by Cynthia Sax
She looked up at the sky and her eyes widened. “It’s dark.” She swept one of her palms over Spark as she moved toward the cleansing area.
The drakon tried to bite her.
His contrary female smiled at the little creature. “We’re the only three beings left in the training space.” She grabbed a small medic pack and a handful of cleaning cloths, sat, straddled a narrow bench. “I have more scars.” She didn’t look at Ariq.
His gerel must have many more scars if she felt it necessary to warn him. He claimed the spot behind her, bracketing her legs with his. “Your value as a warrior is greater than I believed, Xareni.”
He took a cleaning cloth from her, tidied her hair, running the fabric over the short strands, flicking the square to refresh it. Her hair was sinfully soft. It caught the artificial light, glistening like gold under his fingertips.
“I can tidy myself.” She unfastened her chest covering, tugged it downward, revealing her neck, the dip between her shoulder blades, the top of her arms.
Deep grooves gouged her skin. His heart squeezed. It was a miracle she had survived the wounds.
He could have lost her before he’d met her. Ariq leaned forward, pressed his lips to one of the worst scars, trying to absorb some of her past pain.
She flinched. “They’re bad.” Her voice was brusque.
He heard the fear in it. His gerel worried he’d reject her. He unwrapped the gauze from around her shoulders. “They’re badges of strength.”
“Oh. I forgot.” Her laugh was shaky. “You have a scar fetish.”
“I respect scars and the beings who sport them.” He gazed at the wounds he’d inflicted upon her. The sealant had held. “The round ones I’ve given you will make your form even more interesting.”
He had marked her. That shouldn’t please him as much as it did.
She cleaned the front of her. Her head bowed as she worked.
Ariq tidied her back, sliding the cleaning cloth down her spine, along each groove, each smooth expanse on his gerel, learning her form, committing it to his memory. He would safeguard that knowledge forever.
Her garments lowered more and more, uncovering more scars, more bare skin. He kissed the deepest marks, honoring her form, thankful she’d survived.
She would never endure that level of agony again. He would protect her, would make that his lifelong mission.
When her garments reached her hips, he expected her to stop undressing, was content with the decadent view of the top of her ass. Dimples decorated that part of her.
Once again, she surprised him, lifting first one long leg, then the other, removing her ass coverings and her boots, baring herself completely to him.
Zondoo. His gerel was testing his control. His cock strained against its leather confines. His hands trembled as he glided the cleaning cloth over her ass, her thighs.
“You’re so beautiful.” His voice lowered as he worshipped her with his fingers, his lips, his gaze.
“Only you believe that.” She covered his hands with hers, guiding him to her breasts.
They were decorated with scars also.
“Only my opinions should matter to you.” Ariq cupped her firm curves and her breath hitched. “Your body was made for me and no other male.” He squeezed and released her, squeezed and released her. “And it is perfect. You are perfect.”
“Hmmm…” She didn’t believe him.
He heard that in her hum, would work harder to convince her, to leave her with no doubts of her physical attractiveness. His fingers splayed over her breasts. He slowly closed them, capturing her nipples between his fingers.
She made a hurting sound, then shifted against him, rubbing her ass into his groin, escalating his need for her. Her responsiveness to his rough touch thrilled him. She was strong, could handle him. He wouldn’t have to hold back with her, could lose himself in her form and not worry about breaking her.
“You’re beautiful.” He grazed his teeth along her neck. She tilted her head to the side, offering him more scarred skin to adore. He left trails of pink on her body.
He marked her neck and worked her breasts, pulling and freeing her nipples, massaging her curves. The scent of her intensified, as did his desire. The only barrier between the two of them was his ass coverings. He yearned to remove them but that would require shifting his hands from her and he didn’t want to do that. Ever.
“I said we wouldn’t fuck, barbarian.” Her husky voice plucked at his balls. Her words slowed his ravishment.
“You did say that.” And he would honor that wish, wouldn’t push his cautious gerel. He drew back from her, dropping his hands to his thighs. She was too important to him to risk hurting in any way.
His gerel turned, swinging her legs over the bench, over him, until she faced him. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her pussy was snug against his leather-covered cock.
It was Ariq’s turn to make a hurting sound. “Xareni.” That was all he could say, his lust choking him. A warrior could only take so much temptation before he cracked, and fissures were forming in his restraint.
She layered her arms over his, gripping his biceps. He quaked. She must have felt that shaking. The corners of her lips lifted. Her eyes glowed.
His gerel leaned closer to him. “I’ve changed my mind.”
Chapter Six
Xareni would fuck the damn Chamele.
Because she had needs. She might look like a monster, but she felt passion, lust, wanting—like any other female.
And Ariq desired her. The proof strained against her bare pussy, shone in his dark eyes.
His fixation on her might be due to his scar fetish. Or it might have been caused by an extremely healthy male traveling for planet rotations with no access to available females.
She didn’t care…much…about the source of his yearning. Her appearance turned him on. That was rare, and it was sufficient for her.
