Page 76 of Tracked and Taken

She runs the next four minutes.

Her hands pull my pants down at my hips. Her mouth on my throat. Her teeth at the collarbone where the bond-mark spot is, exploring, not biting. She is, by her own direct operational instruction, taking what she wants in the order she wants it, and I am — amused, patient, letting her run the rhythm — the male delivering. For now.

I walk her backward out of the cockpit, because the console is not where this starts.

The corridor.

Four meters. Her back to the bulkhead. My hand on her jaw. Her thigh rising at my waist because her body is meeting me halfway. I grind against the lace I already know is there. She gasps.

“Been hard since you sat on that comm with my fingers still wet,” I tell her. “Been thinking about finishing what I started. About putting you on your back and making you come on my tongue before you could even get the jacket off.”

“Tael—“

My tail uncoils.

Three and a half feet of prehensile muscle. It wraps her thigh at the knee and lifts — holding her thigh exactly where I want it while both my hands are free. I roll my hips into her. She feels every ridge through the lace.

She makes a sound.

“Tael — your — your tail—“

“You have been watching it for days, sweetheart. Did you think it was decorative. Did you think I wasn’t going to use it to hold you open and fuck you with it if you asked nicely enough.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me yes.”

“Yes.”

The Vosk is gone.

She is not going to say it again.

My hand takes her pants off one-handed while my tail holds her and my mouth is at her neck. The lace is the only thing left below her waist, and the lace stays until the bunk, because the bunk is where I keep my promise about the lace.

The bra goes now.

“Watch, sweetheart. I told you I would take this off with my teeth.”

Her eyes hold mine. I bite through what is left of the bow at the center front. The clasp gives. The silk falls off her shoulders. Her ribs bare against the bulkhead. Her nipples are tight. I groan.

“Packed this for me. Wore it for six hours. Let me find it with my hand and then put Flossie on comm before I could get my mouth on it. Cruel girl.”

My mouth at her breast.

Her nipple under my tongue, the canine grazing — controlled, the small careful edge. I could break skin and choose not to. I suck hard. She arches off the bulkhead. Her hand in my hair tightens.

“Tael — keep — keep doing that—“

“Say please.”

“Please. Please don’t stop.”

The purr does the thing now — the one that transfers through skin contact. My mouth on her breast. The purr going through her sternum at the frequency her nervous system is not built to filter.

Her whole body comes off the bulkhead.

“Tael — what — what is that—“