by Cynthia Sax
Her eyes gleamed. “I’m going to shoot your alien ass.”
He chuckled at her warning and darted into the forest, moving at a slow human speed, making enough noise for her to follow him easily. As he ran, he breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of pine trees and aroused female.
My female.
He looked over his shoulder and spotted his Danielle immediately, her golden hair shining like a beacon under the moonlight. She carried his zbran with the ease of a seasoned warrior, scanning the trees utilizing her inferior night vision.
Krol switched into hunting mode, his steps fading into silence, his breathing leveling to a mere whisper, and he circled back to follow his prey. She frowned as she stared into the forest, her wonderfully expressive face revealing her frustration.
His destined mate pivoted on her heels slowly, the moonlight flowing over her full, bare breasts, curving around her toned arms to illuminate the proud curve of her spine. He nudged a fallen tree limb. She turned her head in his direction. Her lips parted, her breath released in stimulating pants.
Her sexual excitement fed his. His spicka strained against the leather of his uniform and he ached with need, the warrior within him issuing commands to attack, conquer and take what he wanted.
“I know you’re watching me, you big freakish bastard.” Her sweet mouth spewed angry words, invoking Krol’s darker passions. “Show yourself.”
Krol grinned as he quietly removed his garments. “I will…show myself.” He stepped into the clearing, proudly wearing nothing except for his black leather boots.
“Good, because I’m…” Her voice faded and her gaze dropped. “My God. It’s huge…and moving.” She stared at his spicka. Her pink tongue swept over her lips as though she wished to lick him and a shudder of anticipation rattled his back ridges. “You’d tear me apart,” she whispered, her eyes wild.
“I will not damage you, my Danielle.” He stalked toward her, hungering for a taste of her spice-flavored mouth and needing to touch her, claim her. “We are compatible.”
“Stop right there.” She waved her zbran, her heated gaze remaining fixed on his spicka.
Instinctively, he reached for his weapon and grabbed bare skin, his arsenal left with his clothes in a heap on the forest floor behind him. “You will show yourself, druzka.” He disguised his vulnerability with an order.
She swallowed hard, her throat convulsing, the slender column unprotected by ridges. “You’ll have to make me, you—”
He sprang, easily knocking the zbran from her hands, and he tumbled his Danielle to the ground, landing on top of her yielding curves. Her body cradled him perfectly, his ridges fitting into her softness, and a sense of belonging enveloped Krol.
“Get off me, you hairless Neanderthal.” His Danielle kicked at his legs and slugged his shoulders. Not knowing many of her words, Krol focused on her tone and body language. As they wrestled, fighting for dominance, she didn’t once knee his exposed groin or strike at his other weaknesses.
“You wish for me to make you.” He leaned into her, his weight transfer hindering her counterattack and quieting her struggles.
“I don’t.” She slid her gaze from him and her delicate cheeks flushed with pigment, enchanting him.
“You do.” Krol smirked. Heat rose from her reproductive channel, warming the air between them. He grabbed the waistband of her pants and yanked, removing her black ass-covering with the same hard pull.
She scurried backward, her ankles restrained by her garment. Krol extracted a dagger from his left boot and pursued her, intent on claiming his female.
She whimpered, her eyes widening as the blade descended, her fear stimulatingly poignant. “You will show yourself.” Krol sliced the fabric, setting her free.
He looked upon her nakedness, his chest heaving with approval. My female. Krol’s gaze lowered to her thighs and that pride flipped to fury. “You have no hair!” he roared. He tossed the dagger away from him and the metal thudded against a tree trunk.
Krol caught her ankles and spread her legs wide. She was bare like a female child, her pink pussy lips exposed and glistening with lubrication.
“Who dared to do this to you?” A killing rage surged up inside him, hot and savage.
She scowled. “I did, you big freak of the week.” She twisted her feet, trying to escape him, her breasts jiggling enticingly. “What are you getting so pissy about? Most men like a cleanly shaven muff.”
Most men. Vivid angry colors filled his visual system. “I do not.”
She flinched as though he had struck her. “Fine, then you don’t have to fuck me.”
