“I am only curious about getting into one place,” he said suggestively. “I want you to taste my snard.”
“Snard?” she echoed. “That's what you call that fluid?”
“No, snard is what we Zetithians call our semen,” he replied. “The other fluid has no name.”
“No name?” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll have to come up with one.”
“Do that,” he said. “But taste it first.”
“Okay, here goes…” Bonnie teased the coronal edge with the tip of her tongue. His fluid was clear and slightly salty and definitely had the desired effect; within moments, Bonnie felt like a bomb had gone off inside her. She rolled away from him as her body went into spasms. “Yeah,” she gasped. “It works—very well! So tell me, Lynx, am I still all in one piece?”
“You are,” Lynx replied, purring contentedly.
“I think you should call that stuff Orgasmic Explosion, or Cock Thunder, or Joy Juice. No, wait! I’ve got it! The Zetithian love potion.”
“I like that one,” he said appreciatively. “The love potion of Zetith.”
“Says it all,” Bonnie agreed. “Sounds a lot better than ‘pre-cum,’ too. Of course, now that I think about it, semen isn’t that great a word either. It's no wonder people keep coming up with new things to call it.” Dipping her finger in his magic potion, she began painting his cock with it. “You know, come to think of it, I’m not sure the fluid humans produce has an official name, either. I’ve heard lots of euphemisms, but nothing that sounds very… scientific.” She continued spreading the slippery stuff all up and down his now-quivering shaft. “I’m surprised Jack hasn’t bottled this stuff and made a fortune off of it by now.”
“That has been tried,” Lynx said, doing his best to keep talking when all he really wanted to do was mount her, “but it does not last. Some of the slave women were curious and collected it, but found that it lost its effect after a few hours.”
“Mmm. Just as well.” Bonnie started giggling uncontrollably as another use occurred to her. “It’d be a lot of fun at a party, though,” she gasped. “You could spike the punch with it.”
Lynx grinned. “Now, that does work,” he said. “But the effect is not as strong.”
“Did the slave girls actually do that, or was it a popular party drink on Zetith?”
“It was not so highly prized on Zetith,” Lynx said dryly. “We had plenty of it there.”
“But the slave girls must’ve thought it was incredible.” Noting his nod, she continued. “I’m sure it had to get boring living in a harem all the time. I’ll bet they were tickled to death to have you—you must have kept them well entertained.”
“For a time,” he agreed. “And in that place, with women always wanting to mate, my cock was erect almost all the time.”
“Didn’t that hurt?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But I could always find release.”
The thought of Lynx randomly plunging his stiff dick into any available woman bothered Bonnie just a bit. She hoped he would be more… selective… in the future. “So, what's your favorite position?” she asked, fully intending to make a list of his preferences and then give him whatever he wanted—if for no other reason than to assure that he didn’t go looking for love anywhere else.
It didn’t take Lynx long to reply, for the image of a shapely ass bouncing on his groin sprang into his mind, making his cock throb in anticipation. “I liked to lie on my back with a woman sitting on me, so I could see her from behind. They enjoyed it because I could move inside them like—”
But Bonnie had already sprung up to position herself between his legs and was wiggling her bottom at him. “Like this?”
Lynx swallowed hard; if she kept that up, he’d lose a load of snard into the air before he ever got inside her. His reply came out somewhere between a purr and a choke.
“I believe I’ll take that as a yes,” Bonnie chuckled. Looking over her shoulder, she said wonderingly, “I never dreamed you could be this much fun.”
He blinked in surprise. Could mating actually be fun? Perhaps it had been in the beginning—before it became such an endless chore to him. Fun. What an interesting concept! “You are having fun?”
“Barrels of it,” Bonnie replied. “Aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he replied hesitantly. Then he realized that he hadn’t done anything that could be considered fun in a very long time.
“I didn’t think I’d ever have fun with a man again as long as I lived,” Bonnie went on, “but you changed that. I haven’t felt like shaking my ass at a guy in ages.”
