So much cold and empty space. So lonely. She clung to him and tried not to weep. For star’s sake, show a little mercy.
Whether he sensed the change in her or merely was ready himself she wasn’t sure, but all at once he began to move, slowly lowering himself down and into her.
It was like her dreams. Just as she’d hoped it would be and much more.
“Marax.” She said his name, holding nothing back.
He must have liked what he heard because he was pulsing hot inside her.
Primales do indeed have innate capacities, she thought. His cock was so full and thick and warm it filled her body with a pervasive sense of joy and crazy hunger all at once.
“Come on,” she urged as she dug her nails into his shoulders, drawing nary a wince. “Let’s go.”
He kissed her again, this time plunging his tongue deep. Point proven as to who called the shots. He released her breathless mouth, probed and tingling.
“Use me,” she sighed, affecting a much more appeasing tone. “Fucking use me.”
Marax lowered himself, sheathing his magnificent cock. She took him like a dream, clutching at his hugeness. She never wanted to let go. If she could carry him around inside her forever she would.
But not much sex-making would happen that way.
“Lie still,” he had to tell her again.
It was torture. Sheer hell but the primale was not to be disobeyed.
Dekalia let her limbs go passive. Marax picked up the slack as if drawing energy from her surrender.
He groaned, arching his back. He seemed so into it. Would he be able to hold back? Was this in the plan?
He pumped her now, in and out, steady deep rhythms.
“Marax,” she said. “Are you going to come? I thought—”
Again he sealed her lips against his and this time he rolled them over, his fingers and hers intertwined.
As soon as she landed on top of him she began to climax.
The waves rocked through her and him too. In the back of her mind she kept thinking something had gone wrong. This wasn’t the control he was supposed to be keeping.
Or was it?
Chapter Six
Something was wrong. Marax shuddered as they rolled over and Dekalia landed on top of him. He clung to her, trying to keep his head clear as she reached her orgasm, the first of three, each more powerful than the last.
They broke like storms—loud and thundering—and it dawned on him they had shared their brains twice now, first in the landing and then again as she’d entered the world of his memories in the holo pop.
It shouldn’t have a hold on him but her empathy, her passion to connect was awakening the demons.
The things behind the wall so carefully erected in his psyche. Things no human should bear. But it was his duty to do so…alone.
So why was he here so hungry to bond physically with another human being?
So easy to go the next step…
She was not helping by begging him to suckle her breasts and bite at her flesh. He obliged, well aware of the price he was risking for these few moments of pleasure.
A fem’s pleasure.
By the Oath, why was he in bed with her in the first place? This was nothing short of Russian roulette, the old-style game where a man dared himself to pull the trigger of a gun with a single bullet. The odds in that contest were six to one, but here, if he came now, the odds would be zero.
He just needed to ride out her orgasms and keep from having one himself.
Infinitely easier said than done.
Dekalia was a firestorm of sexual passion, her perfect, curvaceous, gorgeous body moving with absolute female release, beckoning him to proclaim himself master of that flesh, to fill her and mark her with his seed. What more could any man hope for in this lifetime?
“Marax? Marax, are you all right?”
She was talking to him again. Why wouldn’t she stop? He didn’t need care or concern from her or anyone.
More explosions echoed in his head. The heat of her touch was too much. She was going to bring his whole world crashing down on his head.
Blast it, no wonder Tragaxar didn’t send me back to the front. I am more of a mess than I imagined.
“It’s that battle, isn’t it?” she coaxed. “Something happened to you there. Something terrible.”
The storms had passed. She had stopped climaxing. Her eyes glistened and her skin glowed in a combination of sexual relief and deep worry.
Lifting herself off him, she moved against his hip so they were face-to-face. He had to stop her.
“You are frozen inside,” she said as if reading some deeply buried part of his mind. “The pain is too great. You’re like this planet we are on waiting for a spring that won’t come.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled.
“Let me relieve you,” she offered. “I can do it without you having to come inside me.”
“No. And you can stop analyzing me. You know why sex-making can’t occur between us, you said it yourself. I allowed you to come, which was my error.”
“Please,” she said.
He looked at her pleading face, the genuineness and the innocence that could only come from growing up in the safety of the home world. For the likes of her the primales fought and he would give his life a thousand times over to save her.
He felt a little calmer. Though still it was impossible.
“It’s no use. We are…incompatible.”
Marax saw the resulting pain flash across those lovely eyes, the light purple and blue and green mix, like the horizon of Dendros, the jungle world.
Why did she want this so badly between them?
“I have to have control,” he said bluntly. “It’s the only way I can climax.”
“Then control me. I will be your slave.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Because why?” She put her hands behind her head now, interlacing her fingers in a direct show of submission. “Master?”
“You mock me.”
“For once,” she said huskily. “I do not.”