“I will fuck you.” He released one of her ankles and placed his palm over her mons, the heel of his hand pressing against her pussy lips. The skin was smooth and soft and his rage flowed to aching desire.
“Not a chance!” She kicked out. Her heel connected with his chin and snapped his head back. Surprised by her assault, he dropped her other ankle. She scrambled away from him, crawling on her hands and knees, her bare ass waving in the air, pale and round like the solitary moon circling her planet.
Krol growled his annoyance and grabbed her hips to pull her back to him, his spicka sliding between her ass cheeks. “I will fuck you, druzka,” he repeated, his voice lowered with raw passion.
He slapped his hand down on her back, tilting her ass upward, and he nudged her knees apart with his, widening her stance to accommodate his girth. Her pussy dripped with welcoming moisture, her entrance opening and closing as if to suck him in.
Claim her, the primitive part of his soul demanded. Krol positioned himself at her entrance, and with a loud beastly grunt, he rammed into her, burying himself up to his base.
She screamed with pain and outrage. Some of his rational thought returned and an agony pierced his chest. He was lodged deep inside her, her pussy lips stretched to the point of tearing around his vibrating shaft, her inner walls hugging his cock head.
Too tight. Krol stared down at their joined bodies with dismay. “The research was incorrect. We are not compatible.” He pulled back slightly. She moaned, and he froze, not wishing to cause her more harm.
“I have damaged you, my Danielle.” He petted her sides, gentling his touch as much as he was capable, trying to comfort her, to do anything to ease her hurt.
“Yeah, you damaged me.” She gave him a killing glance that said if she were armed, he’d be terminated. “And I liked it.” She pushed back, taking even more of him into her wet heat, and he groaned, the urge to move, to thrust, unbearable. “So either fuck me hard or I’ll find another alien who will.”
Krol strengthened his grip on her hips, incensed by her threat. “No other male will fuck you.” He shoved into her fully, swaying her body. “You are my Danielle.”
He pulled out and slammed into her, fucking her harder than he had fucked the sensitive Simulator Danielle on the ship, but that Danielle hadn’t been as wet and hot and wild, his human female meeting him thrust for thrust, driving into his movements.
He wrapped his fist in her long blonde hair and pulled her head back, forcing her spine to arch while he rode her, his varles bouncing against her skin.
“Yes. Use me until it hurts. You’re so fucking big, Krol. That monster cock is splitting my pussy into two. Harder. Fuck. Give me all you’ve got.” She assaulted him with rough sex talk, her juices bathing his monster cock, as she called it, a wet sucking noise adding to their mating sounds.
Krol gritted his teeth, his varles drawing up tight, his control compromised by their adversarial sex play. “My Danielle. I need to—”
“Bite me.” She barked her command and his spicka jumped to attention. “Bite me, Krol.”
He snarled, angered by her public form of address. “I am your Krol.” He yanked on her hair and pounded her pussy with his cock. “Your Krol. Say it.” He shook her, demanding her capitulation.
“My Krol.” She squeezed his shaft with her inner muscles, sending sharp shards of pleasure shoot
ing along his flesh, and his restraint cracked under the bombardment. “You are my Krol.”
“Yesss…” he hissed, and he lowered his mouth, licking her smooth, delicate skin, tasting salt and woman. “You are my female.” Krol sank his sharp teeth into her pale shoulder.
His Danielle screamed, bucking and pushing against him, and he captured her between his body and the hard ground as her blood burst onto his tongue, his senses exploding with the rich metallic flavor. She wiggled and writhed, and she clenched his shaft with her pussy tighter and tighter until Krol’s cognitive processes ceased to function.
“You are too hot, too small. My Danielle. My Danielle!” He bellowed her name and thrust forward, assailing her pussy with a joyous barrage of seed. He attacked and attacked and attacked until he had nothing left, his cock drained of all ammunition.
“Sladky matka. You have defeated me, warrior.” Overcome by a pleasure he had never before experienced, he collapsed on top of his smaller druzka, flattening her.
