Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Somehow my hand isn’t enough, and the shadowy figure above me does nothing but look as I try to grind out the most desperate orgasm ever.
The way the light catches the glint of his eyes, I can tell he’s staring, and I can hear his breath come in heavy gasps.
There’s something about his total lack of volunteering that I find totally and completely infuriating.
“Are you going to fucking help me?” I whine, slipping my hands back into my well, spreading my juices through my folds. My hips lift out of the pod when I hit the right spot, but just as quickly as the burst of pleasure hits, it’s gone—along with my elusive orgasm.
The shine of his eyes narrows, and he scoops one of his huge fur-covered hands up under my ass, holding my hips up.
He leans down and takes an audible sniff of my pussy.
But I don’t care; the Deenz shot has me wanting nothing but release.
There’s no time to be self-conscious, not while the urge to come has overtaken my brain.
“Your cunt,” he pants in the dim light. “Tell me what to do.”
“Rub here.” I tap my clit desperately.
His rough hand cups me, and the heat that radiates from his palm is absolutely fucking delicious. He squeezes the whole of me, and my wetness drips against his skin. I can’t control my voice as it escapes my lips in an animalistic groan.
“Please, please, please…” I arch into his hand, desperate for friction, for release from this frenzied hell.
Then, so fucking slowly, he drags two fingers from the bottom of my pussy, up through my slick lips, and starts a slow swirling grinding against my clit.
My eyes roll back in my head, and I lose any remaining rationality as I cave to the sparks travelling over every nerve in my body. I can’t even summon my voice to tell him faster—harder. Instead, growls and groans that I don’t even recognize as my own fill the chamber.
I take my hand and place it over his larger one. I drag it down again, needing more of my lube. For a split second, the tip of his finger slips inside me, and my inner muscles clamp wildly around the feeling of him.
“So wet…so tight,” the beast standing over me pants.
I don’t respond but only pull his hand back up where I need it.
He understands and picks up the pace. His broad, furry fingers rub furiously up and down in long, heavy strokes.
I can feel everything tighten and throb as my legs go stock straight and I clamp the muscles of my ass, desperately searching for the finish line.
The thumb of the hand supporting my ass slides up, grazing over my entrance before notching just against the sensitive ring of nerves at my vagina. That, in combination with the way his other hand works my clit, is enough to send me over the edge.
But when that baritone voice says, “Come for me,” I’m a goner.
Fireworks explode behind my eyes as my pussy contracts and spasms. My abdominal muscles snap somewhere low and deep, and the release of endorphins assaults my brain.
He lifts me from my pod, wrapping his arms around my limp, pliable body.
I rest my cheek against his chest. His dense fur softens the hard muscles of his pecs underneath.
I can’t help but rub my nose against the slick, warm hair there.
The dim red light of the station’s chamber shifts to a rosy, warm glow as I melt against the warlord.
The alien warlord who bought me.
The cold starts creeping in, first at my toes and fingertips. It travels up my extremities, clearing the post-orgasm fog and letting the truth of my situation slap me in the face as the aphrodisiac wears off. Fear fills my heart as I tilt my head up. I try to get a better look at who’s holding me.
A powerful jaw sits atop a thick neck, with the same mahogany-colored fur that covers his hands and his chest. The hair is longer at his chin, like a beard—I think.
I can’t make out all the details of his face at this angle.
There’s the sound of scraping, metal on metal, as a door panel slides into the wall and we step through.
It’s even darker in this room, and I squint, unable to make out much of anything before I’m placed on a soft surface.
I steady myself with my hands, fingers searching the texture.
I can hear his footsteps as he walks away from me, the dread building in my chest as I realize where I am.
I’m on a bed. His bed. The alien warlord’s bed. The one who bought me, the best dancer the Deenz had, who just begged for him to wrench that hard-fought orgasm from me.
The remainder of the aphrodisiac and the happy post-nut chemicals all leave my system in a sudden, terrifying rush.
