Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Sorin
I let out a huff of air. Briar fell asleep almost immediately, her pliant body pressed to my side, one arm over my waist. I am trapped, held in place by a hold I could easily break but which I am entirely powerless against.
An onslaught of mixed desires and thoughts accost me, warring for my attention. The sensible part of me still functioning with any amount of normalcy begs me to leap from the bed and flee the house—and the cameras—before I make a scudding fool of myself. The rest of my brain is working furiously on devising a plan for how I could throw Briar over one shoulder and flee with her. While my cock wants nothing more than to push into Briar’s quim, be damn the consequences. It presses forcefully against my slit, demanding release, demanding attention, until I am panting and shaking and entirely ashamed.
She mutters in her sleep, snuggling closer until she has her head on my shoulder. A few short days ago, I could not have imagined being so lucky. Now, I am on the verge of losing control.
Some of her hairs tickle my scales, and when I close my eyes, it is as though I am watching the recording of our kiss. I remember the feel of her fingers caressing the scales at the back of my neck, and the way she had shifted her whole body to eliminate the space between us. Then, my cock had ached for her touch; now, it weeps with wanting.
I only resist moaning by gritting my teeth, trapping the desperation in my throat.
I cannot stay here, under Briar, touched by Briar, tortured by Briar, for what remains of the night. The effort it is taking not to thrust against her thighs will surely kill me—or my cock will, as a punishment for denying it the only Female it has ever truly craved.
Holding my breath, as if that will aid in my escape, I slide toward the edge of the bed.
Briar slides with me, until I am lying half out of the bed and half under Briar, supporting myself with a foot pressed to the floor. It is uncomfortable to say the least, and I make the last movement quickly, silently pleading momentum will extract me.
“Fucking hell.”
I freeze.
Eyes still closed, Briar gropes at the mattress, clearly searching for me. It is almost enough to break my resolve, and I nearly dive back into her arms. Instead, I grasp the closest thing I can reach, which happens to be my old datapad, dented and cracked, discarded on my bedside table, and I press it into her hand.
She takes hold of the datapad, even as she buries her face in the mattress.
A stronger Male would have stayed with her, regardless of how he suffered.
I do not release my breath until I am in the kitchen and Briar has shown no more signs of waking. Then, I scramble up the ladder and out the front door.
I stay close, keeping to the protection of the house, using it as a shield against the wind.
I am releasing my cock from my slit before I have fully comprehended what I am doing. It arches up toward my stomach, flushed red and leaking.
My Briar. The claim comes unbidden, but I could not deny the truth even if my life depended on it. From the first moment I saw her, I knew.
I tighten my fist on my cock, stroking myself roughly, desperately, until I can hear the harshness of my breaths even over the wailing wind. It is effortless to imagine it is Briar’s hand on my cock, Briar’s need stroking my own.
Briar
I wait until Sorin’s climbed the ladder before following; he’s trying so hard to move silently that I don’t quite have the heart to admit to being awake.
It’s so dark outside I can barely see my own hand in front of my face. I stay by the open door, waiting impatiently for my eyes to adjust, and only then do I catch sight of Sorin. He’s standing a few feet in front of me, silhouetted against the shadowy backdrop of the endless horizon. His shoulders are hunched, and he’s bent forward, concentrating on something in front of him.
Huh . Even out here, in the hellscape of a wind-ravished planet, it’s virtually impossible to misinterpret the back-and- forth movement of Sorin’s hand. Turns out Human men and Ril’os men look remarkably similar when they’re, ah, taking care of a very particular urge. I actually turn around, intending to sneak back downstairs. But my feet don’t seem to want to carry me away, even though I know I should respect his desire for privacy.
Unless… was that my name he just moaned? Or did I imagine it? Surely I imagined it. It’s virtually impossible to hear anything over the howling wind. Except…
He tosses his head back and almost loses his balance, with nothing to brace against. He stumbles, dropping to his knees with a force that surely hurts, but he doesn’t stop wanking. And now his hips are thrusting too. I can almost taste how desperate he is, and my body responds. Tingles race along my nerve endings, culminating between my thighs, until I’m crossing my legs, seeking friction.
“Briar.”
I’m sure I haven’t imagined it this time, and I’m closing the distance between us without conscious thought, bracing my legs against his back, wanting to anchor him in place. Wanting, if I’m being completely honest, to anchor him to me.
Sorin
I tense as Briar steps up behind me, bracing my back against her thighs and stomach, but I cannot stop thrusting, not even as humiliation at being caught burns its way through me. She rests her cheek against the top of my head, narrowly avoiding my horns. Then she wraps both her arms around me—one around my chest and the other around my waist.
When her cold fingers touch my cock, I jerk, my mouth opening in shock. She strokes me with a ferociousness that matches my own relentless and unforgiving pace. My tension peaks, and I shoot my milt in long shudders, splattering the rocky ground.