by Alana Khan
The smell is rich and fertile with decomposing leaves. Birds call to each other from up above. I feel protected in the gloam. I allow the cocoon of safety to blanket me, feeling my body stand down for what feels like the first time in months.
A huntsman approaches. Because I’m feeling safe here, surrounded by the peaceful ambience of the forest, I don’t startle, I just watch him. He’s tall and powerful, his erect posture shouting his control. Brown hair streaked with blond reaches halfway down his back. An animal pelt is thrown over his shoulders; leather breeches hug his muscular thighs.
His face holds intelligent golden eyes that are keenly interested in me. His lips are full and sensual. The first thought arrowing into my brain is to wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips. By the way his gaze caresses my face, I think he’s wondering the same thing about me.
A small smile tips the corners of his mouth even as he slows his approach, then stops. A sound vibrates from deep in the back of his throat as he waits expectantly. Though not a word has been exchanged, I know he's waiting for me to bridge the distance between us.
Feeling no fear, I edge closer. With each step, his appealing looks become more apparent. Tanned skin, wide shoulders, rippled abdomen and trim hips beckon me.
The stirrings of desire build in my pelvis, then swirl there, gathering strength until I feel the drumbeat of arousal lower, as it pulses in my clit.
A dim recess of my mind wonders why I feel so calm, why I have no fear, but I continue to approach him until we’re almost toe to toe. I look up into his face and notice the sharp planes of his cheekbones, the warm gold of his eyes.
After laying down his bow, he grips both of my shoulders in his huge, calloused hands. Everything about him is warm, not just the expression on his face, but his skin--heat radiates off him.
My nipples prick, desperate to be held in his large palms.
A little moan escapes me as he wordlessly dips his head toward me, eliminating the distance between us. When he finally kisses me, just a simple kiss, just lip on lip, I moan even louder as I release everything I’ve been holding back for so long.
Gone is the tightly wound woman who never wanted to share herself with anyone. I banish her, wishing for the briefest moment I could slay her. I want this, and make the conscious decision to allow it.
He pulls my shirt over my head and tugs my pants off before I’m truly aware it’s happening. I’m not embarrassed, though. On the contrary, I’m enthralled. He proceeds more slowly as he removes his leather breeches. As impatient as he was to see me, it’s as if he’s allowing me time to savor his body.
And savor I do. With every mouthwatering inch he reveals, my body’s need spikes higher.
He cocks an eyebrow in silent question, as if to ask if I want this. I soundlessly nod. Part of the magic of what’s happening is that we haven’t exchanged a word.
Dipping his mouth to the curve of my neck, he kisses, then licks, then bites me there. I feel his sharp canines before I see them. He pulls his head back to gaze at me, then allows his lips to curl into a wider smile than he showed before. He’s getting all the preliminaries out of the way by exposing long, vicious white teeth.
Does he think they might frighten me? They don’t. I find them attractive. They’re different, tempting. I want to know how they’ll feel to my tongue, or lower, when that soft-lipped mouth explores me in other ways.
To answer his silent question, I approach him. I lean on tiptoe, slide my arms around his neck and pull him closer for another kiss. Within a moment, our tongues mingle and I learn how to avoid his deadly canines in order to garner pleasure, only pleasure.
His fingers tighten around my shoulders as he pulls me as close as two people can be. His head moves, dipping and bending as he plies me with kisses.
My mind is in too many places at once. I’m loving his mouth on mine and the war he’s waging as we thrust and parry. I’m also noticing the tight points of my nipples as they drag against the soft hair on his chest.
When his leg bends and he nestles his thigh between my legs, nudging them apart, then pressing on my clit, I think I’ll lose my mind. I don’t, though, I just moan, then dip my legs to garner more pressure from his obliging leg.
He slides his hands from my shoulders, down my back, and along my sides to my breasts. His thumbs strum my hardened buds in unison, causing me to suck in a surprised breath as pleasure bursts throughout my body.
Now he’s plucking them, and the feeling is so intense they ache from the exquisite pleasure.
We could go on like this forever--it feels that good--but I don’t want to. I want release. Urgently.
My hands have been lodged on his chest, but I liberate them from their perch and allow their slow slide down soft skin covering solid muscle. They travel southward, over hardened male nipples and rippling washboard abs, following the happy trail of hair below his navel until they find the prize. The proud staff jutting between us.
I smile in realization when I find It’s too thick for my fingers to reach around. While avoiding speech, I relay my appreciation with a feline noise of pleasure. He rewards me with a hard kiss on my lips and another nip of those sharp teeth on the column of my throat.
My hand still on his granite-hard cock, he grips my thigh, then glides higher. His hand slips between my legs, and one finger slides between my damp folds. He grunts his pleasure as his fingers slick along the slit, lubricating the way.
One finger enters me, then another, as he develops a rhythm. My nails bite into his pecs, then I tip my head back, letting it loll there as I bask in his ministrations.
I try not to marvel at his dexterity as he presses into me with two fingers while his talented thumb swipes in circles at the side of my clit.
