Rogue (16 page)

Purring, he kissed me; the taste and feel of him as deliciously creamy as chocolate. His thick cock swept between my thighs, just as his tongue swept my mouth, both teasing and tantalizing, but at the same time, promising even greater delights. When his cockhead found my clitoris, he let out a groan before circling it with his hot, wet heat. Nothing I'd ever felt before in my life could compare as he raked the ruffled edge back and forth across my sensitive flesh.

Sliding further down, he held his cock poised at the entrance and kissed me again. What was he waiting for?

Did I have to ask? It was so hard for me, but, like the first time I'd asked for his kiss, the need to have him inside me overcame my usual reticence.

"Tychar,
please"
I begged—and he pushed.

His cock was large and stretched me to the limit, filling me completely. Then heat turned to fire as he began to move, thrusting slowly at first before picking up speed and depth. The ruffle on his cockhead increased the sensation to the boiling point as it raked my inner walls, and I could hear myself moaning helplessly. Then the orgasms began; first one and then another, and another, and another, on into infinity.

Rapture. Ecstasy. Pleasure. None of those words seemed to fit. Joy. Yes, that was it: joy—along with all those other things. For me, it might have been overkill—I'm sure he could have made even the most glacially frigid woman imaginable melt on contact—and I certainly wasn't frigid.

I tried to stay with him, but eventually I had no choice but to simply lay back and take it, to enjoy the ride and savor what Tychar could do. He hadn't been lying—or even exaggerating—and I was right to believe him, for this truly was joy unlike any I had ever known. The other translation was also correct, because he was undoubtedly fucking me senseless. My eyes couldn't focus, and I'd lost all control of my body; all I could do was moan with each thrust.

"Ah, Kyra," he purred. "Does that feel good?"

"Mmm," I replied. I was so far gone, I couldn't even talk. "Ohh," I sighed as he slowed down and altered the angle of entry.

"Better?"

It had been good before, but just that slight change made a difference as great as the distance between Earth and Darconia. "Mmmm."

"It all feels good to me," he murmured, his deep, resonant voice rumbling in my ears. "And do you know why?"

"Um-mm."

"Because I am with you."

Maintaining the angle, but pushing harder and faster, I heard him groan and watched as his back arched, and he drove into me even more deeply than before. Then, with a roar, his climax met one of mine, and we fused. I held my breath as he came, feeling the shot of semen as it hit and delighting in the creamy warmth of it as it flowed into me. I was sorry it was over, but as I waited for the inevitable softening of his penis and his subsequent withdrawal, something else happened. The rest of his body might not have been moving, but his dick never stopped, and I could still feel it swirling deep within me, stretching, pushing, and gliding in the slickness of his semen.

It amazed me that he could do that; could stay hard even after he was finished, let alone have control of it.

He'd kept telling me he would give me joy, but euphoria would have been a better word for it because, after that, I was truly gone: lost, blown away completely with fire, explosions, supernovas and then floating, drifting down like a dust mote, falling down deep into myself, into the bed, and into this strange world we were both on. I could feel him breathing, feel myself breathing. I'd almost forgotten I needed to do that...

Purring contentedly, he kissed me with a sweetness that took the rest of my breath away.

"Do you still love me?" he asked.

"Mm-hm," I murmured. "I think I always will."

"You are not lying?"

"Nope," I replied. "I never lie."

Smiling down at me in the moonlight, he whispered, "Then I will give you joy for as long as you wish."

Even if it s forever?

Even if it s forever.

A A A

<*> <*> <*>
>r >r >r

Of course, the real miracle here was that I'd somehow managed to put him off for even the one day I had. As a general rule, I was a cautious person when it came to starting new relationships; the idea of love—or in this case, orgasm—at first sight wasn't something I'd ever put much stock in, but I was beginning to wonder if I hadn't been wrong about that. Tychar had said that the men of his race had to be enticing—which they undoubtedly were—but the question which was bugging me the most was whether or not
any
female would be able to feel what I had just felt, whether she loved him or not—and whether he loved her or not. He'd asked me to say that I loved him—even asked me to lie—but did it make a difference? It was overwhelming, to be sure, but did it truly mean anything, or was it simply a matter of chemistry?