I grip the sheets in my fists. There's a stinging burn in my chest, and I open my mouth to protest. And right now, at this exact moment, is when he flicks on a red light that floods the room.
I thought I’d seen everything before–mutant bugs, slug aliens, even color-shifting tentacled-wielding men…but as he steps into the shaft of crimson light, I realize I’ve seen nothing quite like him before.
I should be frightened by his size alone, but that’s not the first thing that sets me off—it’s the sound he’s making.
A low, almost inaudible rumble that I can feel more than I can hear.
It’s like some kind of suppressed growl or purring on steroids.
The undercurrent of his vibrating voice makes every instinct I have go on high alert.
He's covered in fur, dark and thick in a way that said predator, not pet.
Behind him, up that long spine and tracing along his shoulder blades, are spikes.
The spindly protrusions are metallic, but as he breathes, the colors shift, more bone than metal.
But with every subtle movement he made, they jostle—like they were alive and could taste my fear in the air.
My brain tries to make sense of him. Maybe he reminds me of a bear, or some kind of big cat?
Nothing sticks, he is too tall and more humanlike than any animal I could compare him to in the way he holds himself.
His eyes glow in the red light, pupils blown wide.
When his gaze lands on me, on my pussy, my stomach just… drops.
His gaze makes me feel like I'm being hunted.
Besides the scary purring, he didn’t growl, he didn’t roar, he just stared. And somehow that made it worse.
My tongue feels thick in my mouth, and I should scream, run, do anything but just sit on the bed, paralyzed in fear. But I don’t.
He steps closer, reaching his hand to me, so close that I can smell myself on the fingers that just worked my pussy.
Maybe that’s what snaps me back to reality, because I skitter backwards, using my arms to cover myself as best as I can.
“Don’t,” I whisper, my back now against the cold metal wall. There’s nowhere left for me to run.
His hand freezes, and he draws a breath, too deep and fast…like he’s trying to control himself. The spines on his back flare out defensively as he stills.
“Don’t?” he says through gritted teeth, hand still hovering over me. “I won’t hurt you.”
The way he says it doesn’t sound like comfort, it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.
And maybe it’s the drugs, but for a split second I see it. A flash of pain behind that hulking exterior. But just as quickly as it comes, it’s gone, buried under the weight of what he thought I was.
Of what the shot made me become.
Of how I begged him.
He’s so still, and so silent, I can only hope that maybe he’ll just leave. Back away and vanish into the dark, and we can pretend none of this ever happened.
But then, the alien beast moves.
He was fast, faster than I would assume something of his kind could be. His hand is on my arm, and I’m being yanked to my feet. I can feel his claws. His grip on my arm is so damn tight, but they don’t pierce my skin.
“Let me go.” I sob, my voice cracking.
He doesn’t answer me, just flexes his jaw, the muscle twitching under what I now know is a mane. That low rumble from earlier is louder, deep and furious. It’s not aimed at me, but I can’t promise it isn’t because of me.
He yanks me up and out of the room. We stop somewhere in the hallway. He presses a hand on the wall and wrenches me forward.
“If you want distance, you can have it!” The alien roars as he pushes me through. I try to dig my heels in, but I’m no match for his strength, and I just topple over myself. He looks down at me, the disgust clear as it dances over his face.
He punches the wall, and the door snaps violently shut.
“Stay,” he commands through the door. “You’re safer in there.” The words shake with restraint, like he’s holding himself together one syllable at a time.
I press my palm against the cool metal of the door, and I don’t even know what I’m begging him for when the “please” falls from my lips.
But there’s no answer, just the sound of his claws scraping sharply against the other side. Then, fading footsteps as he retreats down the hall.
That’s when I notice that I’m shaking, and I run my hands over my biceps, even though I know it’s not the cold causing me to have this reaction. That somehow, I’ve gone from one dark cell to another.
I know what the warlord wants, and I know my survival might depend on whether I can give it to him…I just don’t think I can. I’ve given up so much since my abduction, and I don’t think I can give up the one thing I’ve got left—my body.