Courting Kel (2 page)

“What is this?”

Before she could pop the morsel in her mouth, he caught her
hand. “It is called brac. It comes from our seas.”

“We have something similar on—” She swallowed the name of
her homeworld. “Shellfish.” Resigned to eating from his lips, she met his
amused gaze.

“When served hot, it tastes best dipped in butter.”

“We have—” The velvet memory of rolt—another reddish-white
meat, this with a hard, gray shell—made her lick her lips. “I’ve eaten
shellfish served like that. With a little emoln squeezed over it beforehand.”

“You liked it.” His gaze now focused on her lips.

She licked them again. “A lot,” she admitted, feeling a
flush creep over her face.

“If it’s the same fruit—yellow with bright green stripes?—we
call it meil.”

“Ours is bright green with yellow stripes.”

His laugh—low but ripe with merriment—captured her
attention. She looked at him more closely. Dark as the man-devils who sought to
overrun Amazonia, she’d thought him incapable of laughter. But then, when first
captured, men on her homeworld had little reason to laugh. After sex…that was a
different matter. Still, Aren seemed to somber, too…glum for such a joyous
sound.

“It seems we have much in common.”

“
We
don’t own slaves.”
Except for the men we keep
until certain we are pregnant
, she thought, looking at her hands. She
couldn’t lie any better than she could hide a blush.

“We…free ours. Eventually.”

Aren saw the sudden flare of hope in her eyes. He also saw
them change color from hazel to bright blue-green. Then she glanced down, her
thick brown lashes hiding their expression.

“H-how long must I serve you, Aren?”

“Long enough…for you to miss me when you leave.”

“You’ll send me home?”

That damnable hope again.
It twisted his guts. Made
him want to admit she was free to leave now. Except her accepting him would
mean a cessation of hostilities between their worlds. Except he didn’t want her
to go. “Eventually,” he repeated, and put another slice of meat between his
teeth. He’d keep his confession to himself or choke on it. Damn the king!
Bringing Aren a bride who didn’t know she would wed!

Rising to her knees, she leaned forward. Her high, firm
breasts grazed his chest. As he recalled the clear view of her lush body in the
bath, his cock swelled. Her legs were indeed long, her hips slender. When she
washed her sex, his shaft had grown so hard his balls hurt. And her breasts…he
yearned to suck her nipples into rigid nubbins. More, he wanted to lick her juices
from her cunt and taste her essence flooding over his tongue. His shaft warred
with his lust. He ached to plunge deep inside her tight, wet channel until she
shouted his name and they reached another galaxy of pleasure.

“Is there anything, anything at all, I can do to make you
free me sooner?”

Yes. Fuck my brains out.
He almost said the words but
caution held him silent. Amazonians enslaved men, whether Kel admitted it or
not. His captive might be a spy seeking to enlarge her tribe’s gene pool. Her
tale of being drugged, kidnapped and sold, nothing more than a story—a
fairytale—to lull him into complacency.

Instead of words, he jutted out his chin. She straddled his
thighs then used her teeth to pluck the meat from between his lips. Her
juice-drenched mons rubbed his shaft, making it even more painful and aroused
than before.

Sweat dotting his forehead, Aren shifted his woman off his
lap. It was the hardest—
yes, the very hardest erection he’d ever had
—the
hardest challenge he’d ever faced. His mind mistrusted her sudden surrender.
His shaft dismissed his mind’s confusion. If his mind won this war, he’d make
it up to his shaft. Make it up in Keleos’ hot, willing cunt.

In the meanwhile… “Have some choke.” Stripping a gray-green
leaf from its oval base, he held it to her lips, saying, “This is also tasty
when dipped in butter, but it is even better with garoli.”

“It won’t… I won’t truly choke on it?”

“No. Choke is what we call it.”

“Does it obey?”

“Pardon?”

“When you call it, does it come to you?” Some emotion—humor,
perhaps?—flitted through her eyes.

“Ahh, you’re a literal-minded woman.
Call
, in this
instance, is its name. Or rather, the vegetable’s name is choke.” Turning the
leaf meat-side down, he raked it over his teeth then showed the denuded leaf to
her. Plucking another leaf, he offered it to her. She squirmed against his
thigh, begging for him to possess her. Dint of will kept him from taking her
there and then. “I’ll not give you what we both desire until you’ve eaten. I
want you at full strength.”

Again her eyes changed color—now a swirling, stormy gray.

“You may come…to regret that wish, Aren.” Leaning back, she
gazed up at him. “If I recall correctly, you demanded that I feed you.”

