Wrage (Galaxy Gladiators #11) - Alana Khan Page 0,26

encounters my cock. I’m ready. She’s not.

Gripping me at the base, she inspects me.

“You’re big Wrage. Too big for my mouth. You’d fit here, though,” she coaxes as she shifts in one lithe movement and places her opening on the tip of my cock.

Gripping her hips, I move her before she can impale herself on me. She gazes up at me, the picture of misery.

“I’m ready for you Wrage. I know I said I wasn’t, but I’m ready for you now.”

“You’re ready for my cock now, Elyse. I want to wait until you’re ready for me.”

Her eyes flash to mine. For the swiftest moment I read awareness and acceptance in this glance, then her knees slide between mine and she positions her open mouth over my cockhead. I feel the humid warmth of her breath as she teases me without so much as a grazing touch.

“Your cock is beautiful,” she says as she runs her loose fist up and down my length. “Mreen on your cock? When a female is this close, what’s the need? You’ve already enticed her with your scent.”

I don’t answer. Now’s not the time for a scientific explanation.

“I didn’t withhold from you, Elyse. Are you stalling?” I grit out. I don’t know how much longer I can hold back—I’m certain she’s doing this on purpose to drive me insane so she can get her way.

She gazes up at me, apology in her eyes. “I don’t want to withhold from you, Wrage. I want to give you this and more.”

With that, she takes me into her in one swift, deep movement. I hit the back of her throat, and still she feeds me deeper, even as she makes a noise of discomfort. I pull her head up a few inces, my hands telling her not to do this to herself.

She grips my hips, her thumbs digging into my flesh as if she wants to hang onto me. Then her mouth rides me in earnest. The ring of her mouth tightens around me with the perfect firmness, and she bobs up and down.

I feel every pull as her lips press against the sensitive bumps on my cock. She moans in delight as she quickens her pace. My fingers bite into her shoulders as my balls tighten, getting ready to release. When I do, she takes me deep into her throat again, squeezing my member so tight it makes my head spin.

I grunt my release, spilling down her throat, pumping into her for long moments. Her head is still bobbing on me, slower now, as if she wants to milk my pleasure, prolong it. Nothing, not Sibyl, not any whore who studied the sexual arts to earn her living, nor my own hand, has ever given me half this satisfaction.

I pull her up to join me on the pillow, and search her features. What just happened? These weren’t the actions of a female who wanted to get the job over with. These were the actions of a female who wanted, more than anything in the world, to please her male. Maybe she doesn’t know it yet, but this female has affection for me.

This knowledge, along with the pleasure that just shot through my body, puts a soft smile on my face.

She rises to her knees, allowing me to once again enjoy the view of her body, and rummages in her pack.

“Nutrition bar,” she says as she tosses one to me. “Water.” She sets it near my arm. She pokes through the bag until she finds one more thing.

Sitting at my side, she pulls the bar out of my left hand and puts it in my right. Then she straddles me and climbs to my left side, nudging me to slide toward the other side of the malta. Sitting on her heels, she pulls the cap from the tube of salve and begins dabbing it on my branding site.

I watch her as I chew the last bite of the bar. The way she just ministered to my cock told me a lot, but this, this speaks louder.

This isn’t the way a detached medic treats his patient. This is the way a person treats someone they care about. Her touch is soft and careful as she takes pains not to press too hard. When she’s satisfied with her work, she administers to her own arm.

I lived with my parents for fifteen annums, I never saw this level of concern between the two of them, and they were supposedly religious and living