Married To The Cowboy (Love In Collin's Ranch 3)

by Veronica Wilson

  Before Gwen could respond, Dantar pulled the bedsheets from him in a single, sweeping motion. He then stripped away the silken leggings from his lower body and cast them to the floor by the bed. Gwen forgot to breathe at the sight of his mighty musculature fully exposed to her. Between the tremendous trunks of his legs, under a wreath of pubic hair, was his royal scepter, wondrously long and wondrously thick, veins twisting along its length, an ample and delicious foreskin surrounding a blunt mushroom head. It was such a heavy bludgeon of flesh that it could not stand straight up; it curved forward, throbbing its erect readiness.

  Gwen felt her resistance start to crumble like the palace walls before an oncoming storm.

  Dantar held out a hand to her and said, “I do not wish to conquer you and make you someone that you are not. I ask only to make the two of us together more than we are apart. As King and Queen, I wish us to grow our lives together and make all that I am a part of all that you are. Is that not all that any marriage should be? What matter that we have known one another for so short a time? Come to bed with me and we shall make a short time forever.”

  There was not a trace of logic in anything that he said. As a woman of reason and intellect, Gwendolyn Rush knew that she should dismiss his every word, reject it all out of hand. This was no basis for a life, not any kind of life that she could understand. And yet…as a scientist she routinely faced a universe filled with things she did not understand. That was the nature of science—the embracing of the unknown without fear.

  The next thing she knew she was climbing onto the bed, her eyes riveted on the majestic thing rising and curving between Dantar’s thighs. She brought her eyes up to meet his, and he moved at once. With the same hand he had held out to her, he took her by the arm and pulled her to him. All at once, Gwen was encircled by the awesome, sweetly crushing arms of the King of Sarma and received his lips and tongue in a kiss more luxurious than all the furnishings of the royal bedchamber.

  Gwen’s resistance was gone as if blown away by the very sandstorm from which she had been taken. One kiss became another, and another and another, and somewhere amid the kisses his hands slid the gown from her body and made her nearly naked, with only her halter and underthings remaining. His warm hands caressed and explored the full, round curves of her thighs and buttocks; roamed the large and plump contours below her waist without inhibition or restraint. He parted their kiss long enough to ask, “Why do you speak of your body as though it is not a thing of desire? Do the men of Earth not compete to enter and be inside a woman such as you?”

  Feeling more shy and vulnerable than she had yet felt in all her time here, Gwen softly replied, “A lot of men don’t. A lot of them would rather do it to…another kind of woman. One who’s built a little…smaller than I am.”

  “They are fools,” Dantar said. “They are not worthy of you. I shall ever be worthy and I shall ever be true.” And he took her mouth in another torrid kiss to erase all doubt. At the slow parting of their lips, he drilled his eyes into hers and asked, “Will you do me the honor of going to my zazansa and tasting of me?”

  Understanding what he wanted, Gwen nodded yes and moved herself down to his parted thighs where his erect bludgeon awaited her. She breathed in, catching a whiff of his musky man scent, before parting her lips and putting the foreskin-encircled head in her mouth. Dantar leaned his head back against his pillow, shut his eyes, and let out a long “Mmmmm…” of pleasure, the first intimate pleasure of the royal bed. Responding to his delight, Gwen opened wide and slid further down his veined and pulsing shaft, filling her mouth with him. He tasted marvelous. Consuming his piece, Gwen felt herself slowly becoming a denizen of another world.

  All thoughts of resistance were gone. All protests and inhibitions, all reasons for not accepting his desire or her own were now null and void. Gwen had not known as many men in her life as she would have liked, and she poured years of too much wanting and too little having into the way she sucked Dantar’s tool. Dantar flexed the plates of his chest and ab muscles and, at the satisfaction of his man-meat being hungrily devoured by his chosen mate, emitted grunts and groans that were more like the utterances of an animal than the sounds that a king would make. His leg muscles twitched and his toes curled in response to the way she pulled at his length and let it slide along her tongue. He took pride at the portion of his erection she could slip into her mouth, and found utter delight in the way she let it slip out only to move her tongue to the base and swirl it around the circumference. He knew instinctively that Gwen must have practiced oral sex in her mind thousands of times, anticipating and hoping for a moment such as this. He resolved that there would be many such moments, not only this morning but each day for the rest of their lives, and that they would be the preamble to still greater joys.

