Page 15 of Tamed By the Alien Warlord
His hands roam—possessive, rough, worshipful in their violence. He palms my ass, claws scraping over my dress, thenripsit down the middle. I moan into his mouth as fabric tears like paper and falls to the floor, leaving me bare but for the collar, leash, and heels.
“You walk into another man’s room in this, and I willburnthe galaxy to ash,” he snarls against my throat.
“Then fuck me like you own me.”
And he does.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing, bone spurs dragging delicious trails up the backs of my thighs as I wrap my legs around his waist. My pussy is already slick, throbbing, desperate. I grind against the hard, ridged bulge in his pants, and Ifeelthe flex of his cock through the fabric—thick and pulsing, with those spurs twitching, hungry.
He slams me against the wall. My wrists hit the smooth surface, helpless, useless, still caught behind me from earlier restraints. I’m pinned and straining and exactly where I want to be.
“You’re so wet,” he growls, dragging his claws up the curve of my ass to the small of my back. “Dripping. Youwantthis.”
“I wantyou,” I pant. “I want you toruinme.”
He tears open his pants.
And I see him.
Gods. I’ll never get used to that sight. His cock is massive—midnight black, ridged with faint bioluminescence pulsing down the shaft, crowned with a flaring head and a ring of flexible,shifting bone spurs near the base that twitch when they sense my heat. Alien. Intimidating. Glorious.
“I should be gentle,” he says roughly, positioning himself between my legs. “But I won’t be.”
“I’d hate you if you were.”
That’s all the permission he needs.
He thrusts into me with one long, brutal stroke.
Iscream.
Every inch stretches me beyond human limits. The spurs scrape just inside me, stroking my inner walls with textures my body was never meant to accommodate—butcravesanyway. I clench around him like a vice, my pussy pulsing with every inch he claims.
He snarls and yanks the leash tight, forcing my head back as he drives deeper. His cock fills me completely, hitting some inner place that turns pain to ecstasy, fear to devotion.
“Say it,” he growls in my ear, thrusting again, harder. “Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” I sob. “Yours, yours, yours—fuck?—”
His hand tangles in my red curls and hepulls, snapping my head back, baring my throat. The stretch makes me whimper, makes my pussy clench tighter. The helplessness turns me molten.
“You like that,” he says. Not a question. A fact.
“Yes. Please. Do it again?—”
He does.
Fucks me like I’m his captive bride, like I’m the prize of a blood-soaked hunt. Every stroke is a promise, every pull on the leash a demand. I feel bruises forming on my thighs where his spurs drag, and Iwelcomethem. I want reminders tomorrow. Proof.
“You take me so fucking well,” he pants. “So tight. So hot. You were made for me.”
I sob, desperate and shaking. “Only you—only your cock?—”
He changes the angle, one hand grabbing my ass, the other gripping the leash like reins. Anddamn, I come undone. My orgasm hits hard and sudden, crashing through me like lightning. My vision whites out. My pussy spasms around him, milking him, coaxing his name in broken, babbled pleas.
“Lanz—fuck—I’m coming?—”
“Again,” he growls. “You’ll come again before I do. You’ll fuckingshatterfor me.”