“I want you to fuck me into this bench.” She offered him her sultriest smile. “Give me everything you have, barbarian.” She hooked her legs around his waist, crossing her bare feet above his clenched ass. “I’ve proven I can take it.” Their sparring had been exciting. He’d blocked every attack she’d launched on him. “Don’t hold back.”
A thrilling growl rolled up his chest. Yet he didn’t move. He didn’t flip her onto her back and pound her into the bench. “This rutting will change us, gerel. Are you certain about this? I can wait—”
“I can’t wait.” She rubbed against him, grinding her wetness into his leather ass coverings. “And I can handle any change you throw at me.” Mercy. The male was arrogant, thinking his cock would alter her lifespan. That confidence made her hot. “I can handle you.”
His forehead furrowed with thought lines. His mouth opened.
“No more talking.” She grabbed him by his nape, pulled him down, covered those parted lips with hers, kissing him the way she wanted him to kiss her—with a desperate ferocity.
His chest rumbled louder and louder. His fingers splayed over her lower back, his grip on her intensifying.
She stroked her tongue into his mouth, claiming that terrain as her own. Her hips rocked, as though acting on their own volition. She increased the pressure against her pussy, then decreased it, increased it, decreased it, setting off a pulsation inside her. Her teeth grazed his lower lip.
That broke him. He crashed into her, coiled his tongue around hers, sucked on that part of her, and he pushed her downward until her back touched the cool stone of the bench. Her barbarian yanked on his ass coverings. That leather fell to the ground. The hot hard length of him pressed against her feminine folds.
Stars. He was huge. She moved under him, slicking his shaft with her pussy juices. He would smell of her for planet rotations and that pleased her. She wanted everyone to know she’d had him. He’d deemed to fuck her first. She was his choice.
“Wild.” He mouthed over her chin. “You’re so very wild, gerel.” That must have exhilarated
him because he humped against her faster, fucking without entry.
His muscles flexed under her palms as she skimmed her fingertips along his back. His long black hair flowed over her knuckles, the strands decadently soft, a vivid contrast to his unrelenting physique.
He was large and firm and beautifully primitive, and she threw herself into their encounter. The Chamele was a mere visitor to the planet. He’d soon leave, and she doubted she would ever see him again. But this memory, this shared fuck, would be hers forever, would fuel her fantasies for planet rotations, solar cycles, to come.
In the future, when she pleasured herself with her fingers, it would be his savage scarred face she saw, his cock she envisioned in her pussy. That would be worth any pain of rejection, any hurtful words he might say after he had her.
“You’re strong.” He dragged his lips over the scar on her neck and she trembled. His mouth was alluringly hot. “And you’re mine, so very mine.”
“Then take me. Now.” She smacked the heels of her feet against his ass. “Fill me with that big cock of yours.”
The attraction between them had been simmering since the moment they met, and she wanted him inside her, wanted that experience before he changed his mind, or they were interrupted, or something else happened to prevent it.
Life had shown her that fate was cruel. It took as readily as it gave.
She would seize this joining for herself. “Make me yours completely, Ariq. Own my body.”
“I will own all of you.” He drew his hips back, bracing himself upward with his arms.
Flesh bumped against her pussy lips as he aligned himself, found her entrance. His gaze met hers.
There was possession, satisfaction, lust, and something more, shining from his eyes.
That emotional mix set off alarms in Xareni’s soul. He didn’t look like a male on the verge of having a short-term fuck fest, a one-time rutting.
His was the expression of someone who sought more.
She flattened her hands against his chest, panic almost causing her to shove him off her, to stop what would soon happen.
But then she remembered who she was. She was a monster, scarred both on the exterior and in the interior, a female no one would want publicly by his side forever.
He would walk away as all the others did.
She pushed away her fears and concentrated on her need, her wanting, her breathless anticipation. Her chin tilted upward. She looked him directly in the eyes.
“My brave gerel.” His lips curled upward. “You are mine.”
He thrust. Hard and deep. She gritted her teeth, swallowing a scream. The male stretched her to the point of pain, and somehow that seemed right. All major events in her lifespan had contained hurt. It was fitting her interlude with the barbarian, with this magnificent male, did also.
The erotic invasion continued and continued and continued until his base smacked against her pussy lips. She was stuffed with rigid warrior, the emptiness inside of her filled.
Her barbarian was another species, and his cock was different also. There was a peculiar ridge around the base, that excess flesh tightening her hold on him.
The connection between them fortified. That was alarming but was to be expected. They were physically linked now. That would amplify any existing ties to him, however flimsy.
“Xareni?” The Chamele’s tone was concerned.
That touched her. The other males hadn’t cared about her wellbeing. Many of them avoided looking at her face, taking her from behind.
Ariq held her gaze, waiting for her reply. His big form shook. That was how much he wanted her.
“Fuck me into the bench, barbarian.” Her voice was husky with need.
“Yes.” He drew back, retreating to his tip. “Yes.” He drove into her, shaking her with the force of his passion, and she gripped his shoulders, hanging onto him. “Yes.” He drew back once more, paused, drove into her, drew back, paused, drove into her.
She learned his rhythm, lifting into him. His skin slapped against hers. Heat radiated from those points of contact.
