A Baby for Pra'kir (Captives of Pra'kir Book 6)

by Megan Michaels

And, once again, but only one breast this time, she released her milk. Xan quickly latched onto it, sucking tightly while his still semi-hard cock jerked and thrust with her. In short order, a much smaller orgasm— but her third orgasm of the morning—shattered her, and she screamed so loud the back of her throat burned. With a raspy voice, she groaned, “Dear God, I think I’m going to die.”

  Her hips jerked with each spasm. His cock fell from her the sticky member resting on her buttocks and his thigh.

  After leaning on each other, gasping for air and their bodies and heart rates slowing, Xan murmured into her hair, “We need to shower and go see our baby girl. Let’s not be late today.”

  She smiled at him. “You’re going to be such a great Daddy…you already are.” Then she slowly climbed off of him, and with a shove to his shoulder pushing him back onto the chair, leaving him at a clear and purposeful disadvantage, she yelled, “Race ya to the shower!”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  This was it. Today was the day that their baby girl was ready to enter into the planet Pra’kir. The first child born of a human and Pra’kirean. The occasion was pretty monumental in the planet’s eyes, and Xan knew that if anyone on Earth knew about it, they would make history across the universe.

  He’d kept the news agencies and their reporters at bay, wanting to keep their privacy for as long as possible, especially on the day of Tegan’s birth.

  He and the nurses and technicians had all agreed that she’d been in gestation long enough. Her lungs and heart were healthy and there was no need to keep her in the mechanical uterus any longer.

  Blythe was nervous, her eyes widened and her throat struggled to swallow.

  “You’ll be fine. You’re more than ready, and you have me, Ganza, and all the nurses available—she’ll have the best care available on this planet. It’s nerves, pet. And I’ll let you in on a secret. Ready?”

  She nodded, those green eyes swimming in tears.

  “I’m nervous too.”

  Adorably, she shook her head, not believing it to be true.

  Bless her heart.

  “Yes. I’m worried about caring for a human and her beautiful daughter. These two gorgeous girls of mine are under my supervision and care. I have moments when I wonder if I’ll do the right thing by you two. What if I do things the wrong way or endanger you? I worry that I may not understand or miss something because of our culture and different DNA. It’s a huge responsibility. But I have to trust that my wisdom, education, and common sense will guide me. Will I make mistakes? Oh sure. More than likely. But our love will help us; we’ll do this together. And that beautiful little bundle downstairs is going to be in our arms today. And we’ll do things that upset her and make her angry and sad with us countless times over the course of her life. But if she knows we love her, I mean really, really feels our love and acceptance, she’ll forgive us for any mistakes we’ve done.”

  He stroked his hand down the side of her face, reveling once again in how silky smooth her creamy white skin was; he swore he’d never get used to it. His girl was so delicate and fragile, and yet so stubborn and independent. He loved her for those characteristics and wouldn’t want her to change…well, not too much at least.

  “We’ll be fine, Blythe. Your sweet little girl has been holding your finger and staring at you for months. Her pulse races when she hears our voices, but yours in particular. And you know what else? You get to feed her today. And it’ll make her love you all that much more. The bond you’ll have with her will make all these months of waiting worth every bit of patience it took, sweet girl.”

  “You’re right. I know you are. We’ll muddle our way through it like everyone else, I guess. She’ll roll her eyes at your long stories, and we’ll get Billex to take her and I to get our nails painted.” She giggled at the thought.

  “I’ll have her trained better than her mother. Besides, my stories aren’t long and they’re so interesting even a child would like them.”

  She opened her mouth to respond.

  He wagged his finger at her. “Watch it!”

  She swallowed her sarcasm and just laughed. “Come on. I’m ready. Let’s get Tegan.”

  * * *

  She watched Xan take her from the uterus, gently cleaning her while the nurses weighed and measured, and then with those large hands that she loved so much, he cocooned her in a fluffy pink blanket, gently kissing her on the forehead.