Circling her narrow waist, he drew her to his side. “A hasty
and regretted order. I now propose that we feed each other.”

“The brac is tepid, the meat cold.”

“Tasty still, I think.”

Sucking a shellfish tidbit from his extended fingers, she
chewed. Sighed. Licked her lips.

His shaft swelled, seeming to have developed a mind of its
own. A mind filled with images of her lips and tongue stroking, licking,
sucking. Of her unruly curls tickling his balls while her mouth caressed—no,
devoured
—his
pulsing shaft.

“I intended to brush your hair.”

“Did you?” Surprise and delight lit her eyes.

Ahh. This is how she’ll look when we fuck.
When her
cunt sheathed him and drew his shaft and cum deeper. Deeper and deeper still.
Before his shaft drained within her spasming channel and brought them both to
satiation, her eyes would show that stormed-tossed gray. Earlier still, only
beginning to crave his touch, his caresses, her eyes would reveal that
considering golden brown.

How quickly would she arouse from thoughtfulness to passion?
From passion to completion? Every emotion, every desire and need readable in
the ever-changing kaleidoscope of her eyes.

She cleared her throat, an unexpectedly hesitant sound from
such a self-confident creature.

“What?” he asked when she cleared her throat again.

“What…role do you play here, Aren?”

“Role?”

“Are you also a slave?” Slapping her forehead, she seemed to
assess their elegant and costly surroundings. “Stupid question. Unless you’re
playing at being master here, you must be one. A master, I mean. An owner of
slaves.
My
owner.”

“For now, yes. Your owner.”
How does it feel, Keleos, to
be the slave rather than the mistress?

“Should I call you Lord Aren?”

“No.” He was beginning to like having the upper hand with
her.

Plucking a sweetmeat off the tray, she popped it into her
mouth. A sensual groan soon followed her swallowing.

Choosing to ignore the images her groan created in his mind,
Aren shifted his shaft.

“M’lord…? In public at least?”

“No.”

“I shan’t call you master.” She tossed her head.

“I never thought you would.” That much was true. He wanted a
life partner, not a namby-pamby who never expressed an opinion. But he also
wanted someone who wouldn’t fight him on every aspect of their lives. From this
brief exposure to her, he expected she would be the latter—fighting every step
of the way.

Her oddly dark eyebrows quirked upward.

“Surprised?”

“Oh yes.” Nibbling on another sweet, she stared at him. “Are
you a servant of any sort?”

“Of some sort, yes.” In the broadest sense of the word, he
served his father’s people. His people, one day in the far, distant future.
“I’ll have Drew clear away this mess.”

“Is Drew your slave?”

“No.”

“Your servant? Your concubine?”

“By all the gods, no!” The very idea of using a child for
pleasure was abhorrent to him.

Keleos continued to stare at him but finally said, “The
sooner you tell me, the sooner I’ll quit asking questions.”

“Tell me, what role do you play on Amazonia? Then I
might
tell you who—my title. And yes, I know of your homeworld.”

“That blackguard Tage told you where I’m from!”

“As I commanded him,” he lied.

“Commanded? You…you outrank the king’s captain?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared at her. Even
Tage quailed when Aren struck that particular pose. Keleos merely thrust up her
chin.

“Who or what are you?” he demanded in his haughtiest tones.
“Are you the victim you claim to be? A stowaway onboard
The Herald
seeking to escape her mistress? Or are you a spy, sent here to scout how many
men you can force into slavery on Amazonia? On Ondrican, we hang spies. After
we torture them.”

Springing to her feet, reaching for her absent dagger, she
shouted, “Bastard!”

“I know who my father is. Do you?”

Her eyes nearly black, her face flushed with heat—anger or
embarrassment he neither knew nor cared. Her shoulders stiffened. In a haughty voice,
she said, “On Amazonia, sires are not important.”

“They are. For breeding at least.”

“And for pleasure. Which works well for both sexes. The men
are not mistreated.” Raising her gaze to his face, she asked, “Can you say the
same for women here?”

“Yes.”

“You sound so certain.” She looked sarcastic, as if that
knowledge was beyond his ken.

“I am certain.”

“Are you as certain about female children? Drew, for
example?”

Uncertain how to explain Drew, he said nothing. He suspected
Keleos would hound him about the girl but she said nothing more. She paced to
the low table and removed the plate of sweetmeats. Glaring at him, she kicked the
table over. Food scattered in all directions. Garoli flecked his arms and
chest.