My gaze finds his as I pant in pleasure. Lifting one leg and pressing my heel against the back of his thigh, I open myself to his attentions until the passion swirling inside me increases and doubles and redoubles until I can’t hold the tides back any longer.
I’m bowled over by the force of my orgasm as it sweeps through me like a tidal wave. It doesn’t build in increments, no it slams into me, crashes over me, and pulls words from my mouth even though I hadn't wanted to speak.
“Oh! Good! Oh!” The words mean nothing. They’re mindless expressions of my pleasure.
Just as my muscles relax, shoulders sagging, my leg on its way back to the ground, he grunts, nips his canines against my shoulder, and his fingers start their assault again.
I circle my arms around his neck, his body dipped low enough for me to easily reach, and give myself over to the magic of his hand.
With his thumb circling and his fingers pounding into me, my next orgasm barrels at me so fast I don’t even know it’s coming until it bursts through me like a supernova. My muscles grip deep in my pelvis, then the spasms radiate throughout my body. My teeth clench and my toes curl with the force of the pleasure slicing through every cell of my body.
Before the bliss completely dissipates, I grip his cock and nudge it right where it belongs.
“Yes,” I say.
He eases himself into my warm, wet, waiting channel as I feel every inch of him. He’s hot. And big. So big I have to widen my stance and tip my pelvis forward to make his entry easier.
The feel of him inside me is paradise. That first breach as he stretches me, is almost enough to put me over the edge again. My focus is singular as my mind follows his progress, noting every bump and ridge as well as the burn of acceptance as I open myself to him.
He stands taller and lifts me as if I’m light as a leaf on the wind. I grip his shoulders and hang on for the ride as he pounds into me. Our gazes lock for a moment, then he tips his head back in ecstasy, still thrusting in a rhythm as old as time.
My sensitized clit feels every slide and grind as he impales himself on me over and over. With every plunge, I feel his hot length and girth. All I need to do is decide I want to come, and I fly over the edge again. As soon as I find the en
ergy to open my eyes, I see the grimace of pleasure squeeze his face as he releases into me with a growl.
Dipping his head, he bites my shoulder with lip-covered teeth. Perhaps it’s because I don’t protest, but he peels his lips away and allows his sharp canines to score me. Two razor-thin lines mark my pale flesh. He tries to hide the smallest smile, proud of the symbol of his possession. I like it, too.
I’m boneless. I lay my head on his chest and allow myself a moment to bask in this pleasure.
Maybe it’s a noise that awakens me, or maybe my mind refused to allow me one more moment of the peace and joy this dream provided.
My eyes fly open, regretfully informing me I’m back in my cabin, on board the Fool’s Errand. Immediately, my thoughts slip into normal Willa mode. I want to scold myself for my sexy dream, figure out what time it is, and hurry to the shower to get ready for another day aboard this vessel.
Maybe it’s that the dream was too exquisite, too perfect, but I refuse to jump into my workday routine. I decide to give myself a few minutes of pleasure, as if the huntsmen himself gave me permission.
My hand sneaks between my legs, finding myself drenched and ready. My little clit is plump and aroused. Grazing my fingers across it, I find it’s shockingly sensitized. I circle my clit, just as the huntsman did in my dream. Closing my eyes, I order my body to relax and enjoy this. Being able to give myself pleasure isn’t a crime, I remind myself.
Although my mind just had several mind-bending orgasms, my body is still desperate for release. It’s the work of a moment to circle my clit, pressing just a bit harder in increments until I allow myself the gratification of flying over the edge.
This time, the release isn’t imaginary. My muscles spasm in bliss as they clench and release in a banquet of pleasure.
I float back into my body, open my shuttered eyes and see WarDog, paws on the bed, huge face an inch from mine, head cocked in interest. His hot breath fans my face.
“WarDog! Once every week or so you’ve got to give me ten minutes of alone time.”
He inches closer and nudges me with his soft, wet black nose. Somehow, that doesn’t seem like enough of an apology.
Now that I’m fully awake, all the circumstances of my life come crashing back to me. A couple months ago I was stolen from my bed in Benson, Texas and crammed aboard an alien transport ship.
Aliens, yeah. Who knew? Well, actually, I’d always believed in them, but the reality they existed was still a shock. The tusky boar-like aliens, called Urluts, stole me and transferred me to a different vessel for transport to auction.
It was on that ship that I met a few gladiators, another Earth girl, Aerie, and WarDog. The five of us were rescued by the good people of this ship.
People. It’s a term I guess I should use loosely. There are a bunch of Earth women on board. All of us were abducted at various times. All the males, though, are aliens. Most of them are different species from each other. They have one thing in common, they were all gladiator slaves.
They were all imprisoned on a slave ship less than a year ago, and somehow overthrew their masters. Many of them have become couples over the months they’ve been together.
Rather than focus on the fact that I could be back in my real life in Texas, I try to thank my lucky stars every single day that I was rescued from slavery and am aboard this ship as a free woman.
We travel the galaxy in search of earning enough credits to evade our former owners, the MarZan cartel, who are still looking for us.
