Chapter 15 #2
How beautiful he was. Like The Rock. Or that guy in the fish movie, the one with all the tattoos.
Were those real? Or just part of the suit he must have worn and if it was a suit, were the muscles also just sculpted into plastic?
They wouldn't be on this guy, he looked like he was a good seven and a half feet tall more than two feet taller than her, with those arms, so muscled, and the chest, so thick…
When had he taken off his shirt?
God, he was glorious. That chest. So broad and defined, with striations in the muscle. Most guys couldn't get that if they worked for a year solid.
Most guys who would even try were dead now.
That was a sad and sobering thought. Surely now she'd find her head was back on her shoulders and responding to her again, that she could think clearly.
My name is Cassi King. I am twenty-four years old. I was twenty-three when these space junk assholes came and took my planet. They killed my boyfriend. They took my mother. And I don't know if Brec is all right and –
And Michael. She'd left Michael behind at the resistance without a word. Didn't know if he was safe, if he'd moved on to training the next recruit, if he ever thought about her the way she sometimes caught herself thinking about him in the quiet moments before the fear set back in.
And she was watching him. Thinking about the way he'd touched her. In her memory it now was gentle, his hand on her arm, not his hand around her bound wrists as he drove her in front of him.
Now in memory she understood he'd taken her to keep her safe. That was it, wasn't it? Not that he wanted her for himself like she was something to be traded, he'd done good and now he got his own little toy?
In her mind's eye –
But he was moving and the pulse between her legs jacked higher, she could feel herself getting wetter and she experimented, thinking again of what they'd done since they came to Earth and knowing yes, there were pheromones at work but no more than a couple beers might cause in her thinking process, her decision making process.
Nothing that would stop her from saying no.
If saying no was what she wanted to do.
He was on his feet. He was moving toward her. He was giving her time to say no. He was so huge but he reached out so slowly.
"May I touch your hair?"
She thought she'd die if he didn't. He stepped behind her and she felt a momentary surge of panic before he took her braid gently in his hands and she understood again he could kill her in a heartbeat so why worry about what he was doing?
If he was going to, he was going to. The very inevitability of it was enough to calm her.
The very thought that he seemed unlikely to.
She relaxed as his hands began unweaving the braid, separating out the plaits and then gentling his fingers through it, combing it softly, gently, slowly, as her shoulders sank and the fight or flight calmed, her heartrate accelerating for different reasons.
"Your name is Cassi?"
It was hard to make herself speak but not for reasons of fear or hatred. She felt lulled by the pleasure of being touched so gently.
"Yes." Before he could tell her, if he'd planned to, she asked. "What's your name?" And expected to be given either his rank, or a flat denial.
"Danton Trask."
Surprised, she told the truth. "I like it."
There wasn't anything he could say to that so he didn't. He just continued playing with her hair, stroking it now, letting his fingers twine through it.
Until he stilled, then moved his hands to her shoulders.
Her breath was coming more shallow now. She reached her hands up without quite meaning to do it and ran them over his where they rested on her shoulders as if he were asking permission again to touch her.
Gently she slid his hands down her body, over her shoulders, down her collarbones, to her breasts.
She heard him sigh.
She let her own breath out as well.
His hands were huge, dwarfing her breasts, making her want to laugh and cry at the same time. Jayce had always said he didn't need more than a handful.
Danton Trask wasn't getting quite that.
But the way he touched her, rolling her hard nipples under his palms, he seemed happy enough with what she had and Cassi was catching her breath, little shocks and quakes racing through her at his touch.
"Am I hurting you?"
"No." She breathed it. "That feels. So. Good."
His laugh was low and warm. "Then I'll keep doing it."
Was this really supposed to be about her pleasure?
But there'd been no distinct plan. It could be about anything.
A sudden queasy feeling at the thought that the resistance might be listening in, and then she forgot about the mike, about telling them where they were or having them know what she was doing.
She forgot about everything but Danton's hands on her breasts and his fingers tweaking and then rolling her nipples.
About the warmth of his flesh when he finally slid his hands under her shirt, still standing behind her, the sensation incredible when he leaned in closer and his erection suddenly pressed against the back of her neck.
He was so tall. So broad. So muscular. She should have guessed that what he'd have between his legs would be truly awesome.
She sucked in her breath, suddenly both afraid and wanting it more than she could possibly admit.
She wriggled back against him and felt him stiffen in surprise and then press against her.
It all speeded up then. He lifted her from the chair, sweeping her into his arms from where she'd sat sideways on the very end of the bed. He held her as he sank back, as if she weighed nothing, and brought her down so she lay on his chest, facing into him, her eyes on his.
Slowly he moved toward her, closing his eyes at the last minute even though she hadn't closed hers.
His mouth covered hers and she panicked, the blood still on her tongue, but when he touched her, it was gentle, his tongue filling her mouth, and she knew when he tasted the blood, knew for him it was another part of the experience because he became harder still under her until she couldn't stand waiting.
Even as she kissed him back she slid her hands down between them, letting his enormous hard cock fill her hands through his pants.
The move felt daring, as if he might kill her for it, as if he might be more sensitive than a human male or she might violate some taboo and he'd snap her in half and leave her bleeding.
Until someone came to tidy up dinner.
Even those thoughts weren't enough to stop her. He hadn't hurt her. She didn't think he would. All she wanted was to touch him.
"I don't want to hurt you."