Swept Off Her Feet (3 page)

Her hips rocked forward as she sought to deepen the sultry contact, every move and every action only making her hotter and more needful of relief.

With a broken sob, wishing it were a lover’s hand entering her, pleasuring her, she thrust two fingers into the liquid depths of her pussy, working them up and in. Moaning, she pumped her fingers in a frantic rhythm that soon had her hips bucking in a wild dance of arousal. Her inner muscles clenched as an upsurge of lustful explosions whipped through her, causing her fingers to spasm. The hair dryer slid from her slack grasp, thumping onto the carpeted floor while she brought both hands into play, one pinching and twisting first one then the other of her long, erect nipples, the other busying itself between the dripping folds of her rippling sex.

Stabbing pleasure darted from the hard tips of her breasts to explode in the clasping depths of her aching pussy. With a tortured gasping cry, she slumped against the wall, her breathing choppy and labored as she rode out the bucking thrill ride of a prolonged, explosive orgasm. Every inch of her body sizzled and sparked, quaking with multiple detonations of a pleasure so intense, it almost stole her reason.

Boneless with her momentary satiation, Nnora floated on a wave of euphoria.

* * * * *

Prince Glendevtorvas fumed as he led his small contingent of warriors past the saluting guards. He’d hoped to have time to court the
fem
fate had chosen as his
cherzda’va
. GanR’dari’s news blasted those hopes. Newly explosive tempers and seditious events back home required his immediate presence. There would be no time to woo and win the good favor of the Princess he hoped to mate with.

With a regal nod of his head, Dev gestured the guards assigned to Glennora’s safety off duty, replacing them with his own men. Narrow-eyed, he made sure the three colonists embarked on the vessel he’d designated to return them to their
Chyya
, Brevchanka. Satisfied the males were indeed gone, he ordered his men to deploy themselves about the living room and signaled to his second-in-command to follow him as he went in search of his future queen.

As they moved through her small apartment, Dev noticed the understated elegance with which Glennora had decorated her home. Each piece seemed to fit, to dovetail with every other element creating a seamless whole—a home not merely a house. His eyes took in everything, analyzing carefully every iota of information that pertained to his future mate. With each passing moment, he grew more anxious to meet her.

From the corner of his eye, Dev saw GanR’dari raise his right hand, signaling a halt. Catching the eye of his second-in-command, Dev quirked his eyebrow in question. When his friend gestured towards the closed door, Dev quietly crept forward, silently ordering GanR’dari to remain where he was.

The sound of running water assaulted his keen hearing as he approached the second door in the hallway. With stealth honed on the battlefield, he quietly turned the doorknob and eased the door open. The crack afforded him a glimpse into the room beyond the door, without betraying his presence on the other side. His breathing quickened. His heart slammed against his chest, beating a rapid tattoo at the incredible sight of the naked figure of the woman he would soon be bonded with.

Mouth going dry, he swallowed thickly, almost choking on a lump of lust. He grew instantly hard, his
cherzda
rising strong and vigorous, straining against the confining material of his jeans. Determined to see more, he moved closer to the crack in the doorway.

Glennora—with her long black hair curling under the plump, round globes of the most beautiful ass he’d ever seen—almost floored him. Holding his breath lest his panting give away his position, he watched as the
fem
ran a soapy cloth over her abundant curves. Her body, small and delicate, more finely formed than the
Rb’qarmshi
norm, twisted and turned under the spray of water, droplets glistening and highlighting her flesh. Her breasts were soft-looking creamy mounds, topped with inch-long jutting nipples. Her arms were gently rounded and her long legs and thighs nicely fleshed. Sweat sheeted his forehead as Dev envisioned her trim ankles wrapped about his waist as he sank into her luscious-smelling heat.

When she began to rub her cleansing cloth slowly across the concave valley of her belly, he released his held breath, mouth falling agape as his gaze was dragged in the wake of those trailing fingers. He didn’t think he could stand it when she leaned against the cubicle wall and let her head fall back against the tile, the saddest expression he’d ever witnessed dampening the natural glow of her beauty. He wanted nothing more than to fling the door open and gather her in his arms, promising her that nothing would hurt her while in his care.

