. Do you deserve it? Do you need to be punished?”

Lingering guilt made her want to say yes. But instead, she held back the words, not sure what he meant to do.

“No? Good. I don’t think so either,” Pushing her back on the truck, he removed her shoes and pants. She kicked her foot with a shiver caused by the cool night fanning over her bare skin.

“Steady now.” One broad hand stopped her from rolling, the other explored what he’d uncovered, smoothing over her goose pimples. “I’d love to keep you naked. Do you think that is possible? Can you build up a better tolerance to the elements?”

“No. I can’t. It helps that you are a walking heater. You are always so warm.”

“I get hotter when I’m in rut.”

“Rut?” She had no clue what that meant.

He lifted the hem of her coat and shirt, so that his breath steamed hot over her stomach and his lips could skim her bellybutton. “I run hot when I am producing the extra seed I need to fuck a child into my mate.”

“Oh, god. No. Don’t say that. Don’t make it sound sexy.”

“It is sexy.”

Something hot and firm flicked her. His tongue?

“No, it’s not. I can’t bring a baby into this world.” The whole sentence came out like a weak little whine when that wasn’t how she felt about it. She was terrified of the idea. This was a world where children weren’t just victims of circumstance. They were targets of misery.

She knew the risks of sex with him but hadn’t managed to get her mind wrapped around all the possibilities. She was trying not to think about that.

“What if it was a better world?” he asked, as he nuzzled in like he wanted to soak her into himself. The rough-gentle of his touches, his firm hands were as bad as his sexy voice.

She melted like good chocolate in the sun.

“No. Can’t,” she barely managed to answer the question.

“Better.” He opened his mouth on her skin and nipped her. “Safer.” Another teasing bite.

“How can that happen? Your people tried to kill you. My people want to kill you, us. Anyone. Even you can’t fix this world.”

“I’d make it safe for you, pet.” He licked a path down to her mound, hovering above her slit. Her hips bucked.

“Can’t.”

Rolling his face against her skin he pitched his voice so that she could hear him. “Are you saying you don’t want to get round and full with my child? You don’t want your tits to get nice and full with milk? You don’t want to hold my son in your arms and kiss his forehead?”

As soon as he said it like that, she wanted it. The words landed, an ungerminated seed of an idea. The thing split, and lacy shoots of greenery took root. Lodged there. Already planted before she could stop it.

Imagining herself, heavy with this giant of a man’s child, laughing as she tried to get out of a chair, her belly so comically big she couldn’t bend in half. Him rushing to her aid, fiercely solicitous, picking her up and refusing to put her down until she told him what she wanted.

She could see the same chair. Him sitting there. With a baby wrapped up in blankets and a look of bliss on his face.

Her pussy clenched. Hard. Painful. Empty.

How could she bring a child into this world? They were lying to themselves. They’d never be safe. She’d seen those muzzle heads. “No. No. I’m not sure why I wake up in the morning. How can I bring children into a world like this?” He stopped and lifted his head.

She didn’t want him to stop and started to sit up.

Gently, he pressed her back down. “I will have to convince you to change your mind then, Kitten. Prove to you that I can protect you. Provide for you. Make you mindless on the end of my cock.” He lowered her shirts, smoothing the fabric.

“We can’t.” She tried again, forcing more conviction into her voice. Why did the idea of children sound so good now? Nothing had changed in this world. Now wasn’t a good time to talk about this, but she’d noticed that Bastian’s favorite time to ask her questions and talk was during sex.

“Are you sure?”

With her shirts down he could get to her neck. He cuddled in close over her and filled her vision. His bare skin ate up the night, melded him to the dark, made her think he was as insubstantial as shadow. She couldn’t really see him with her eyes. Instead, her other senses came through. Every nerve ending in her body followed him, focused on him. Felt him.

When his hot rough tongue licked over her neck, her cheek, near the shell of her ear she was expecting it. Eager even. Offering him more space, trying to pull her clothing down. If she hadn’t been holding her arm, she’d have her free hand against the back of his head, happily guiding him down where she knew that tongue could make her feel so good.

