His Human Rebel (Zandian Masters 4)

She couldn’t restrain the gasp of surprise and pleasure rocketing through her. Tipping her hips forward, she leaned into it, hungry for more.

She also made the perfect target for his palm, which smacked her tingling cheek once more. She tucked her tail to dodge the next spank, and he followed through, pulling up on her panties even more, sending a wave of dizzy pleasure through her.

She panted, waiting on her tiptoes, fingers splayed wide against the wall, desperate for more.

“That’s where I want you.” He spoke more to himself than to her and began spanking her with hard, swift strokes. She danced under the onslaught, leaning into her panties, which pleasured her with every twist and turn as his hand punished, making her ass burn with the intensity.

“Stop, please,” she whimpered, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he began to jerk her panties up in short bursts, fast and hard, never pausing in his assault on her ass.

She crested the peak and fell over the other side in an eruption of pleasure, her pussy clenching on nothing but a pair of panties, head swimming with visions of Lundric’s bare torso, those enormous muscles in all their power.

He spanked and panty-jerked her right through her climax but stopped the moment she collapsed her head against the wall, one of her hands sliding down as she sagged. He surged to his feet, caging her against the wall, his big hand covering the one that had slipped, his body pressed against hers. She registered his cock at her back with an aftershock of pussy-clenching. His lips found her ear, breath came hot against her neck. “What did I tell you about moving these hands?”

Her ass throbbed in response, already hot and tingling from the hand spanking. She sure as stars hoped he wasn’t serious about whipping her.

“Please, Lundric.” She wanted to kick herself for begging like a helpless female.

He bit her ear, hands coasting down her sides to squeeze her throbbing ass. “Now I forgive you,” he murmured, pulling up her panties. He continued to massage and squeeze her bottom over the panties, and she helplessly pushed it into his hands, loving the way he made her feel, even if it confused the hell out of her.

“Captain Lundric?” The disembodied voice sounded from somewhere on her floor.

Lundric cursed and jumped back, stooping to search the pile of his tunic and undershirt for his comms unit. “What is it?” he snapped.

“There’s a disturbance in cell 8—a fight amongst refugees.”

“I’ll be right there.” He turned to her. She’d already taken the interruption as an opportunity to yank her head back to reality. To steel herself against whatever this bizarre interaction had been.

But the apology on his face sank her. Like he owed her something more. When he hadn’t even taken pleasure. Had only given it—along with punishment.

Confusion swirled with post-orgasmic languor and lack of sleep. She watched, blankly, as he pulled his clothes back on over his beautiful chest. She wondered how he’d explain the blood on his clothes. Picking up her bloodied leggings, he said, “I’ll wash these tonight so they’re dry by morning. Push the chair against the door. It won’t keep it from opening, but it will serve as an extra barrier in the dark until I install a latch. I’ll drop the your leggings on the chair when they’re done.”

She nodded.

“I’ll keep watch over your room, baby. You can rest.” Without warning, his arm reached out and snaked around her waist, and he yanked her body against his. His cock still stood rigid, and she experienced a stab of guilt he hadn’t found release. Not that she’d been ready to offer it to him. “Thank you,” he murmured.

She pulled away, and he let her go. “For what?”

A roguish grin split his face. “For stabbing me. How else would I get my hands on that tight little ass of yours?”

Dearest Mother Earth, he’d made her blush. Nothing made her blush.

He grasped her nape and pulled her head forward to drop a kiss on her hair. Then he winked and left, pulling the door shut tight behind him.

She waited, listening for the sound of his boots as he walked away, but there was only silence.

He was waiting for her. “The chair?”

“This chair isn’t going to be a barrier to anyone getting in,” she grumbled, but a goofy smile stretched her lips as she dragged it into position. He cared about her safety.

“Thank you.” Stars, she loved his deep, gruff voice.

Her clit throbbed in time with her ass as she walked the two steps to her cot. She sank down onto it with a sigh of pleasure. She hadn’t slept on anything even semi-cushioned in a hundred planet rotations. Not since she’d killed the guards and been caught escaping the factory housing.

She hooked her thumbs in her panties and slid them off, bringing her knees up to her chest to get them over her feet. Her hands slid over her heated ass, exploring the sensation.

She’d been beaten as a child by the Ocretion factory foremen, and when she was grown, they’d used shock-sticks for punishment. Nothing compared to this sensation of heat and tingling and pain, more exciting than unpleasant because of the context. Her fingers found her pussy, and she shivered with pleasure at her own touch. Her folds were swollen and slick, and a little raw, but in the best possible way. She worked her sex and pictured her giant Zandian warrior—how he had to duck to fit through the doorway, his beautiful muscled chest and arms, the way his lids had drooped with desire for her, the sense of tightly leashed lust. What else could he do to her body?

I’d have you pinned down with those sexy thighs spread wide…