Page 70 of Reaper Said Mine

“Gnash!” she cries. “What are you doing?”

“Taking what’s mine,” I growl as she squirms about on my shoulder.

“Oh!” her voice is high and sharp, and not what I would consider displeased. “You--you can’t just haul me off like this!”

“I seem to be managing just fine.”

The security doors seal behind us, muting the roar of the feast into distant thunder.

Cool station air greets us in the corridor beyond. The deck hums beneath my boots while white utility lights replace the flickering firelight of the hall. Somewhere overhead, ventilation systems murmur through the walls.

By the time we reach my private quarters, the station feels strangely distant.

The guards outside the entrance stare openly. I ignore them and continue through the door.

Silence settles across the room once it seals behind us.

The hum of Guyver Station remains present beneath the floor, but compared to the feast it feels almost peaceful. I lower Ursa carefully until her boots touch the deck.

She doesn’t draw away from me, one hand resting on my chest, right over my thudding heart. Her eyes match my gaze spark for spark. I feel as if I have fallen into those gorgeous eyes, and will never find my way out again.

The viewport beyond my desk reveals docking lanes crowded with ships. Running lights drift through darkness while cargo traffic continues its endless cycle.

Outside this room, politics are already mutating into chaos. Inside it, neither of us seems eager to discuss governments.

“Gnash,” she says in a trembling voice. “What are you going to do?”

I can’t hold back any longer. The ripe red plumpness of her lips demands a taste. I crush her mouth with my kiss, one hand going to the back of her head, the other the small of her back.

Her lithe body stiffens against my own in surprise, but then melts into liquid submission. She kneads the muscle on my chest like an affectionate earth cat. Her moans are devoured by my kisses as I bask in the glory of her taste.

We come up for air, gazes meeting as we heave warring breaths into the cool air of my quarters. Her nails dig into my flesh, and I take that as my cue to ravish her neck with kisses and the occasional nibble.

Her guttural groan accompanies her body clasping itself against my own, unmindful of my spurs. The slight sound of fabric tearing ever so slightly sets something off in me. I thrust her away from me for a moment, long enough to grab the shoulders of her garment.

With one hard downward jerk, I rip the cloth right from her torso. Ursa’s mouth flies open, her eyes wide and shining. The beauty of her full, naked breasts is too much for me and I bury my face between them, exploring the sublime softness with lips, teeth, and tongue.

I tower over her, so I sink to one knee to make it easier to ravish her breasts. Even kneeling I’m still a bit larger, and bend my neck and back to my visceral predations. Her hands go to my scalp, fingers splayed between my spurs as she crushes me to her chest with an embrace both seeking pleasure and comfort.

Comfort. Something women have never sought in my arms. Something I find I have no qualms about granting. Yet my need, my primal desire, flares within me and I bodily tackle her onto my bed.

“Aaaah!” she cries as I tear her trousers away, shredding the cloth and leaving a red line of blood along her hip. I put my hands on her thighs and lock gazes with her.

“I must taste you.”

Her eyes squeeze shut until they are mere slits, and her whole body shudders. I thrust her legs apart and stare with open avarice at the soft folds of her body. The aroma of her aroused pussy hits my nostrils. My heart thuds like a war drum in my chest. I must have her, now.

I bury my face between her legs and dip my tongue into the groove between her quivering labia. Her taste fills my senses, fueling my desire like a thermonuclear reactor. I slip my tongue in deep, showing her that even that part of me has spurs in the best possible way.

“Gnash!” she cries, her hands twisting in my hair like she’s trying to pull it out. “I’m--god!”

I suckle on her shivering clit, growling like a dining jungle predator as her juices spill down my throat. Ursa’s sharp cry splits the air, and her body jerks and flops about beneath my own like she’s being inundated with lighting.

But I don’t let go, I don’t let up. I continue to lick, to taste, to suck the rose petals of her succulent skin. She can’t get away, not with my hands holding her hips firmly in check.

At last she unleashes a deluge of her sweet juice right into my face. I drink heartily, a warmth spreading in my chest as I watch her writhe in pleasure. I’ve never felt such warmth before after making a woman die a little death. Only a smug sense of self satisfaction. This is…different.

And so much more satisfying.