Furious, he forced himself to remain where he was. “Clean it
up. Every morsel.”

“No.”

Aren bellowed, “Drew.”

The girl appeared as if she had waited for his call.

Wondering why he had summoned the girl, Kel eyed him warily.
Did he intend to use Drew to bend Kel to his will? She glanced at Drew and
noted she looked completely unperturbed. Whatever their relationship, Kel
doubted Aren abused Drew. Still…dare Kel risk Drew for the sake of her own
pride?

Leveling a glare at Aren, she said, “What do you intend?”
She stood between Drew and that dispassionate monster reclining on the divan
without care for anyone save himself.

“You wanted to know what role Drew serves. I merely want to
show you.”

“By raping her? Do you think—?”

“Bring a bucket, Drew. Our guest will clean up her own
mess.”

Chapter Two

Tossing her rag into a nearby pail, Kel sat back on her
heels. As had happened the first time, the rag hitting water sloshed, getting
more on her than the floor. Defiance had a way of punishing the person doing
the defying.

“You need another bath, Kel,” Drew whispered, a shy smile
curving her lips.

Kel hooked her hair behind her ears. Glancing at the soaked
fabric clinging to her breasts, she said, “I think I’ve already had one.” She
eased to her feet, noting with some surprise that her knees ached. When she got
home, she vowed to show appreciation for these duties others performed for her.
Glancing at the devil still lounging on the wide divan, she amended
when
to
if
she got home.

“Thank you, Drew,” the devil said. “Empty the bucket then go
to bed.”

When the girl left, Aren stood and held out his hand.
“Come.”

Wary of Aren’s intention, Kel nonetheless retrieved the
sweetmeats from the table. Sitting, she placed the plate in her lap, popping a
sweet into her mouth. “I’m hungry.”

“Then bring the plate with you. Come here.”

He had that
or else
expression—the same look he’d
worn when he summoned Drew. She stood. Strode to his side. Shoved the plate of
sweets into his chest.

An amused glint lit his dark eyes. “What torment are you
devising now?” she said as he took the plate in one hand, her elbow in the
other. His grip felt deceptively gentle.

“I agree with Drew. We need a bath.”

As they entered his bathing room he said, “Fill. M’lady’s
settings. Her scent.”

Water flowed into the enormous marble tub. Caills scented
the air. Kel risked looking up at Aren. “You intend to bathe in this scent?”

“Why not? Since you will bathe in it, sooner or later I
shall have it on my skin.”

So the moment had arrived. He would take her, willing or
not. She could fight, exhaust her body and spirit. Or she could submit and
learn firsthand what all the fuss was about. Closing her eyes, she imagined
Aren’s body sliding over hers, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy.
Pleasure noises growing louder as they pounded together. Harder. Faster.
Searching, wanting, yet resisting that release—that bliss—when climax
overwhelmed them.

She was several years beyond her first mating time and Aren
was a handsome man. And if he freed her as he had intimated he might, she could
return to Amazonia and mate with a man of her own choosing. She was, after all,
a princess, who by custom if not by law could select the man who might
impregnate her.

“Sooner, I believe,” he said, his voice low and seductive.

His hands on her shoulders startled her. Looking up, she
became ensnared in his depthless eyes. She could read his intent and took a
half step back. His fingers deftly untied her sarong, clenching until the
material tightened around her body to hold her in place.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I seldom bathe in my clothes. Do you?”

The humor in his voice made her aware of the irony. On
Amazonia she had the right to choose her mate—would he have her or not.
Although, from the matings she’d witnessed, the man’s resistance seldom lasted.
Here…she lacked even the hope of refusal. “Not when I have a choice.”

“Then you sometimes do wear clothes while immersed in
water?”

“Sometimes.” The last time she’d done so, she’d sunk into a
murky pond and hidden in a tangle of reeds to escape discovery by invader
patrols.

“One day you’ll tell me that—or is that those?—stories.”

“I could tell you now.” Was there anything she could do to
delay the inevitable? He meant to bed her and—blast her curiosity—she meant to
let him.

Chuckling, Aren released her sarong. The shiny fabric pooled
around her feet, joined by his black robe.

His muscled chest demanded she touch his pecs. She did,
gasping when his flat nipples hardened under her fingers.

“My body displeases you?”

“Oh no! It’s only that—dark as you are—I imagined…I thought
you’d have more chest hair.”

Guiding her hands down his body, he curled her fingers
around his cock.