  The process was so much easier—for everyone—this way. There was no crying on Tegan’s behalf. She came out calm, eyes open, and even looking around the room. The setting was calm and easy, so much different than a natural birth on Earth.

  Xan stood staring at his girl, kissing her forehead and whispering to her. It made Blythe tear up; it was beyond beautiful. She thought she’d be jealous, wanting to hold her immediately and not wanting to share her—even with Xan, but she could have stood there watching him with their baby all day.

  The huge, hulking alien was beaming. He slowly walked her way, the little bundle of pink curled up into his elbow. He stood in front of Blythe and handed her over, Tegan fitting perfectly in the length of his hand.

  The delicate, beautiful baby stared up at Blythe, and she kept thinking, “She’s mine. All mine. I don’t have to give her back to her mother. I’m her mother. I’m her mother! How did I become a mother?”

  Just like she’d done for weeks, Blythe put her pinkie finger near Tegan’s hand and watched her clench it tightly, those itty bitty knuckles turning white with her firm grip. She swayed with her baby, marveling at how perfect every feature of her body was—the minuscule nail beds, the fine little creases on the palms of her hands and soles of her feet. She studied every part of her, almost cataloging every feature and taking note of every detail. She turned to look at those beautiful blue eyes and long black curls only to find her infant frowning at her. Deep in thought and consternation, her little eyebrows furrowed, deep creases between them.

  Blythe looked up at Xan. “She’s frowning just like you do at me. That’s a Xan look.”

  “That’s Master to you, I might add. And I do not look at you that way.” And unbeknownst to him, obviously, he was looking at her the same exact way…now.

  “Uhm. Yes, you do. And you’re looking at me like that right now.”

  He could be so maddeningly funny. The creases deepened and he continued in the same vein. “No, I’m not. That look? That’s what my father looks like, not me.”

  “Oh…is that…oh, okay.” She figured she’d let it drop; there was no need to go further with this.

  But she shook her head at her daughter. What in the world could she be thinking of that would make her furrow her eyebrows like that? Was it deep concentration?

  Blythe put that memory away—her first one for Tegan, one she’d remember for a lifetime. A memory she’d remind her daughter of countless times, she had no doubt.

  Her mother had called them Mother’s Treasures. Mothers cherish the little things for every child—a look, a saying, an antic, or something sweet they said or did. They put them away in their minds…and their hearts. Treasuring all of them. And on days when they’re lonely or miss the small children they used to be, mothers pulled out the memories they hold dear, remembering the exact day, the smells, and every intricate detail.

  Taking her forefinger, she lightly rubbed between her daughter’s eyebrows, smoothing out the furrow, watching the little one close her eyelids, slowly the blink magically made the expression fade, quickly replacing it with one of pure awe. Her little mouth formed a perfect “O” and wide-eyed, her head moved, taking in every aspect of Blythe’s features. With that little mouth open, she cooed and both Blythe and Xan exchanged looks as both of them teared up.

  “Why don’t you feed her? You’ve worked so hard for this.” Xan plumped her breast, making it ready for their baby. “Just like we’ve practiced; you can do this.”

  She squeezed her nipple and areola, doing her best to flatten it, but there was a who
le hell of a difference between putting it into Xan’s large mouth and this itty bitty mouth that was the size of a dime.

  “It won’t fit. Oh God.” She could feel the panic rising. What if she couldn’t do this?

  “Breathe. Breathe. She’ll feel your panic. She’s made to do this; it won’t take any work, girl; you’ll see.” He gently kissed each of Blythe’s eyelids. “You got this, girl. Try again.”

  She rubbed her hardened nipple and dribbled just a drop of milk on Tegan’s mouth. The little girl instantly perked up, opening her mouth wide, her head thrashing from side to side, seeking the hard nipple. Blythe pressed it into her baby’s mouth, and she tightly pulled on the tip, elongating the breast and sucking it into her mouth.

  Shockingly, the strength with which she sucked was almost painful. Even Xan didn’t suck as hard as Tegan did.

  “Ow. Ow. Holy shit, she’s sucking so damn hard.”

