When She Purrs: A Risdaverse Romance

by Dixon, Ruby

  Kim’s panting and wriggling against me, her eyes glazed with passion, and when I finally catch my breath, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than Kim, covered in my spend, kneeling in front of me with my messy cock pressed to her breasts.

  And her eyes are so hungry.

  “You’re still needy, aren’t you?” I whisper, drained. “Do you want me to make you come?”

  Kim whimpers again, and her lips part. She hesitates, and I know she’s torn.

  “I can do it with my mouth,” I promise her. “Or with my words. You decide. My hands can stay bound.”

  “They…they can?” She shifts her weight on her legs, her eyes still so full of need.

  “Oh yes. I’m yours to use, remember?” I grin down at her. “Use me for your pleasure, Kim.”

  And she moans acceptance.

  38

  NASSAKTH

  Kim kneels before me, indecision in her eyes, and hot longing, too. How long has it been since anyone has seen to her pleasure? Has made her gasp and shudder with release? How long has it been since she felt the touch of a lover? For a moment, I wish my hands were not bound so I could caress her in the way she should be caressed, but she needs to be in control. I must use my words instead of my hands.

  And here I am, a rough, coarse gladiator. Better that I were a poet…but then I could not protect Kim in the way she needs to be protected. Perhaps it is best that I am just Nassakth.

  “Do you want my mouth upon you, Kim?” I ask gently.

  “I…I’m not sure.” She’s panting and needy, but she needs to get past the hurdles in her mind. Her uncertainty tells me that no, she is not ready for my touch.

  “But you liked touching me? It gave you pleasure?” When her lips part and her breath speeds, I know it does. “Then touch me to please yourself.”

  “You already came—”

  “That was for me, and it was glorious. This time, use me for yourself, my pretty one. Take what you need.”

  Still she hesitates, as if not entirely certain what it is she needs…or that she is afraid to take it.

  “You rubbed yourself on my leg,” I remind her. “Did it feel good?”

  Her hand slides to my knee, rubbing there. I can see she is turning skittish, so I must move carefully with her. I hold my breath, waiting, and when she moves closer to my leg, pressing her skin against it again, I want to crow with success.

  My beautiful, brave Kim, choosing her pleasure. I could not be prouder.

  I watch, fascinated, as she rubs her breasts against my leg, teasing the nipples. They are sensitive, then? I try to recall my encounters with females in the past, but none of them have been human. What works for one race will not necessarily work for another. But as she rubs her nipples against my skin, they harden, and her movements quicken. Kim’s breathing speeds up, and her hips jerk, even as she scoots closer.

  “Does your pretty cunt ache?” I whisper as she rubs herself against my leg. “Will you rub it, too?”

  Kim moans, and to my utter fascination, she straddles my leg. Her wet cunt slides up and down my shin, and then she rocks against me, giving herself the friction she needs. Using me.

  It is the most erotic thing I have ever seen.

  “Yes,” I breathe. “Take me for yourself.”

  She moans, pressing her slick folds against my shin as she rides me, her movements becoming frantic. I lift my leg, just a little, adding to the pressure, and her gasps become more excited, more aroused. I whisper to her how beautiful she is, how powerful, how gloriously sexy, as all the while, she rides my leg and takes what she needs, her eyes tightly closed. Her beautiful breasts bounce as she moves, and I hunger to touch them, to tease the tips like she did. I want to give her pleasure. I want it to be my mouth she rides, and not my leg, and I tell her all these things. My words just fan the flame inside her, and when she tenses, it is my words that push her over the edge. She makes a strangled little sound in her throat, her body clenching, and I feel a wet rush on my skin from where she presses her cunt against me.

  “Beautiful,” I murmur. “My beautiful Kim.”

  She collapses against my leg, resting her cheek against my knee as she sucks in deep breaths of air. “Was…was that weird?” she whispers after a long moment.

  “Not at all. It was perfect.”

  Kim looks up at me, and her mouth twitches with a hint of amusement. Her cheeks are pink with embarrassment, but I like her smile. “You’re still covered in soap.”