Actually, she never had, but that was beside the point. What mattered was that she was doing it now—and enjoying herself enormously. Experimentally, she tried it again and was rewarded with a groan from Lynx. Giggling with delight, she twisted around and jiggled her tits at him.
Lynx's long, tortured moan gave Bonnie another idea. Pinching her nipples, she pulled her breasts up as high as they would go and then let them drop.
As her luscious breasts bounced, Lynx lost all control and grabbed her hips, pulling her down on him so hard that if he’d missed, he’d have hurt himself. He didn’t know how or why, but being with Bonnie was different. No woman had ever made him lose control the way she did. Her beautiful body stretched out above him nearly drove him insane, and he drank in her image, reveled in her scent, and delighted in the feel of her. She affected him so much more strongly than any of the others had, seeming to merge with him; her pleasure was his pleasure, and he would give her all he could. He had a feeling of oneness with her that was completely alien to him.
He thrust his hips upward, impaling her deeply as he held her down tightly. Bonnie let out a gasp of surprise and then settled down on him, grinding him inside her, deriving intense enjoyment from his soft groans of pure delight. She kept up the movement, reaching down to massage his balls as she rocked him, loving the hard, thick presence inside her—loving him. Just being able to do that was a joy to her.
Stopping her own movement, she could still feel him sweeping her inner walls with his talented cock. He didn’t need to produce the love potion to drive her wild; his body itself was quite enough.
But not all, because she let out a cry as the first climax burst from the depths of her body. “Oh, Lynx!” she sighed. “You don’t just give me joy; you’re joy itself.” Her voice trailed off as she lost her balance and nearly fell off of him. “I don’t think I can do it this way…” Falling forward onto her hands, she rocked back against him, driving him in deeper and reveling in the heavenly sensation of his hard cock stretching her to the limit. She could feel her body contracting around him, squeezing him hard and forcing more of his love potion from his engorged cockhead.
It was good, but still not exactly what Lynx wanted. He pulled out from under her and heard her gasp in protest. “Get up,” he said, slapping her butt and pulling her up onto her knees.
Bonnie's arms were sprawled out on the bed as Lynx pushed down on her lower back and impaled her slick heat with his gleaming wet cock. If he’d ever felt such an overwhelming urge to drive himself into a woman before, he couldn’t remember it. All he wanted was to be up to his nuts in her, ramming in as hard as he possibly could. It was as if all the desire he’d ever felt in his lifetime was now bottled up inside him, trying desperately to get out. He thrust into her with all the strength in his body. The sound of her legs slapping against his thighs and the sight of her bottom bouncing against his groin drove him to new heights of passion.
Bonnie was one gigantic, continuous orgasm. Her body couldn’t even respond anymore, the orgasm was all in her mind—shutting out all conscious thought and all sensations, except one—ecstasy—in its purest, most perfect form. Somewhere within that perfect place she heard a hiss and a groan as Lynx erupted inside her, his cock spewing forth his seed.
His climax came from so far inside him, Lynx felt as if he’d given her more of himself than his semen; his life force itself seem
ed to separate, ripping away part of his soul to send it hurtling forth into her welcoming body. He knew then what had happened; he hadn’t just used her to slake his lust, as he had with the slave women. He loved her, and he had mated with her. For life.
Chapter 18
SYLOR WAS ALREADY WELL AWARE THAT HE WOULD have a difficult time convincing Bonnie to take him back and call off the hunt, but what he’d just seen through the window convinced him that to eliminate this rival, he would have to be more ruthless than ever before. Sylor prided himself on his own sexual abilities, but he was smart enough to realize that between himself and Bonnie's new lover, there could be no comparison.
