Page 17 of Taken to Voraxia
Recognizing what I want, he sweeps my hand aside and replaces his claw-tipped fingers with the heel of his hand. He rubs my clit in a circular motion while his hand on my tail squeezes like a noose…and that’s all it takes.
I scream and choke out a gasp. My gut clenches and releases and my mind spirals into oblivion. I cling to him as devastation ruins me. Rebuilds me. Unearths me. Because I’ve never felt anything like this.
He whispers low in my ear while his palm grinds against my clit and his other hand twists around my tail. I never knew sex could feel like this. And we haven't even had sex yet.Yet?
“Oh stars…” I’m panting as the chaos lasts eternal and when I finally, finally climb down from a realm of pure euphoria, I’m too weak to move. And that’s fine. That’s just fine…
He catches me and shuts the water off, turns my body around, cradles the back of my neck in one great hand. He says something to me and I recognize only one word —Xiveri— because since the last time it’s been burned in my memory.
“Xiveri,” I whisper but I don't know why. All I know is that the single word produces a kaleidescope of color fleetingly in his brow, before settling on a deep, dramatic blue.
“Hexa,” he breathes and his breath smells like shade and sweetwater and blood.He fought for me today. And when we left the colony, he didn't hurt anyone. Even though I broke my promise.
“Xiveri,” he pauses, takes a breath, “Xiveri Miari.”
Hearing my name in his rich timber sounds downright sinful. I can't catch my breath and when he releases my tail quite suddenly I tumble to the side, only to find myself tossed back up in his arms in a single swift movement.
The water shuts off and a dramatic burst of air comes at us from all sides. I cower away from it in the safety of his chest, and when it ends, I catch the curve of one side of his mouth in the makings of a shocking smile.Shocking only because it's handsome. He is a handsome male.No. He’s a monster.Fine, then a handsome monster…
Out of the white paneled room, we enter another. Dim lights reveal blank paneled walls surrounding a low bed. He places me in its center and I squeeze my thighs together, the fever of my pleasure parting as it occurs to me that the tail trick was a clever diversion. Distracted as I am, he wants something else. And for just a second, I feel completely prepared to give it.
Spurred by the sight of him standing there, fully nude, cock jutting, I grab for the sheet and try to wrap it around myself, but my arms are shaking and the moment I get it around my middle, he snatches up one corner and tears the whole thing away.
I shout when he slides one knee onto the bed and then the other, and then falls over me. His heat hits me like a wave, its power unforgiving. I moan and I feel him shift, feel him arch over me, feel the stiffness of his malehood press up against my weeping folds, my aching slit.
“Stars, no…” I’m not ready for this. My body may be, but my thoughts are in turmoil. “I just…I just want to see my friends…please…”
He holds my forehead down and I try to wrench free of his grip. I can feel his frustration as he rumbles words at me that I can’t understand. He must know that I’m equally frustrated.
The thicket of lust in my belly that has consumed almost all of my reason is thorny and well-rooted, so when I manage a strangled, “Stop,” even I’m surprised.
He pulls back and even though his face is as expressionless as ever, his ridges flash white and then pink before settling again on purple.
He says something to me and when I don’t answer, shakes his head. I lay still as he sits up, frozen except for the rapid rise and fall of my chest. He glances at it, but only for a second before grabbing my ankle and dragging me across the pallet towards him in one sweeping pull.
I squeal and use my hands to shield my face, but the blow I expect to feel never lands. Cautiously, I open my eyes only to see him hovering over me, ridges the flaxen color of stone flour. He takes my hands and presses them beneath his own against the mattress on either side of my head and simply stares at me, frowning, while I take in the closeup of his profile.
I’m surprised to find that his eyes, though black, are shockingly complex. Something’s swirling in there, a shifting black like the slow burn of a flame or the gentle dance of smoke. They shine like eternity. Like a promise of something gentle. And I know it’s a lie. These beings are nothing but liars and rapists and savages and this one here? He’s the king of them.
Monster, I remind myself — Ihaveto remind myself —monster…
I look away and squeeze my eyes shut tight, refusing to be distracted by the sight of him, or the rich smell of his skin.
Removing his hold from my wrists, he switches his grip to my face and presses my left cheek into the bedding. I can feel him working at something — his cock maybe? — and I grab his hands, trying to hold him off, but it makes no difference.
A second later and cold liquid sloshes over my ear, tunneling down the canal.What has he done?I yelp, but he ignores my cries and turns my head the other way to repeat the process.
Whatever he’s infected me with has no smell, and though it isn’t painful, the liquid viscous, almost like it’s aliving thing,making its way slowly inwards towards my brain and when it finds it — pop!
My head spins, all thoughts scrabbled, and when the sudden intense pressure clears, I’m lying on my back and he’s bent over me, utterly expressionless.Why hasn’t he entered me yet?The small voice in the back of my mind is two parts grateful, one part disappointed.
And then he says, “I have implanted a translator. You will tell me if you understand my words.”
“Holy stars, how…with the juice?” We don’t have anything so sophisticated on the colony. I’ve never evenheardof technology like this.
The corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to smile but doesn’t know how. “The juice, yes.” He holds up a yellow vial where I can see black liquid insidesquirming. Great. So, itisalive.
I shudder but I don’t feel any outward signs to distress me. And besides, I’ve got bigger problems. Much bigger. He ishuge. A whole head higher than I am — no, two — with muscles that glimmer like smooth stones as they shift beneath skin that’s smooth in some places, in others, tough like wood and leather. His long legs more than eat up the rest of the bed and though his hips are slim, they flare up into shoulders twice as broad as mine.
