he was giving. Giving me pleasure. Showing me how I could feel if I just gave over. I’d get what I wanted. His cock. An orgasm.
But only then would he get his pleasure, too.
Damn it. Fuck. Frustration built inside me like steam in a tea kettle, and I was about to blow.
“Call me master,” he said once more.
I shook my head. “No.”
He studied me for long minutes that felt like an hour as I laid on the floor looking up at him, admiring his chest. His dark hair. The cut of his jaw. The thick cock that jutted heavily from between his powerful legs. He really was gorgeous. I wanted to kiss him again. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted to feel safe and treasured and… safe.
“I see. Perhaps you require a different sort of persuasion.”
If I had the energy left, I would have rolled my eyes at the dramatic statement, but the truth was, I didn’t. Every cell and fiber of my being was focused on holding onto the pleasure that was drifting away like clouds in the wind leaving me cold and lonely.
Again.
I blinked, and he was next to me, lifting me onto his lap, but this time I faced him, straddled his hips, and his cock slid inside my wet core like we’d been made for one another. I cried out at the feel of him once again stretching me open, filling me up.
“You will eventually call me master, Zara. You will surrender.”
“No.” I denied him even as his cock slipped deeper, striking my womb.
“I will earn your trust, gara. I demanded too much, too soon, as is my nature. But I will learn what you need, and you will surrender.”
Afraid he was right, I didn’t deny his words. Instead, I reached for his hair and pulled his lips to mine for a soul-crushing kiss.
I shifted my hips, riding him, trying to take what I needed. He wrapped his hands around me, crushing me to his chest, restricting my movement. I nearly sobbed in frustration. My nipples caressed by the stroke of skin on skin as our chests met. I felt him move oddly, and the devices activated once more.
With his cock buried deep, I screamed as the orgasm instantly rolled over me like a tank crushing a daisy. One. Then two. The aftershocks were so strong they led to a third, and he hadn’t even moved. He held my head in his hands, tilted my face to his, and held my gaze as my body became something else, not mine.
His.
When I was too weak to do anything but collapse against his chest, he groaned, hands fisted in my hair, holding me tightly as his cock jumped, and he found his own release, his seed coating my core with heat and a ridiculous possessiveness I had never felt before.
His scent filled my head with warmth. Safety. Contentment. I relaxed in his arms, and he stroked my sweaty back like I was precious. Special. Safe. The illusion, if it were one, was too damn good to dismiss, so I stayed where I was, content to play pretend for as long as we could.
I hadn’t said my safe word. Yet I hadn’t said the word he wanted either. We’d both given in.
Still, maybe I could somehow be his. Maybe. But maybe, he could be mine, too.
My Master.
Isaak
Zara sprawled atop me, her body pliant and soft. Whether she knew it or not, she trusted me. No one would sleep so deeply otherwise. She was soft and warm, pliant and… sweet in my arms.
The fact made my chest ache with a strange longing I hadn’t felt in years, and I looked away from the beautiful, feisty female in my arms and stared at the dark ceiling, watched the ship’s lights blink on and off as it went about the business of traveling through space. For too long, I’d slept in this room alone. Stared up just as I was now but not seen it. Not seen anything around me but blood and Hive and what I was willing to risk to feel something.
I inhaled deeply. Zara did not smell like flowers or sweets. She smelled like me—and sex—and I found that extremely satisfying.
If I didn’t get ahold of myself, I’d be adorning her with more jewels than her tender flesh could hold.
Not that she’d allow my claim. Not yet. What we’d just shared was a start, showed it was possible but would take effort. Cajoling. Trust. I still had