Page 35

Possibly, it was the worst time and place, but there was something romantic about it too, locked up in the dark with him.

I cupped my hands around his face, lifting it from his avid admiration of my breasts so his golden eyes could meet mine.

“Artek,” I said solemnly, though a giddy kind of happiness was bubbling inside me.

I’d read all about the alien beasts that inhabited the planets the UAR had colonized, but I’d just as avidly read about the alien species that populated some of those worlds—their mating habits, true mates, and mating marks.

With Athol, it had been the dangerous mystery of him that had drawn me to passion for a night.

But it hadn’t been the same the next morning when he’d walked out on me without a backward glance.

Artek made everything feel different. And I was ready, I’d made my choice.

When I thought he might be dead, I’d regretted every minute that I had not taken the chance to make love to him, to let him know how precious he made me feel and how much I cared about him.

“Make me your mate,” I said when his eyes locked onto mine, gleaming with passion, a wild inferno he was only barely managing to hold back.

“Take me,” I added, and that was like pouring gasoline on a flame.

He bucked beneath me, growled savagely, and then I found myself pinned backward, back pressed to his long tail, my legs on either side of him, my core exposed.

He did not say a word, just yanked his sash with a rip from his hips, and then I saw his cock sliding from his pouch and rising proudly in the air between us.

The gold ring around the split tip gleamed, reflecting the silver glow from his sigils.

That cock—thick as my wrist and dauntingly long.

I swallowed roughly at the sight of it rising between my thighs, wondering if he’d fit.

My weeping core was very much onboard with giving it a try, or several.

His tail lifted, pushing me up, sliding me closer until that thick, heated bar pressed against my folds.

I writhed, seeking pressure against my clit, finding it, but knowing that it was not enough.

Not nearly enough. I was greedy; I wanted more.

Much more. I caught his wrists with my hands as he grabbed my hips and bucked against me.

I felt the bump of his scales along my clit and moaned far too loud, the sound echoing off the metal walls around us.

That was the nice thing about a guy with a tail, I had to conclude: he could be in so many more places at once.

His hands were guiding my hips to writhe against his thick length, part of his tail was supporting me in a half-upright position, and the agile tip curled around and located my clit.

I saw stars as he began flicking it in the rhythm I’d shown him last time.

Even when he was all instinct, part of his brain remained that clever, fast-learning Shaman he was. I loved it.

“Do it,” I said to him. “I’m ready.” I had no idea if I was, but I was on fire for him.

My passion only inflamed by our location and the dire circumstances.

With his cock as big as it was, and our species simply too different in size, I should have told him to stretch me first, but I was impatient.

I wanted it now, and I didn’t care how. His cock twisted, pressing against my folds, and he groaned.

My core was wet, and tingling too. That was new, but it had to be a response to the slickness that coated him.

“Make me,” Artek bit out, catching me by surprise.

Make me? What did he mean? But when his tail shifted, lifting my body higher, and his hands tightened around my hips, tilting them, I knew.

He wanted me to guide him in; he wanted me to make the final move.

He wanted my ultimate surrender to his claim.

My palms were sweat-slick as I curled them around his fat erection.

A sort of oily substance coated him—something I couldn’t recall feeling on him in his bathing pool.

The water must have washed it away, but I felt it now, and it eased the slide of my flesh against his.

He was so thick and so hard that I knew this was going to take some work.

The tip of his cock, confined by that golden band, was narrower than the rest of him, though. I’d start with that.

Pushing my hips up, I lined us up, body humming with pleasure as the tips kissed my opening.

Ah, it felt like they were twisting, pushing, pulling.

I sank down an inch, and my core grew tight.

The steady flick of his tail against my clit was too much, combined with that first bit of penetration.

I screamed as I came, shouting his name and briefly losing control, unable to hold on, unable to lean on my knees.

His tail kept me lifted, but I abruptly sank several inches down on him anyway.

Too full, too much. I twitched against him, core gripping, milking him.

And now he was the one who screamed—a hoarse sound followed by a roar—and then seed erupted from him.

I felt it jet against my insides: hot, thick, a lot of it.

Faintly, I remembered how much the pool had shimmered from his spend the last time.

He had speared into me, far deeper than I’d meant to take him—first the narrow tip, then the ring, and a much wider part of him—but when I looked down, I howled with arousal and dismay at seeing how much more there was of him.