  “You’re still covered in come,” I point out.

  She glances down at her bare skin, where my spend is smeared on her—and on my legs. “So I am.” She looks up at me. “Should we shower for real?”

  “Can I wash you?”

  She hesitates and then nods. “I think I would like that. Not sexual—”

  “Just to wash,” I promise, even though my cock is half-hard all over again. “I just want to take care of you.”

  It is the right thing to say. She gives me a shy nod and gets to her feet. I stand, and she pulls the cuffs off of me with a touch, tossing them to the floor nearby. “Thank you for being so understanding and patient, Nassakth.”

  “You are my mate,” I say simply. “Your pleasure is mine.

  She looks up at me and shakes her head. “How are you so understanding?”

  “Because I know the place you are coming from,” I remind her, and gently caress her cheek. “I, too, have been a slave. And today, you were very brave. You took your pleasure even though you were anxious. Today it was my leg, but perhaps next week, it will be my mouth. Perhaps in a month, it will be my cock. I am content to wait for such things.” And I lean in and kiss her soft, sweet mouth. “Because you are worth it.”

  Kim leans in to my kiss, and when I pull away, there is no fear, no tension, just a little sigh. “What if it takes forever? What if I never get used to it again?”

  “Then I will learn to love stun-cuffs,” I tell her solemnly, and I am rewarded with a giggle.

  She pats my chest, still soapy, though the suds are drying in my fur. “I don’t like that I had to use them on you. I know it was a lot to ask, given that we were both slaves once.”

  “But I did not mind, because it was you that asked,” I remind her. “And perhaps we will move away from them in time, but I enjoyed myself with you. Let us not worry too much. I would tell you if it made me unhappy. Slapjack, remember?”

  “Slapjack,” she agrees, “Do you want to play a round after this?”

  “I want to get this soap out of my mane before I become hopelessly snarled and my tail looks like an unkempt mop. Then, perhaps, we will slap at each other.”

  “Such a diva,” she says, but her tone is teasing and she rolls her eyes as she turns on the water.

  I like Kim in all ways, but sometimes I like teasing Kim the best, when she is sassy and fearless like she is now.

  39

  NASSAKTH

  I wash my mate carefully, keeping my touches as innocent and brief as I can. Kim is soft and drowsy after her release, and I love that all the tension has eased from her face. She lets me guide her out of the shower and I rub her down with a fluffy towel, then help her into one of my tunics for her to sleep in.

  “Slapjack?” she asks with a yawn.

  “Not tonight,” I tell her. “You are tired. You should rest. Go to bed early, and we will practice again in the morning.” When her eyes widen, I clarify, “Practice your sword work.”

  “Right.” She bites her lip and then stands on her tiptoes and pulls me down for a quick kiss. “I liked all the practice we did today.”

  I did, too. My mind buzzes with what I learned from our encounter in the shower. I have ideas for ways to touch her the next time she allows it, and I now know her expression when she is lost in pleasure. I know what to look for. Each time we touch, it will be better than before.

  But for now, Kim must sleep.

  I guide her toward my bed, and when she gives a sleepy yawn and tugs me down wi
th her, I go gratefully. I like that she curls against me, tucking herself against my side and immediately falling asleep. She trusts me, and as I hold her close, I vow that I want nothing more than to keep this trust.

  We will go as slow as we need to.

  * * *

  * * *

  * * *

  It turns out that we must go even slower than I anticipated.

  I wake up the next morning to Kim’s pained groan, and I immediately tense. “What is it?” I ask. “What is wrong?”

  She adjusts the deep collar of my tunic, furtively pushing her sleep-bared breast back under the fabric, and gives me a pained look. “Everything is sore. Why is everything sore?”

  I chuckle, realizing that yesterday’s workout was perhaps too effective. “It is from lactic acid buildup in your muscles. Come. Get up. I will rub you and you will be less sore when we practice again.”

  Kim groans, wincing as she sits up in bed. “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to make me work out when I’m in this much pain?”