To say he was disheartened would have been incorrect, for Sylor had never been one to let minor obstacles stand in the way of his desires. He’d wanted his freedom, and he needed money, so he took it. He saw it as rightfully his, anyway—even the ring Bonnie had inherited from her grandmother, though most people would have had difficulty reconciling that as anything other than blatant thievery. He’d even stolen Bonnie from her previous boyfriend—which had been no trouble, really. All he’d had to do was arrange for a meeting between the boyfriend and Bonnie's sister, tell each of them a few lies, and the situation took care of itself. People were so easy to manipulate when you knew how.
He’d misjudged Bonnie, however, having assumed that she would be waiting for him when he decided to return. What was odd was that she’d taken so long to set the dogs on him. They were having trouble finding him, though, and it was downright hilarious to see the looks on their faces when their tracking devices told them that Sylor was right there in front of them, but they still couldn’t see him. It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud.
Sylor knew he could blend in with his surroundings to the point that he was all but invisible, but the Zetithian seemed wary, almost as though he’d known someone was there. Sylor was unfamiliar with the species—he’d met Cat and Leo, of course, but knew very little about their innate abilities—so he backed off for a while, watching from afar while deciding on the best approach to the problem.
Kipper remembered him and had seemed happy to see him—at least not giving him away by barking like a fool. The dog knew him well enough; what about the cat?
Sylor knew he’d been gone too long and that this rival was now firmly entrenched in his old life—but how to get him out of it? Getting him deported would be difficult, since Sylor himself was on the run, and there was nothing incriminating he could plant on him—he’d already sold the only thing traceable when he’d unloaded the ring to fund the deal with Krall, which had proved to be a disastrous mistake. There was nothing to accuse Lynx of; he couldn’t even claim adultery—though it wasn’t a crime on Terra Minor—because he and Bonnie had never married. That had been a mistake, Sylor now realized, because he’d always intended to come back— when it suited him.
So, Sylor waited and watched, alert for any opportunity. He preferred toying with people over resorting to anything drastic. Could he convince her new lover that Bonnie didn’t want him anymore? It was doubtful, but perhaps the man was insecure enough to believe what a stranger might tell him. Could he tell him that Bonnie had a history of using and discarding men? Sylor knew that the reverse was true, but could he make him believe it?
It would be hard for Sylor to insinuate himself into Lynx's confidence in his current predicament. With any other man, a casual meeting, an exchange of news, a few laughs, and then he could have him believing anything he told him—of course, it would be a casual comment; one that anyone might have made, but one that would discredit Bonnie and make it seem as though she was indiscriminate when it came to bestowing her affections. He could pass along some very personal information which would make it apparent that he himself had known Bonnie intimately. Lynx would have no way of knowing just who Sylor was, and would therefore believe that he couldn’t trust his new lover to remain faithful.
Which Bonnie would do, though it pained Sylor to admit it. He’d fucked more women on this planet than he could count, but if Bonnie had been promiscuous, she’d managed to keep it a secret from everyone, including Sylor, who prided himself on his ability to know things that others didn’t. Perhaps it had been her steadfast heart that had attracted Sylor to her in the first place, but those guileless blue eyes of hers would lead anyone to believe that she was just lonely enough, just gullible enough, to believe a few white lies.
Sylor was desperate enough to consider murder, but wasn’t the type to want his hands dirtied with another man's blood—whatever the reason. He considered himself to be a cut above the common criminal and certainly above anyone as low as a murderer. But if he could make it happen in some other way… perhaps set up a fatal accident… yes, that would do very nicely, indeed—and farms were notorious settings for accidents; really nasty, really horrible accidents…
Sabotaging the equipment would have been the best method, but it was just as likely that he would wind up killing Bonnie, rather than his intended victim. Too much left to chance, too much margin for error. He would have to think on this a while longer…
The start of the rainy season was a slow time for farmers on Terra Minor. Once the major crops had been harvested, no large-scale planting was done until nearer the time for the rains to taper off again. Then there was a flurry of activity, because timing was everything; if planted too soon in the cool, wet weather, the seeds would rot in the ground, and if planted too late, they would fail to germinate. Bonnie and Lynx kept busy tending the vegetable garden, for there were many plants that enjoyed such conditions, but for the most part, there was time to relax and enjoy their newfound love.