“Oh!” Looking down, she watched his cock grow harder. It
thickened. Lengthened. Pulsed. The head topped her hand, the base two finger
widths below her little finger. “Oh…my.” Weak-kneed, she collapsed against his
massive, sculpted chest. Only his arms supporting her kept her upright. If he
let her go, she’d fall to her knees, overwhelmed by the need building in her
body.

Having seen many cocks and the pleasures they gave to women,
she knew Aren’s was among the largest she’d ever seen. Her pussy wept, longing
to have that thick, hard flesh buried in it.

When he lifted her, she clung to his neck, certain only his
arms kept her solid. Without them, she would melt, leaving Drew to mop her up.

“Does my size frighten you?” He sat in the tub, positioned
her body so her legs straddled his hips and her aching, rigid nipples were
almost level with his mouth.
Impossible.
The tub seemed twice as deep,
twice as large than when she’d bathed earlier. One day she’d ask him.

Feeling his cock throb against her swollen clit, she sighed.
“Oh no.” Questions about the tub flew from her mind.

Leaning back along the angled slope of the tub, he said,
“Feed me.”

“There is nothing here to eat.”

“Isn’t there?” The heat in his eyes scorched her entire
body. He laughed. “Not your sweet cunt, Flame. Not yet. For now we’ll eat the
rest of the sweetmeats.” Sticking one between her parted lips, he drew her face
to his. “Feed me.”

His tongue darted out, plundering her mouth. The sweet
melted on their dueling tongues. Aren tasted like sugar, tnim and some flavor
she couldn’t identify but liked. A flavor she craved. When he eased away, she
moaned. When he laved her ears, her neck, her nipples, she groaned and shifted
her hips. She wanted his cock in her.

Laughing, he bent her back until her hair and most of her
face were soaked. She came up sputtering, her fingers curled like claws. He captured
one nipple in his mouth, lapping at it, making her purr. Silky strands of his
hair flowed through her fingers. His lips tightened on her nipple and he sucked
hard. Her pussy clenched. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she ground her
hips against his.

“Easy, Flame. We’ll get to fucking soon. Very soon, if you
keep moving like that.”

“You are…ahhh.”

With his hand between her legs, his finger sliding over her
clit, all she could do when he lifted her was hang on.

“I promised I’d brush your hair.”

“Now?”

“Right now.” Stepping out of the tub, he issued two quick
commands. The tub emptied. An enormous bed rose from the marble slab. Laying
her on the bed, he stretched out beside her. “Now where was I? Oh yes.” He slid
his thick middle finger into her channel and thumbed her clit.

Barely feeling the pain of his finger’s intrusion, she
bucked, on the verge of climax and wanting it now.

“Right here. Ahh, Flame, I believe you’ve never fucked
before. You’re so very tight.”

Refusing to admit her innocence, she said, “I…thought
you…brush my hair.” Her breath—what was left of it—hissed out.

“I am brushing, sweet.” As if to prove himself, he stroked
his fingers through the curls surrounding her clit.

“Ahhh. Aren.”

“I want to smell you.” Easing down her body, he urged her
thighs open then nuzzled her. “Sweet, Kel. You smell like caills and arousal.
The scent of you tempts my palate. I can’t resist. I must taste you.”

His tongue laved her from channel to clit then back again.

“Oh my gods!”

“You like this. Say what you will, Kel, your cunt seeps
nectar on my tongue. Your folds swell and your clit rises. You want my mouth on
your clit. My fingers inside you.”

“Yes. Yessss! P-please.”

“Hold yourself open for me.”

Embarrassed, she complied but closed her eyes. The thought
of what he saw there… His tongue flicked the tip of her nub and she jerked so
hard her hips left the bed. Thought fled. Sensations centered in her clit, in
her pussy. She’d gone deaf as well, his voice the only sound she heard. He
murmured praises for the pleasure her body gave him. Like a starving man at a
feast, groans flowed from his mouth into her pussy.

“P-please, Aren. Please. Pl—”

His thumb rubbing her clit, his tongue sliding in and out of
her drove her upward. Her climax shattered her body into shards of bliss she’d
never imagined possible. She screamed his name until she went hoarse.

She was barely conscious, barely aware of him moving up her
body. Caills wafted into her nostrils along with a scent she didn’t recognize.

“It is your arousal you smell on my cheeks and chin,” he
told her, rubbing her face with his. He kissed her, parted her lips then licked
every surface in her mouth. He sucked her tongue into his mouth. “These are
your juices you taste. No, Kel, don’t close your eyes. These are beautiful
gifts we’ve shared. After you drink from my shaft, you’ll share my taste with
me. Let me taste my cum on your lips. In your mouth.”