Many of the males still fight to earn money, though no one fights to the death. There are other matches, where the stakes aren’t that high, where they get to display their prowess and earn credits. Some don’t want to fight anymore, so they’ve found other ways to contribute, but the ones who do seem to enjoy their gladiator bouts.
Some of the women earn money, like Grace who sells her music. Aerie has made herself indispensable by wangling more money for the gladiators’ matches. She uses the negotiating skills she honed as an attorney back on Earth.
And me? I’m still flailing. I help out everywhere I can--the laundry, the kitchen, cleaning. Everyone reassures me that my contribution is enough, but I never quite believe that.
It’s not just my ability to stay on this ship that’s on the line, I feel responsible for WarDog.
The Urluts threw us all into the same cell together. He scared the bejeebers out of me when I first saw him. More, even than the angry green gladiator, or the quiet, pale-skinned scarred one who shared our cell.
WarDog is huge. When he stands, his head comes up to my shoulder. Sitting, his height surpasses my head. If his two-inch-long teeth and snarly looks weren’t terrifying enough, the spiked metal collar was enough to keep anyone with a brain far away.
His body is chestnut brown, his ruff is golden. It’s like a lion’s mane--wild and long and frames his face.
Despite his ferocious looks and enormous size, it took us about five minutes to bond. He shambled directly up to me the moment the Urluts locked us in the cell and nudged his soft, wet nose under my open palm, wanting a pet. His luminous golden eyes spoke wordlessly to me, and the second time he prodded me, I obliged. We’ve been inseparable ever since.
I always wanted to be a vet, I have a love of animals. At first, I believed I wasn’t smart enough. I’d never been great at school and figured I was destined to have a menial job. It wasn’t until my senior year in high school that I was diagnosed with dyslexia.
I’m still a slow reader, the diagnosis didn’t fix that, but I realized I wasn’t stupid. I really could do anything I wanted with my life, which is what my mom had been telling me my whole life.
Since high school, I worked at a vet’s office and at nights I relearned all the stuff I should have learned in high school. I was just about to apply to college when the Urluts decided I should get an all-expense paid trip to outer space.
WarDog eases his humongous body up onto my bed an inch at a time. I swear, he thinks he’s a lap dog. He also thinks I’m stupid and don’t notice he’s encroaching on my territory. How do you tell a two-hundred pound canine he’s relegated to the floor? I haven't figured that one out yet.
“All right, big guy. Kisses it is.”
~.~
I’ll be placing WarDog on pre-order just as soon as his cover is completed. Look for it in February 2021!
Who’s Who
Galaxy Gladiators:
Zar and Anya—The feline captain of the Fool’s Errand and Anya led the insurrection against their masters and freed all twenty slaves on the original ship. They are loving life mates.
Shadow and Petra—Shadow could pass for human except for his bionic parts, although he’s from planet Morgana. His mate, Petra, is a hairdresser.
Tyree (Tie-REE) and Grace—Tyree morphed from a three-foot-tall non-sexual being to a huge alpha male. His mate, Grace is known throughout the galaxy for her ethereal musical compositions.
Devolose and Tawny—(Dev-AH-lose rhymes with dose) This mated pair left the Galaxy Gladiators to join Dev’s cousin, Thantose, in the Galaxy Pirates series.
Dr. Drayke sun Omron (AHM-ron) and Nova—Nova came aboard after her arm was sliced off in a gladiator fight. Originally an MMA fighter, after she was abducted from Earth, she was trained as a gladiator. She now assists her mate, Drayke in medbay.
Axxios (AXX-ee-ose), Braxxus (BRAX-us), and Brianna—All males of this species are born as twins—one silver and one gold. The gold of the pair is more dominant. They fell hard for Brianna, a BBW massage therapist with a heart big enough to love them both.
Sirius (SEAR-ee-us) and Aliyah (aa·LEE·ya)—Born a geneslave with genetic material from different animal species, Sirius found his mate on planet Nativus. Aliyah was an Earth girl abducted young and nurtured by her native father. Her mother and father’s story is told in the novelette, Jax-Xon.
Dax and Dahlia—Dahlia was ripped from her life on Earth just days before her wedding. She had to adjust to life in space
before she could realize how compelling her feelings were for huge gladiator, Dax.
Beast and Aerie (EH-ree)
Beast and Aerie joined the crew when they and three others were rescued from a slave ship. Beast is a Premier Gladiator (one of only ten in the Galaxy), and Aerie was stolen from her life as a Sports Attorney. She had a love for Louboutins and now prefers flipflops with chartreuse alien eyes.
Ar’tok (ARE-tock) and Star
Ar’Tok had just been freed from jail right when he was rescued from a slave ship along with Beast and Aerie. A shy male, he meets human Star through midnight comms. Their love blossoms concurrent with Wrage and Elyse’s book. This couple are not in the bang district, though. They’re on the more respectable part of the planet. Happy Blessed Peace Day.
Wrage (Rage) and Elyse (uh LEASE)