  “That’s my girl.” He beamed proudly.

  Blythe blinked at him. Then blinked again. “You’re actually happy about that?”

  “Sure. It means our daughter is a good eater.”

  Well, that made sense. At least he wasn’t happy that she was in pain. Christ, this was going to take some adjustment. It hurt.

  After suckling for only a couple minutes, Tegan closed her eyes, the rate of sucking slowing dramatically. Once she finally fell into a deep slumber, her little mouth opened, warm milk dribbling down Blythe’s belly. Blythe eased her breast away, and Tegan closed her mouth, her lips pursed tightly, the inner lips pale with the milk with just a drop trickling from the corner.

  Xan picked up her little hand to kiss it, and he chuckled. “Her arm is so limp. Watch.” He let it go just a bit above her body and it fell with limp weight.

  She’d done it. Her new baby was quietly rested in her arms, happy to be there, and had breast-fed until she contentedly fell asleep. Just the way it was supposed to happen.

  Blythe wrapped her baby tightly in the blanket, wanting to be sure that she felt secure and safe. The two of them stared at their creation, enthralled and captivated.

  What had happened to the angry, sullen woman who hated Pra’kir? What had become of the stern, unyielding Master of the Breckett Household?

  Blythe supposed they were both still there, and neither of them would ever lose those traits, but the addition of a delicate, fragile baby into their lives had changed them—for good.

  Already.

  They’d be more cautious and staid in their actions and words. Circumspect and prudent would probably be the words that would describe them, if she were to guess.

  Blythe would never tire of being Xan’s pet and knew that he’d always be her Master and owner. And with the help of staff and family, they’d have more than enough time to maintain their dynamic.

  She had the love of a good man. He was strong, intelligent, and protective. But above all of that, he was loyal and loving. Their needs and desires were placed above his at all times. And she had a beautiful baby girl.

  She also had all her friends, and they were going to be getting together regularly, sharing their lives, loves, and families with each other. She missed Earth—they all did. But none of them wanted to go back. Their lives were here on Pra’kir.

  Who knew what the future held, what escapades and tragedies awaited them? Whatever was in the cards for their future, they all had the love of a good man and faithful friends to help them get through. And maybe some fun, mischievous rendezvous were being planned in the not too distant future.

  What the men don’t know won’t hurt them. Right?

  # # #

  Epilogue

  Blythe stared at the seam of the wall, knowing exactly what she was supposed to do but unable to clear her mind enough to do it.

  What if she doesn’t know what she’s doing? What if something happens and Tegan gets hurt?

  “Tell me why you’re in the corner waiting to be paddled, Blythe?” Xan’s voice rumbled behind her. Suspecting her distraction, she had no doubt that his interruption was to keep her on track.

  “Xan, I don’t know,” she whined, shaking her whole body in a fit of temper that resembled a typical three-year-old. “I can’t think about this when I’m worried that… that the old woman you call a nanny is going to inadvertently hurt my daughter.”

  “Hey, hey. Turn around.” The strong arms that brought her both pain, and countless nights of comfort and ecstasy, swiveled her in the corner, forcing her to face him. “That old woman, as you called her, has over a hundred years of service to children, and has saved countless lives on this planet. She’ll neither harm nor endanger our child.”

  She couldn’t help but agree. “I know, you’re right. It just… isn’t it too soon to leave her? I mean, shouldn’t she stay near me? Blythe fisted her hands into his shirt, hoping her pleading would sway him. “I’m feeding on demand; Tegan may need me, and I won’t be there to comfort her.”

  He shook his head. “No. She just ate, and you’ve pumped milk for Ganza.” He put his finger on her lips when she opened her mouth to speak. “Yes, I know it’s not the best solution — and exclusive nipple feeding is best — but she’ll be fine if she has a plastic nipple with your milk.”

  “But—”

  “Nope. You’ve delayed this long enough. Your attitude and tone have been off for two weeks, and you’ve convinced me to delay this. But after your tantrum today, I’ll not delay your discipline for another moment. Now, turn around.” He pivoted her again, making her face the corner once more, his large hand pressing her nose right into the seam. He tugged on her hips, pulling her backside out, making her assume an almost obscene position.

