Claimed by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 6)

“But I do. It’s your pussy I want. Get on all fours and stick that red ass up in the air. I want to take you from behind. Feel my balls slap against your tender skin.”

I make some incoherent sounds and do as he orders, spreading my legs wide. I’m dying for his touch, so needy that I think I’ll explode from the very first contact.

I’m so wet that he slides in easily, even as large as he is. My pussy stretches to accommodate his girth and my muscles contract, and then he moves. Thrusts.

His long cock presses on all the right spots, and he reaches under to squeeze my nipple while he pumps me. “Legs wider, or I’ll get that strap back out,” he murmurs.

The thought of more strapping on my tender ass makes me cry out in desire. I wiggle my legs further open. “Let me come,” I beg.

“Soon.” He slaps my ass. “I’ll tell you when.”

It’s only a few seconds later, though, that he grabs my hips. “When you’re ready,” he whispers, and begins a rhythm that’s demanding, and rough, and perfect.

I clench down and push back at him, and the feeling grows inside my pussy until it bursts out into an explosion of sensation so powerful that I scream out his name, as loudly as I can, not caring if any being hears me.

He roars out his own pleasure and collapses onto me for a second before rolling over and tugging me into his arms, and we lie there together, panting, sweating. I’m euphoric. The residual sting of the spanking and the afterglow of the orgasm have my whole body tingling with the most amazing feeling of contentment and perfection. I could spend forever here in his arms, in this moment.

“Sometimes I swear you’re looking at me,” I tell him, hoping he won’t take offense.

“I’ve learned to turn my eyes in the direction of the person who is talking. My sensors are in the same location to help me orient as if they worked.”

“What do your sensors tell you now?”

He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “Your skin temperature reads hotter than normal for a human, which indicates a blush.” He smiles. “Are you blushing for me, little human?”

I smile back. “Can you see me smile, Tarek?” I ask softly.

He runs his fingertips lightly over my lips. “My sensors report it. It’s not the same as seeing of course. I’d love to know what you actually look like.” He runs his fingertips across my cheekbone, touches my ears. “Such tiny ears,” he murmurs. “I cannot tell details like color. Smiles. Faces. Oh, I can tell you the wavelength of light emanating from an object, if my sensors are working correctly. I can discern whether a being’s lips are turned up or down, if I focus and use my analyzing kit. But I have never actually seen the face of anyone I care about. The color of the sky.”

&nbs

p; I touch his face back, just because I want to know what it’s like to “see” with one’s fingers instead of eyes. He tenses at first, but then relaxes under my touch, a small smile playing around his lips.

It’s over too soon. His comm chimes with a repetitive beep; he extricates his arm and glances at it. He gently pushes me away and sits up. “Get dressed. I have a surprise for you.”

I nod and sit up, a little dizzy. I wait a few minutes for my body to adjust to reality, then locate my panties and my dress.

“If you want to clean up?” He gestures to the side door where the commode and water wash station are located.

I’d actually like to wear his rainbow cum all planet rotation, but that would be socially inappropriate. Humans, no matter how sexually sated, don’t walk around with Zandian cumstains on their legs. Plus, I’ve heard Zandians have heightened senses. The others might recognize the scent.

After I’m refreshed, I come back out to see that Tarek has cleaned up all evidence of our tryst and is dressed, professional.

I blink hard. Does it smell like sex in here? Tarek’s opened the skylight windows, so a fresh breeze is blowing through.

Chapter 11

Tarek

I take Zina’s small hand in mine, suddenly nervous. Not that she won’t like my surprise—but for the emotions it might bring up.

“Come.” I lead her outside and lock up the training dome.

“Where are we going?”

“To the palatial dome.” I slow my walk when I realize she can’t keep up, her limp growing more pronounced. I’m tempted to simply pick her up and carry her, but I fear it would garner too much attention.

Besides, she’s my trainee, not my mate.