Page 48 of The Alien Warlord's Fated Mate

Then her mind replayed what he’d said, and she blinked and whispered, “Oh.”

His tongue. His fingers.

She swallowed to wet a suddenly dry throat and sucked her lower lip into her mouth. “Zoran?”

His gaze remained fixated on his play. “Yes,pjora-la.”

“I think I’d like you to mark me again.”

His eyes flew to hers, and she was relieved to see that some of the color had returned to their dark depths. A slow smile spread across his face. Before she could answer him in kind, he was flat on the bed below her, chest down, with his teeth buried in her thigh and his cheek pressing hard against her lady bits. Her hips thrust against his face, seeking both pleasure and pain, and he snaked a hand under her other thigh, nestling it in the crook of his arm as he splayed his palm along her lower abdomen and held her still, right where he wanted her.

He took his time with this mark, piercing the flesh once, lapping the sting away with his tongue. Sucking lightly until she moaned and writhed, then digging his fangs in again in the exact same spot. His cheek provided a counterpoint to his movements, brushing against her clit in the best kind of tease until she had to curl her fingers into the bedding to keep herself from begging him.

Harder, faster,more.

With one final lick, he abandoned her thigh and captured her clit in a hard, demanding kiss, sucking her into his mouth as he had her skin, so hard she rolled her hips against him and crested sharply in another orgasm.

“Good girl,” he growled, and she whimpered and panted, and still would not beg.

His tongue slid lower, echoing the path his cock had taken, and pushed gently against the skin around her opening. There was no hesitation this time, however, no patient play as he accustomed her to his touch. One moment his tongue teased the edges of her pussy. The next it pushed deep into her, so deep his fangs grazed her skin.

He drew back long enough to murmur, “Taste so good.” Then his mouth closed over her clit and his finger replaced his tongue, easing slowly into her, filling her. He hummed against her skin, flicked his talented tongue against her clit, and touched a livewire buried deep in her channel. She came apart then, her hands clenched into fists against the bedding, her hips grinding into his mouth, and the plea slipped unbidden from her mouth.

“Please, Zoran!”

His laugh thrummed through her, strangely sensual and dark, and a second finger joined the first, stretching her so well, she cried, “Good mate.”

The words spurred him into a frenzy. Where before he’d been first gentle and then firm, now he ravaged her like a wolf savaged its prey. His touch didn’t just demand her response; it commanded her to obey him, commanded her to yield, to give herself wholly, to shatter.

And so, she did, shattering into an infinite interplay of light and shadow meant for him and him alone, hanging suspended against him as he wrung every morsel of pleasure from her, swallowing it greedily into himself.

Mia floated for a while in the downdraft, heady on the depth of the high he’d given her. More than once, she thought, amazingly unembarrassed. Her senses returned to her slowly, first the feel of his hard thighs under hers, then the weight of the day’s growing heat, and finally the slick sound of his hand stroking his cock.

She opened her eyes and couldn’t quite hold back a grin. “That was something.”

He rumbled agreement, his gaze firm on hers, his hand almost lazy on his erection.

“You’re not going to, ah.” She cleared her throat and glanced at his cock. “Finish?”

“Are you so eager to wear my seed?”

That did draw a blush. “Wear it?”

“All along the smooth ivory of your stomach, dripping down the pretty flower folds of your pussy.”

“Oh, my God,” she breathed.

He flashed his fangs for her in a dark grin. “One day, I will empty my seed into you and pray it takes root so that I may watch it grow within you into a child born of your blood and mine. This is what I think on now, beloved. The rutting you so feared.”

Images flooded her mind, of Zoran making love to her, of his hand splayed across her gravid midriff, of him cradling their infant tenderly against his chest, his eyes bright above the sharp lines of his cheekbones. The images ignited a longing as deeply rooted as her need for belonging. A child to love and protect. Zoran’s child. The permanence that child represented. How could he have known how much she wanted to belong?

She stretched her hand toward his and glanced her fingertips across his knuckles and the weeping tip of his cock. “Someday,” she said.

“Mia,” he replied as he dropped his head back and his hand moved faster, more urgently, his chest muscles bunching under the movement. A moment later, he gasped and brought his gaze back to hers, and cum splashed in hot ribbons across her stomach, bathing her in his seed. He leaned forward and braced one palm on the mattress beside her, the other hand still holding his cock.

He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, slid a gentle kiss along her mouth, and she understood then the real lesson.

She had nothing to fear from her warlord, and everything to gain by trusting him.

---