Wrecked - A Dark Sci-Fi Romance

“When do we go back to the surface?”

“We don’t,” he says simply. “You don’t, certainly. It isn’t safe.”

“Why not?”

“Predators,” he says, one word, as if that word should be enough.

It isn’t.

A simple question has gone an incredible way to undoing almost two decades of conditioning. He asked me earlier, do I agree to be his? No. I do not agree. I have never agreed to anything. It never mattered before. I wonder if it will matter now.

“Do not pout, human.”

“I,” I say slowly, trying the words out for the first time and savoring them every moment. “Do not… agree.”

“Oh, you do not agree?” He smiles, fangs becoming longer as his lips draw back from his mouth.

“I do not.”

“Then I shall have to make you agree.”

I draw back, expecting him to hurt me. That is how every order has been enforced in my life: with pain.

Instead, he lets his hand drift over my hip and then around to my rear and I feel the heat of his being sink through me from behind.

“I have to be careful not to burn you,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me. “You’re such a delicate little thing.”

I feel delicate in comparison to him. I feel small and soft, and when his fingers dip down between my cheeks, spreading them to find the little hole he already claimed and the one made for a man, I quiver, forgetting entirely about the world above the ground. In darkness, he gleams and glows, and my pleasure begins to rise, that devilish heat starting to make my sex swell as he toys with me lightly between my thighs.

He is being careful with me, I can tell. His dark eyes keep focusing on my face with what I think might be concern as the tips of his fingers begin to spread the petals of my sex, part me, find the wet core of me where my own heat resides.

A moan escapes my lips as he stirs gently there, his finger hot and hard and thick, promising to penetrate but staying just outside my body until my hips grind with that hopeless instinct they have been blessed with.

“You’re going to do as I say,” he growls softly. “Because you are my Aspel, my little human. You are mine, and I take very good care of what is mine.”

“You have… a hole in the ground,” I whimper, the words rising to my lips before I can consider if they are wise or not.

“I have much more than a hole in the ground. I have your holes too, sassy little human,” he drawls, casually pressing another of his fingers to my bottom at the same time as he toys with my sex. It is a threat, but one I do not cower away from. I am empty. I need to be filled.

“What do you want, Aspel?”

That name makes me bristle, but it also makes me warm. The word is his claim. The name makes me his. If I respond to it, then I am acknowledging that I have become Aspel. I am not the meat bound for parts. I am the human who must obey her alien master.

“I…” I let out a long, shuddering sigh as he sinks his finger inside my sex, pushing deep into me.

“Is this what you want?” He asks the question casually as I feel his heat and hardness filling me. This is only his finger. I can imagine what the thick rod at the apex of his thighs would feel like, and simply imagining it makes the walls inside me clench him, try to draw him in. I am greedy for his touch all over me. I want to draw his heat into me, feel it fill me. I want to be stretched and I want to… yes, I can admit it in the confines of my mind. I want to be claimed.

Will he take me now? Will he push his thick cock inside me and show me why women writhe with pleasure when they are under men? Or will he keep teasing me, letting me hear the wet sounds of my arousal that is not quite slaked by his finger sliding in and out of me? I am left in a state of suspension between states, needing and wanting and afraid that it will happen and also afraid that it won’t. He pushes it deep and holds it, lets me feel the heat filling my body from that tight cavity outward.

“If you obey me, you will be rewarded,” he says. “If you defy me, I will punish you.”

“Punish me?”

He pulls his finger free and brings three fingers down flat against my sex in a hard slap. Pain flares across my sex, a surprise flash of sensation that makes me gasp and draw my legs up against my belly.