Read RavishedbyMoonbeam Online
Authors: Cynthia Sax
RavishedbyMoonbeam (3 page)
“You are not.” He rocked into her palms, causing more heat,
more friction. “We are compatible.”
“Yeah.” She cupped his
varles
and squeezed them.
Lejno.
Krol clenched his jaw until he ached as she touched him in ways the simulators
never had. “But if you plan to invade the earth, I’ll still have to shoot your
ass.” She swept her thumb over his tip and he shuddered with intense longing,
his shoulder ridges rattling.
A dab of seed escaped his slit and Danielle scooped it up
with her finger to examine it closely. “Looks like human spunk.” She sucked on
her finger and Krol’s
varles
tightened. “But it tastes sweet.” She
smacked her lips, taunting him with her sex noises.
His Danielle released his
spicka
and reclined onto
her back. “Don’t you dare fuck my face,” she issued her challenge, staring up
at him defiantly.
Krol looked longingly at her red pussy lips, his seed
dripping down the inside of her thighs. He looked at his abandoned
spicka
,
hard and vibrating and aching with need. Then he looked at her open mouth, her
face lighting with expectation.
He carefully straddled her head, aware of how small and
fragile his mate was. “Fucking your mouth will not produce offspring,” he
reminded her as he slowly lowered his
spicka
into her mouth, muffling
her flow of angry words.
Sladky matka.
He pushed past her parted lips. Her
mouth was as hot and wet as her pussy. She clutched his clenched ass with her
hands and guided him into her, sucking on his shaft, her cheeks indented around
him.
Too much.
Temporarily overcome by their unique joining, he closed
his eyes.
He tapped the back of her throat with his tip and she
gagged, her cheeks convulsing, fluttering against him.
Damage
. Krol
withdrew slightly and held his position, his
spicka
vibrating in her
mouth, resting on her tongue. He sighed with contentment.
This one moment is
worth all my solar cycles of energy expenditure. My druzka has accepted me
fully. She will obey—
She slapped his ass, bringing his reveries to an abrupt end.
He pumped her mouth as he had her pussy while she licked his shaft, flicking
his skin with her tongue. His Danielle sucked with each inward motion, the pull
on Krol’s
spicka
straining his control.
He fucked her face faster and harder, driving her back into
the ground, his
varles
slapping against her chin. She dug her
fingernails into his ass, protesting his abuse and marking him as he had marked
her. He forced her to take him, grinding into her suction.
They mated with all of their combined might. He grunted with
effort and tears streamed down her cheeks. He smelled her arousal, her musky
scent flavoring the air, tormenting his nostrils. Their fucking was carnal and
ruthlessly primitive and he needed, wanted, craved more.
“Bite me,” he ordered.
She widened her eyes and shook her head, the motion angling
his
spicka
from side to side.
“Bite me.” He rammed into her as deeply as she could take
him, punishing her for her disobedience.
Her eyes flashed with rebellion as she clamped her blunt teeth
down on his shaft. The pain was exquisitely sharp and he bellowed his
satisfaction, coming so hard his Danielle’s blue-and-white world tilted around
him.
She swallowed and swallowed and swallowed, draining every
last drop from his
spicka
and every last thought from his brain, leaving
him dazed and contented.
“My Danielle.” He dismounted her face, his
spicka
slipping from her mouth and sliding along her cheek. “I enjoy our courting.”
“That’s not courting, dumbass.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s
fucking, pure and glorious fucking.”
He lay on his back beside her and looked up at the night sky
as he pondered her words. The star systems were as unfamiliar to him as his
druzka
’s
customs, and he longed for the reassuring routine of his warship. “Fucking
is
courting,” he muttered.
She snorted. “Only to a man.” His Danielle pushed herself
upward and staggered to her feet, swaying unsteadily. Her pale skin was colored
with bite and bruise marks.
Krol stood also, his battered ego partially appeased by the
visual evidence of their mating. “Then we must court more.” He wrapped his arm
around his little warrior’s waist, securing her to his side.
