But I don’t care. I’ll let her be my addiction. I’ll drink from her until I’m satisfied and come crawling back for more.
“Blasphemy,” she whispers as she jerks about again, disrupting my thoughts.
Blasphemy? What could be blasphemous about tasting her? If anything, it should be against every known religionnotto devour her pussy.
“To taste you?” I clarify, still not sure which aspect she’s finding so concerning. “In that case, bring me to church and pry this confession from my lips because I’ll never stop feasting on your body.”
“Y- you can’t. It’s an act for the Ranchers to their cows in order to produce delicious milk. I- I can’t. It’s not for me.”
Rising, my lips turn down into a frown. “Who’s going to stop me? You? Are you going to keep fighting me, little Icorian?”
Her expression is nearly unreadable, but from what little bits I can identify, there’s fear, arousal, anger, and terror all wrapped into one quivering bundle. Still, even when I called her little, she didn’t flinch; she didn’t correct me. Unless I’m completely wrong, she let go just a little, enough that I felt the muscles relax under my touch.
Pulling back, I let go of her wrists to see what she will do. As anticipated, she scrambles up from the ground and runs again. This time, I know the score. This time, neither of us is leaving until I’m balls deep in her pussy and milked until dry.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ZILARA
Adrenaline races through my veins as I pick myself up out of the dirt and stumble onto my hands and knees. Unlike the last time I fled, this time, a mix of arousal and curiosity spurns me forward. This human seems in earnest, yet I still long to at least attempt to make him work at subduing me.
Bits of dried branches smack my face and exposed parts of my body, but I don’t stop to zip it up. Even now, his harsh breaths pant behind me. So close. Could he grab me even now?
I can’t look behind. Even one moment I’m not propelling forward is another second he gains, another footstep even closer until he catches me. Do I want him to, though?
My base anatomy certainly does. Just the image of him licking off my arousal… it’s too much. It’s all far too much. I’m not used to feeling such strong emotions. I’m not supposed to. Only humans feel these things. Only cows long for the touch of another.
I suppose it’s the perfect debasement then, to let him catch me, to turn me into nothing more than cow adjacent. I cannot give milk, but he’ll make me suffer just the same. Oh, but what delicious suffering.
With each stride forward, more of that pearly fluid gathers between my legs, making me all too aware of how my clit pulses with each guttural sound behind me. He hunts me, stalks me, chases me down like I’m no more than cattle.
Little Icorian, sweetheart, baby.Those tender endearments sear my brain, nearly shorting it out. Since I’ve grown up, I’ve only been Mistress Rancher, or on the rare occasions I’m home, sister, daughter, and the like. No warmth, no kinship. Nothing. A cold existence. One an Icorian should accept and be used to.
Only, out here in the fields, it seems almost absurd to be so cold and distant. Especially when this human makes my heart pound and my soul sing with such small, simple words. It’s a blind spot I didn’t expect, a gaping wound I never prepared for.
Deep in thought, I stumble over an exposed root, something I should have seen, would have accounted for if I weren’t so in my head. Ethan doesn’t hesitate. Grabbing the back of my uniform, he wrenches it backward, pulling it nearly off of me.
I’m too consumed in the chase to stop now. Slipping my arms out of the holes, I drop to my knees and pull forward, urging my legs out. Dirt and rocks scrape against my legs, but I don’t care. All that consumes me is running, fleeing, making this human hunt me down.
The plan works brilliantly until the skin-tight material catches on my boots. Curses fill my brain as I continue to pull forward. I dig my fingers into the dirt to help move me away from my bull, but it’s no use. Ethan’s strong hand clamps down on the back of my neck, holding me in place.
“Are you going to be a good girl for me and submit?”
A good girl? When have I ever been considered good? Honestly, to hear my family speak of me, I’m the very antithesis of the word. As the emotional wound rips open from his words, I do my best to throw him off of me.
“No,” I snarl. “I’ll never submit.”
“Didn’t think you would,” he chuckles as his other hand drifts down my spine. “But you’ve undressed yourself so nicely for me. I can’t imagine why you’d do such a thing if you didn’t want me to take advantage.”
It takes all the strength in me to turn enough to glimpse his smug face. “You wish to converse at a time like this? I don’t understand you humans.”
Again, that decadent sound pours from his lips. Laughter, deep from the soul. Mirth, a sound I’ve only heard from Ranchers and their ranch hands. With a light smack of his hands on my upturned backside, he spanks me ever so softly. It’s not enough to hurt or even sting, yet I feel the strike in my very core.
“It’s called flirting. I guess it’s safe to assume you don’t do that here on Icora?”
“Flirting.” I try the word out in my mouth but find it still doesn’t have a meaning. What good are these damned translators if I still struggle for basic understanding.
“Yes,” he replies as he trails his fingers over my lower lips even as he tightens his grip around the back of my neck with the other. “Flirting is wanting you out loud, with my words and phrasing.”