Glennora let out a yelp.

His nerves jumped. Was he discovered?

Peering through the crack, he saw her half-leap away from the cascading water to huddle at the back of the small space, muttering something under her breath about past mistakes and trips.

He figured out the stream had grown cold when he saw the raised flesh on her shivering body as she gingerly reached to shut off the spray. He drew back some, allowing the bulk of the door to shield him while she grabbed a towel and vigorously rubbed her long tresses with it before stepping out of the shower and retrieving a machine shaped like a pulsar gun. His fingers itched to thread through the drying mass while she employed the machine to hasten the drying of her hair. He longed to sink his hand in her hair and discover whether the strands were as soft and silky as they appeared.

He almost swallowed his tongue when she let the towel drop and began running the barrel of the dryer up and down her body, paying close attention to her nipples and her flowering
pava
.

Tears flooded his eyes as his nostrils flared; he drank in her heady, life-affirming scent. It had been more than twenty years since he had smelled the intoxicating aroma of a
fem’s
flowering
pava
.

Eyes locked on her writhing form, he lowered his hands to his jeans-covered
cherzda
and palmed his demanding bulge. Leaning closer to the door, trying not to miss a moment, he felt his
terat
constricting, felt the tingling as they roared to life and softened. He barely managed to bite back a groan as he witnessed her solitary dance.

His own tears fell as he watched her slump down in utter despair after the last tremor of ecstasy faded away. He felt so connected to her, could almost read her thoughts.

He hurt for her.

Carefully, quietly, he eased away from the door. By
Deth
’s gate! She would never again have occasion to suffer through her
pava
, alone and lonely.

His plan to deliver her to her father changed in that moment.

* * * * *

Nnora rose at last from her crouched position, biting back a harsh moan as intimate muscles twanged and pulled. She bent over to retrieve the hair dryer, moving like a tired, old woman. She sighed worriedly as she turned the appliance off, wrapping the cord around the squat round barrel before storing it away. The pleasurable relief had not lasted nearly long enough.

Only twenty days into this second, yearlong
pava
, already she’d reached the level of constant arousal it had taken five months to arrive at during her first cycle. How was she to survive this constant agony of desire without losing her mind?

“Thank goodness,” she murmured, reaching for the moisturizing lotion, “my biological father never stopped searching for me. If only there were more males like my father… Now, Dad is a major hunk!”

With a fond smile, she recalled her shocked disbelief when a gorgeous, seven-and-a-half-foot tall man had knocked on her foster parents’ door, asking after the child they had taken in almost twenty years before.

On him, her height and brilliantly-colored eyes looked damn good. The king, her father, looked entirely too young to have sired her, but there was no denying their relationship once he had shown her the birthmark he bore upon his left flank—the same blood red, three-pronged flower that graced her rounded thigh. The mark, passed down through the royal family, was the mark of a ruler, or a potential ruler.
Rb’qarmshi
custom, her father had said, allowed only one who bore it to rule.

No matter how glad she had been to see him, her father had returned to Mars with his hopes of reuniting her with his new family unrealized. She’d refused to leave with him. After prolonged and escalating arguments, he had finally accepted her rejection, if not with good grace, then with diplomatic patience.

On his second visit, the
Chyya
sweetened the pot by introducing her to her three half-blood siblings and to their mother, the woman he had married once his grieving period for his lost queen was done.

At first, intimidated by the new queen-consort’s height—she stood almost eight feet tall—Nnora had been reluctant to approach her, but the queen had proven to be a sweetie. Once past Nnora’s initial wariness, Nnora and the queen had taken to each other, both thankful the other was willing to be friendly.

For Nnora’s part, she was glad her stepmother was willing to share her knowledge of
Rb’qarmshi
biology. It was from Queen Rinalli that Nnora learned she had at least two more cycles—six Earth years—to endure before the eldest of the young
Rb’qarmshi
males would reach sexual maturity.

