Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,33

words, but she was Zetithian enough to have hearing as sharp as his own, and her derisive snort proved she’d heard him.

“I’m not kidding,” he said. “I don’t know how much your mother told you, but all you have to do is taste me. The orgasms are practically guaranteed.”

Another snort demonstrated her continued skepticism. Clearly, her mother had neglected to enlighten her. “That sounds like something Pelarus would say.”

“Yeah, well, if he was Zetithian, he’d be right.”

She still didn’t seem convinced. “I’m guessing the part I have to taste is somewhere in this vicinity.”

Moe gasped as she placed a hand on his groin. “You got it.” Her scent had already done a excellent job of giving him an erection, which, unfortunately, only meant that her body was willing. Whether her mind would follow suit remained to be seen.

Somehow she didn’t seem the type to be swayed by a bunch of romantic bullshit, so he did his best to stick to the facts, even though he wound up sounding more like a textbook than a man in the throes of passion.

“The scent of a woman’s desire is the only thing that will arouse a Zetithian man. Once aroused, his lubricating fluid—or joy juice as it’s more commonly called—only needs to come in contact with the woman’s mucus membrane to induce an orgasm. A taste of his semen—or snard, as it’s known in our native language—will trigger orgasms and euphoria. The afterglow—known as laetralance in Zetithian—is a blissful sense of peace and tranquility in body, mind, and soul. Trust me, if you get that far, you’ll be able to sleep through anything short of a full-scale Nedwut invasion.”

She drew back her hand and began chewing the cuticle of her thumb with considerable vigor. With a speculative glance, she asked, “Can I bite you first?”

“Absolutely.” Tilting his head, he yanked his collar aside and patted the base of his neck. “Right here is the best spot.”

He’d expected her to pounce at some point. He just hadn’t expected her to do it quite so abruptly. With a low growl, she sprang up and sank her fangs into his neck with the speed and accuracy of a striking cobra. Lust spread through his vessels like venom, reaching his groin within seconds. What had been a pretty decent erection to start with blossomed into something far more potent. He longed to feel her lips and tongue on his aching, dripping cock.

But first, he had to kiss her.

The metallic tang of his blood still clung to her lips as he pulled her into his embrace. Their lips touched, their tongues mated furiously, each devouring the other. His blood mixed with her own unique flavor, setting his senses on full alert and ripping away the last shred of control he possessed. “Klara, please…”

He was purring so loud, he was sure he would wake one of their sleeping cohorts—although he didn’t care as long as they didn’t interrupt him. She went back to his neck, licking the wounds she’d made, snarling and sighing at the same time, if that was possible.

Her hands, however, went somewhere else entirely, making quick work of unfastening his trousers and whipping out his dick. What felt like a caress soon progressed to an examination. As though not believing her fingers, she turned her head to stare.

“It’s got a–a ruffle around the head—kind of like the neck ridges on a dwithan. Softer, though.” She felt it again, her firm grasp sending Moe to the outer limits of his control. “This slippery stuff… is that the joy juice?”

His affirmative reply was more of a rumbling exhale than a word. “You don’t have to lick me. Just lick your finger.” One taste would have her coming back for more, unless her Davordian blood—

No. Her breeding wouldn’t stop her from enjoying anything he had to offer. If the reports were true, Davordians liked sex better than most, and Zetithian sex above all. He held his breath, awaiting her next move.

He didn’t have to wait long. Within seconds, she let it out a soft keening sound that was even more arousing than her touch. Her body jackknifed sharply, drawing her knees to her chest in a move that probably knocked the wind out of her.

“Okay,” she gasped. “I believe you.” Without another word and no warning whatsoever, her lips closed around his cockhead, and she sucked it into her mouth.

For a moment, Moe was sure he would come, if only from the smooth glide of her tongue on his