She noticed he had a strange green tattoo bordering his hairline; it looked somewhat like vibrant green moss. A moment later she blinked and it was gone.Maybe the stress is making me imagine things,she thought.
He looked like he’d say something, but instead he bent his head to grip her lower lip between her teeth and tug on it, the nip just sharp enough to make her pussy sit up and take notice, before releasing her lip and kissing the sting away.
Her moan was breathy, her hips desperately seeking out more contact.
He lowered the shoulder straps of her dress, allowing the slinky fabric to slither over her curves. Undoing her bra seemed to defeat him, and with an impatient growl he snapped her remaining underwear between his fingers.
He desired her, and it was the most potent aphrodisiac ever.
His right hand squeezed her wrists above her head, and the message was clear:Keep them therebefore he released her hands and did some exploring of his own.
His hands roamed every inch of her body. He cupped her breasts, testing their firmness, teasing her nipples. He skimmedover her waist and hips, cupped her ass cheeks, and pulled her tight against his body.
His green eyes took in every inch of her, every eye-flutter and twitch. He catalogued her responses to what he was doing and learned from it, until he played her like an instrument.
When he finally undid his zipper, her body was simmering with anticipation. He notched the head of his cock at her entrance, then tilting her hips, he pushed into her in one steady, firm push that filled her completely.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms coming down to hold on to his shoulders for balance, and a moment later, he started to thrust with his hips.
“So good,” she moaned. “Fuck, yes, please, please, right there…”
Her climax built steadily. He didn’t play games with her pleasure, didn’t tease or edge her to assert his dominance like so many other Doms had done to her before. He didn’t have to. She was under no illusion that she held any control in this encounter, and for the first time ever she wouldn’t have it any other way. She trusted him with her safety, and she trusted him with her body, and that gave her the freedom to just…let go.
When she opened her eyes to look at him, her senses swimming in the pleasure he gave her, she saw him regarding her with intensity, and when their gazes locked, he shifted gears.
She couldn’t look away. Not when he drove her steadily closer and closer to her orgasm. His green eyes were clear and intense and a moment before it became awkward, he suddenly pulled out and spun her around to face the door. A moment later her hands were braced against the wood, he’d kicked her feet further apart and entered her from behind. “Fuck,” she cried, the sound tearing from her throat raw and primal.
His left hand to her lower back held her hips in place, while the other hand reached around to wrap around her throat fromthe front and accentuate the arch of her back. Samulin couldn’t remember ever being this turned on, and it wasn’t long before her orgasm made her see white and her soul float several inches above her body.
Bralix withdrew from her body just in time to scoop her up when her knees buckled. His own heartrate racing, he held her against his chest and studied the effect this thorough fucking had had on her.
A fine dew of sweat glowed on her brow and chest. Not quite gasping, she was out of breath—as was he—and her eyes were slightly unfocused. And when he settled her a little more comfortably in his arms, she turned to snuggle into her chest.
Her reaction was exactly what he’d been searching for. She seemed to derive comfort from touching him, even just from being near him, and she was beautifully submissive. There were breeders on his home planet who’d pay a fortune to add this trait to their pets’ bloodlines. One day when he returned to earth, he’d have to select a stud with this trait in mind; their young would fetch a fortune.
He carried her through her dwelling and laid her gently on her bed on top of the covers. She snuggled adorably against the pillows, and moments later she was asleep. He studied her for a moment longer, pleased with his find, then pulled a tiny phial from his pocket. He snapped the head off the glass tube with his thumb, then put a few drops of the sedative on her pillow near her face where she could breathe it in.
Her nose wrinkled for a moment, the smell obviously not pleasant for her, but she didn’t awake. Bralix took a moment to browse around her quarters, studying her various trinkets scattered around, while he waited for the sedative to take full effect.
When he was certain she wouldn’t regain consciousness soon, he carefully wrapped her in the bed covering, taking care to cover her head and her feet too, then hoisted her up over one shoulder.
Time to take this one back to the ship; perhaps he could persuade Phyrax to stay another day or two so that he could find himself another human or two and he could get a good head start on the herd he’d always wanted.
CHAPTER THREE
Samulin woke feeling uneasy. Something was off.
This wasn’t the standard hangover; no nausea, no light sensitivity, and no little demons hammering the inside of her skull—only the sandpapery eyelids, and the dry mouth, no doubt from sleeping with her mouth open.
But the bed just felt wrong, and for a moment she wondered if she’d made the mistake of going home with the sexy stranger she’d met at the club the night before. And then she realized that it was worse—she’d invited him into hers.
And she was naked.
At the realization, she sat up abruptly, her heart kicking into a gallop. She was not in a bed, but was lying on the duvet from her bed heaped in a kind of pallet on the floor. A collar, at first feel some kind of padded faux leather, circled her neck, and running a finger underneath she found it to be snug, but not tight. She panicked a little when she couldn’t undo the buckle with her fingers. Matching black padded cuffs with D-rings circled her wrists; she was relieved not to find them restrained, but was that because her abductor thought there was no possibility for escape, or because she’d woken earlier than intended?
She took stock of her surroundings, and her stomach sank when she saw that she was certainly not in her apartment anymore.
The space, possibly an abandoned warehouse, was utilitarian, with stacked crates forming a labyrinth around the cleared floor space she currently inhabited. The crates were stacked nearly as tall as her head, but a cleared corridor had been left between a high, narrow bed and the exit. The bed looked more like a massage or therapy table, or could possibly belong in some kinky Dom’s basement.