  Gwen continued making a meal of the bounty between Dantar’s legs, taking his piece in long and sumptuous sucks, and sending her tongue down behind the root of his maleness to lick at the generous roundness of the man-fruits that lay so ripe in his sac. She feasted on him and sent wave after wave of delight rolling through the fantasy of muscles that was his body, savoring the succulent taste of him, feeling as though she would never get enough—until at last he looked down his torso at her, stroked the dark thickness of her hair, and said, “Come back up now and take me inside your gliarra.”

  Once again context told Gwen his meaning. Her gliarra could be only one thing, and hearing that he was ready for it, she was all at once aware of how wet and engorged it had become from the way she had sucked his zazansa. Wearing a Mona Lisa smile and exhaling in anticipation, she climbed back up onto the bed beside Dantar and lay on her back with knees bent and thighs parted. He moved with all the speed, surety, and skill that he had shown rescuing her outside, whisking away her halter and undergarments and making her naked. With the same decisiveness he climbed atop her and lowered himself into the valley between her legs, bringing his bludgeon, wet from her sucking, into play. Gwen wrapped her arms around his shoulders and moaned long and joyously at the first passage of Dantar’s tool between her slippery folds and deep into her passage.

  Dantar took her with all the pent-up fire and passion of having wanted to be inside her since the day before. All of his unrelieved wanting went into every deep, hard, swift stroke of his long and beautiful tool inside Gwen’s wet and quivering gliarra. While pumping fast and furiously in and out of her, he lowered his face to hers and kissed and licked her lips. “At last I am in you,” he moaned softly into her mouth. “I am in you and you are so good. I wish never to take myself out of you. I wish I could keep it in you forever.” And he beat on and on, throwing the full force of his muscles against her, slamming ecstatically against Gwen’s mound and driving his hard weapon of flesh into her tightening wetness.

  Gwen made incoherent and rapturous sounds of bliss under Dantar, accepting his every thrust, receiving and welcoming his every stroke, and feeling herself becoming someone new with the way he penetrated and possessed her. She felt her flesh and her being joining his, yielding to him and merging with him. She felt his awesome erection making her a part of him as it claimed the moist and slick depths of her sex. She could only imagine that he was reaching all the way to her womb, and that when his moment arrived he would pour himself into her as a raging river.

  Gwen held tight to him, feeling his thrusts and beats as if in every cell of her body, letting him build the intensity of his mad, frenzied humping to where it must inevitably go. When he tore his lips from hers, gritted his teeth, and released a loud grunt into the air—“Uuuhhh…!”, she knew that the moment was upon him. With a last impassioned blow against her mound, he drove his length all the way into her and held it there. He kept his teeth clenched and made a sound akin to Rrrrrr…!, the sure sign that his godlike body was now charged with orgasm and that a mighty burst of sticky white wetness was now surging into Gwen’s depths. She tightened her thighs around him, encouraging him to empty himself into her completely, to give her every d
rop that he produced. And Dantar obliged her. He kept his throbbing length locked inside her for a long time before finally relaxing on top of her.

  It was with the greatest reluctance that Dantar pulled out, but also with the knowledge that he had one more duty to perform as her mate. Slowly he climbed down between Gwen’s thighs to where his zazansa had been, and let his tongue find the pulpy knob that controlled the one joy even greater than his penetration of her. She moaned at what he did, the licking and sucking at what his tongue so skillfully found. He played with it, licking and swirling and stroking, carrying her along with every pass of his tongue upon it until he brought her up to the heights that he had reached by thrusting inside her. Her ultimate, wailing outcry of euphoria told him that his mission was accomplished and that ripples of unbridled pleasure were now spreading and bouncing through the body of his new mate.

