I lock my gaze with his. "Do you think I'm pretty?" My voice comes out strangled, raspy with desire. I clear my throat, trying to sound more certain of myself, more in control of my body, but it's useless. The man parts his lips, releasing a deep, shaky breath. Lust is obvious across his face and on the volume on his pants. I tell myself I should use his attraction towards me in my favor, but I'm also not thinking straight. "Do you want to touch me?"
Reaching up, I flip my hair away from my neck, exposing my throat. His eyes connect to the pale skin there, and they burn a path down my body. I tell myself I'm playing with him, manipulating this stranger so he can get me out, but the heat of his gaze fuels me on.
My fingers trace down my collarbones, stroking the mound of a breast. I sit up on my ankles, parting my knees as I turn my body to completely face him. Curling my fingers around a tit, I knead at it, keeping my eyes on him, watching his reaction. My lips fall open, and the blond stranger gaping at me shudders at the sight. I take it one step further, pinching my hard nipple between two fingers.
A jolt of pleasure races down my body. It connects straight to my clit. My eyelids flutter shut, and a small moan escapes me. Shit, I should be more in control of this. I should not be so horny when my plan was to seduce him.
The man shifts in place, changing the weight of his body between his feet. Wide eyes, he looks both distressed and about to snap. The muscles of his huge biceps move as he closes and opens his fists, his knuckles going white. He releases another of those labored breaths that keep me going, and I arch my back, showing myself off to him.
I was never a girl with loads of confidence, but wearing a short dress and heels always helped with distracting my poker competitors. Never thought much of it. Never thought I'd use my body for anything more than that. At the same time, I'm locked in a cage, and this man might be my one chance out of this place. Handsome or not, he has some of the Collector's trust if he's allowed to walk around freely. I need that. I need someone to guide me out.
The man takes a step closer. The fingers on one hand playing with my nipple, I let the other hand slide down my stomach, circling the exposed skin around my navel. His attention fastened on me, I watch his eyelids growing heavy. Droopy with desire. He closes his hands in fists, a worrying cracking sound reaching me.
I keep going. My warm digits tease at the waistband of my pants, slipping along the skin, teasing. Our gazes lock, and I get lost in his blue orbs. I've never seen eyes this blue. Like the icy lakes of the north, bright, clear blue that invite me in. That beckon me to its depths, making me forget where I am, and why I am here.
The stranger moves closer again. His shoulders lean forward like I'm pulling him toward me. The taut muscles of his arms are about to snap, and fuck, I want him to tug his pants down in front of everyone and jerk off. I want him to fist that big cock his sweatpants tease and pump it up and down until his come hits my glass. Lust, blinding lust, swirls inside me, pooling between my legs.
My hand slips inside my pants, and I go straight to my core. Parting my lips, I dip my fingers into the wetness of my center and bring the juices to my clit. A sharp jolt races through me, making me slam my eyes shut. My hips buck against my hand, another wave of pleasure washing over me.
"Shit." The word escapes my mouth, and I fight myself to open my eyes. The pleasure makes me want to soak in it, to lie down and forget everything, but that's not what I'm doing here. I need to get this man on my side. He stares at me with his jaw slack, and the tent in his pants grows and twitches. "Do you like what you see?"
He doesn't nod, doesn't say anything. Instead, he reaches out and grips his cock over his pants. More wetness gushes out of me. I hope the Collector doesn't have cameras down here. If he does, he's getting the show of a lifetime.
The idea of being watched makes me hot all over. I shiver with need. With need for more hands on me, for singeing kisses, and the aching plenitude of being filled to the brim. I force the memories away and pick up my pace, my fingers skating back and forth over my clit. The threat of an orgasm grows on the horizon, and I lick my lips.
"Take it out," I beg, even when I shouldn't be saying it like this. My voice isn't under my control. It trembles out in plead as I look at him. "Take it out and stroke your cock for me."
The stranger fists his cock, his bleached knuckles barely moving up and down. He's conflicted, surprised, and I want him. Fuck, I want him to break through this glass and take me. It doesn't matter I don't know him. Doesn't matter he didn't give me his name when I asked. There's a pool of gravity between us, something tugging us together. There's something about him, something I can't point out, something I don't care about.
I just want him.
Pleasure swells inside me. I keep my eyes on him, moving my mouth to no sound, pleading with him wordlessly to let me see his cock, to let him see jerking off to the sight of me. Tightening my pinch on my nipple, I can't stop my eyes from closing, and the supernova explosion of an orgasm crashes into me.
It's first a gasp, then it grows into a moan. My hips move, bucking violently into my hand. The smell of my sex wafts up, taking the cell, and I let the speed of my hand slow down, soaking on the pleasure. My pussy clenches around nothing, pleading to be filled.
My body still trembles with aftershocks when I open my eyes, my chest heaving, and I look up at the hot stranger who just shared this exposed, vulnerable moment with me. My lips curl into a smile as I search for him.
But he's not here anymore. My brows shoot up. Where is he? Through the sound of my breathing, I catch the receding footsteps. He left. He left without a word, abandoning our sexy session before it was over. And I thought he was as into it as I was.
Embarrassment makes my cheeks burn. I pull my hand from my panties and clean the juices on my pants, plopping down with my legs crossed. What the hell did I have in mind when I decided touching myself to a stranger in a rather crowded place was a good idea? I mean, yeah, these creatures around me can't speak English, but maybe they're conscious and I was giving them a show they didn't sign up for.
I sneak a glance at the cage next to me. The weird creature gives me another of those hisses, but this time I can understand it pretty well. It sounds like a horny hiss. Shit. The creature moves a tentacle-slash-appendix thing up and down, and I find that dirtier than if the viking had pulled out his cock at me.
My shoulders sag. Apparently, I can't manage even bad decisions. I lounge back on the bare cell, and after a while with literally nothing to do, I fall asleep again. When I come back, the lights are dimmer than before, and I can only see a couple of feet in front of my cell. It doesn't stop me from feeling eyes on me.
A shiver races down my spine. Dread curls in my stomach. I shoot to my feet. What is this awful feeling? Like it got ten degrees colder out of nowhere, and the eyes of a predator are all over me. I try to see into the cell across from the hallway, wondering if the alien escaped or something, but it's too dark to descry anything. I close my hands in fists, though I know there's nothing I could do but summon shadows. In a closed-off space like this? Against an alien? It would be absolutely useless.
Then red eyes appear in the shadows, and his face, like a body-less head, grinning at me with hunger. I step away, air rushing out of my lungs. Kayn steps closer, his body taking form, and he doesn't need to say anything. I feel it in my bones.
He won't let anyone else take me. He wants me. And he'll do anything to have my powers for him.
CHAPTER 4
TRISTAN
What is this feeling? It grips at my chest, driving me breathless, empties my lungs, squeezes my throat. And it's not only my throat it squeezes. My heart, and my testicles. I've never felt anything like this, such an intense need to be close, to touch someone. My tendons ache from tightening my fists too hard, from holding back from crossing the hallway and going to her.
I want her. I want this woman, this beautiful, beautiful woman who came into the Little Palace with teeth bared and no intention of being dragged into a cell. She has spite. She has a fire in her spirit.