Rychor used both hands to grip her thighs and pull her tightly to him. She gasped, because he drove in deeper. There was a moment of intense, quiet passion as he looked at her face and let her settle onto him.
It was only once she had relaxed a little that he began to fuck her. Hard. The sweet, gentle entrance into her body had been a prelude. She held onto his neck and let him use her how he pleased.
There was some pain, but it disappeared almost as suddenly as she perceived it, and she was left only with pleasure and fulfillment. She came after only a few moments of Rychor being inside her and fucking her. When she did, she saw pleasure bloom in his eyes and felt a huge throb of his cock.
He kept going, though, layering intolerable pleasure over the tenderness of her freshly-fucked flesh. He manhandled her, gripping her forcefully, moving her body around with ease. Always hammering her. But she craved it, she realized. She wanted the fullness, the stretching, the gentle bruising of her inner walls, so that she would feel him long after he left her.
He drove in hard after she squealed and went limp, exhausted by another orgasm among so many, she had stopped counting. She no longer cared what he did to her, or what any of them did to her, or anything much at all. As long as she could have him. Even just for the moment.
Suddenly, Rychor stopped, his cock deep inside her, and gripped her to him so tightly she feared being crushed. Between her legs, deep in her belly, she felt a sensation that it took her a few moments to realize was a vibration.
Not a mechanical vibration, she thought. A biological one, slower and off-pace occasionally. Imperfect, but hot and warm. The vibration drove deep into her; she felt it everywhere, even in her teeth.
And yet she wasn’t afraid of it at all. She clung to Rychor and dug into the flesh of his back. She knew he would not have separated from her in that moment for all the world.
He came, and she could feel it inside her. The vibration ended and a warm liquid spread inside her, making her pussy ache with need again wherever it touched her. Within seconds, the pleasure turned to desire, a building orgasm, a profound need.
The need was satisfied; the orgasm built and Rychor did nothing but hold her as she crested and squirmed with discomfort at the intense pleasure, just before it broke wide open and she heard herself screaming, felt her body falling, saw the ceiling, and then had her vision invaded by millions of points of pink and green light—the very edge of consciousness before she passed out.
Rychor held her head up in the water. He was still inside her, his manhood pulsing. He stared down at her with a new expression, one that satisfied her as much as the feel of his cock inside her; it pushed the boundaries of her comfort, but she wanted it.
She wantedhim.
It was only then that she realized what they had done. This was it, what Rychor had been seeking all along. To mate with her. Was this whole thing merely a trick to get her to spread her legs willingly?
She rolled her hips from side-to-side, pushing against him to detach her body from his, but he moved his hand to her chest and pressed it against her sternum for calm.
“We weren’t supposed to do this,” she whispered, after a moment.
But they had. It was done. And she wasn’t trying very hard to get away from him, but that was because she didn’t want to. She pulled herself from the water and leaned against his chest, her eyes wide open in wonder and fear.
“You are my mate now,” Rychor said. He was still inside her, and his muscle flexed and made her gasp with pleasure bordering on torturous pain. His fingers worked into her hair and held it tightly entwined in his fingers. “You are my mate,” he growled.
She wondered if this was a declaration of love. The only kind a man—alien—like Rychor could deliver. She was too afraid that it might not be to ask.
She didn’t think the words before saying them, and once they left her mouth and she heard them, she didn’t care that she had said it; it was true, after all, even if it made no sense and didn’t seem possible.
“I love you,” she said.
Rychor’s fingers gripped her so tightly the tips drove into her flesh. “You are mymate,” he repeated, as if his expression was somehow stronger than hers. “Do you know what that means?”
She smiled. She was feeling light-hearted, warm, totally connected to Rychor. So he didn’t understand love, she thought. She could settle for this. “I’m going to get spanked again?” she joked.
Rychor had her head between two of his hands and held in front of his face faster than she could have said “boo.” His gaze was boring into her. “This is not a laughing matter,” he said, sternly. “You are mymatenow.”
She blinked slowly, putting her hands on his. His manhood, which had behaved like a human male’s in only one respect—it had slowly gone semi-rigid inside her body—began to twitch back to life. It pressed on different places inside her as it did, filling her again until she was stretched just to the crest of pain.
“Do you know what this means?” he demanded again, his voice even more a growl than before. His muscles were taut, and his eyes had dilated. He seemed as alert as a hunting animal, an apex predator going in for the kill.
She shook her head very timidly. “I don’t… I… to me, to us, it means… we have, you know… it’s okay,” she said, getting her thoughts under control. “It’s okay if you don’t love me back—”
Her voice cracked as she said these words though, and a drop in her chest told her the truth: itwasn’tokay if he didn’t love her, too. Tears rushed to her eyes and blurred her vision, spilling from her eyelids.
Rychor used his thumbs to push them away, and then when that didn’t help, he leaned in and kissed her eyes closed. “Don’t cry,” he insisted, growling again. “I am your mate, human.”
“You keep saying that,” she wailed, exasperated.
Rychor lifted a hand to touch the back of his neck again. After a pause, he tried again. “This means more than ‘love.’ I am not human. I can’t choose to love or not love. Ryvokia males… live only for their mates.”