  Afterwards, they sat up in each other’s arms in bed, mouths sliding and sucking together, hands roaming over breasts and pecs and down to the treasures between their legs. “It is done, my love,” said Dantar. “Or in truth, it is only begun: for I shall have you in bed all this day and all this night. I shall lie atop you and enter you and fill you many times before we are wed. The servants will bring food and drink that we need not leave here. We need only lie together and know one another’s bodies.”

  “Still with the royal wedding?” she sighed before giving in to another sensuous kiss.

  “It must be. Thus joined in body, we must join in life.” And he kissed her yet again to underline his decree.

  Gwendolyn Rush, having thus been fantastically sexed by a man beyond her imagining, a man who expressed in no uncertain terms his intention to keep her and sex her without let, relaxed in his arms and pondered what he offered her. But this time she pondered it without indignation, without outrage, without resistance or the thought of protest. Perhaps she had been looking at the whole thing in the wrong way.

  She had come to Sarma seeking answers about the origins of its people and their relationship to her own. Perhaps in his desire for a queen and her desire for knowledge lay an opportunity. As Dantar’s queen she would hold vast authority and have the resources of a planet at her disposal. There might just be a way to be the woman under Dantar in his bed and to accomplish what she set out to do.

  The ruler of a planet could surely build a university of her own.

  THE END

  Desired by the Alien Prince

  DESIRED BY THE ALIEN PRINCE

  "All dressed up and don't want to go."

  That was the way Danielle Dryden felt while studying herself in the full-length mirror in her suite at the resort. She looked beautiful—at least, as beautiful as she felt capable of being—in her flowing pale yellow-gold gown and elegant gloves that matched the color of the clouds of Saturn and its rings that were at that moment shimmering outside her picture window. She looked lovely with her brown hair all done up in shiny curls falling over her bare shoulders and just to the middle of her bare back.

  She was dressed for a ball. She had come all the way out from her parents' estate on Mars to the exclusive and opulent Titan II Resort, orbiting Saturn's largest moon, just for this event. But, if the truth be told, her heart was just not in it. Only her parents' insistence had brought her and her finery all the way out here. Had it not been for them and the occasion of the ball, she would have been happy just to stay home. Forever.

  She had not been in a party mood for weeks, not since the thing that happened with Braden. She had been so sure about him, and so sure about the two of them. Here, she had allowed herself to believe, was finally The One. He had never lied to her, never misrepresented himself to her, never pretended to her. Braden was for real. His attentions and his intentions were both genuine. This, she was sure, was going to work. This, she was convinced, was going to be her life and her future. Braden accepted her. Braden was willing to make a life with the face that men always thought was pretty, and everything that went with it—the arms that other men found too stout, the hips that other men found too wide, the bottom that other men thought was too full, the legs that other men thought were too big and sturdy. Braden saw that there was more of her to love and he loved it all.

  The trouble was that what he enjoyed better in bed was the slender blonde with the more graceful, lean curves. The slender blonde had far less money and far less girth than Danielle. And it thus became clear to Danielle that what Braden loved best about her was her pretty face, her sparkling wit, the vast holdings and resources of her family and the social, business, and political connections that they afforded. Braden was an attentive, doting, passionate, and oh-so ambitious lover. The greatest part of what he had felt for her, after all, was the private ambition. Danielle examined herself in the mirror now, studied what Braden had told her that he accepted, and felt like the most naive creature in the universe for believing him.