“No—”
He lifted her up and slung her over his shoulder. Curses
rained down on him from her lips as she pounded his back with her small fists
and kicked his stomach ridges with her sturdy boots.
“Yes. We will court more.” He slapped her bare ass, warming
her cooling skin. He liked the sound, so he slapped her ass again, grinning as
he strode in the direction of his Earth domicile.
Chapter Two
Danielle opened her eyes, blinking up at the white tiled
ceiling, and a silly smile curved her lips.
What a night.
She sprawled
out on the king-size mattress, completely naked except for the boots on her
feet and the dog tags around her neck.
Alien loving is definitely something
I can get used to.
She reached out her arm and grabbed white cotton sheets.
Where’d
he go?
She sat up, the room spinning slightly around her. Thick, sticky
liquid bathed her upper thighs, and she grimaced. She needed a shower.
And Christ, she was sore. She swung her bruised and battered
legs over the side of the black four-poster bed, her boots thumping against the
hardwood floor. She ached all over, the pain centered on her ass, breasts and
pussy.
As she moved, only her labored breathing broke the eerie
silence.
Where am I?
Danielle glanced around her. The monochrome bedroom
was sparingly furnished and devoid of bright color except for the distinctive
stained trucker’s cap hanging on the door.
No. It can’t be his.
She squeezed her eyes closed,
counted to five and looked again. The damning evidence remained. “Alien, my
ass.” She clenched her hands into fists, converting the pain of betrayal into a
more manageable rage.
I hope you had fun, Frank, because I’ll be the last woman
you ever abuse.
Danielle staggered to her feet. Her police badge had been
placed on the nightstand beside the bed. She grasped it, the cool metal
solidifying her resolve
Danielle scowled at the dominatrix-styled garment neatly
folded underneath her badge.
In your dreams, manwhore.
She skimmed the
soft black leather with her fingertips before grabbing the
black-and-white-checkered lumberjack shirt hanging on the bedpost. It reached
mid-thigh, the fabric adequately covering her bare ass, and it smelled of Krol,
his unique scent clinging to the flannel.
Get a grip, Officer Danielle.
She doused her building
arousal and ignored her gut.
He drugged you and who knows how many other
unsuspecting women. The only thought you should be having is how to nail the scumbag.
To do that, you need to obtain evidence, and obtain it
quickly, before he returns.
Danielle opened drawers filled with pristine
clothing. Every flannel shirt and pair of perfectly worn jeans had been folded
into a flat, tight rectangle. She didn’t find any socks or underwear.
Danielle moved to the massive bed. She ran her hands under
the mattress and felt nothing. There wasn’t anything under the bed either, not
a single dust bunny on the gleaming, scratch-free floor.
She searched through an immaculate closet filled with more
flannel shirts and more jeans. Danielle knocked on undecorated walls and
stomped on floorboards, the noise hollow and empty.
Frank must have drugged me with hallucinogens.
She
scanned the room.
Where did he stash them?
Danielle lifted her gaze to the ceiling.
What is that?
She positioned a chair under the black box and climbed up to have a look.
Oh
hell no.
Her stomach dropped. It was a camera with its lens facing the bed,
the bed she’d been naked in, the bed he’d…
Danielle pressed her lips together and blinked back tears.
Obtain
evidence, Officer.
She frantically felt around the camera. There were no
wires or any other indication of where the recording device might be.
She leaned forward to peer behind the camera, teetering on
the edge of the chair. To steady herself, she pushed against a ceiling tile. It
didn’t move.
What the?
She slid the tile to the side and a bag fell with
a thud to the floor.
Jackpot.
Danielle hopped down and opened the black
canvas bag.
Gotcha.
Displayed before her was enough high-tech
weaponry to put Frank away for a very long time. She picked up the same gun
she’d used last night. She didn’t recognize any of the other makes or models.
Space guns
, her gut whispered.
No. Not space guns.
Danielle touched her mother’s dog
tags.
Military prototypes.
She palmed her small gun and replaced the bag
of weapons in the ceiling to be “discovered” later by the arresting officers.
Danielle inched the bedroom door open and surveyed the area.