He watched as she arched her back, sucking in her belly and thrusting out her breasts. It was her mouth that intrigued him most though. Insolent as it was, interesting and endlessly surprising.
“Your slave begs permission,” she said softly, “to please you.”
He clenched his fists. Where was the greatest danger? Was it in fighting his lust for Dekalia entirely and risking complete sex-making and another possible mind meld or in some more distant and casual contact?
“You may,” he replied.
“You won’t be sorry.”
That remained to be seen.
Lowering herself to all fours, she licked her lips. “Primales have beautiful cocks,” she told him.
“You will perform slowly,” he dictated now. “You will cover every inch of me with your tongue. I will be specific and graphic and when the time comes you will swallow my cum.”
This last part was make it or break it. Either she would behave fully as an obedient or not at all.
Her eyes went wide. Mischief crossed her face. Son of a gun if she wasn’t excited by the idea.
“You hate me,” he reminded.
“I hate your politics,” she admitted. “But I’m beginning to think you’re a victim in this just like me.”
“Kiss the tip first,” he said, ignoring her explanation.
“Oh yes Sir.” She bent her head, just brushing her hair across the pulsing veins. Her lips were like velvet. The blood surged inside him. He wanted in her pussy but this would have to do.
For the time being.
As if that would or could ever change.
It couldn’t. Not in a billion years, or in as many galaxies. Everything was fixed. Life was fleeting. Good and bad. Pleasure…and pain.
Groaning, he let her go to work.
Before t
oo long he forgot she was fem and not obedient. That’s how good she was.
But there was something deeper. Something he had only known before with those men he had been through life-and-death situations with.
There was no word to easily describe it. It was what came when two people shared a secret of life and death. Primales called it comradeship.
Surely this was impossible with any female, whether obedient or fem?
Pushing the thought to the back of his brain, he focused on the moment. The sheer bliss.
Dekalia dabbed her tongue, just catching the tiny drop of pre-cum from the tip of Marax’s shaft. It tasted warm and salty sweet in her mouth. Her blood pounded in anticipation. This was primale cum.
More than this, it was Marax’s cum.
The tiniest taste as a prelude of the flood to come.
Closing her eyes, she lightly kissed the skin. Dekalia puckered her lips as if to absorb him but not yet.
First she would follow his orders. Slow and teasing. Obedient.
Is this how a primale’s woman does it?
Working her mouth along the veins, sliding downward toward his testicles, which were full to the point of exploding, ever mindful of the soft breathing of her lover…and Master?
At a certain point, as she reached the base, he clenched his fists.
She could see the taut muscles in his thighs. His cock standing straight and proud as she opened her mouth wider to lightly blow on his balls. His expression so intent.
Her heart reached out. She wanted to know so much more. She wanted to bring this man real peace. She wanted to heal him.
Yes, she thought as he arched his back. That’s it.
Dekalia moved into position, working her way back up his shaft, kissing along the veins, lightly suctioning.
When she reached the top she formed her mouth into a perfect oval, taking just the tip of him inside her.
She claimed an inch and no more.
Velvet-smooth skin coating pounding blood and veins. Wider and wider now she opened her jaws, her pulse racing. Ever so careful to touch with her teeth and not bear down too hard. Lightly pressing. Encouraging. Her tongue scraping and working sandpaper smooth.
Was this how obedient females did it?
Bracing her hands on his hips, she closed her eyes and drew a breath. He was so large. She would never take the whole of him. He would understand her limitations, she was sure of it.
Relaxing her jaws, she imagined he was inside her. Between her aching thighs in that secret dripping place.
She could smell her own scent mixed with the light odor of his perspiration. Pure sex and lust and whatever other emotions mixed in.
“Yes, that’s it,” he encouraged, giving her the validation she needed. “Submit with your mouth, Dekalia. Submit to me.”
His cock went straight to the back of her throat as if of its own accord. She was the vessel of his lust. His boiling primale desires.
From the beginning of time to the end he was every male creature who had seized upon a woman he wanted and compelled her of her own free will, making her need what he needed.
Would he come quickly? He was swelling larger as the friction built. She wrapped her hands around the base of him, letting her palms work to best advantage.
Her existence was his pleasure now. Her world reduced to him. She imagined that he held her soul. The power of a primale over his mate.
If she did not please him he could punish her. Spank her bottom or employ the paddle or a small whip.
Primales did this from time to time.
So too they bound their mates, forced them into ropes and chains.
No, it wasn’t force. Obedients were made for such things. Not fems.
But hadn’t she taken her pleasure in all this? Wasn’t she here naked of her own accord, under his power of her own will?
Had house arrest included sex-making and spankings?
She could have said no.
She just hadn’t wanted to.
Would it be soon? How much cum would he have inside him to give her?
Primales could control so many things.
What was taking him so long? Or had she distorted time in her own mind?
“Dekalia.” He was calling her name from somewhere beyond time.
