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His hand fists at my hip, biting into the soft flesh. Is it just my imagination or does it tremble? Surely the big, strong, self-assured commander isn’t nervous?
“What are you waiting for?” I demand, my voice muffled from the blanket. “Just get it over with.”
Gently, he slides the pants down my thighs and they drop to the floor. My ass is naked to him. Shivers run down my spine at being so vulnerable. His palm cradles my hip and his touch is almost reverent in nature.
“It will be easier if you’re prepared,” he says, his voice husky. Almost pained sounding. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I nearly snort. He’s packing some heat in that department, but I didn’t think it would matter to him whether or not it would hurt me. He certainly has no problem fucking me for his benefit.
“Just get it over with,” I repeat harshly.
The heat of him scorches the back of my legs as he steps closer to me. From that weird sunroom of theirs? The shock of it causes me to shiver and I press my face more fully into the blanket to block out my surroundings. This is just another scene with a faceless actor. I just need to play my part until it’s over.
The commander is silent behind me as he pushes the shirt farther up my back. He lifts my hips, then presses a hand to the middle of my shoulder blades, arching my bottom half up to receive him. One of his feet pushes my own out, spreading them enough that he can step between. My breath catches as I feel him moving between my legs, stroking himself.
One hand still between my shoulders, the other gripping his dick, he starts pressing into me. I make a sound in my throat at the size. I’m in no way ready to take him. Nothing about this situation is remotely sexy and even with a normal man, I need to be high as hell to relax enough for any sort of sex. Maybe it will turn him off so much he’ll forget about this breeding deal and they’ll leave me to my own devices.
He makes a harsh sound and pulls back.
For a second, I’m relieved. Hope spurts quick and hot inside of me. I start to raise up, but the hand at my back stops me.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Then I feel it.
The head of him brushes against my sex, sending shocks of pleasure and surprise throughout my system. It steals a gasp from my chest and I’m at a loss for words. It feels good, of all things. He reaches a hand around to palm the heavy weight of my breast through the material of the shirt.
“You don’t have to do that.” My cheeks burn in shame from the breathiness of my tone. How many years have I been subjected to the sexual abuse and harassment that come with my industry? You’d think I would have lost the ability to feel shame at all, but it comes back a million-fold as he works his dick back and forth against my clit.
“Quiet, Aria.” Is it just me or does his voice sound harsh? Is it with desire? Irritation?
Desire would work in my favor. Maybe that’s why he suggested sex with me instead of simply having them overpower me and return me to cryosleep. Maybe…maybe he really does want me.
It gets harder and harder to think the longer he spends thrusting against me. I reach blindly and find a thin foam sheet that must serve as a pillow and shove my face in it to blot everything out. But it’s a fruitless effort because he keeps me in this moment with him. The hand on my back turns soft, reverent. It moves to my hair and rakes through it slowly, and I imagine him staring at it in wonder. My body is nothing like what he’s used to and it shows, because he spends the whole time exploring. The rough pads of his fingers scrape along my skin, investigating my shape, all the dips and crevices.
When he’s certain I’m ready, those hands travel back down to my hips and I freeze. I want him to want me, because desire makes you do stupid things, but at the same time it’s hard for me to let go. Give him what he wants, Aria. You’ve done it before.
His fingers reach my swollen and throbbing clit and then dip farther down and find my entrance. I’m not quite as aroused as he’d like—definitely not enough to take him—so he adds his fingers, the sharpness of his claw scraping along my insides. Tremors ripple through me. I’m so vulnerable. If he truly wanted to, he could gut me simply with his hand.
“Your claws,” I whimper, fear making my voice shake.
