Kept by the Zandian (Zandian Brides 5)

“I know what you want,” he murmurs, pulling back from my lips for a second.

He does? I’m not even sure I do. I certainly don’t know what I’m doing. But my body seems to.

My eyes are shut. I’m floating. I shift my feet. A second ago, I was shocked and embarrassed to be naked in front of him. Now, it’s the best thing in the galaxy, or almost the best thing, because I think there is something else coming. Something is growing inside of me, a spark that burns hotter and brighter.

I moan into his mouth, and he kisses me harder. This time when I reach for his horns, he lets me, and they’re just as perfect as I imagined: warm, firm, solid. His pulse thrums in them when I squeeze, just like I imagined, and I do it again and again, until he growls and kisses me so hard it hurts my lip worse than the bump with the cuffs. But I like it, I want more, and I keep playing with his horns by instinct, feeling him harden under my legs.

I reach one hand to stroke him and he groans, grabs my hand in his. Not stopping me, but checking me. “Do you know what you’re doing?” His voice is husky. Full of need. “Have you done this before?”

“No, but I want this,” I whisper.

“You don’t know what you want.” His voice is tortured.

“Please.” My voice breaks. “Please.”

“Please, what?” He sounds half amused, half frustrated. “Do you even know the word?”

I can’t put it into words, even, but what I need is absolution. I need to be transfigured. I need something beyond myself, to make up for what I’ve been through these past planet rotations. I think I’m asking him to save my life.

“Just please,” I repeat. I spread my legs, and he rests his hand on my thigh. And then there’s no stopping what comes next, no words that matter.

His fingers find the soft warm skin of my inner thigh, and then the press upward. I hold my breath, not daring to imagine what will come, until he touches the hot silk between my legs. It’s then that I cry out and bury my face in his neck, biting down hard on his skin, until he growls.

“Straddle me,” he orders, helping me climb over his lap so I face him, ride him, legs wide. “Don’t touch my horns.” He grimaces. “Or else I won’t be able to stop…”

“To stop what?” My eyes flicker shut, and I press my lips to him.

He slaps my ass with one hand, and I try to say “ow” into his mouth, but it’s all jumbled up with the kiss, and anyway, it doesn’t hurt. It feels good, and I stick my ass out, asking for more. He spanks me again, and again, until my ass tingles nearly as much as it did earlier, but this time—mixed with the passion—it’s so incredible I could die.

“Do you know what we call this?” He touches me between the thighs again. I’m so sensitive there that I cry out and try to close my legs, but he laughs. “Keep them open for me, or I’ll spank that ass harder.”

“I…”

“Say it.” His voice is granite. “Tell me what you’ll do.”

“I’ll… keep my legs op

en for you.” My voice is so full of need that I don’t recognize it as my own.

“Very good. This is your pussy,” he whispers, tracing a finger along my skin. “Your clit.” He finds the nub that I sometimes rub, late at night on my pallet. Only his touch makes me burn so hot and bright that I want to scream. “Right now, my pussy. And my clit. You understand that?”

“Yes,” I breathe. “Yours.”

“To do with as I please.” His voice is arrogant, but I melt inside. I’m all wet between the thighs too.

“You liked it when I spanked you. And when I do this.” He thrusts his fingers into me and finds a spot on the inside of my body that makes me whimper in pleasure. “And this.” He rubs his fingers over the spot until I tremble. My body reaches a crescendo, going higher and higher. I’m going to die. It needs to stop, I want more, I want…

“But you don’t get it so fast.” He eases his fingers out of me. “Because where’s the fun in that?”

I almost cry with frustration and he slaps my ass again. And again. When I nearly can’t take it, he reaches up and removes my upper garments too, so I’m fully naked.

“Your breasts, so perfect,” he murmurs, then bends his head and licks one nipple.

The feeling is so pure that I cry out, and it’s like a flash of light connects his lips through my nipple to my clit. I grind on his lap, shameless, begging with my body, as he kisses me over and over.

“You’re riding my cock.” He nips my lip. “Tell me you want my cock.”

“Please, I want your cock,” I beg.