The queen had informed a despairing Nnora of the current dearth of eligible males. She blamed the shortage on the stupidity of males in general—and the long, violent rebellion that had caused Nnora’s father to send her and her mother away to safety specifically. Raging over fifty years, the fraternal war had cost the colony greatly in the lives of its viable males. Their loss rendered the settlers ominously short of diverse genes. This lack had placed the future of the colony in grave jeopardy.

“Heaven help me,” Nnora groaned. “Two more cycles! If each
pava
grows with this degree of intensity…”

She frowned as she heard the self-pity in her words. “Damn! I hate a whiner. Get a grip, Nnora,” she fussed, addressing her image, her voice echoing loudly in the steamy bathroom. “What the hell do you have to cry about? You’re luckier than most.”

She giggled, thinking of what Lori would say should she come in and hear her talking to herself. She didn’t care. She needed this pep talk, needed to reiterate her blessings.

“I’ve survived a shuttle-wreck, survived losing my real family and history and survived being different. I have weathered being alone in a world of strangers, have overcome the rejection of my childhood peers and on top of all that, I managed to find the best foster family in the world. I have a mother and a father who truly love me, as well as a cherished sister who helped nurture me through those rocky first years.

“Now I have an adventure to look forward to. In less than an hour, Father’s ship will be arriving to transport me to his kingdom on the planet Mars. What are a few pesky
pava
cycles compared to that?”

I can hardly wait to see what outer space is really like! Does the Earth really look like a green and blue jewel, or is that just T.V. special effects? Wonder if I can talk the pilot into stopping off by the Moon for some pictures—I’d like to see the landing site where they planted the American flag.

She playfully hummed the music from the
Twilight Zone
series as she finished applying a silky lotion to her long limbs. She switched over to the theme music of her favorite sci-fi show,
Star Trek
, giving full voice to her excitement.

“Dum-de-duuum-de-dum-dum-de-duuum-de-
duhm
…
de-duuuhm
! Space… The final frontier,” she intoned solemnly, snatching up the hairbrush to serve as her microphone. “These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise! Its five-year mission…to explore strange, new worlds…to seek out new life and new civilizations…to boldly go where no—me, me!—has gone before!”

Thrilled to be embarking on her own voyage to the strange new world of her forgotten homeland, Nnora tried to imagine what was in store for her. At last, she would see the home her mother’s great-mother had established after being forcibly exiled from her home world.

Honestly, she hated the fact that, try as she might, she could not bring herself to forgive her father. Her inability to let go of the resentment of her past challenged her personal view of her character. Having been on the receiving end of injustice and prejudice, she demanded fairness in all her personal dealings, holding herself to a high standard of behavior. She squirmed within at the knowledge that she was not living up to her own expectations.

Worst, she knew her father did not deserve her censure, knew she should not blame him for acting in the only way open to him at the time. Yet, though she hated seeing the hurt look on his face every time she pulled back or eluded his embrace, she found herself unable to let go her anger and move beyond the hurts of the past.

Mr. Spock would say it was illogical to blame her father for abandoning her, for leaving her to live as a human. Her father had been forced to abandon the search, and intellectually, she even understood his need to order the destruction of the wreckage to prevent any humans from gaining evidence of their existence. The resulting blast had destroyed the possibility of searching the site for further clues of her survival and possible whereabouts, thus hindering his subsequent attempts at finding her. She still found it hard to believe her father had never given up searching for her, had designated a group of people to do nothing but search for clues for her existence, day in and day out, reading newspapers, analyzing headlines, leaving no stone unturned in a relentless search to find a child…or a body.

Emotionally, she still held the
Chyya
accountable for sending her and her mother away. His protective measures had backfired and she had ended up abandoned, deserted and alone, forced to adjust, to hide her alienness. In a harsh world, surrounded only by those unlike her, she had finally learned to view her unique differences—her height, her
pava
-driven sexuality, her glowing tangerine eyes—as ugly aberrations and genetic mutations.