Tyrok breaks the kiss, and my body screams in protest. But I get his warm, hungry mouth back a split second later, on my neck. Tyrok’s tongue glides over my skin, tasting my sweat, the softness of his lips in juxtaposition with his hard spurs and sharp teeth.
“Oh God,” I gasp as he bites me, just hard enough to feel it without breaking the skin. My body rears of its own accord as I clutch myself against him. One of his spurs tears through my blouse and draws a line of blood, but it doesn’t even slow me down.
“This is not my name,” he murmurs into my neck before taking another nibble.
“Tyrok!” I shriek, arms encircling his waist and pulling him tighter to me. His cock presses against his trousers, hard and insistent and ready.
“That is better,” he purrs like a jungle cat. Then his clawed hands find my shoulders. With one quick jerk, he shreds my garment and strips me to the waist. I gasp with the sudden exposure, and my legs turn to water as my pussy throbs for more.
Tyrok doesn’t stop there, savagely stripping away my clothing until I wear nothing but his collar and a sheen of sweat. His crimson gaze envelops me, running up and down my body like an aesthete admiring a great work of art.
“You are perfection,” he rumbles.
I yelp as he suddenly seizes me around the waist and throws me over his shoulder. Tyrok carries me to a purloined sofa worth about a hundred thousand creds and plants me firmly upon it. My hands go to his belt. He pauses, arching a brow ridge of spurs, but allows me to continue. My companion training never prepared me for this, but I move with instinct.
His ebon cock springs into view, freed by my efforts. My hands fall away and I stare in wide eyed wonder, and a little bit of fear. His weapon resembles that of an earth man in many respects, but humans don’t have spurs of cartilage on the crown of their cocks. Nor do they have the same along their shaft. A bead of pearlescent moisture appears on the tip.
I reach toward him, but he catches my wrist. I look up in confusion. Isn’t this what he wanted?
“No,” he says as if answering my silent question. “I must taste you, Anastasia. I have yearned to do so since our eyes first met.”
He kneels before me, as if in reverse of our normal roles, but there’s no question who’s in charge when he puts his clawed hands on my thighs and shoves them apart. My pussy quivers, wide open and ready.
“Anastasia,” he breathes my name into the soft flesh of my inner thigh. I groan as he kisses and licks his way ever closer to my pussy. “You are mine.”
Tyrok extends his tongue, lapping between my swollen labia and tasting my moisture. My mouth flies open to release a sharp gasp. Tyrok’s tongue works its way upward, lavishing my clitoral mound with its full soft flatness.
“You taste exquisite,” he purrs into my mound. I cry out, hands instinctively going to his head as he presses his mouth into me.
“Fuck!” I shout, eyes shut in the throes of ecstasy.
“Not yet, but soon,” he whispers into my damp patch of hair before returning to his ministrations. He suckles the juices from my outer lips, stretching them out one at a time with his mouth.
I’m being devoured by a Reaper, in the best possible way.
My fingers tighten in his hair, and I try to guide him. That’s a mistake, because he instantly catches my wrists and squeezes until I release his hair.
“Who rules here?” he growls, eyes burning like fire.
“You,” I manage to croak out. I’m so close to climax I can’t stand it. I just need a little more!
“Damn right.”
He snatches up my shredded panties and slaps my wrists together in front of me. With adroitness and nimble speed, he binds my hands together, then shoves them up until my arms are over my head.
My chest heaves with heavy pants as he surveys his handiwork. Nodding to himself, he returns to eating me alive. He uses his fingers to splay me wide open, tongue working its way inside. It writhes inside of me, much longer than a human could ever reach. He moves in until his nose is pressed into my body, upper lips teasing my clit, red eyes locked on my gaze.
I’m finally thrust across the veil separating me from orgasm. I scream, body thrashing about as pulses of golden lightning shoot through me, carrying pleasure to every nerve. But my bound hands remain behind my head, where he placed them. I’m oddly proud of that in the part of my brain capable of rational thought.
A powerful wave of contractions thunders through my pussy, and I deluge him with the juices he’s already glistening in. He lifts his dripping wet face and a smile breaks out over his face.
“Yes, let’s see if we can make you do that again,” he growls.
“I’d rather sit on your cock,” I say, the words tumbling out without embarrassment.
He laughs, and rises to his feet, jet black body glistening with sweat and my own moisture.
“Beg me,” he commands.