Somehow I knew it would be difficult to separate my feelings and assign a meaning to each of them, but I tried to do it anyway. I liked him—I knew I did. I even liked the sound of his voice—and that had to count for something. I reminded myself that Tychar hadn't been my only choice, and, given the opportunity, Trag would have done the same thing—I think—but he wasn't the one to whom I'd responded. Perhaps that was the best gauge of the situation. Scalia had seen my reaction to Tychar and had acted accordingly. Looking at it that way made me feel better about it—less manipulated, less coerced, less
drugged...

For Tychar's coronal fluid was essentially that: a naturally occurring drug which virtually guaranteed that the woman of his choice would stay with him. I wondered just how indiscriminate the Zetithian men were with that stuff. For example, did it only work for women they truly cared for, or would it work with any female who happened to stray too close to one of them and become ensnared? Of course, that might go a long way toward explaining what had happened to their people and their planet. Maybe they
hadn't
been very careful—had enticed one woman too many and pissed off the wrong guy. Wars had been started for a lot less, but destroying a planet? Who would be able to pull that one off?

Nobody I ever wanted to meet, that was for sure! I'd leave that part for someone else to figure out, because I was hooked, and now, all I wanted was to find a way to keep Tychar forever. Which apparently wouldn't be too hard, since learning to play the piano takes years and years, and Zealon didn't seem to have the makings of a prodigy. I would stay on Darconia, teaching piano to generations of Darconian royalty, and I'd get to keep Tychar as my personal assistant for the rest of my natural life. Scalia wouldn't mind if we had children of our own—on the contrary, she'd probably be delighted.

And as for her breeding program—whether real or imagined—she wouldn't even have to ask. I was
volunteering.

THE SUN HAD REPLACED THE MOONS WHEN I AWOKE TO FIND

Trag standing over my bed, clicking his tongue.

"Got lucky, didn't he?" he said when I opened my eyes.

Nodding sheepishly, I said, "What can I tell you, Trag? He's irresistible."

"It's those damned blue eyes of his!" he growled.

"Always the blue eyes! I don't stand a chance with him around!"

I shrugged, thinking if he wanted to believe that eye color really mattered all that much, I'd let him. It was easier than explaining the vagaries of the human heart.

"He's such a sweetie," I added. "I couldn't help myself."

Trag stared at me in surprise. "You tasted his snard?"

he exclaimed. "The first time?"

I stared at him, completely puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"Snard!" he exclaimed. "It's sweet like candy!" Then he shut up for a second, closing his eyes as though wishing he could correct a blunder. "You didn't mean it that way, did you?"

Shaking my head, I said, "Sweetie is an Earth expression for someone who's very nice. He didn't seem to understand it, either." Then I added, curiously, "Snard?"

"Semen," he replied shortly. "Snard is the Zetithian word for it. One of the few I actually remember."

"And it's really that sweet?"

"Well, so I've been told," he said. "Some guys are supposed to be sweeter than others. Never having tried it myself, I wouldn't know for sure, but..."

"No homosexual tendencies, then?" I inquired, trying not to laugh.

"Not that I'm aware of," he replied.

"Pity," I commented. "You and Tychar could have kept yourselves a lot happier for all these years."

"Very funny," he snapped, making a face at me.

Then his expression changed abruptly, and he let out a heartfelt sigh. "Don't suppose you'd reconsider doing us both, would you?"

"I think we've already established that," I replied, throwing back the sheet to get up.

Trag groaned. "Then don't
do
that!"

"Do what?" I demanded. "Get out of bed?"

"No, get out of bed naked—
and
recently fucked!"

Grabbing a fistful of hair in each hand, he yanked on it in frustration. "You're killing me here, Kyra!"

"We've gotta get you a girl, mate," I chuckled, noting the raging erection he had sprouted. "Or, maybe you just need to keep out of my bedroom."

"I can't help it if we got locked in with you!" he protested. "It wasn't my idea!"

