Page 60 of Desperate Measures

“I do love making you scream,” he paused long enough to rumble.

“I hope no one heard me.” Since nobody was beating on the door to see if she were being murdered, she assumed the room was soundproof.

He chuckled and rose to stand by the bed. His cocks stood from his groin, slick and eager. Cheryl was limp from the cataclysmic climaxes Besral had drawn from her. He didn’t appear to mind her inability to help as he shifted her position. He put her ass at the edge of the sleeping mat so her legs hung off. Her feet didn’t touch the floor. The mat came to mid-thigh on Besral, who was slightly taller than the average Kalquorian. Such a big, strong, incredible man.

Used up? Not even close.

He grasped her ankles and lifted her legs in a vee. Watching as their sexes came together, not needing to guide his shafts after years of practice, he slid in her in slow increments. Despite his care, Cheryl’s breath caught at the ache of taking him. Her pussy was swollen from the devastating orgasms, and he hadn’t prepared her rear entrance for his smaller but impressive secondary.

Besral was always careful, but he was a Nobek who’d recently seen his wife and the children he regarded as his own in danger. It brought the feral instincts of his primal breed to the fore. His need for control and proof of his strength had to be satisfied. He needed Cheryl’s calm to vanquish his storm. He needed her surrender.

She gave it gladly. His determined invasion was met by her wholehearted yielding despite her body’s slight protests. She found that like the bites, the twinges of hurt added to her growing excitement. He’d have stopped if she’d told him to, but she liked the fantasy she was his to claim no matter what. His to control. His to…

Go on. Admit what gets you hottest when it comes to this.

Yes. His to fuck.

She accepted the growing strain of taking him, her fists clawing the sheets. He continued to press deeper in, seemingly unmindful of her comfort. But even as his expression exulted in his conquest, he watched her carefully, ready to halt if he discerned it was too extreme for her.

Then they were fully joined, man and woman, husband and wife, Nobek and Matara.

Though his chest heaved in a betrayal of his rising hunger, Besral rocked slowly, dragging out the incredible friction shooting her straight to renewed arousal. He continued to watch her as his measured thrusts shifted her ever so slightly on the bed. She was enraptured by the view of her scarred, muscled master rocking between her spread thighs as much as the feeling of him in her. He grinned, as if reading her thoughts, his hooded eyes declaring his enjoyment of what he saw and did to her.

He moved quicker. Harder. Her breasts bounced as the strength of his loving increased, and he licked his lips. “Later,” he panted. “Later I’ll shove my cocks between your tits and fuck them until I come all over them.”

Her pussy clenched on him at the filthy vow, and he barked a laugh. He quickened his pace. The liquid sounds of their wet sexes were joined by soft thuds of flesh meeting flesh. The increased friction made Cheryl gasp. Her hips, beyond her conscious control, rose and fell to his rhythm. She worked to increase the pleasure he gifted her. She instinctively chased another orgasm, as if she hadn’t already been gratified so thoroughly.

Besral’s jaw tightened. He was getting close. As tendons began straining on his muscled frame, Cheryl realized he was holding off for her. He wanted her with him when he came.

She exerted her will and her energy to make it happen. They gasped and heaved together, joined not only in body and soul, but in determination. The soft sounds of their sexes meeting grew to heavy claps. Their gasps became groans of force. Sweat shone on their skin.

There. Rapture was gathering, the tide of pleasure gathering force where they were one. Cheryl seized on its promise by grasping her clit between fingers and thumb. Besral’s pupils bloomed wide at the sight, and he tensed. “Yes!” he shouted.

She cried out, her mouth wide as ecstasy swept toward her. She felt the first pulse of his climax, the jet of heat filling her, then her own passion took her away.

Besral fell over her, blanketing her in his heavy warmth. His groans filled her ears, and she clung, wrapping her arms and freed legs around him, caging him as each tumultuous wave crashed. They writhed helplessly, the siren song of ultimate togetherness forcing them to prolong the bliss while their bodies allowed.

Then serenity descended, marked by their sighs and gentle pulses of contentment. Besral rolled so Cheryl lay on him. His restless hands prowled, rubbing her shoulders, back, and ass as they quieted.

“My Matara,” he breathed, injecting profound love in those two words.

“My love. My life,” she answered.

* * * *

Alpha Space Station

Charity’s guard glanced at her as they hurried through the bustling station to the shuttle bay. He blew a heavy breath, no doubt because of her morose expression. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She laughed suddenly, a jolt of humor sending depression fleeing for a moment. “You know what really hit me this morning, Nobek Selt? Of all the stupid things to get upset about, you know what made me bawl my eyes out?”

The handsome spy shook his head, sympathy and worry tightening his features. “What?”

“This!” She grabbed a handful of her formerly dark brown hair and waved it at him. What little she could, anyway. It had been cut shorter than she’d worn it before and colored honey blond as part of the effort to disguise her identity. “My hair. Can you believe it? New name, new face, new eye color, running for my life…but it was the hair that finally pushed me over the top.”

It was true. Charity had gone under an assumed name in Galactic Council space, so it was no surprise changing it again hadn’t rocked the boat. Dr. Hadlez’s alterations to her facial structure had been subtle but had rendered a definite change in her appearance. Despite that, she’d been more fascinated by the narrower nose, slighter chin, and less defined cheekbones than taken aback, much to the physician’s relief. “It’s temporary, remember, easy to return to normal when it’s safe to do so,” he’d damned near pleaded before letting her see what he’d done.

The lenses changing her eyes from hazel to deep blue had been slightly unnerving, but Charity had coped decently. But the final ingredient of her transformation had overwhelmed her.

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