She moaned. “You’re squishing me, you inconsiderate asshole.” His Danielle spat leaves and twigs out of her mouth.
Krol levered himself up by his forearms and chuckled at his Danielle’s darkening expression, an unexplainable warmth burning in his chest. “This location is not optimal for fucking.” Aroused by her squirming, his spicka recommenced vibrating within her tight pussy, mixing his seed with her juices.
“No way. You’re not fucking me again.” His Danielle ducked underneath his arm and rolled to the side, taking her comforting warmth with her. “I barely have knees left from that last fuck.” She bent one leg for his inspection.
Her pale limb was crisscrossed with red scratches and covered with dirt. Krol picked a pine needle out of her skin, his movements jagged with self-disgust. “I have damaged you.” He frowned, gazing down at her exposed pussy. Her flesh had been rubbed an angry red.
“Yeah.” She nodded. Her eyes lost focus, her face softened and her pink lips curled into a satisfied smile. Krol stared at her, humbled by her beauty.
“You’ve damaged me like no one else has ever done.” Her breathless whisper swirled around him, caressed his skin, licked his ridges and settled deep within his chest.
She laughed, the joyful sound breaking the tension between them. “And I can’t believe you’re horny again.” She reached out and stroked his spicka with smooth, sure strokes, sending waves of bliss up Krol’s spine. “You must get a lot of space pussy.” She tightened her fingers and he sucked in his breath. “You’re a fucking machine.”
“I only fuck your pussy,” Krol declared, cupping her face, her wonderful blonde hair draping over his fingers. “You are my Danielle.” He pushed his spicka into her hands, needing more of her firm touch. “Harder, druzka. Pull harder.”
“Ah. You like it rough, don’t you?” She yanked on his member with a satisfying ferocity and he growled his approval. “’Cause nothing feels as good as pain and pleasure combined. You feel alive.”
“Strong.” His voice deepened to a low rumble. “Pain makes a warrior strong.”
She paused in her loving abuse and gazed at him, a lifetime of loneliness and misunderstandings reflected in her eyes. Krol clenched his fists, wishing to kill the ones who had hurt her, but that wasn’t his mission.
Mission. I must focus on my mission.
“Yes. Pain has made me strong.” His Danielle worked him with all her lean muscle, lines of concentration appearing between her golden eyebrows, her full lips pressed into a determined white line. “Tell me if I’m too strong.”
“You are not.” He rocked into her palms, causing more heat, more friction. “We are compatible.”
“Yeah.” She cupped his varles and squeezed them. Lejno. Krol clenched his jaw until he ached as she touched him in ways the simulators never had. “But if you plan to invade the earth, I’ll still have to shoot your ass.” She swept her thumb over his tip and he shuddered with intense longing, his shoulder ridges rattling.
A dab of seed escaped his slit and Danielle scooped it up with her finger to examine it closely. “Looks like human spunk.” She sucked on her finger and Krol’s varles tightened. “But it tastes sweet.” She smacked her lips, taunting him with her sex noises.
His Danielle released his spicka and reclined onto her back. “Don’t you dare fuck my face,” she issued her challenge, staring up at him defiantly.
Krol looked longingly at her red pussy lips, his seed dripping down the inside of her thighs. He looked at his abandoned spicka, hard and vibrating and aching with need. Then he looked at her open mouth, her face lighting with expectation.
He carefully straddled her head, aware of how small and fragile his mate was. “Fucking your mouth will not produce offspring,” he reminded her as he slowly lowered his spicka into her mouth, muffling her flow of angry words.
Sladky matka. He pushed past her parted lips. Her mouth was as hot and wet as her pussy. She clutched his clenched ass with her hands and guided him into her, sucking on his shaft, her cheeks indented around him. Too much. Temporarily overcome by their unique joining, he closed his eyes.
He tapped the back of her throat with his tip and she gagged, her cheeks convulsing, fluttering against him. Damage. Krol withdrew slightly and held his position, his spicka vibrating in her mouth, resting on her tongue. He sighed with contentment. This one moment is worth all my solar cycles of energy expenditure. My druzka has accepted me fully. She will obey—
She slapped his ass, bringing his reveries to an abrupt end. He pumped her mouth as he had her pussy while she licked his shaft, flicking his skin with her tongue. His Danielle sucked with each inward motion, the pull on Krol’s spicka straining his control.
