When She Dances

Zakoar doesn't love me. He's in lust with me, but there are no plans for love. He's going to use me and then bring me somewhere safe, and that's all I can really ask for. Romantic nonsense has no place in the universe I've been dragged into. I learned that a long time ago.

Sex is the only tool I have left to me, so I'm going to use it.

"I thought about claiming you," he admits, voice halting as if he doesn't want to confess this to me. When I look up at him, he cups my cheek, his fingers playing over my skin. "Thought about breaking that keffing window and just dragging you out of there."

"Why didn't you?" I ache at the thought of all those years of dancing, of hating my life, of sleeping on a small, hard bed and eating nothing but protein bars. I could have been with him instead.

He gestures at his body. "Because no female wants this."

"I want this."

"You're a slave. That's different. I bought you and made this part of our bargain." His mouth goes flat, his gaze shuttered.

Not this again. I take his hand and guide it to my thighs. "Put your fingers inside me. Feel how wet I am. Then tell me I don't want you."

"You're doing this because I bought you." Zakoar's hand presses against my folds, a finger gliding through my slickness.

"True. And if you hadn't, I'd be lying under someone else, but I wouldn't be touching them because I wanted to touch them. I wouldn't be volunteering to take him into my mouth and make him come. I wouldn't be volunteering anything." I lean over his cock, letting my breath play over the head. "And I sure wouldn't be wet at the thought of making him come."

Zakoar groans again, his fingers finding my entrance and spearing me inside. Jesus, even his fingers are big, and I wriggle against his hand, still sore and aching but wanting nothing more than to grind down against those big, intruding fingers. Focus, Tessa, I remind myself. Focus on what's in front of you.

And what's in front of me is an enormous, enticing blue cock.

I lick the head, lapping up the beads of pre-cum glazing the tip. I love the hiss of his breath, and the way I can feel every muscle in his body clench in response to just that small touch. "Are these for advertising, too?" I ask, circling the tip of my tongue around one bulbous piercing. There's one above his glans, and one underneath, and for a man that's awkward in bed, I find the fact that he has these utterly fascinating.

Plus…I'm pretty sure they rubbed my G-spot repeatedly when he fucked me, so that's another reason I'm obsessed.

He inhales sharply, his gaze locked on me as I tongue one piercing and then the other. "It's…customary…amongst my people. Like capping horns."

"Mmm. Someone should write a thank you to whoever came up with them. They feel great inside a girl." I tickle the underside of his cockhead with my tongue tip. "Or is there another reason?"

Zakoar shakes his head, riveted to the movements of my tongue. "Pleasing a mate. That's why."

For some reason, hearing that makes me a little sad. He got these piercings even though he's clearly never expected a woman to look in his direction. And a mate…not that I'll ever be someone's mate. That's not in the cards for me. Feeling wistful, I shake off the sadness that threatens to rise up and grip the base of his cock. "Whoever she's going to be, she's a lucky girl."

His fingers move inside me, thrusting gently. "Is she?"

"Oh yeah." I squirm against his hand, then lean down and give his cock an utterly indecent lick. "This thing is a wrecking ball. You destroyed me with it." When he tenses, uncertain at my wording, I clarify. "Four times last night. Or was it more?"

He pauses for a moment, thinking. "Five?"

Yeah, it might have been five. Hard to say. All I know is that it was an utterly intense experience and one I'd quite happily have again. I lick the prominent silver vein on his cock. "Is this metal, too?"

"Wiring," he pants. "Just…wiring through the veins." He sucks in a deep breath when I drag my tongue along the underside of his cock. "Network…"

Oh wow. "That's amazing."

His fingers work my pussy harder, my body making sloppy, loud sounds with how wet I am. I whimper, distracted, and focus all my attention on his cock. This is supposed to be about pleasing him, not me. I tongue him with eagerness, learning each ridge of his cock and figuring out how to please him. Caressing his spur doesn't elicit much of a reaction unless I graze the underside, but his taut sac is as sensitive as expected. I tease it with one hand, working his base with the other as my mouth moves over the prominent crown of his cock. I can't take much of him into my mouth because of his sheer size and the piercings, so I just focus on making everything I do feel good. I squeeze and pump his shaft with my hand as I work the wet tip of him with my tongue, sucking on him with my lips, and basically being the biggest tease I can possibly be.