When She Dances

She lets out a needy little sound, and her hand slides under her body, moving between her thighs to work her clit.

Grr. That's mine. I reach forward, pushing her hand aside and working it for her, stroking deep even as I touch her button—her clit—and I am rewarded with the choked gasp of her orgasm, the tight squeeze of her cunt on my cock, and the wet release of her body.

As I drive toward my own release, I realize two months might not be enough.

I'm going to need this female for much, much longer.9TESSAI'm dying. I've been killed by dick.

I lay panting, undone, sprawled on the bed as he continues to caress my hips and thighs, as if he can't quite get enough. Here I thought earning my way to this farm planet would be simple, if not pleasant. Turns out it's going to be exceedingly pleasant but not simple. He's going to make me come so many times that it's going to wear me out. And…I'm perfectly all right with that.

He pulls off of me and I sigh, curling up at the edge of the bed. His seed is sliding down my thighs and I really should get up and pee, but I'm just wiped. My brains have been effectively fucked out of my head, and if I could think straight, I'm sure I'd analyze the situation a bit more. As it is, I'm just tired. Thirsty, and tired.

As if he can read my mind, Zakoar returns to the bed and caresses my hip, holding out a glass of water. "Drink this."

That might be the kindest thing anyone's done for me in a long, long time. I hate that I feel a surge of gratitude over a glass of water (of all things) and take it in silence, draining the glass. He takes it back from me and I glance at the bathroom. "Should I clean up?"

"If you like. I'm going to take you again, but I need a minute." His eyes glitter as he watches me.

Good lord. Well, at least he's forthright. There's no guessing with this man. "What if I say no?"

"Then my cock will be hard all night and I will ask again in the morning." He reaches out and touches my jaw, grazing a thumb over my skin. "How many times must I say I am not interested in an unwilling female?"

"Just checking. Do you remember my name?"

"Clit."

Well, that's a name I told him, but not mine. With a scowl, I glare at him and he gives me a flash of a smile. It's odd to see, his face stretching on only one side, but I like that he can smile. A moment later, as if he realizes what he's doing, the smile is gone and his expression sobers once more.

Instinctively I recoil, uncertain of his reaction. Have I offended him with my frowning? I remember how I kicked him earlier—or tried to—and he just laughed. I'm probably getting too comfortable too fast.

"Your name is Testa," he announces.

Close. At least he's trying. "Tessa. And you're Zakoar of the Broken Back."

He grunts, but there's a possessive gleam in his eyes again, and something tells me I'm about to end up on my hands and knees once more. "A name you will scream out in bed." He trails a finger along my jaw. "I thought you were joking."

"To be fair, so did I."

"Are you still frightened of me?"

I glance up at him, and his expression is hard to read. He always looks angry, I realize, because of the metal curving his jaw. His mouth is flat, his expression hard, but I sense a bit of vulnerability behind the question. After all, if he was a huge asshole, why would he care? Throughout all of this, he's been surprisingly thoughtful in his weird way. I don't think he's familiar with sex—or owning a slave—despite his fearsome demeanor and age. Even so, he's been gentle with me and he's made me come. He's made sure I'm okay with everything even as he boldly stated what he intended. No one else has cared to get my feedback at all. So yeah…however fierce he might look, he's not an uncaring jerk. "I'm not scared of you," I admit. "I've been scared of the situation. I didn't like being at the cantina, but I knew what to expect there. I didn't know what to expect with you."

"I told you," he says, and he sounds a little impatient now. "I plan to keep you in my bed for a time, until I tire of you. Then I'll free you and take you to Risda. That's what I want from you."

I nod. "I know. And I appreciate having it boldly stated. It's nice to know where I stand. It makes me feel less powerless." I won't admit it, but I still feel a bit like I'm dreaming. Sure, it's not the fairy tale I imagined, but a lot of it is pretty close. The guy I find fascinating strides in, buys me from a slave auction, and then fucks me so hard I come. Twice. And he intends on freeing me. It's not a fairy tale, but if things got any better, I'd have to start pinching myself.