  “That is why I am going to rub you. And it is a welcome soreness.”

  “You might welcome it,” she grumbles, “But I don’t.”

  “It means your body is learning.” I leap out of bed and offer her a hand. “Come. I will even make you breakfast.”

  “I hate you,” Kim grumbles. “My sore ass hates you. My thighs hate you too. And my arms. And my back.” She takes my hand, though.

  “You do not hate me,” I say, ignoring her grousing. “You will be thankful when you are able to defend yourself. And remember, I said I would not go easy on you.”

  She just scowls in my direction, and it is adorable.

  Kim’s movements through today’s practice are stiff, and I do feel cruel for putting her through her paces. Despite her initial complaints, though, she works hard and I am proud of how far she has come with such brief lessons. I help her shower and then rub muscle ointment onto her limbs to help ease some of the soreness. There is nothing sexual about today’s touches—I do not even try to kiss my pretty Kim, because it is more important that she learn to defend herself than it is for me to see to my own pleasure. She works on her book that afternoon while I see to my plants and my own practice, and we spend a pleasurable evening playing more Slapjack before heading to bed.

  It is a good day. A quiet one, but a good one. I think of a future filled with such days—simple tasks around the house, pleasant joking with my mate, and just having the warmth of her presence at my side—and it fills me with pure joy.

  When we go to bed that night, I press kisses into her hairline. “Tomorrow you will be less sore,” I promise.

  Her hand goes to my chest. “More practice tomorrow?”

  “Always.”

  Kim licks her lips and traces a finger down my chest. “What if…I want to practice with the stun-cuffs again?”

  My entire body twitches into awareness, and a low purr starts in my chest. “Then we will practice that, as well,” I murmur. “Perhaps this time you will use my mouth for your pleasure.”

  She sucks in a little breath, as if she likes that idea. “Oh…yeah. Perhaps.”

  Her hand slides lower on my chest, toward my navel, and my cock begins to rise.

  A tiny, stuttering beep sounds from somewhere in the house.

  Kim freezes. “What was that?”

  “One of the crop bots is short on power,” I lie. “It is notifying me that it needs maintenance. I will see to it in the morning.”

  “Oh, okay.” She leans in and presses a kiss to my chest. “Goodnight, Nassakth.”

  It takes everything I have to remain relaxed next to her in the bed. I do not want her to worry. I stroke her hair as she falls asleep, trusting and sweet, curled against me. I do not sleep, though. I wait until Kim’s breathing evens out, and then I slowly extricate myself from our bed and dress.

  I have lied to my mate again, it seems. It sits on me uneasily, because I do not like deceiving her, but she has had enough sorrow in her life. When I mated to her, I swore Kim would be safe from everything that would harm her, and I meant it. I go to my war room and tuck weapons into my belt, and then head out to my air-sled. I clip the breather to my nose, and all the scents of the world immediately fade.

  I will see what has tripped the perimeter alarm on Kim’s farm…and then I will take whatever action is necessary to dispose of the threat.

  No one will harm my Kim. No one. The fact that they will even try means they are dead to me.

  40

  NASSAKTH

  I park the air-sled a good distance from Kim’s farm and walk the rest of the way. When I get close enough to her land, I hunch low to the ground, use my datapad to turn off the perimeter bots, and find the intruder’s air-sled. I reach under the hood and rip out several cords, disabling the engine, and then hide amongst the stalks of noli, waiting in the darkness.

  It does not take long for me to spy the culprit. The male is still here, and as I watch, he silently emerges from Kim’s house. It is the bounty hunter, Jamef, and the realization fills me with a cold rage.

  He continues to threaten my Kim. For that, he will pay.

  I wait for him to approach his sled. He has weapons at his waist, but his posture is loose and unconcerned. Jamef saunters towards his vehicle, then pauses and slowly scans the surrounding fields. “Activate heat sensors,” he murmurs, and I can hear his cybernetic eye whirring.

