His Human Slave (Zandian Masters 1)

Zander couldn’t believe how delicate her parts were compared to his. Sweet little ears, a button nose, the light dusting of coppery freckles across her glowing skin. Her flesh was so soft, and he loved the way she smelled—like fresh, delicious female mixed with his own scent.

He rubbed his horns along her inner thighs and her flat belly, nudged them against her clitoris. He held her for far longer than he should—he had twenty other things to do—but the more relaxed and contented she appeared to grow in his arms, the less he wanted to put her down. But Daneth had said thirty minutes and it had already been forty-five. He eased her down onto the bed and extricated himself.

“I have work to do. You are free to rest.”

She gave him a slow blink, as if she’d drifted far away, and it took her a moment to understand him. Then she sat up, propped on one hand, and watched him as he resumed his position at his work wall. He flipped on the latest charts from his trades that day.

“My lord?”

He gritted his teeth at the interruption. “What?”

“May I use the washroom?”

“You don’t have to ask me things like that,” he snapped, but instantly regretted it, because the peace slid away from her expression, replaced with that familiar look of stubborn pride.

She lifted her chin. “Forgive me for trying to learn my place.”

Another lie. Humans called it something. That’s right, sarcasm. He turned back to his work again and she went to the washroom.

It occurred to him that she might be rinsing out his seed. Was that possible? He certainly wouldn’t put it past the deceitful little human.

When she returned, he beckoned her to him. “Come, Lamira.”

She hesitated but pleased him by obeying.

He’d intended to be stern and stand her before him for questioning, but his hands reached of their own accord and pulled her onto his lap.

Well.

He did like the feel of her on his thighs. So light and soft in his arms. So easy to control. He enjoyed the weight of her, small and helpless, yielding, for now. His.

It gave him a good vantage point for studying her face while reminding her who she belonged to.

“Lamira, you will not be permitted to wash out my seed.”

She blinked at him. He didn’t know her well enough yet to know if it was faked, or not. “You think I washed out your seed?” Her lip curled a little and he saw the flash of anger in her face.

Her bare breasts were so close to him, he forgot himself and palmed one.

He expected her to fight him—to wince and twist away, but confusion flitted across her face and, to his surprise, she rocked on his lap, arching her breast into his hand, as if she liked his touch.

“I would punish you if you did.” His voice sounded deeper than usual. His wristband flashed something at him—her readouts.

Forty percent arousal.

In truth? From what? The breast squeeze?

He slid his hand between her knees, stroking up her inner thigh.

Her breath quickened.

He reached her pussy, still swollen from their breeding. With his middle finger, he stroked along her slit, prodding at the opening.

Sixty percent aroused.

“Did you?” His voice definitely sounded hoarse.

She flinched when he entered her, but the mewl from her lips sounded wanton.