His scent in her nose went right to her head. He easily took her out of herself. She brought her legs up, opened them. Granted permission. Trusting him to keep her steady.

“Who am I to you?” he asked.

She realized she could tell him anything he wanted; these secrets held no power over her. She couldn’t hold on to feelings she didn’t have. This alien no longer stood as her enemy. She’d admitted it to herself now it was time to admit it to him without a fight. “My mate.”

“Yes. Mate.” His words were a growl, his chest rattling, in a promise that sent a wave of heat crashing through her. His heart beat steady against her chest as he pressed deeply against her body, echoing her own racing pulse.

The rough pads of his fingertips trailed along her skin. The outside of her thighs and across the tops. Around her knee. He kept the pace viciously slow. It felt lovely. Another time and she’d fall asleep to that gentle caress.

Clenching her teeth, she choked back her begging. It was too soon to beg, not when she knew he liked it so much. He had a wicked, alien extra-sensory perception and knew all the things to do that would make her body respond exactly how he wanted.

“I want to feed, but the taste of you goes to my head. Later. Will feed later. Are you wet? You smell wet.”

“What do you think?” she asked back, coyly, wanting him to touch her there and find out for himself.

He chuckled when his fingers reached their destination and discovered her slick eagerness. Surely, he must have known. She’d been wet for some time, maybe since seeing him rip those red hats apart, black eyes furious as he protected her.

Nothing would stop him. Amid their escape, the deaths, and violence, his willingness to kill for her sake summoned her feral nature. She hated herself for it, a little, but couldn’t help the feeling.

He let out a low groan of approval as his fingers delved deeper, traced her core and over the promising swell of her clit. “What a good kitty you are. Willing. Needy. This is how to be ready for your fucking.”

“Bastian,” she moaned, her body writhing as he found and strummed the perfect spot. Pressure built. An instant delicious tension craving release. It had been too long, perhaps a whole day since he had touched her this way and she went instantly to the edge. She feared that if he told her to she’d climax on his command.

Keeping his touch too light, his mouth hovered over her throat. He kissed, licked, let her feel his teeth. Drew tingles of sensation with every touch, under his skin in the hidden pocket of his body where his cock waited. Lashing, eager to be released. His need matched hers. Their bodies responded to each other with intoxicating synchronicity.

He bent, bracing her as he leaned down to where his hand moved. She heard his deep inhale. “You smell like you want me as much as I want you.”

“Don’t stop. I’m almost-please don’t be mean.” she said, her breath coming in short gasps.

“Mean? Is this mean? Why would I be mean?” Like opening a prize, he reached in his pouch and released his male member. The sight was surreal. Her brain sent echoes of good sense warnings, still not adjusted to the full mate experience. She would ignore them all.

Had to ignore. Good sense arrived too late.

“You love being mean.”

“I’m just enjoying my mate. Enjoying your pleasure. You are beautiful when you are aroused, when your skin sheens with desire and the worries disappear from your face.”

“Then give me pleasure.” He hadn’t tried to deny anything. Much worse, he wasn’t giving her the type of touches she needed. She tried to draw him closer with a leg.

Twisting in his hand, his cock moved of its own accord. It also changed size. She’d have to ask, at some point. Ask about what she saw moving at the base of his groin, how it stayed in the pouch, ask about testicles, and tentacles, maybe that’s what that was?

Anatomy questions she hadn’t had a chance to ask.

Later. After an orgasm or five, but before their next encounter. At some point when urgency didn’t ride her like a cowboy on the back of a horse and her pussy wasn’t throbbing with insistence.

He positioned himself at her entrance, black eyes flashing silver in the night. “You want this? Want your mate?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“I like hearing your answers,” he said as the head of his cock touched her softness and gently nudged her clit with the same too-easy pressure he’d used with his fingers.

He hissed as their intimate flesh kissed. His neck stretched, muscles bulged, back arched as if energy sparked down every line of his being. He was magnificent, a force of nature and she was trapped under him, utterly at his mercy.

