Wrage (Galaxy Gladiators #11) - Alana Khan Page 0,24

his head to capture one of my nipples between his lips as he plucks the other. He doesn’t bombard me with a flurry of movement and action. No. He takes his time. One vigorous pull on one side with a simultaneous nip on the other.

Over and over he teases me. His head bent to one side and then the other to discern which exact angle bestows the most delicious pleasure. I participate the only way I can, with my head flung back and heartily moaning, gasping, and wordlessly praising when he gets it right.

Watching his dreads move as he laves my breasts, the mottled blue skin at the back of his neck exposed, the thick ropey muscles sliding underneath his skin, I don’t believe I’ve ever wanted anything as much as I want this male right now.

I’m canted back, my greedy slit rocking against the steel rod beneath his pants, my chest open to him as an offering.

He grabs my hands, now clenched in his dreads, and moves them to the ceiling. I hadn’t noticed, but now that I look, I see grab bars everywhere—the ceiling, the walls, the sides of the little malta. Are they there for . . . just what we’re doing?

I hold on exactly where he placed me. It gives me more mobility. I can ride him with more force, and thrust my breasts into his mouth with ease.

“Smell me, Wrage,” I demand, my voice husky, without a hint of shame. “That’s for you.”

“You fight dirty,” he says as he rubs his mreen against my midriff, my breasts, my nipples, using them to both give his and receive my scent. It makes my arousal ratchet up a notch, or two, or three.

When he slides my pants down my hips, I pull myself up on the grab bar, using my upper body strength to help him yank them off. Pants and panties are shed in one motion.

He growls, a noise so feral, so animalistic it awakens a matching response from deep within me. Gripping my ass cheeks in his huge hands, he lifts me a few inches higher, and I hang there, my slit the level of his mouth. Splitting my legs wider, he delves in and feasts.

Growling and grunting, he spears into my desperate channel, then drags the flat of his tongue to my little clit. Circling, circling, teasing. He assaults me. His palms on my ass reposition me, so my pelvis tilts toward him.

He shoulders himself between my thighs so without using his hands he’s draped my legs over his shoulders.

“Wrage!” The angle he’s at is shockingly delicious. He’s lancing into me with his tongue, tantalizing my clit with his nose, and I have the mobility to reposition myself if I want him somewhere else.

“I’m close,” I pant, my head flailing back and forth from shoulder to shoulder. His finger slides purposefully down my crease and circles my back hole. All I needed was that little nudge and I fly over the edge, every muscle in my body straining to make the orgasm even more deep and wild than it is.

“Wrage!” For a moment, I’m back out in space among the stars, but he isn’t there to dance with me, so I plummet back to our little malta of bliss so I can peek through slitted lids to see him adoring me with his mouth, his whole face buried between my legs as he laps me up.

When I spiral back down, I sink to my knees and release the grab bar, slumping onto him in a puddle on his lap, panting.

“Amazing,” I say as I pepper him with kisses. “So good.” I can’t stop giving him accolades with my mouth, my hands. I explore his horns, and he groans with pleasure and need. I press him closer to me so we're smashed together, sweat-slickened and exhausted. At least I am.

“Fuck me, Wrage. I want to make you feel good.”

Wrage

The last thing I want is to fuck her. There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted less in my life. Including slavery.

I may have had an extremely dracked-up childhood, but there’s one thing I’ve known since then, I’ve never wanted to drack my mate, or fuck as she calls it. And certainly not on what I consider my mating night.

When I sheathe myself in my mate it will mean something far beyond dracking. And she’ll feel it in her heart, not just in her cunt.

I’d hoped the wreathing, the joining we did earlier, would change things between us. It