Page 5 of Desperate Measures

She laughed. “Action is a Nobek’s calling card, isn’t it? As long as you remain in one piece, you can be as crazy as you like.”

He grinned, the creases in his weathered face lending it character. “I can’t promise that. No self-respecting Nobek would. But I’ll do my best.” His tone turned businesslike, in contrast to the rigid interest she felt a certain part of him proclaiming. “In anticipation of the fleet responding swiftly to my com, we need to ready for a quick evacuation. I hate to upset the children, but they’ll have to travel light. They should bring along only what they can carry in their arms.”

“In other words, their go bags.” Emergency preparedness hadn’t yet come into play at Open Arms, but Cheryl had once been trapped in her home on Earth during a wildfire crisis. The terror of those hours and lack of supplies afterward had taught her well. Not only did each child have a carry sack of a change of clothes, toiletries, medications, and identification, but they were drilled on evacuation procedures to safe zones quarterly. She thanked the prophets she’d kept up readiness protocols despite ten years of never needing to use them in a real disaster.

“I suggest we postpone regular school lessons in favor of training to escape. If the kids know what they’re supposed to do, there’ll be less panic when the time comes to do it.”

“I agree. We’ll cancel tomorrow morning’s classes to draw up the plans. If we’re ready by afternoon, we’ll start then.” She tweaked his slightly crooked nose. “We’re quite the team.”

“Indeed.” Affection shone in his eyes. When he kissed her deeply, she clung to him. She moved against the hard prod of his interest, hot on her belly even through their clothing.

He’s excited to be facing a threat. She had no qualms about taking advantage of it.

Still kissing her, Besral scooped her off her feet and trod the hall to their bedroom. They’d come to know the steps of the intimate dance so well, he had no need to tear his lips from hers as he lowered her to her feet and began undressing her. She also had little trouble parting man from clothes, until warm bare skin met warm bare skin.

From there, they parted to gaze at each other. Despite advancing years and scarred from a battle-heavy past, Besral remained muscled and strong. His erect cocks, the foremost slightly thicker and longer than its twin, proclaimed his virility. Cheryl’s heart quickened as it always did when she contemplated his feral magnificence.

She felt no urge to hide her own body from his intense consideration despite having passed her sixtieth birthday. Her breasts no longer stood up perkily. Her belly, always having tended toward softer contours, had curved more as the years had passed. Nonetheless, Besral showed no less than lustful admiration when he looked at her. His spicy arousal scent, rising from the wetness coating his shafts, filled her senses.

He repeated a statement she’d heard often through the years they’d been together. “Mother of All, you’re beautiful. And you’re mine. All mine.”

He lifted her onto the bed they shared, and she sank into its softness, a delightful counterpoint to the granite physique covering hers. Besral resumed kissing her, as if her lips and tongue alone were the sole items he desired in the galaxy. She wound her arms around his neck, her mind repeating his joyful declaration: mine, mine, all mine.

He rushed nothing, taking his leisure until he felt the urge to roam lower. His teeth scraped her throat excitingly, sending shivers down her spine. If he weren’t careful, she’d have to wear high-neck blouses to hide the evidence of his passion, but she was willing to make the sacrifice. She enjoyed his ardent worship too much to urge caution.

His rough tongue traced her collarbones. His lips nuzzled the hollow between them. Cheryl’s respiration quickened. How often had Besral mapped her thoroughly, yet she never failed to respond? She’d lost count.

His arms, which had surrounded her from the start, slid out from under her. His calloused hands cupped her breasts, molding them so her already flushed and taut nipples pointed toward the ceiling. He gazed at them as if regarding rare treasure before his head sank down to devour.

Cheryl’s breath caught as his hot maw enclosed the top half of one mound. The sensation of sparks flew straight to her womanhood, where her pulse already throbbed. Besral hungrily tasted her breast’s entirety, his tongue setting fiery trails where it lapped. At the same time, he rubbed the other breast, his thumb teasing the peak as his tongue did to its twin.

He drew on her, sucking her pliable flesh deep, as if he’d swallow her. When he drew off, his teeth dragged light furrows. The agreeable ache curled Cheryl’s toes. She recalled a word from her mother’s secret stash of illegal vintage paperback books, which she’d stumbled upon as an adolescent: ravish. She believed it an apt description of what Besral did to her. He didn’t merely make love. He ravished her.

His head reared up, and his gaze held hers. His lips wrinkled back, displaying his blunt, humanlike teeth and the long, needle-sharp fangs that had appeared behind them, descending from his palate.

Cheryl watched as his mouth sank toward her breast again. She offered no resistance when the fang tips dimpled her lush flesh. She didn’t cry out at the darts of pain as he bit and they pierced her skin. The hurt ended in an instant, thanks to his saliva, which anesthetized the wounds.

He kept his fangs embedded as his tongue danced on her nipple. After a few moments, misty euphoria wafted through Cheryl’s brain. Her arousal increased, and she spread her legs for Besral.

He wasn’t yet ready to accept her offer. Instead, he kissed and nuzzled his way to her other mound. A second bite, and the elation and lust increased until she was dizzy. She moved against him, squirming and grinding for better contact.

He released her and grinned. “What are you doing, my love? Is such behavior worthy of a dignified former nun?”

Yearning lit her entire body, and it goaded her to fulfill its hunger. “Touch me. Touch my pussy,” she begged.

“I will. When I’m ready.” The tip of his tongue teased her nipple.

He knew full well the effects of his venom on her, how desperately needy it made her. Her gyrations increased. She tried to push her hands between their bodies, to grasp her clamoring clit for the relief she desired.

The brute on top of her merely chuckled and grabbed her wrists. He pinned them to the bed and continued his slow, meticulous mauling of her breasts. She squalled and jerked in an effort to escape.

“I feel the earth trembling beneath me so very slightly,” he snickered amid sucks that left her tingling from head to toe. “Don’t worry, it isn’t nearly enough to move me from where I am.”

She wailed, though she knew from past experience it would do no good. Besral wasn’t a rough lover, but his provocations could be brutal. He loved to make her helpless and rouse her so she screamed when she came.

He toyed with her breasts until they heaved at her every breath. At last, he began to kiss a slow, torturous path down the center of her torso. He paused at her bellybutton to swirl his tongue over it. He knew how crazy it drove her under the intoxicant’s sway to pay attention just inches from where she wanted it most. Trapped beneath his weight and by his casual but unrelenting grip, she could only endure as her clit and pussy throbbed. The bed covering was wet beneath her from excitement. Yet Besral refused to hurry his pace. He was content to nuzzle her navel, then lick the folds between her thighs and mound.

Her entreaties for him to fuck her went unanswered in those long minutes of erotic torment. They seemed to goad him to linger on the crease separating mound and belly.

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