She bucked her hips and grunted. There was no way to get him inside of her until he said. She had no balance, no purchase on the hood of the truck without letting go of her arms and jarring her shoulder.

“Slow Kitten. Don’t hurt yourself. I’m here. You’re here. Let me do the work.

“Taking too long.”

“I’m going to fuck my mate. When I want. How I want. Where I want.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, as his dick slipped just inside the entrance. Humming.

Pulsing.

He made her want to scream. She was right there, on the tippy-edge. “Please.”

“Such a nice word,” he said. Capturing her lips in a fierce kiss as he thrust into her, filling her completely. His cock was vibrating. She gasped into his mouth, her body arching to meet his. He began to move, each thrust powerful and deliberate, claiming her as his own.

Cara wrapped her good arm around him, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back. It was too fast, too much, but she was so ready. Pleasure built with each stroke. She shuddered, the sensation sending waves of heat coursing through her.

“I’m going to come.”

“Yes. You are. Give me one. Now.” Bastian’s words sent her spiraling, her body convulsing around him as she came. He held her though every tremble, filling her ears with praises until she came down enough to understand them again.

“That was very good, Kitten. Look at you, fucking your mate under the sky. We are going to do this a lot. Do this the right way.” He slowed his pace, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, more calculated.

She wanted to argue. There was some reason, somewhere floating in the back of her head why she didn’t want to do this with him outside, but her brain was too sex drugged at the moment to hold on to it.

Her feet shook with every steady thrust of his cock, though he was barely pumping his hips. He kept the pace the same, as relentless as a machine. Their shared, hot secretions dripped down the crack of her ass until the metal of the hood under her grew slippery with it.

“You’re going to come again. Show me you want it and squeeze my cock with that little pussy of yours. How does it feel? Am I making you feel good?” He whispered in her ear like a sex demon as his cock moved in and out her body.

“Yes. So good,” she answered, her body core tightening, trying to hold him. Keep him.

“Did you like when I chased you? Did you like it when I caught you and hung you helpless from a tree, got on my knees, and licked your pussy until you thought you’d go mad?”

“Oh, god. Don’t. Wicked. Evil.” Her body reacted to everything he said. Tighter and tighter with each word. The feel of it. The stretch in her arms, pain-pleasure, the air on her breasts, the visceral sight of him, and the feel of his perfect alien tongue.

“Don’t? You didn’t like it? What is it? What does my pretty girl need?”

“Liked it. Too much.”

“So did I. You feel so good to me. All I want to do is tie you to a tree again. Sit you on my face until you scream and cry, cup your beautiful tits, then bite your tight little nipples.

Make you helpless. Do you like that?

“Bastian. Please.” He talked filthy and kept his cock steady.

“I want to rut inside of you, cover you, press you down and cum in you until your womb can’t take anymore, until we are both dirty with fluid.”

She whimpered. She didn’t know what to say. Was he waiting for an answer? The only answer for her ended with an orgasm. Nothing else would do.

And then it got worse. Because that vibrating thing happened, and it felt like his cock swelled. It did change its fucking shape. It could get smaller or bigger. It felt bigger, moving slowly. Thick. Deep. The vibrations barely there but growing.

The anticipation shattered her. She started to cum, broken from the inside out, her body, her mind, her soul remembering what it was like when they connected. Holding her tight, he did do all the work. That rattling she remembered started in his chest, the purr of a motor matching the one in his cock. He said something in the tumult, might have told her to come again, but she hadn’t stopped from the last time.

He buried his face against her neck, cupped her, gently, his lower face open, broke her skin with a pinch she almost missed. Might have missed it if she hadn’t wanted it so much. If she hadn’t wanted the next, jolting thing that came after, would have made her go mindless and screaming.

“What is that? What is that?” she shouted out, as best she could, asking him. Asking herself while the night bore witness.

It was not human. Couldn’t be. Nothing human felt this fucking amazing.

He growled against her neck. Thick between her legs, connected to her by a line, a circle that united them, solidified them, tied them, she trembled all over with her climax, with their union.