“Take me,” he demanded again when his growl died out and his cock had stopped pumping seed into my core.

I gulped, sweat trickling down my spine.

I already felt so full, how could I possibly take all of him?

But I wanted to please him too; I wanted to know what it was like to be possessed by my Naga Shaman.

So, with a groan and a stretch that bordered on pain, I pushed down on him, and more inches sank into me.

His hands on my hips pinned me then, and he took over as if he could no longer hold back.

His eyes gleamed, his fangs jutted over his lower lip, sharp and foreign.

Green, blue, pink—shimmered over his cheekbones, and even on his throat, his sigils pulsed with silver light.

A thrust upward, piercing my core, filling me to bursting, and then another, and another.

With each surge, I screamed, and I wasn’t sure if it was pleasure or something else, a protest that it was too much.

Because, as it turned out, it wasn’t too much.

My body was adjusting, burning for him, first with the stretch, and then with pleasure.

It wound its tight coils around me, then set me off, and I clawed at his shoulders, at the thick scales that protected him there.

“Ah, Artek!” I moaned, and my passage began to squeeze so tightly around him that the seed he’d already filled me with gushed out around his intrusion.

It coated my thighs, sent tingles of pleasure up my spine, and filled the air with the scent of salt and sweet, of caramel, butter, and popcorn.

Licking my lips, I was suddenly desperate to taste him on my tongue, to have him in me in every way.

To swallow that sweetness down and feel it settle in my gut.

He pushed again, and my fervent, almost feverish thoughts spun, then focused on the way he filled me.

Each bump and grind of his movements, the way his tail still pressed and pulsed against my far-too-sensitive clit.

I glanced down, and seeing my folds press against his belly set me off again.

That was too hot, to know I’d taken that entire length, that he had well and truly impaled me on that massive thing.

Twitching, I trembled and shook, too far gone to shout this time.

He roared as he came with me, tumbling over the edge together and filling me with another round of thick, amazing-smelling seed.

Going limp in his arms, I tumbled forward against his chest and let my head rest there, against the wild thudding of his heart.

He’d ruined me; I was addicted now, to him, to his seed, to the feeling of his huge cock inside of me.

“You are seeded now, Nala, my Shavire,” Artek said, his voice husky.

His hands slid from my hips, up my ribs, to brush along the sides of my sensitive breasts. “You are mine, forever.”

Seeded, that sounded like the most adequate description for this.

We were coated with it; my legs dripped with his spent, and my belly felt fuller than it should be, pressure against my cervix where it was blocked from escaping by his still-hard cock buried deep inside of me.

Seeded, that sounded filthy and primal, and I loved it.

I loved him, everything about him. So I said, “Yes please.” That made him groan, and his cock seemed to grow bigger.

Wasn’t he done? Hadn’t he come twice? We were practically drowning in the evidence of his release.

He lifted me, and more gushed out, splattering against the metal floor, the scent of sweet and salt growing stronger.

“Please?” he drawled, less beast and more Shaman again. “Beg me for it, Shavire. Tell me you want my cock to fill you again.” And I did, because as his shaft pulled free of my folds, I felt so empty I wanted to cry. It was lonely without him inside of me.

“Fill me, Artek,” I said, but that wasn’t good enough.

I could see that in the demanding gleam in his golden eyes, in the way his nubbed and spiky brow lowered into a stern frown.

“Please, Artek, I need you,” I said through dry lips.

My thighs quivered as I balanced against him on my knees.

His tail pressed against my back and ass to keep me in place, a coil of it circling my ribs beneath my breasts to hold me up, keeping me from sinking back down on his thick shaft.

His hand dropped to his seed-shiny cock; the ring of gold that kept his dual tips pinned together was barely visible beneath his spend.

With a sucking noise, he pulled the gold band off, and his cockhead split, the tips twisting and writhing.

I stared at that, shocked, enticed, so fucking turned on I felt like I was on fire.

When he surged into me, I felt those tips, how they writhed together, twining, coiling, stroking my inner walls.

We came apart together, pleasure crashing over me like a tidal wave.

That cock? It was magic when those agile tips found my G-spot and began an assault on the nerve bundle with each thrust of his cock.

We did not last long, but the pleasure was intense.

It was amazing. We crashed, shattered, found ourselves in each other’s arms. And afterward, I knew I’d never be the same.