Page 26 of Taken to Voraxia
A tearing sound fills the room and my Rakukanna flinches when I pull the tatters of my tunic away from her red skin.
“Beautiful,” I tell her as my gaze does a brief canvas of her body. She tries to turn away but I wrench her against my chest, eager to feel her weighted mounds against my plates.
I had not realized that female mounds could be so large, or tipped by dark peaks, and I suddenly want to put my mouth on them. Even though I am no babe, I have to know if they taste just as spicy as her mouth does. Just as sweet.
I wrench my mouth from hers and duck low enough to suckle her mounds. She cries out, just as she did in the freshwater tube when I took hold of her tail, and I grin rapturously against her flesh as I lathe the peaks dotting them, each one in turn. Shelikesthis.
“Raku…” she whispers and I’ll be damned to the universe’s lowest rung. The sound of my title on her tongue does things to me. I could sink cities for her, hearing her speak to me in such a way. “Please,” she begs and I shiver all over.Nox, not cities. Civilizations.
She reaches one hand for her breeding folds but I am no simple male. Though I may be unfamiliar as yet with human anatomy, I saw what she liked in the wet room. I felt what made her shatter.
She moves to press on her own swollen silk, but I bat away her fingers and drape my palm over her full sex. “This ismine,” I bark and her whole body sways.
Her knees start to collapse and I sweep them with one arm. I quickly discard my leg coverings and slide onto the pallet above my writhing Rakukanna. The Xanaxana is strong in her and, looking down at her body — knees bending and clenching together, hands fisting the covering on the sleeping pallet, dark peaks on her mounds reaching for the ceiling, and the lips on her face as swollen as those below her waist — I know that she has finally reached it. The Xanaxana has come for her.
My chest soars with pride and gratitude and I shower this kiss all over my Rakukanna’s face. She grabs the back of my head and wrenches me to her mouth and we share in this act for a few moments, but they are too many because I cannot wait. I need to taste.
I rake tongue and teeth down her body, wanting every inch of the jujji fruit her skin offers, before I finally reach the heady, musky scent of spices that spews from her folds. I latch on with my lips and spear her with my tongue and xok…she is sohot. Her skin is cool to my touch, but her insides are so warm. How can this be? And how will this feel wrapped around my length?
I feel awash with incredulity at the thought and the Xanaxana in my stomach begins to beat its fist and more of my dark blue seed stains the white of the sleeping mat beneath us. I need to enter her, but not before I finish lapping up every ounce of the nectar she creates.
She is thrashing now and I hold down her hips as I bury my face in her wetness. She screams my title loud enough I know all on the ship will hear her. I should care for her honor, but I do not. I want her to scream louder,harder.
“Hexa,” I growl against her, “call for me, my Rakukanna.”
“Oh stars,” she pants, the length of each breath coming shorter than the one before it. “Raku, please let me come.”
I refocus my efforts on the mystical bit of flesh above her folds that seems to unleash an incredible amount of the nectar inside of her.
My tongue presses to the raised piece of silk and she screams as if she were in the throes of torture, her hair spraying across the sleeping mat, drenching it in the scent of berry and blossom.
The moment lasts and I notice that if I press my tongue ridges to her soft mound, that the moment extends even longer. She jerks, huffing and heaving my name.Not my name. My title.Her arms are spread wide. One of her hands reaches for my hair and pulls, but I do not feel pain.
“Ra…Ra…Raku!” She shrieks and a spasm contorts her entire body. She shudders involuntarily as if she has lost all control and the sensation of cream covering my chin and jaw ignites a fire inside of me. I am sparked, like the kindling of a dry brush blaze, sure to decimate everything.
“Rakukanna,” I say in a tone so low I can hardly discern it myself. She settles again against the mat, the eye of the storm passed.
I nuzzle my mouth on the insides of her thighs, capturing their softness against my roughness with eyes closed. When they reopen, her folds glisten before my gaze and I lap up all the cream I find there. Spiced fermented jujji does not compare. There is nothing that does. Not in this universe, of that I am sure.
I plant the kiss to her silk mound and her breathing deepens. Her hips buck. “Oh stars…I’ve never been so sensitive…”
“Too sensitive to rut?”
She gasps, perhaps at the vulgarity of my words, or the fact that I have asked her a question, something a Raku does not do. I do not care. I care for nothing but my pleasure and, above that, hers.
“No,” she says on a breath, “nox.”
I growl and my arms shake as I prowl up the length of her body, noting her small shape. I push on her hips to turn her over and am surprised again when she yields.
She moans and her legs struggle to take her weight so I slide one arm beneath her hips and pop them up until her tail brushes my shaft. Lifting it carefully to the side, my Rakukanna barks out a moan. She seems so unfamiliar with the pleasure centers here, it pleases me to be the one to show her. And Iwillshow her…over the course of many matings, just as irreverent as this one.
We have acted in the kiss, I have tasted parts only made for babes and breeding, and yet has any Voraxian male ever felt a pleasure as great as this? Nox. This is a defamation of all things mating.
And my Xanaxana is thrilled by it.
My hand shakes as I grip the head of my xora and lower it down past her first puckered hole. My free hand I bury in her tresses, which glow a rich, nutty color in the dim light.
I have the strange compulsion to want to look at her as we are mated, and tilt her head to the side. She sees me over her shoulder and on her face, she wears a pleasure expression that has the impact of a sabron collider shot straight to the breast. Her grappling hooks bore into the cavernous hole left behind and with one pull, she tears through bone and flesh and plates and leaves me open. Then she crawls inside.