Shaulla kept them both busy and entertained. She was a happy, laughing child—much like her father, Bonnie thought ruefully. Sylor had always been so charming, but how much of what he’d told her had been lies? Bonnie had always tended to believe in the men she loved—so much so that they could tell her just about anything and she would swallow it.
But Lynx had been different; he’d said he didn’t like her from the start and had made no bones about it. It was so odd the way men behaved. The one she should have hated turned out to be the one she loved the most.
Not that loving him was difficult, especially now that he was unleashing the full force of his sensuous, loving nature in her direction. Bonnie was glad she’d fallen in love with him before discovering his capabilities, otherwise she could never have been certain that she loved him for himself and not the wide variety of pleasures he could provide.
She was discovering more of his fantasies every day, though it seemed odd to her that he would have any. He’d been vehemently opposed to romance for so long, she wondered just how new some of them were. Along with being able to tell her what he wanted, he seemed to enjoy having sex in odd places—including one remarkable encounter in the henhouse, much to the discomfiture of the hens.
Lynx was experiencing sex from the (for him) novel perspective of the predatory male. On Zetith, men had to entice women and then be ready to go at a moment's notice. Taking a woman by force was impossible, for if a female felt no desire, the male would be unable to function. But for Lynx, Bonnie smelled like love even when she was feeding the chickens, and the fact that he could now be the initiator was heady stuff indeed.
The strange thing was that Bonnie had seemed to enjoy giving him pleasure even when she experienced none for herself—at least, not in the way that other women had. Lynx hadn’t believed her when she’d said she would only use her hands on him, but she had done it and had obviously enjoyed it when he ejaculated right in her face. Lynx didn’t understand it; he’d never met a woman who didn’t want far more from him than that.
Now that his impotence was no longer a factor, Lynx was back to his old ways of being hot and hard almost continuously. How could he have ever believed he could remain indifferent to Bonnie? It had taken fifty slave women to equal what this one, lone woman was doing to him now, and for this reason alone, Lynx was grateful for t
he lull in the workload. There were still chores to be done, of course, but the pace was slower, less urgent, and he had plenty of time to enjoy his mate.
As he leaned against the rail of the enock pen, feeling the soft rain fall on his face, Lynx thought back to when Bonnie had come out to the shed with his lunch while he’d been working on the harvester droid. With plenty of time until it would be needed again, Lynx had torn it apart and worked on it daily. He was one of those men who had a feel for machinery and could diagnose a problem almost instinctively, but though he had been focusing solely on the work, he had known Bonnie was there even before she spoke.
Her heavenly scent had quickly filled his head and then gone racing to his groin. Did she have any idea what she had done? That she had taken a man as worn-out as that old speeder and made him feel new again? Lynx doubted it, for Bonnie had never seen him as broken to begin with.
She’d smiled at the sight of his grimy hands and had insisted on feeding him, something that Lynx had done for the slave women countless times in the past, and he marveled that someone would do it for him. Bonnie's love for him was still a mystery to Lynx. He’d been unkind to her from the start, but she had seen through the ruse, perhaps understanding him far better than he did himself.
Bringing him fruit, she fed him one succulent bite after another. His cock was so hard he could scarcely think of eating, but she made him swallow every bit of it. Then she had released his clothing and sucked him. He could still feel it; her lips warm and soft on his hot meat, her orgasms seeming to almost interrupt her enjoyment of him. That was the first time she’d used her hands on him, too. She’d teased him, telling him that his hands were too dirty to touch her, but that hadn’t stopped her from touching him! He’d been so wet and slick, and she’d laced her fingers together and made a tunnel of her hands to stroke him while she licked his balls. Lynx would have been starved for a month if he’d ever even suggested that a slave woman do what Bonnie was doing voluntarily, letting him spew his snard all over her—on her face, on her breasts, in her mouth…
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