AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She gasped, enthralled by the demand in his tone, the determination in his gaze. It brooked no dissent. She would do as he wished, let him have everything he desired.
He crouched over her, draping her legs over his shoulders and pinning her wrists over her head. He pounded her, his unerring talent finding the perfect spot to apply friction. His gaze skewered her, and ecstasy rose.
“You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she sobbed, feeling it in her being.
“My woman. My pussy.”
“Yes.”
Maybe he was as invested in controlling as she was in being controlled. While he’d shown enjoyment when she’d ridden him, his lust was obvious as he rutted. His pupils filled his eyes, turning them black. He swatted her uplifted ass as he fucked her, adding delicious pain to the growing paradise, making it closer to heaven as it added to overwhelming sensation. She cried out in growing rapture with each passing second.
He abruptly released her wrists. There was no sign of weakness from his palsy when he lifted her, remaining embedded deep, and put her against the wall. She clung to him, hanging on for dear life as he thrust and thrust and thrust.
Rapture crept closer. It licked its voracious maw and tensed, holding her in an instant of suspension. “Jemi!” she shouted, and it pounced.
Bliss heaved, peaked, eased, and returned in another rush of exquisite euphoria. Elation poured through her being, and her lover refused to grant his own ecstasy until hers was spent.
She almost told him she loved him, but he’d lost much of his angst in the exultation of climax. She wouldn’t remind him of the loss they faced in the days to come.
* * * *
Sherv’s head bobbed violently as he made the uferliss wail. The Plasian instrument’s eerie air might have sounded delicate, but it wove over the thunderous boom of percussion and trasbu bass in a brilliant counterpoint. The club was full and rocking hard. The crew had set up a barrier between the audience and the stage, unheard of at lemanthev shows, but necessary to allow Parlek to move from side to side to capture the band on vid as it played.
Their would-be manager was shooting the footage, but he hadn’t stopped gaping since they’d taken the stage, one at a time, adding instruments in staggered syncopation. The men wore black-padded outfits, flex-steel armor exposed in places. Their stage clothing had been cut to display their most impressive attributes in a silent statement of power. Even Jemi looked like pure strength in a body-hugging armored getup.
Their instruments had been painted matte black, adding to the threatening aura they’d decided to emulate. The music wasn’t the wall of howls and brutality of lemanthev, but Sherv thought they looked every bit as impressive. More so, perhaps. The customers had gawped as they took in the trio.
Then Irene had stepped onto the stage, her arms wide, as if to declare “look at me.” As if anyone would be able to tear their eyes off her. Before she sang the first note, the customers had left their tables, drawing as close as Taru, Anez, and Lorj had allowed, their awe apparent.
Irene still sported black hair, darker skin, and purple eyes, though her lenses had been upgraded so she could actually see. But she wore no gown typical of a Kalquorian woman. Her outfit had been pulled together from the same tight material as the men’s, embellishments added to accentuate her already imposing figure and presence.
Black leather straps had been added to the bodice of her top, to give it what she termed a corset-look. She’d also added a tiered skirt, but only at the back. It framed her long, strong legs in their tight pants and knee-high boots, the heels of which made her as tall as Jemi. Metallic chrome studs outlined her breasts and accented the trim of her clothing.
Her waist-length hair framed her shoulders and face. She’d lined her eyes in black and painted her lips to match. She was stunning, cool, and rather intimidating.
She sang, and the crowd lost its collective mind. Even Sherv, who’d rehearsed and heard her for weeks now, was newly astonished. She attained vocal heights that sent chills over his body, then she surpassed herself on the following song. Her glissandos were as smooth as glass, no hitching over any notes. She ranged from a growl in one breath to head voice the next, without seeming effort. When she belted full-throated, she saturated the room.
Whenever Sherv glanced at his clanmates, they were grinning from ear to ear, as he did. They sounded good too, there was no denying it. But Irene as frontwoman owned the stage, and the crowd eagerly obeyed her exhortations to clap or shout along. When she whipped her hair to the beat, those who had hair or manes did too. They hung on every instant, every movement she performed.
Had he been in love with her before? Sherv was utterly lost in her, hanging on to her presence as desperately as their audience. She was everything.
* * * *
“I’m utterly spent after watching your show.”
Rusp grinned at Parlek, who sprawled on the lounger backstage. “It was only our second gig. Imagine when we’ve actually gotten some seasoning as rimnastin players.”
“Ican’timagine. Honestly, if the recording companies don’t get it, then they don’t deserve you. I’ll find a private investor. We’ll start our own fucking label.” He heaved himself to his feet. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning, vid and demo in hand. I’m comming my contacts tonight to remind them of how much of their careers they owe to me and how I can fuck up those careers if they won’t play along. If I have to tear down their doors, they’ll see and listen. I swear it on my precious mother.”
He left minutes later. When he was gone, Rusp nodded to his clanmates. Keeping watch for anyone trying to peek at the two entrances to the area, he told Irene. “You can change.”
She did so behind a small curtained-off space in the corner. Rusp glanced at the stage, where Taru, Anez, and Lorj were packing their instruments and gear. A large number of customers remained in the club, looking as drained and happy as Parlek had.
It had been an amazing gig. Probably the best of Rusp’s life. Yet there was little joy as the high of the performance ebbed.
“It won’t be the same when she leaves,” he muttered in Kalquorian. “It might work okay, but it won’t be what just happened, even if we play a thousand years.”
