Raaze’s head tipped back against the metal wall, and he groaned.
“Draanth.” His hips jerked. His hand found her hair, not pushing, just holding. “You don’t have to?—”
She took him deeper. The taste of him, salt and musk and pure Raaze, flooded her senses. She worked him deep, hollowing her cheeks, using her hand on what she couldn’t swallow.
“Draanth, kelarris.” His voice came out ragged. One hand tangled in her red hair, not pulling, just holding. “Look at you. So good. So perfect for me.”
She pulled off with a wet pop. “Still calling me ‘Captain’ then?”
He went still, his eyes wide as he looked at her. “Oh, draanth, no. It means.”
She grinned and licked him. “I know what it means, idiot. I looked it up.”
His laugh was half a groan. “Get up here.”
She did, stripping the rest of her clothes off on the way. Then she straddled him. His hands stopped her hips, and he reached between them, notching the head of his cock against her entrance.
He thrust in with one smooth stroke, and the fullness punched the air from her lungs. He was big, always had been, but this angle took him deeper. She felt every inch, every ridge as he bottomed out.
He filled her completely, stretching her just past the edge of too much. She braced her hands on his chest and felt his heart slamming against her palms.
“Kelarris,” he breathed. “My kelarris.”
“Kelarris,” she said back, and watched his eyes go wide.
Then she moved.
It was hard. Fast. She rode him like she was trying to break them both, and he met her thrust for thrust, his hands on her hips hard enough to bruise. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the air.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Take what you need. Take everything.”
She did. Taking and taking until the pleasure crested again, sharper this time. Screaming his name, she shattered apart around him.
He followed her over the edge with a roar, his cock pulsing inside her, his whole body going rigid beneath her as he flooded her inner walls with rope after rope of his hot seed. The heat of it triggered another smaller wave that left her utterly boneless.
They collapsed together on the bunk, breathing hard, tangled up in each other.
“Quarters,” she managed after a while. “We should?—”
“Yeah.”
Neither of them moved.
Eventually, Raaze stirred. Scooping her up in his arms and ignoring her weak protest, he carried her the few feet into her quarters.
He laid her down on the bunk and disappeared into the small washroom, returning with a warm, damp towel. Standing naked beside the bed, he wiped the sweat and slickness from between her thighs. He cleaned her carefully, his heavy brow drawn tight in concentration, trailing the cloth over her bruised hip and down her calves.
She watched him through half-lidded eyes.
“You’re staring,” he said.
“I’m allowed.”
His lips quirked at the corners. “Fair enough.”
He tossed the towel onto the desk, then crawled onto the bunk, covering her body with his own. He was already hard again, pressing heavy against her thigh.
“Already?” she asked.
