Page 25 of Kenan's Mate
Sometimes I think it’s a curse, how shamefully I ache for the alien who claimed me against my will.
Upstairs, I strip off my dress and drape it over a chair. The breeze enters to caress my skin, and I glance out the window as I stand in the center of the room, admiring the brilliant orange moons.
On Earth, I hadn’t glimpsed the moon often because we’d lived in a busy part of town. Too many street lights and twenty-four hour businesses meant the moon usually looked dull when I actually was lucky enough to see it. Not to mention the neighbors surrounding us that usually left their porch lights on all through the night to deter criminals, as we didn’t live in the safest part of town.
Once, when the power went out for three days after a hurricane, I’d delighted in staring at the moon each evening, absorbing its beauty while I had the chance. I smile at the memory, because I’d spent the third night at Sheila’s house, and we’d slept in the treehouse in her backyard that had miraculously escaped damage. We’d eaten s’mores and giggled and flipped through silly teen fashion magazines, neither of us having any idea the surprises our futures would soon hold.
I wince, as I often do when a particularly joyful memory featuring loved ones I’ll never see again flits through my conscious. What I wouldn’t give to sleep under the stars in Sheila’s treehouse one last time.
On this mountain, the lights from the nearest town are occasionally visible through the thick forest, and only the faintest glow of light hovers above the town. Not enough to block out the moons or the stars. There’s no harm in admiring the beauty of Tallia, I decide, even if I am the captive of a fierce alien warrior, a half-human prince who rules with an iron fist, or so I imagine.
It scares me that executions are part of his duties, according to Heggal. Has Kenan killed anyone since I came to live with him? Has he sentenced any of his people to endure other harsh punishments? I wonder what crimes result in executions, and if Kenan ever sentences criminals to imprisonment instead. Though I’ve only been to town once, and it was a short trip, I didn’t see anything that looked like a jail.
Footsteps sound on the stairs, and my stomach does a little flip. The aching in my core intensifies, and my nipples tighten almost painfully. The door slides open and Kenan strides toward me. My gaze falls to the floor at his fierce expression. It’s hard to distinguish whether he’s angry or aroused at times, and though I know from the bulge in his pants he’s about to claim me, there’s still a sternness to his stare that instinctively prompts my eyes down in a show of submission.
“Part your legs,” he commands, standing over me. His shadow blocks out the glow of the nearby sconces, as well as the light of the moon.
Gulping, I move my feet apart and then stand very still, waiting for his next instructions. My heart pounds an erratic rhythm in my chest, and my breaths come faster and faster. Heat envelops my face when I detect the wetness of my arousal on my inner thigh. I glance at him in time to catch his dark knowing look.
“Put your hands behind your head and clasp your fingers together, Laylah.”
He hasn’t touched me yet, and God I’m aching for that first brush of his hand upon my flesh, or for him to grab me hard and squeeze. Oftentimes, he grabs my pussy or my breasts, firmly enough to make me gasp and writhe in his grip. However, now he seems content to torture me with the absence of his touch.
After a deep breath and a whimper I try to hide, I obey his instructions and clasp my fingers together behind my head. This causes my breasts to jut forward, and I feel exceedingly vulnerable and exposed in the center of the room while he circles me, still completely clothed.
Finally, he comes to stand in front of me again and reaches between my legs. But he doesn’t touch my pussy. Instead, he swats my inner thigh, prompting me to gasp.
“Stay very still, little human.” He swats the inside of my other thigh, his flattened fingers leaving behind a faint sting.
I tremble to remain standing in position. The throbbing in my womanly core is pulsing so hot, it’s all I can do not to clamp my legs shut or reach down to stroke myself to bliss. My urgent whimper only draws a dark chuckle from him. He’s reveling in my needy frustration, the bastard.
I strive to remain silent, not wanting to give him the pleasure of knowing how badly I wish he’d touch me already. Pressing my lips tight together, I resolve not to release another whimper, and certainly not a moan.
Walking behind me, he smacks the backs of my thighs, two times each. A delicious pain blooms across my flesh. More moisture trickles down the insides of my thighs, I can feel it on both sides now, a shameful testament to my inability to resist the erotic spell he’s cast upon me.
He rubs my ass then, and I quiver in place, suspecting he’s about to spank me. But what he does next is far more humiliating—he parts my bottom cheeks and kneels behind me to stare at my privates up close. This time I can’t help the whimper. I’ve never felt so embarrassed, but if I close my thighs or try to run away, he’ll make me hurt. There’s a part of me that also doesn’t wish to disappoint him, so I try my best to keep obeying him.
With my ass cheeks still splayed apart, he uses his free hand to delve between my slick nether lips. Spreading my moisture around, he finally succeeds in drawing a moan from me.
“Your little asshole keeps clenching, Laylah. Are you nervous that I will touch you there?”
“Please don’t, Kenan. Please—oh!”
He touches me there. Of course, he does. I jolt in place and try hard not to fight him, though every cell in my body screams for me to run away.
“Relax, little human. I’m simply touching it now, not fucking it.”
My breath leaves me in a rush and my heart skips a beat. One day, he will fuck my ass. I know it, and I can’t stop him. I’m hot all over at the prospect of submitting to him this way, of bending over while he inches his huge cock inside my most secret hole.
To my relief, he simply spreads the moisture from my core atop my anus. I feel myself clenching and flush, unable to stop myself from responding to his prodding touches. He applies the smallest pressure to my hole but doesn’t enter me.
“Such a pretty little puckering hole you have, Laylah.” His voice is deep and guttural.
“Please, Kenan. I’m shaking. I don’t think I can stand here much longer.”
“You will stand here like this for as long as it pleases me, Laylah. Unless you want to be punished. Is that what you want, little human? Do you want a spanking? Perhaps a belt whipping?”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, chiding myself for begging. I should have known my pleas wouldn’t sway him, and angering him is the last thing I want.
