She groaned, the sound not that of a terrified female to be coerced into compliance, but of tortured denial. Her eyes black with need, pupils blown wide, she flexed. Straining to look, to catch a glimpse of the girth pumping and weeping between his fingers.
She wanted this.Recognized who he was, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
Glee sparkled up his spine, and he shifted to his knees. Milked his cockjustout of sight.
Denying the little female not for her own good.
But forhispleasure.
Enraged, she bucked. Suffused with a rush of furious energy, she hissed and spit. Her temper serving only to spur him on. To make his prick seep, lubricating his fist as he worked. Forearm burning with the flash of effort, ass flexing and clenching in time with every upstroke, his thighs clenched about her middle. Pinning her there in the dirt, he paused only long enough to knead her soft, fatty swells. Released captured hands to pinch and tweak nipples already bruised by lesser males.
First the left, then the right. Rolling that beaded flesh between forefinger and thumb just to make her squirm. Back arching into his touch, her belly rubbed against his heavy balls.
Lips twisting around a grunt, he clenched his fist and returned to himself. Enthralled by the desperate needy thing laid out for his enjoyment, his fist working furiously out of sight. The only audible sounds were that which squelched between his fingers.
Until she whined, tears sparkling along her lashes, she writhed. Caught in a cage of denial, her breasts lifted as she attempted to entice. Her training as a breeder settling in and taking over.
A low growl rumbled forth, so deep it was felt rather than heard. An echo of a voice he hadn’t heard in… years. A voice he didn’t recognize, though the unspoken command saw his female settled. Soothed. Helpless to deny the male who took his time to toy with his meal before he began to feast.
Such control when she was ripe and fertile, her body begging to be mastered and spread? It couldn’t last.
“Please,” she whispered, quivering. Her hips tilting back, her abs kneading his sack where it sat ripe and taut. Heavy with unspent seed.
He shuddered above her. Sucking a breath between clenched teeth, his eyes fixed not to jiggling flesh, but the bottomless black of her gaze.
And then, without prompt, she twisted her neck to the side. Exposing her throat as she might to a Hathorian male who wished to mount her. As she might to a lover… her mate.
With an ear-splitting roar, he succumbed. Splashing her nipples and belly in hot ropes of cum, he spilled, coating her skin in pearly strands of seed. Each rope landing with the lash of one marking dominion, it was more than skin deep. Bristling with each jet of seed left to mark her rosy skin.
Eyes losing focus, fucking his fist, the hunter laid his claim. Hips rocking as he peppered the still air with the sweet scent of virility.
A mewl beneath him brought him back from the edge. Fist still pulling at over-wrought flesh, he milked every last drop onto her belly, then let his girth slap down into the mess. His cock left to deflate where it lay heavy and hot against her bellybutton, inching back toward twitching balls.
Rumbling, he scooped up a palmful of spilled cream and worked it into her bruises. Kneading it into her flesh until his palm grew tacky and that seed began to cool.
Only when her skin began to tug and stick to his palm did he relent, moving instead to pluck at one neglected nipple before he rolled to the side. Heart hammering away at the back of his throat, he let her stagger to her feet. Watched as she collected her spear and tried to knit the edges of her ruined shirt. His gaze hooded. Lazy. Tugging at his girth, her dizzy hesitation a pleasing sight, for he knew just what it was that marred those delicate Hathorian brows.
Knew what it was she wanted from him…
But it lasted only a moment. A brief flash of indecision before she lunged toward him with the gleam of madness in her eyes. Spear held aloft.
A single, cold bark of laughter left his lips an instant before he caught it with his off hand. Wrenching it from her grip with an ease that made her yelp, he didn’t bother himself to inspect the deadly weapon. Merely tossed it aside and watched her bolt into the gloom once more, exposed, glazed tits bouncing with every step. The ruined flaps of her miserable shirt dancing in her wake.
Grinning, the hunter tucked his bloated length away and stood. Stretched out his back, rolled his neck, and filled his lungs with the sweet taste of a battle won. The first of many he’d dominate this day.
For pleasing him so well, he gave her to the count of thirty before he resumed the taming hunt.
The spear left forgotten where it jutted straight from the trunk of a tree.
5
Pressing at the stitch in her side, Renegade ran with her torn shirt. Bared and spattered with the seed of an infected Alpha, she gasped at the sound of thundering feet trailing in her wake. That he allowed her to attack without immediate retribution? To make a bid for safety at all, hopeless though it was?
It was a sign of the truth.
A thing she could no longer deny.
Because she knew this hunter was enjoying himself, enjoying the chase.
