Their Zandian Mate (Zandian Masters 9)

Her breath stalled in her throat, then tumbled out with a sob. On and on he spanked and with each breath, she let out more of the em

otion wedged behind her sternum. Tears fell from her eyes, her breath heaved.

The spanking was painful, but not as biting as the strap, and it gave her something to settle on, an unforgiving, relentless focus for her attention as she wept. Someone’s hand tangled in her hair, gently stroking. Another set of hands glided over her lower legs. The males were soothing her, even as they delivered punishment.

She hardly noticed when the spanking stopped. The caresses continued. Her sobs continued. Granit’s large palm circled her burning ass. Some being left and returned with a blanket from the bed and then she was wrapped up in it, cradled in Granit’s strong arms. The other two sat beside him, petting her, murmuring endearments. Never in her life had she known such comfort.

Her body trembled and breath shuddered in and out as the tears slowed. Face tucked into Granit’s neck, she felt warm and protected. A deep peace settled over her—one she hadn’t had since she was a child, before she lost everyone she loved in the invasion.

And then, as she began to recover her wits, need returned. It started as an awareness of her burning ass and the plug filling her. Then she remembered the way Damon’s mouth had felt on her core, the incredible driving need he’d created there.

Need he hadn’t yet fulfilled.

She wanted to get past this punishment part and onto the pleasure. She kissed Granit’s neck, smiled when his cock stiffened beneath her hip.

He eased her down onto her back across all three males’ laps and pushed the blanket off her.

“Mmm.” One of them made an approving noise. The other two echoed it. Granit’s hand cupped her breast. Laake stroked his hands up her inner thighs, prising them open at the top.

Her belly fluttered.

“She wants her pleasure,” Damon murmured. “Laake, what’s your choice of punishment for her?”

“An ass-vecking.” Laake didn’t even hesitate. From the moment he’d inserted that plug in their beautiful female, he’d wanted to put his cock in that private place.

“Good. Punishment and pleasure mixed into one. Why don’t you taste her first, to get her ready?” Damon suggested.

Laake’s cock, already rock hard, throbbed with the suggestion.

There were some males who might want to slaughter Damon to keep the female for himself, but Laake appreciated Damon’s confidence in this situation. Whether he made it all up as he went along or actually knew what he was doing could be debated, but either way, Damon made a decent leader of their brotherhood.

Granit was the oldest and biggest—the muscle. Their hero. He could overrule Damon but rarely did. He’d suffered multiple burns extracting Laake from a burning school during the invasion. Damon had been in the school, too. A few years older than Laake, he was the brains—the one who always figured things out. He’d hustled Granit and Laake into a mining tube, where they’d been protected from the bombing. Then he’d had the balls to make the first kill, and steal an enemy airship for Granit to fly them off planet.

The three had been family ever since. Prince Zander must have known they’d be happy to share Eslyn.

“Go on. Make her scream,” Damon encouraged when he hesitated. He didn’t know what the veck he was doing, but instinct took over. The moment he tasted her, he wanted more. He ran his tongue through her outer lips, traced the inner. He kissed and sucked, nipped until she reached for his horns and squeezed.

The sensitive organs stiffened under her grasp. He groaned. “Veck. I need to be inside her. Now.”

“So do I,” Granit growled. It didn’t sound like a challenge—more a statement of fact.

Out of the three of them, only Damon seemed to have any self-control. “Bring her to the sleep disk,” he directed.

Granit stood, cradling their lovely female in his arms, and carried her over to the floating oval sleep disk.

“She’ll take both of you. If an ass-vecking is her punishment, we’ll make it good.”

Eslyn mewled, but one look at her satisfied Laake she wasn’t afraid—only excited. Her eyes were glazed and violet, long brown hair beautifully mussed.

“Granit on the bottom.”

Granit’s scarred face stretched into a smile as he yanked off his clothing and climbed onto the sleep disk. Eslyn stared at his body with wide eyes and Granit’s smile slipped, his hand running over the scars on his leg—the reason he walked with a limp. He had matching scars all along his left side—on his arm and shoulder, on one side of his face.

“Granit saved us in the invasion,” Laake said. He wanted Eslyn to know those scars were badges of courage.

She reached out to touch one and Granit flinched. “Does it hurt?” she whispered, running the tip of one finger over the mottled skin. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Granit nodded, once.