Fuuuck.I—he—could smell my wetness, my empty, aching need, and it was driving him mad. Literally, beyond thought, to where instinct alone ruled his body.
I wanted him wild. I prayed his body would need mine as much as I needed his. I was so hungry for touch, for contact. Connection. I’d been alone—so damn alone for so long in that cell…
“No. Not alone.” His gruff words broke me free as he lifted me off the floor and carried me to the wall. He held me there, pinned and unable—unwilling—to break free. His mouth claimed mine, every emotion coming from him possessive. Protective.
The psychic link between us hit me like a truckload of bricks. I was safe. He was a killer, and no one would ever get near me, ever hurt me—hell, ever scare me again. Ever. I soaked him in, clinging to that knowledge, to the belonging I craved as I wrapped my fingers around his dark hair and held his lips to mine. Devoured him.
He moved one hand down to the curve of my bottom until he could tease the soft lips of my core with his fingertips.
One of his fingers slipped inside my body, traced the soft, throbbing edges, pulled my pussy open just enough to—
He pushed two fingers deep. Fucked me with firm, powerful strokes. Filled me. Pushed me over the hard edge I’d been riding.
I tore my lips from his. My head fell back as my loud cry echoed through the room. His fingers pumped in and out of my body as the orgasm rolled through me.
He played, his touch guided—no doubt—by the wild pleasure building inside me.
I was close to coming again. I hadn’t come down from the ledge. So close.
His hand fell away. I cried out in protest and locked my hands onto his shoulders, trying to pull him closer.
He shifted. His lust mingled with mine. He pushed his cock deep in one long, slow thrust.
My pussy opened, pulled him in and closed around him. So wet. So tight, like a vice made of sunlight, almost burning him alive.
The sensations—his—filled my mind as my own body became nothing and everything all at once. There was nothing but his heat pressed to my chest, his hands on my ass, my lips moving frantically over his skin, his taste exploding on my tongue.
And his cock. God. His cock was huge. Hard. I was full, stretched to the limit.
I needed him to move. I was unable. My feet were behind his back, my body pinned to the wall by the hard length deep inside me. So deep. So good. I whimpered. Why was he holding back when I knew he could feel what I felt, when he knew what I liked, what I wanted.
He held me in place, unmoving, the pressure inside me building, clawing its way through my blood to my core. If he didn’t finish this, pound his hips against mine and fuck me, I was going to lose it. Beg. Fucking beg.
I couldn’t force him to move. I was powerless, at his mercy, and so turned on I had to fight to hold back a sob, to keep myself from pleading, exposing my weakness, as his lust and mine spiraled together.
This was insane. I never wanted it to end, and I would literally go mad if it didn’t.
Please, pleasemove.
* * *
Zarren Helion
I should have run the moment I saw her curves through the transparent fabric. Her breasts were too close, the nipples tight, inviting me to taste. The exposed skin of her legs, from mid-thigh to her delicate, adorable feet, looked softer than I could have imagined. She’d brought the seductive clothing for me, not realizing she wouldn’t bewearingmy ‘gift’. She was the gift.
She’d planned to wear the short, ethereal gown for hermate.I had a mate, a female who vowed not to love me and expected no love in return. Amarriage of convenience,she’d said. A normal arrangement on Earth? Maybe, if I repeated the words enough times, I could live with them.
I was fucked.
Literally, her eager pussy had swallowed my cock. Now the hot, wet heat of her wrapped me up so tight I couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. Ever. For the rest of my fucking life.
She was wild, unlike anything I’d ever imagined a female could be. Her eager lips moved over my chest like I was the best thing she’d ever tasted. I was. Her raw desire coated my mind like a pitcher of hot water poured over ice.
Like ice, I felt myself cracking. Breaking. Losing strength and integrity every moment I spent submerged.
Her small body cost me no effort to hold in place against the wall. I held her steady, gently, as I wrestled control from a feral side of myself, a side I’d hoped to never see again.
One fucking day—less, a few hours in her presence—and the monster was back, stronger than before. He was my own personal beast. I wasn’t Atlan. I didn’t transform, but what I had buried deep was worse, a colossal nightmare. Selfish. Insidious. Utterly and completely single-minded. War meant nothing. Death meant nothing. He didn’t waste time with guilt or remorse. There was but one calculation he would accept, the sums calculated with stark, brutal efficiency. For seven years I’d kept his attention focused on winning the war.
