* * *
The moment he saw the solitary tear, Galen knew he had to act swiftly. Her tattoos had faded. They’d spiked glorious for a few seconds after she’d seen him naked, then gone again. Something wasn’t right. She should be drawing up her knees, parting her legs, and arching her back.
Except, this was a human creature. A virgin with little experience and he must appear to her as a beast waiting to ravish her. A Vendu female would find such an awakening exciting, if challenging. Zara hadn’t the heart of a submissive, not yet. She was learning, but he’d overestimated her readiness. He could spank her into a deeper state of submission, bind her legs wide apart, all things that might inflame a Vendu woman into a state of wantonness, but he doubted they would work for Zara.
Leaning over her, he unlocked her bindings and released her wrists. She gasped, her eyes springing wide open as he scooped her up into his arms. Holding her tight against his chest, he kicked the door open, marched out down the corridors to his chamber.
“Galen—” she exclaimed.
“Hush, little human.” He silenced her with a stare.
He laid her on his bed. “We’ll start again. What say you, Zara Webb? I shall still demand your obedience and I shall punish you if you are naughty. You are still mine. However, it was a mistake to think you would simply bend to my desires and surrender your virginity. I see that now. This joining of our bodies, it shall meet both our needs. Do you trust me?”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“I trust you, Galen.”
“Then.” He brushed his palm against one of her nipples. A ring appeared around it. “Let me lead. This night you shall not be bound for my pleasure. This night I shall take you as I promised I would. I keep my promises.”
He lowered his mouth over her trembling lips and kissed them lightly. She opened her mouth for him to dip his tongue between her teeth, but no further. It was a prelude to what was to come. His mouth became his weapon for foreplay and slowly, he linked his actions to his fingers. While he kissed her, they mapped out every contour of her body with leisurely caresses.
&
nbsp; Her tattoos awoke, bringing to the surface a rainbow of dark colors as she gasped and moaned. When he parted her legs and fluttered his tongue over her delicate clitoris, she held her breasts and squeezed her nipples. He would let her play this time. Allow the act of self-pleasuring. But only this time. They enjoyed a duet of his mouth and her roving hands until the tattoos were black as ebony.
He slid his body up hers, grazing her nipples with his chest until they were face to face. Her half-open eyes registered him with a flash of brightness. His cock was there, nudging at her entrance. Each poke separated her lips wider as he prepared her.
“You’re wet, so fucking wet,” he murmured. He kissed her lips, her cheeks and forehead, reassuring her with his mouth, while below, he probed, testing her readiness.
Zara panted, “Yes. I feel it.”
She would. She was saturated to the point he was sliding up and down her slit—her fertile sex open and needy. The state of her arousal excited his cock into a pillar of rock hardness. He’d not felt this stiff before. If he’d taken her in her room as he planned, he would have missed out on this feeling. Even the ache in his balls was energizing. He continued to glide the head of his erection between her slippery folds. What a fantastic sensation and it oiled his cock, too.
She drew her knees up higher and wide apart, tilting her pelvis to accommodate his rocking hips. He’d not asked her, but she’d done it instinctively. Around her head, her blonde hair flowed out in the shape of a fan with her flushed face at its epicenter. The blush of hot blood extended down her neck and filled the background of her tattoo. Black on pink, almost crimson. She wanted to come. He didn’t need a tattoo to tell him she was close and he’d yet to spear her, claim her.
It was his desire too, to see her come. First, he had to take her, make her his beyond any doubt. Damn the ordeal, the rituals, for this night they did not matter. No chains, no pleading for mercy, no battery of thrusts to knock down her door. Instead, he leaned into her, opening her up.
Her eyes sprang open wide. Was she about to deny him with words? The tattoos told him a different story, but words, especially hers, could change those colors, diminish their intensity.
“Take me,” she said hoarsely. “Take me, Galen.”
“I shall, Zara.” He swung forward with his hips and pushed aside any resistance. With one fluid movement, he’d erased her virginity. It was gone.
Chapter Eight
Passion. She’d not expected an exhibition of passion among the pain and pleasure. There was pain, yes; it was the proof of her innocence. He was huge and the girth of his cock, thickened and unyielding, speared her with one thrust. She called out and grabbed his arms, clinging to his biceps as they bulged. He held that position, hands planted on either side of her head, back straight and hips between her colorful thighs. She gazed up at him. His face was a state of bliss, eyes half closed, mouth ajar. He was savoring her, like a dish of sweetness.
She inhaled deeply, focused on his impressive masculinity, which formed a bridge over her body, and pushed aside the discomfort.
Wait, just wait. It will go.
She was right, the pinch eased and she started to stretch. He inched deeper. Each tiny progression of his cock caused a spark of electric energy that centered around her clit. There was friction, she felt it, but it wasn’t hindering his progress because she aided it with her own natural lubrication. Now, her virginity was gone. Destroyed. She was glad. She’d no regrets, no harboring of doubts. Having an alien, a Vendu warrior take it, was a worthy accolade. She might even boast about it to her friends. They would be envious.
She smiled softly, and briefly, because he was still inside her and he seemed, heavens above, to be growing bigger!
Maybe it was seconds, but it seemed like minutes while he held her there with his nose burrowed into her hair. He exhaled deeply. Then, he eased back and withdrew.