She tried to respond.
“Come to me,” he said.
Her skin exploded with energy. Her heart tingled in anticipation. What could he possibly want now?
Surely he didn’t intend…penetration?
“I want to taste you,” he said. “I want us to taste each other at the same time.”
Her heart skipped a beat. Mems did such things. Primales did not.
“It’s all right.” He seemed to sense her reticence. “It’s my will and that’s all you need to concern yourself with.”
She sighed, feeling the tension drain. It would be pleasant to feel Marax’s tongue.
Okay, more than pleasant. It would be like paradise. She knew this by instinct.
He helped her to shift positions so that their bodies were facing opposite ways. He was so much longer and stronger. The contrast was almost outrageous. Still, they were made to fit.
Marax handled her with utter ease. His hands clamping her waist as he lowered her gradually onto his tongue impaling her. She cried out as he found her clitoris.
It was like having a tiny cock inside her, moving up and down. She wouldn’t be able to hold out long at this rate.
Kissing him wetly, she put his cock back between her lips where it had so happily resided just a few moments ago. She managed to take him even deeper this time.
Her head bobbed. Her hair fanned over him. Her breasts pushed against his pelvis, her taut nipples aching for contact. She squeezed with her pussy muscles, wanting to feel everything at once.
Wanting him everywhere at once.
All of a sudden she felt an overwhelming shuddering sensation. Like the other orgasms she had had with him but different somehow.
Perhaps it was because of the equality. They were pleasuring each other now. She begged with her mouth for him to come. She coaxed and tickled and teased. She sucked in earnest.
The waves washing over her meanwhile, the explosions again and again energizing her work.
He was going to come. She could feel it. The way he was swelling. The intense strain of his muscles. He had also redoubled his effort between her legs.
She screamed out, silently lost in a bottomless black hole full of stars like that bomb that had almost destroyed her.
They clung to each other, awash and alone in the universe for all intents and purposes. Their limbs connecting. Their bodies arching into one another as they reached the point of ultimate release.
She could hear his roar as he let loose. Thick jets of semen pumping between her lips out of him and into her, she gulped them down, desperate and needy, oblivious to everything but the connection.
He tasted of strength and bravery and power.
So this was why obedients knelt. Why they gave up everything to follow.
Primales were like a drug. And their seed. That was a drug too. This she already knew.
From one taste she was hooked.
He continued to come, allowing her to drink from him, such an intimate feeding.
Grateful. Dekalia felt grateful. And sated. Supremely sated.
She fell against him. A soft collapse down into nothingness.
His muscles and the sheer gravity of the bed held her up. Somehow they found their way into each other’s arms.
And then at long last they slept.
* * * * *
Marax allowed Dekalia to think he was asleep. He needed the time to think, and besides, primales didn’t actually surrender their conscious state like other humans. They entered stasis and this he was not about to do in her presence again. Not after the last time.
There was something about her that broke all the rules. Perhaps the time had come to call in for fresh orders. He clearly was
not functioning properly.
If unfit for the war as he now knew he was, surely he should not be guarding this woman against unseen enemies. How would she possibly defend herself if he became incapacitated? Had he even bothered to check all the possibilities of sabotage? Were his perimeters sufficient? Was he maintaining reconnaissance? Was he doing his job at all?
Clearly not, which meant he was already incapacitated.
Still, to risk opening a comm link was to invite another sort of disaster.
Someone out there wanted Dekalia dead and they had sufficient technology to manipulate wormholes. How hard would it be to step through one and show up here?
The more Marax thought about it the less sense it made Tragaxar’s trusting him at all in this situation. For that matter, what could any other lone guardian do against such a foe?
It almost made him wonder about Dekalia’s notions of hidden agendas. Wonderful. Now he was entertaining conspiracy theories. Maybe he should take the woman more into his confidence and allow her to work on the problem with him.
The woman.
She had a name. Dekalia. And nothing he ever did or said would erase it.
A primale shouldn’t feel this way. He ought to bond with an obedient. But this was not bonding, at least not as he had understood it from others.
Obedients complemented a mate and fulfilled them but there was no challenge, no growing edge, no…danger.
This last notion made him smile.
To think the small female, purring and soft, lightly sleeping, her breasts sweet against his chest, her scent in his nostrils, her body so trusting and open, her soul so adventurous so comically predictable in so many ways, could somehow be a danger to him.
Marax, hero of the Battle of Three Comets. Leader of the small vanguard that had taken out a Narthian queen virtually unarmed, nothing to protect them but the thin, metal skin of their pods.
Personally Marax saw no heroism. He and the others from his ship had been fighting for their lives. The only way out had been through the hive. So he’d taken advantage of opportunity. Who wouldn’t in his situation?
And the fact that the others had died and he had lived—where was the heroism in that? It was blind luck.
Dominating Dekalia Page 9