He rode her faster, took her harder, grunting with effort. She met him halfway, pumping her hips. Sweat formed on her form, streamed along her scars, those valleys capturing the wetness. His golden skin glistened. His eyes were lit with passion.
Her ass hit the hard stone of the bench again and again. She panted, adding those noises to their fucking sounds. The physicality of their joining appealed to her. It was natural, right, a test with a tremendous reward, one she would earn.
Her release fast approached. Wanting wrapped around her chest. Her breathing grew ragged. He was delivering on his vow, owning her with each thrust, battering her pussy into sensual submission.
She must have gone too long between fucks. Either that or her barbarian was fighting a completely different battle than the other males had waged, because she had never felt as crazed, as feral, as she did now, with him. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, piercing his skin.
He snarled, that beast-like reaction escalating her need, and he pounded into her with more enthusiasm. Stars. She would feel him for planet rotations after this fuck. He was imprinting his body on hers, making her a part of him, meshing their molecules.
Her pussy walls closed around his shaft. The ridge at his base seemed to respond to that snugness, expanding. He bent his head, glided his lips over her neck.
She was close but she needed more. She needed—
His teeth rasped against her skin and Xareni detonated. She screamed, bucking upward as pleasure blasted her from all different angles. The Chamele wouldn’t allow her to escape him. And she didn’t truly want to be free. Her form collided with his. She clenched his cock with her pussy, anchoring herself to him.
He roared, driving into her. Hot spurts of cum shot from his tip. His teeth pierced the place on her where her neck met her shoulder. The dual bombardment severed her grip on reality. She cried out until her voice was hoarse, writhed and twisted like a trapped creature, raking his back with her fingernails.
Her barbarian came again and again. His base swelled to almost impossible proportions, sealing him in place. He poured his essence into her, and she had no choice but to take it, take the ecstasy, take him. She arched her back, the extreme bliss bordering on decadent torture.
Gradually, it leveled, and that leveled Ariq. He shuddered once, twice, then collapsed, flattening her.
He was heavy and too still. It reminded Xareni of other too-still forms. Panic built within her.
“Get off me.” She slapped his back with the flat of her hand. “Now.”
“Bonded.” The male mumbled that obvious fact. His cock remained lodged in her pussy, the two of them fastened together with the bizarreness of Chamele biology.
“I need air.” She hit him again.
He huffed and pushed himself upright, taking her with him. “Is this better?”
She sat on his lap. He remained with her, was too close, too…solid. But she had open space to her back and to her sides. She turned her head to gaze at a wall. “This is better.”
“Good.” He wrapped his arms around her and licked the bite mark he’d left on her, soothing that pain.
“Did you add another scar to my vast collection?” The wound had felt deep.
“Yes.” Her barbarian sounded smug about that feat.
He did have a scar fetish. Her lips twisted. “How long does this last?”
“This will last forever.” He rested his chin on the top of her head.
“Clearly, it doesn’t last forever.” She rolled her eyes. “Your species would have died out. They would have starved to death after that first fuck.”
He chuckled, his chest shaking against hers. “We will be physically joined for a few more moments.”
Xareni could handle a few more moments…she believed.
Silence stretched.
She waited, mentally bracing herself. He would ask it—the question everyone she met wanted to kno
w the answer to.
The Chamele rubbed her back up and down, up and down.
He didn’t speak, didn’t ask the fuckin’ question. She’d allowed the male inside her. He, more than most beings, deserved to hear the answer.
It might garner her pity—which she disliked—or it could dash his admiration of her into the stone. He believed she had been strong when she’d gained her scars.
She hadn’t been strong at all. Her lips flattened. She had been weak, defenseless, unskilled.
If he hadn’t the fortitude to ask the question, she would do that for him. “Most males want to know about my scars.”
He pressed her closer to him. “I’m not most males.” His voice had a hard edge to it.
What did that mean? Did he not desire to know anything about her?
Even complete strangers asked what happened to her.
The damn Chamele had his cock in her pussy. He must be curious.
“You, with your scar fetish, don’t want to hear how I obtained them?” She frowned, finding that difficult to believe.
“I don’t have a scar fetish.” Her barbarian’s body stiffened against hers. “I have a Xareni fetish, and I respect you, respect your privacy. You will tell me about your scars when you wish to do that.”
The male was curious. He was merely being polite.
“Fuck. I should tell you.” She made that decision. “Or someone else will do that.”
There was no stopping him from hearing the story. Her return to the Refuge always revived the tales of her past. And she preferred the information came from her. It would, at the very least, be factual that way.
“I won’t listen to those other beings.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, her big barbarian acting as though he had complete control over the information he was given.
It was tempting to say fuck it and pretend that was true. Every time she talked about that planet rotation, it hurt her. The memories returned, as did the bad dreams.
But someone would tell him, and she wanted him to hear it from her.
She drew in a deep breath, counted to ten, exhaled. “My mother was mated to a very bad male. He…hurt her, hurt my sister and me. We were his children, but that didn’t prevent him from beating us.” That made it worse because he believed they belonged to him, were his to abuse as he wished. “The violence escalated, and when my mother was given the opportunity, she fled with us to the Refuge.”