  She had believed in him because, in truth, she wanted to believe in him. She needed to believe in him. She had convinced herself that in a space filled with billions of men, on Earth and on far-flung moons and asteroids, there had to be one—just one—whom she would actually want, and who would actually want her in return. After all, in a galaxy full of millions of potentially life-supporting planets, there statistically had to be some that did contain life, and some that contained intelligent life, and some that even harbored life capable of space travel. Reality had borne out the statistics and humanity was now in contact with dozens of such species. If the odds had been on the side of extraterrestrial intelligence, they must surely also be on the side of Danielle Dryden finding the love that she most wanted. Daniel had seized upon Braden as proof of the odds.

  And then Braden had gone and demonstrated the probability of a gorgeous, handsome, well-built man being attracted to gorgeous, slender women, proving to her the true order of the universe.

  "Well, Danielle sweetie," she told herself with a sigh, "the universe doesn't care what we believe, does it? Or what we need to believe. The universe is what it is and goes on that way regardless."

  There was no need to go on checking herself in the mirror. She was put together as well as she was ever going to get, at least on the outside. All she needed to do was get through the next few hours for her parents' sake, and it would all be over and she could go home to Mars and not have to think any more about socializing, or about the company of desirable men who really desired women to whom nature had given less than it had given Danielle Dryden. Just one elegant, glittery, opulent party to get through, filled with VIPs and glitterati from across known space, and she would be done.

  She huffed a bit at her reflection. Perhaps, after all, she was taking the wrong attitude about this whole thing. Yes, she would have to get through a whole evening in a ballroom at one of the most posh and high-end guesthouses in the solar system. And yes, she would have to spend the whole evening ignoring her broken heart and smiling and saying all the right things to the most prominent and famous people from dozens of planets. But was it really so much to have to endure? Was it really so bad that her parents had managed to cajole her into coming all this way for this occasion? This evening was a rare thing, to be sure. It wasn't every day that even a woman of Danielle's wealth and in Danielle's position was introduced to a prince.

  Yes, the ball was being given for a prince. And not just any prince, but the prince of another planet. And moreover, this was not just any other planet. Sarma and its relationship with the planet Earth had become the talk of the galaxy. Against all odds, against all the laws of biology and probability, Earth had made contact with an extraterrestrial species that so closely resembled humans that it was widely believed they shared a common ancestor. It was practically all that one ever heard about in space these days—how scientists had speculated that unknown aliens visited Earth eons ago, captured early humans and whisked them back to their own planet, molded them into warriors, then disappeared for reasons equally unknown and leaving the descendants of their breeding subj
ects to their own devices. Those descendants were the proud inhabitants of Sarma, distinguishable from Earth humans only by the hair that descended in a tapering, narrowing pattern from the scalp hairline to the bridge of the nose. The Sarmians: civilized, with their own arts and technology and their own space travel capabilities, yet warriors at heart.

  Even Danielle, mourning what she had thought were the prospects of marriage to a desirable man, had taken notice of the Sarmians. She had not actually met any of them yet. She knew only what was most generally known of them—that their planet had been through a time of devastating struggle over the throne of its aging king, and that the royal family had barely won out. The elder prince, Dantar, had thus taken the throne.

  It was probably only the badly broken infrastructure of Sarma, and the need for its people to regroup and recover from the wars, that had made their first contact with Earth a peaceful one. Now terrestrial humankind, excited and fascinated to have found brothers across the stars, was keenly interested in staying friends. So it was that when Dagin, the younger Prince of Sarma, decided to take some time traveling in human space, the government of Earth wasted no time throwing a party in his honor. And so that was what Danielle Dryden was doing billions of kilometers from home: preparing herself to meet the prince of another world.

  Danielle plucked her linker from the discreet pocket on her left glove and checked the opaque crystal for the time. If the party were being given aboard one of the other habitats in the Saturnine system, she would have used the linker to call for a shuttle. Given that her destination was on a lower level of Titan II itself, she had only to walk to the ball. She made for the hatch of her suite and stepped out into the corridor of the resort that rotated so gently above Titan to simulate Earth's gravity. The lights dimmed, the hatch shut itself behind her, and she was on her way.