  Kef me. My element of surprise is gone. I stand, allowing him to see my hulking form, and when his gaze focuses on me, there is not a hint of surprise. He does not reach for his weapons, the only sign of his distress the clench of his jaw.

  “You are trespassing on my mate’s property,” I point out. “By Risdan law, I can kill you for threatening her holdings.”

  “Your mate is hiding secrets. I have found trace DNA of Kolvir al’Naanti in her domicile. She has met with him in the past, and she is thus my best lead toward the answers I seek.”

  I take a menacing step forward. “You will not go near her.”

  Jamef continues to watch me with that cold, expressionless gaze. “I also know who you are. I’m certain a simple inquiry will show me if the bounties on your head have expired—”

  With an angry growl, I spring toward him.

  I use my superior weight to knock him to the ground, rolling both of our bodies in an attempt to gain leverage. The bounty hunter is a decent fighter, though, and manages to break every grapple I attempt on him. When I realize that I will not be able to pin him down, I grab the front of his vest and fling him into the air, immediately chasing after so I will be there when he lands. The mesakkah slides into the field of noli, and pollen clouds the air as he breaks stalk after stalk. I pounce upon him again, punching his face even as I use my heel to kick away any weapon he reaches for.

  “I only wish to speak to your mate,” he grits out, trying to fling me off of him.

  I dig my claws into his flesh, determined not to break my grip, and pound him into the ground. “You will not go anywhere near her—”

  “If she’s innocent, what do you have to fear?” His cybernetic eye glares red, and I know he is recording our fight. I punch him right in the eye socket — once, twice, and a third time to ensure that his face swells up.

  “She. Is. My. Mate.” I kick his belt free, his weapons scattering amongst the flowers. Pleased, I haul myself to my feet and keep my hands clenched on the bounty hunter. I raise him into the air and shake him hard. “You do not go near her—”

  He reaches up, and I brace myself for a hit on the jaw. I can take many punches, and if he reaches for me, I can use his grip against him.

  But I have forgotten all about the breather.

  He rips it from my nose, flinging it into the field, and I snarl furiously even as the scent of noli floods my veins. Immediately, my cock stiffens and my skin prickles with heady awareness. “You keffing asshole,” I grit, flinging him away again and watching with far too much pleasure as he lands bonel
essly at least four body lengths away. I want to go over and stomp on him until he bleeds. I want to tear him to shreds. I want to rip his keffing throat out—

  But I cannot kill him yet. I need information about who keeps pushing him toward Kim.

  And I need my keffing breather.

  I try to keep an eye on the bounty hunter even as I search the flowers, looking for the small nasal clip that will save me from torture. I notice the bastard does not even try to fight me. He just sits up and puts his hands on his knees, watching me.

  Waiting, because he knows I am done.

  After another minute of hunting, I cannot find the breather. It is gone, and the pollen is in my lungs, in my nose, and my cock is painfully hard. I drop to my knees, unable to stand, and begin to rub at my groin, desperate to ease the ache there. I cannot think straight, my thoughts clouded. All I can think of is Kim, with her eager mouth on my skin, her breasts rubbing against my thigh as she looked up at me. My Kim, so beautiful…

  I writhe on the ground, clawing at my trou. I need to be free. Need to pleasure myself. Need—

  A shadow falls over me in the moonlight. I look up, and the bounty hunter Jamef is there, his red eye glittering bright in his otherwise darkened face. He lifts a weapon, and my cock pulses with the first spurt of release even as I bare my fangs to hiss at him.

  “You leave me with no choice, friend,” Jamef says as he points his blaster at my head. “You—”

  Another click.

  Jamef goes silent and remains utterly still.

  I come in my pants like a mewling cub and rub my hands against my straining cock, because the release has not helped me, only made things worse. “Do it,” I snarl. My poor Kim. Will she miss me?

  “He’s not doing anything,” comes an overly sweet female voice. A familiar one.

  Bethiah.

  Through the haze of noli, I see the female bounty hunter standing next to Jamef. She has her blaster pressed to the side of his head, just below one of his horns, and as I watch, she pulls his weapon from his hand.