"No?" I inquired innocently, dropping my nightgown over my head. "Better now?"

"Not really," he replied sadly. "You still smell...

well, you smell fuckin' incredible!"

"Thank you, dear," I said, patting him on the arm.

"That makes me feel so... appreciated." Glancing down at his rock-hard and dripping penis, I added, "And you look fuckin' incredible, too, by the way. Maybe I'll send a message to Earth to see if anyone back home is interested. I could give them one helluva recommendation, just based on one time with Tychar. You, I'm sure, are every bit as good."

"Liked it, huh?" he inquired with a smug little grin.

"It's what we're best at, you know."

"Yeah, I kinda figured that."

"And just imagine what it would be like with two of us!" Trag exclaimed, his green eyes dancing with mischief. I had to admit, his enthusiasm was catching, but I didn't think I could stand having
two
of them after me all the time. I mean, I'd probably never get out of bed, and then Scalia would be pissed because Zealon wasn't learning anything, and then I'd get fired and have to give them both up and go home—and I wasn't about to let
that
happen!

"I'd go insane from all the joy, I'm sure," I said dryly, and trying hard not to think about just how good it would feel. Then I realized that it would probably kill me—but I'd die happy! Taking a look at Tychar, I commented, "Boy, he can sleep through anything, can't he?"

"I'm awake," Tychar said without opening his eyes.

"Oh, just keeping quiet to see if I'd cheat on you with your brother, is that it?"

"No," Tychar replied. "I'm just waiting for you to tell him to go away so I can do it again."

Smiling at Trag, I said sweetly. "There's your cue!

You can pack up the other little slave boys and head on back to The Shrine now."

Trag seemed very disappointed and was muttering to himself as he walked away, but he went. A few minutes later, the whole gang trooped out the door carrying their pillows and bedrolls, leaving me alone with Tychar again.

As I gazed at him, lying there in my bed, I knew I'd never seen anything more appealing in my entire life. I could have stood there all day, just looking at him. "You know, I'm going to have to talk to Scalia about letting you stay here all the time," I commented. "And if we have to be locked in, I'm sure she's got a spare guard around here somewhere."

"So," he purred. "You are... pleased with me?"

"You have quite a gift for understatement, don't you?" I said dryly. "And yes, I
am
pleased with you.

In fact, I might try to swap you for several years' worth of piano lessons. Of course, that might mean I'll still be teaching Zealon when I'm old and gray, but, hey, I think you're probably worth it."

"Then I will do my best to please you during all of those years," he said, smiling. "I believe it's my purpose in life."

I stood there staring at him, my mouth agape with astonishment, trying to remember the last time I'd heard a man say something like that. Not lately, I decided, and probably never. He was one in about ten billion—and though Trag probably was, too, I would leave him for someone else to discover. With the influx of alien life forms on Darconia, Trag was bound to find one that smelled right eventually.

It wasn't my purpose in life to keep
all
of the remaining Zetithians happy, and though I'm sure it would have been a fun job, that was Scalia's business, not mine.

Gathering my wits from wherever they'd been scattered by his last statement, I said, "With lines like that, you should have been able to talk Scalia into setting you up in your own palace by now."

Tychar flicked an eyebrow. "She likes keeping us close—it surprised me that she would assign me to you."

"If you hadn't liked the smell of me, I doubt she would have," I said frankly. "So I'm really glad you did, otherwise, I might have wound up with Refdeck or the guy with the octopus fingers."

"They are not as appealing to you as I am?" His tone might have been all innocence, but the mischievous smile that accompanied it gave him away.

"No, dummy! They aren't!" I snapped. "But they might have gotten up early and brought me breakfast by now. You're still in bed, lazy butt!"

"But I am waiting for you to come back," he said, yawning and stretching in a most languid, sensuous fashion that made me want to do nothing more than to crawl back in and play with him all day long—but I wasn't sure it was such a good idea. The guard at the door had probably heard all of my moans and groans of ecstasy the night before as it was, and if he'd reported what he'd heard to Scalia, with my luck, I could probably expect to be waited on by Refdeck from now on.

Besides, there were other reasons to be discreet.