Captive - Cheryl Brooks Page 0,34

skin. When she pulled back on the coronal flange, stretching the small fold of skin that anchored the ridge to the underside of his cock, his growl was as automatic as the thrust of his hips.

No longer the slightest bit reticent, Klara sucked his cock with unabashed enthusiasm, gripping the base in her hand and only pausing whenever the subsequent orgasms struck. Each time she resumed the staggering strokes of her lips and tongue, Moe felt lighter, as though each stroke drove him closer to absolute weightlessness. For one anxious moment, he feared he would fly upward, hitting the ceiling before breaking through to soar off into space. Desperate to anchor himself, Moe speared his fingers through Klara’s hair to grip the back of her head, only to find that he didn’t need to hold on so tightly. Simply resting his hand on her was enough to ground him—and more than enough to set him free.

That realization propelled him to the pinnacle with astonishing speed. Arching his back, he forced his hips upward as ecstasy flooded his mind and body like an estuary at high tide. Just when he was certain there could be no greater pleasure, his balls contracted to send jets of snard streaming into her mouth.

A strangled snarl escaped him as she swallowed, taking in his cock along with his semen. She thrashed briefly, then stilled, moaning so softly he might’ve imagined it. His cock, having lost some of its vigor, slid from her throat, and she rolled onto her back, her head still pillowed on his outstretched leg. He longed to watch her body’s response to his snard, but the vibrations issuing from her melded with his own to soothe him like never before. He had almost drifted off to sleep before he realized what those vibrations meant.

She’s purring.

Contentment washed over him as he tucked his junk back in his trousers before tugging her shoulder to turn her onto her side. Her smile as she looked up at him, appearing dazed but sated, released something in his heart, like a stubborn, rusty lock that had finally disengaged. He didn’t attempt to interpret the feeling beyond that, focusing instead on ensuring she was completely enveloped in her cloak. Only then, with one long purring sigh, did he close his eyes.

An ordinary woman probably would’ve slept for days after her first encounter with joy juice and snard, but Klara’s life, not to mention her breeding, was anything but ordinary. She awoke as the sun rose, having no need to see the rays of light. Even in a room with no windows, she sensed the dawn, which proved that while snard might enable her to sleep amazingly well, it hadn’t disrupted her internal clock.

She doubted a Nedwut attack would have awakened her during the night, which frightened her a little. The fear of being so vulnerable clutched at her heart with icy fingers. However, despite those fears and the inherent discomfort of lying on an unyielding floor, she was unwilling to rise. Apparently, sex with a Zetithian male was inadvisable whenever instant alertness was required—which, in her case, was every second of every day.

The first order of business was to ensure the safety of her band. After that, finding food was crucial. She would’ve preferred to have more time to think—and to enjoy being so close to Moe, where she could feel his warmth and his solid, comforting presence.

In the past, her mother had provided comfort, but Klara had lost that source long ago. Without anyone to lean on for so many years, feeling safe and secure was as alien to her as unlimited wealth. She’d been a child then, but she remembered it well enough to know this feeling was entirely different.

Sure, her sexual encounter with Moe had been satisfying, but that event paled in comparison with the man himself, which was odd because relying on a man had never been her first choice of survival techniques. Her mother had learned to be wary of males, and she’d passed that distrust along to her daughter. Some were overtly predatory, while others were more sly and secretive. Less obvious, perhaps, but no less dangerous, if not more so.

Moe was unlike any man she’d ever met. His inherent honesty was almost palpable, which might explain why she’d succumbed to him so easily—and that she had succumbed was indisputable. She could easily have refused him. Could’ve turned away from him and ignored his suggestion that she taste him. She cursed her