He pauses a moment before dipping his fingers inside me, just barely, a tease. It’s as if he’s showing me with his hands what his mouth is saying.
“It’s when I touch you like this… soft, slow… just to see you melt for me. It’s the game before the taking, Zilara. The way I show you I want you… without claiming you.”
Another stroke in. Too shallow. Not enough. Not nearly enough. It makes me burn. It makes me want to scream and beg. It fills me yet leaves me hungry, consumed with need, with madness.
“Flirting is the promise. Claiming is the follow-through. But don’t worry, my little Icorian. I plan to claim this pussy. I plan to make it mine. I plan to makeyoumine.”
As he says the last word, his fingers surge in, hard and rough, claiming, owning, utterly obliterating any rational thought that has a hope of remaining in my head. Unable to control myself, a loud, lurid groan slips from my lips to fill the air.
“That’s right, my little Icorian,” he growls as he pounds into me again. “Let me hear how much you like what I do to you, how you like the way my fingers fill you up. Scream for me, sweetheart. Let me hear what your pussy is already saying. You want this, you crave this, you need my rough touch.”
His fingers slam in, making my toes curl.
“You need the release.”
Again. A touch harder this time.
“You need the peace.”
Once more, he invades me, impales me on his fingers.
“You need the silence.”
Another hard thrust
“You need your brain to just shut the fuck up.”
“H- how do you know these things?” I cry out as my inner walls ripple around his thick fingers. “Are you a mystic on Earth? A clairvoyant?"
“No,” he chuckles in that dark way that makes my gut clench and my pussy spasm. “It’s because I’m just like you. I need that solitude. I need that moment where my brain shuts off and I don’t have to think. No one needs my time or energy. There’s no one demanding anything. It’s a space of freedom. It’s a moment to just breathe, sink in, and just feel.”
Just feel. It sounds so wrong yet feels so right. I’ve never had that luxury, and here, Ethan demands it with his expert fingers. With each hard thrust, he pulls something out of my soul,something from the dark, deep recesses of my very being, and brings it into the light.
“On Earth,” he rasps out, “I found it at the bottom of a bottle. I found it in a pill or two. I found it in meaningless sex. Something, anything, to drive reality away.”
His hand loosens from around my neck, allowing me to fully crane around and look at him over my shoulder. Pain and raw need shine in his eyes. It’s etched in the small lines on his face. It’s aching, it’s haunting, it’s a visual representation of everything I’ve kept locked inside.
“Addiction,” I breathe.
“Yes,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss the base of my spine. “Addiction.”
“We don’t allow cows or bulls to have illicit substances. We don’t even grow them here on Icora.”
This time, his lopsided grin melts away a small part of the icy wall surrounding my heart. It’s the most vulnerable I’ve seen him, and it makes me want to give him the world.
“I don’t need any substances,” he murmurs as he turns me over onto my back. I just need one thing.”
“What is it?” My very soul clenches at the agonizing need I see in every taut line of his body. What if I can’t give it to him? What if I’m not allowed?
“You, Zilara. I need you.”
My breath stills at his words. The pounding of my heart drowns out everything around me until I’m in this cocoon, wrapped up in an odd warmth from his declaration.
If only it were that easy. I’d give myself to him in a heartbeat. But if this doesn’t work, if I can’t make the farm a reality, then I’ll be forced into the arms and bed of a senator. Icorians don’t share, and especially not with a low-born human bull. He’d be killed for sure.
I study his face as the reality slams into me. “But the council-”
“Fuck the council,” he growls as he crouches down on top of me.