He fucked her face faster and harder, driving her back into the ground, his varles slapping against her chin. She dug her fingernails into his ass, protesting his abuse and marking him as he had marked her. He forced her to take him, grinding into her suction.
They mated with all of their combined might. He grunted with effort and tears streamed down her cheeks. He smelled her arousal, her musky scent flavoring the air, tormenting his nostrils. Their fucking was carnal and ruthlessly primitive and he needed, wanted, craved more.
“Bite me,” he ordered.
She widened her eyes and shook her head, the motion angling his spicka from side to side.
“Bite me.” He rammed into her as deeply as she could take him, punishing her for her disobedience.
Her eyes flashed with rebellion as she clamped her blunt teeth down on his shaft. The pain was exquisitely sharp and he bellowed his satisfaction, coming so hard his Danielle’s blue-and-white world tilted around him.
She swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, draining every last drop from his spicka and every last thought from his brain, leaving him dazed and contented.
“My Danielle.” He dismounted her face, his spicka slipping from her mouth and sliding along her cheek. “I enjoy our courting.”
“That’s not courting, dumbass.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s fucking, pure and glorious fucking.”
He lay on his back beside her and looked up at the night sky as he pondered her words. The star systems were as unfamiliar to him as his druzka’s customs, and he longed for the reassuring routine of his warship. “Fucking is courting,” he muttered.
She snorted. “Only to a man.” His Danielle pushed herself upward and staggered to her feet, swaying unsteadily. Her pale skin was colored with bite and bruise marks.
Krol stood also, his battered ego partially appeased by the visual evidence of their mating. “Then we must court more.” He wrapped his arm around his little warrior’s waist, securing her to his side.
“No—”
He lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder. Curses rained down on him from her lips as she pounded his back with her small fists and kicked his stomach ridges with her sturdy boots.
“Yes. We will court more.” He slapped her bare ass, warming her cooling skin. He liked the s
ound, so he slapped her ass again, grinning as he strode in the direction of his Earth domicile.
Chapter Two
Danielle opened her eyes, blinking up at the white tiled ceiling, and a silly smile curved her lips. What a night. She sprawled out on the king-size mattress, completely naked except for the boots on her feet and the dog tags around her neck. Alien loving is definitely something I can get used to.
She reached out her arm and grabbed white cotton sheets. Where’d he go? She sat up, the room spinning slightly around her. Thick, sticky liquid bathed her upper thighs, and she grimaced. She needed a shower.
And Christ, she was sore. She swung her bruised and battered legs over the side of the black four-poster bed, her boots thumping against the hardwood floor. She ached all over, the pain centered on her ass, breasts and pussy.
As she moved, only her labored breathing broke the eerie silence. Where am I? Danielle glanced around her. The monochrome bedroom was sparingly furnished and devoid of bright color except for the distinctive stained trucker’s cap hanging on the door.
No. It can’t be his. She squeezed her eyes closed, counted to five and looked again. The damning evidence remained. “Alien, my ass.” She clenched her hands into fists, converting the pain of betrayal into a more manageable rage.
I hope you had fun, Frank, because I’ll be the last woman you ever abuse. Danielle staggered to her feet. Her police badge had been placed on the nightstand beside the bed. She grasped it, the cool metal solidifying her resolve
Danielle scowled at the dominatrix-styled garment neatly folded underneath her badge. In your dreams, manwhore. She skimmed the soft black leather with her fingertips before grabbing the black-and-white-checkered lumberjack shirt hanging on the bedpost. It reached mid-thigh, the fabric adequately covering her bare ass, and it smelled of Krol, his unique scent clinging to the flannel.
Get a grip, Officer Danielle. She doused her building arousal and ignored her gut. He drugged you and who knows how many other unsuspecting women. The only thought you should be having is how to nail the scumbag.