  No doubt, for his pleasure alone.

  “When I call you from this corner again, you’d better have a response and an apology, or you’ll be spanked until you can formulate both.” He pressed his pinkie finger into her anus, the muscle constricting around it, the burn leaving her gasping. “Clear?”

  “Oh! Y-yes. I’ll do it.”

  He thrust his finger within the grip of her sphincter, the sting making her clench. And, just as quickly, he pulled it out, smacking her ass hard, the slap echoing off the walls.

  She hated corner time, and he knew it. He maintained that it always put her in the right frame of mind, and it brought either tears or remorse — or both.

  Knowing that she’d been pushing the limits, and admitting that she deserved punishment were two different things entirely. She’d pushed him more than ever lately, but the stress and strain of breastfeeding had been more than either of them anticipated. Lately Tegan seemed to eat around the clock. She slept when the baby slept, but even then, it didn’t seem to replenish her energy.

  Blythe didn’t want punishment, and she certainly wouldn’t admit that she needed it.

  But do I need discipline? Has it become part of my daily routine?

  This morning, when Xan had told her to kneel for her breakfast, it was the last straw. She’d been giving, and giving, and giving for weeks. And the demands of this male, who was her lover, her captor, and her Daddy, had thrown her over the precipice.

  She’d screeched, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m hungry. I’m tired. And you’re a fucking asshole!”

  Xan had halted mid-step, and then readjusting his stance, he put his hands on his hips, and blinked furiously at her. “What… what did you just say to me?” He had stalked toward her, his face looking like a thunder cloud. “I’m going to take payment out of your ass for those words.”

  “Oh! But—” She had clenched his shirt, knowing that she’d gone way too far.

  He’d shaken his head, pulling her hands free from his clothing, batting them aside. “You’ll go prepare for your punishment. I’ll ask Ganza to watch Tegan for a bit.”

  Clenching her ass, she trembled at the memory. She’d never called him a name nor sworn at him — and she had definitely never called him a fucking asshole. Looking over her shoulder, she peeked at him, only to find him sit
ting in a chair with a tumbler of Luesluno.

  Xan extended his index finger from around the glass, pointing toward the corner. “Turn around. I won’t say it again.”

  She stared at the walls, unsure of what she’d say when he called her over to him. Her only hope was that he’d calmed down and found a way to be somewhat merciful to the mother of his child.

  It felt as if at least a half hour had gone by, her back beginning to hurt from holding the position. But she was afraid to stretch or rub it; depending upon his mood, Xan didn’t often tolerate fidgeting in the corner.

  “Come see Daddy.”

  Blythe swiveled, relieved from the tone of his voice. His eyebrows were still furrowed but his nostrils weren’t flared. If she was to guess, referring to himself as “Daddy” meant he’d calmed down somewhat.

  She shuffled toward him, still unsure about his mood and wanting desperately to keep a distance between the two of them. His drink was sitting under the lamp on a dark wood table, the golden fluid shimmering in the glass. She stood near the table, meeting his gaze.

  “What are you doing?” Xan tilted his head.

  “W-what do you mean?” Her heart leapt in her chest, hammering against her ribcage.

  “Come. Here. Girl.”

  His tone had her paralyzed. She shook her head, knowing it would only get her in deeper trouble.

  Reaching out with lightning speed, he snatched her by the arm, tossing her easily over his lap. Her foot hit the table and upset his drink, the glass shattering on the floor. He didn’t even react to the glass, instead pushing his chair back away from the glass.

  Xan’s hand crashed onto her bare bottom, the slapping loud and echoing off the walls of his living room.

  In short order, she was screeching and clawing at his leg, begging for mercy. “Oh! Master, I’m sorry!”

  “When you’re given an order to come here, you stand at my knees, and you know it!” His hand marched up and down her backside, and left in its wake a swath of pain and burning that surpassed any discipline sessions she’d had before.