His voice hypnotized. Her own scent and taste speeded her
heartbeat and made her pant. His words seduced her. She craved his scent and
taste. Despite her struggles to free herself so she could share his essences,
his strength subdued her.

“Not yet. I intend to learn all your body’s secrets.”

“As you intended to brush my hair?”

“An intention I’ve fulfilled.”

Aren feathered his hand from her slender neck to the silky
curls of her mons. Her indrawn breath drew his attention to her storm-gray
eyes. Her arching back took his gaze to rigid pinkish-brown nipples.

“I’ve neglected these.” Lowering his head, he licked and
sucked each tempting peak. “You like that too.”

She nodded. Moaned low in her throat, a purring sound like a
petted cat.

Sucking one nipple, he eased the hand on her mons between
her parting thighs.
By all the gods, she’s hot.
And slick. “Tight, so
very tight. Wet enough to fuck, Flame.”

Her eyes went black. Expelling a shaky sigh, she nodded.

“There is another intention I need to complete before we
fuck.”

“What?”

“I must finger-fuck you until you scream for me again.”

“Why…why not fuck me now and be done with it?” Her voice
contained anxiety as well as longing.

“Because your cunt is so very small and my shaft is so very
large.”

“Ahhh,” she moaned, shifting her hips to bring his finger
deeper.

“So responsive, Flame. On the edge of coming, eh?” He found
the soft spot of pleasure deep inside her body, pressing gently until he felt
her spasms start. He eased a second finger inside, stopping when she mewed in
pain. He lapped her nipples until she relaxed and sighed contentment.

Thumbing her clit, sucking her nipples, he drew circles
inside her cunt and felt her spasms clench his fingers.

“Ohhh, Aren. Aren, Aren…
Aren
!”

As she peaked, he plunged his shaft into her cunt.

Despite her howl, Aren shoved his shaft in as far as he
could. Only then did he stop to let her body adjust. Tears trickled from the
corners of her eyes but when she looked up at him, surprise shone in their
depths. A soft smile curved her lips. Stroking away the tears, he kissed her.

“How do you feel?” he murmured.

“I’m not sure. A little like a wooden door smacked by a
battering ram.” She grinned at the inanity. “It doesn’t hurt as much as I
feared it would.”

“I’m glad. The first time is often painful for a woman. But
from now on you should feel only bliss.”

He kissed her again and felt her lower body relax even more.
Her deep breath sighed out in his mouth. Against his chest, her nipples
hardened. Around his shaft, her cunt juices slickened her grasp. He pulsed. She
clenched and took him deeper.

“Withdraw when I withdraw. Push up as I push down.”

Nodding, she pulled her hips down. Her cunt muscles resisted
and she groaned. When he eased forward, she pushed up. Her juices flowed,
easing her hold on his shaft.

“Ahhh.”

“Yes.” He eased out. Her eyes changed from hazel to golden
brown. When their bodies met again her eyes were dark brown bordering on black.

“Aren? Can we move a little faster?”

“Set the pace to what pleases you.” He sent a silent plea
that his shaft could outlast her slick heat and tight sheath. He’d been months
without a woman, never mind one who tested his restraint.

“I want to touch you.”

He nodded permission and held his breath. If she touched his
balls he’d explode. Explode long before he’d given her the rapture a woman
deserved, be it her first time or her thousandth. Her thousandth. He smiled at
the thought, looking forward through the years of their marriage and all the
pleasures they would bring each other. On the heels of joy came a bolt of fear.
How would she react when she learned she would never go home? That she belonged
here, in his arms, in his bed. His. Forever.

Distracting him—praise the gods!—she explored his hair.
“It’s very thick but feels like silk. On my homeworld, when a girl reaches her
mating time, she would kill for hair like yours. Men like soft, thick hair.”

“I thought you wanted to move.” His shaft throbbed.

Her eyes widened. “As you wish, Aren.” Her hands slid down
his back. Her fingers cupped his buttocks then dug in. Wrapping her legs around
his waist, she circled her hips as if recreating his fingers in her cunt.

He moved with her. Lust pounded in his ears. Her soft moans,
her rapid pants and avid kisses took him higher. She was like a tiger in his
arms—all lithe muscle and hot flesh as she writhed against him.

“More,” she cried. “Oh Aren. Aren!”

Her climax pulled him deeper inside her. His balls pulsed as
if she milked them. His cum erupted through his shaft and he thought he felt every
drop as it flowed from his balls into her heated cunt.