The house was empty and silent, the open, sterile space as free of clutter and
personal effects as the bedroom. Sunlight shone through the windows, unfiltered
by curtains or blinds. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose, the air smelling of a
harsh disinfectant. There was no sign of Frank or anyone else.
She raised her gun and cautiously crept through the living
room, stepping lightly to not make any sound. A black leather couch and
microthin big-screen TV dominated the area and she slowed, gazing wistfully at
the complex electronics.
Not a chance of retrieval, Officer Danielle. Get your
recorded ass moving.
She forced herself to move forward, knowing every
officer in her precinct would watch last night’s assault.
Damn Frank to
hell.
She slipped outside into a vacant yard. Frank’s rusted
pickup truck was missing. Deep track marks leading from the parking spot to the
gravel driveway indicated he’d left in a hurry.
Danielle surveyed the scene, her cop instincts tingling. A
spotless black garden hose was coiled without a single kink around a wall-mounted
steel rack. Cords of wood were stacked in flawlessly aligned rows. The square
of grass around the newly painted mobile home was lush and green and perfect.
Everything was perfect, too perfect, as though her
surroundings were manufactured or…alien.
Let it go, Officer Danielle. There are no aliens. Warrior
Krol was a delicious drug-induced hallucination.
Danielle scowled as she
hiked down the long winding driveway. The tall, majestic fir trees edging the
route bent in the wind, their needles rustling, the air crackled around her and
dark clouds hung over her head, the weather as ominous as her thoughts.
She walked and walked and walked, heedless of the building
storm, reviewing what little she remembered, saddened and sickened that the
best sex of her life hadn’t been real. She should have known. They’d fucked all
night long and Frank had been unnaturally insatiable, recovering quickly from
each orgasm.
Too quickly for a human.
Aliens don’t exist. Frank’s a human with a human recovery
time, and that means…
No.
She bent over, her stomach heaving, bile burning
the back of her throat. How many so-called aliens had taken her?
How many?
“I’ll kill you, Frank.” Danielle straightened and tightened
her grip on the gun as her anger spiraled upward. “Jail is too good for you.”
She strode faster, grinding the gravel road under the heels of her police
boots.
Damn. He’s good.
She stared at her abandoned police
cruiser. The windshield was honeycombed with cracks, and the white hood was
dented beyond repair. She crouched by the front wheel. Tracks ran perpendicular
to the vehicle as though it had been pushed to the side of the road.
How—
She raised her head, hearing the drone of an approaching
vehicle. She squinted, peering into the distance. A rusted blue pickup truck
rolled into sight.
Frank.
Danielle took a position by the side of road, placing her
police cruiser between him and her. She raised her gun as his handsome human
face came into shooting range. “Don’t kill him, Officer Danielle.” She caressed
the trigger with her thumb. “Believe in the system you serve. Let the courts do
their job.”
Breaks squealed as the truck slid to a stop. Gravel sprayed
the side of her cruiser, peppering the paint with pit marks, and Danielle’s
anger escalated.
Frank exited the cab and jogged around the rusted hood,
carrying a bouquet of red roses and a beautifully wrapped ivory-and-gold box.
“My Danielle.” He beamed as though he’d done nothing wrong, as though he hadn’t
drugged her and shared her sexually with a gang of his friends.
Believe in the system.
She aimed her gun between his
black-and-green swirling eyes. “Don’t move, or I’ll shoot.”
Frank froze and his smile faded. A dog barked, but the only
animal she cared about stood in front of her.
He had black-and-green swirling eyes.
There are no aliens.
“How many, Frank?” Danielle demanded. She used both of her
hands to steady her shaking gun. “How many men fucked me last night?”
“No males will fuck you!” His face contorted with a rage so
acute she almost believed him, except she couldn’t. Her skin was covered with
evidence of his lies. “You are mine, my Danielle.” He brandished the flowers
like a club, the rose petals scattering on the road. “I am your Krol.”
“Your name is Frank, you dickwad.” His betrayal cut her to
the bone and she wielded her anger as a shield against the pain. “And you’re
going to jail for a very long time.”