Page 41 of Invasive Species
“They think my preference is for humans. They don't know I live for you, and only you.” The captain moves lower, nuzzling his lover. She stands legs apart to grant him access, and he inhales her sweet nectar.
I cannot make notes now,riveted to the page.
His tongue extends,the forks swirling in the air. He looks up at her, a lascivious grin on his face. He grasps his throbbing member as he tastes her, each fork probing and questing. The captive moans?—
This is fascinating.What would Arra-bellah be like asmycaptive? I replace this woman's described looks with Arra-bellah’s, her hair as red as a rocket's full thrust, her skin soft and pale under the pirate’s touch.Mytouch. I might not have a forked tongue but I can probe, mapping these depths described as smooth, silky and, above all, warm.
I clasp my hand around my straining cock, the secondary one thickening out at the base. Selthiastock class clones have a knotting cock template which fill the mates of True Born to bursting. I don't know why we were given one, as no female ever chooses a lowly clone as a mate. Yet another insult from the females of my planet.
I refocus on the historical account. This captive seems to like being filled, demanding the captain’s penis and screaming with pleasure when it goes anywhere near her.
My hand gets firm, unyielding, wrenching my fore cock in an up and down motion to simulate the thrusting in and out the captain does, crooning to his captive, “Good girl,”and, “Take it all.”
“Good girl, Arra-bellah,” I grunt, hardly able to speak through the waves of pleasure riding me, spurring me higher and higher to my peak. A few hard jerks and my seed spurts, jetting into the air.
But then pain attacks. I curl into myself as my secondary cock demands pressure for release, aching fiercely. I grope and press it frantically. What’s happening? I suck in a breath and try to breathe through a fresh wave of agony.
Eventually the pain subsides and I settle back, panting hard, analyzing. My knotting cock has never activated before, but now it throbs in response to carnal thoughts about Arra-bellah. It definitely needed to be surrounded with something tight and warm. I glance down at the text. The prisoner’s pleasure centers seem ideal.
As for why it hurts is an easy conclusion. My own body, including its sex organs, were designed and developed to serve the females of Oloria, even when they don’t want us.
“This is ridiculous,” I growl at myself. Why am I bothering to learn about pleasure?
Because Arra-bellah is different. Closing my eyes, I relive the moment she reached out for me in the water. How her hand closed around my wrist, solid, unwavering. As if it were normal and natural to help me.
I want that in my life. I want someone to care about me like that.
So I’ll have to work to secure it.
After cleaning myself and my surroundings, I read the rest of the text to learn what to do to satisfy the little human. The partners race toward mutual completion, and this pirate prince has no fear of an unsatisfactory knotting experience.
My lip curls at the character’s certainty that this female is his to use as he sees fit, tugging at her hair like reins as he, quote, ‘rides her.’ Even mated, I would never presume ownership of a female. Certainly no one would ever be ableto tame Arra-bellah, and I wouldn’t want her to be owned by anyone.
This male doesn't have a knot, but perhaps there are more who do, and I can learn how they pleasure their partners. I make a quick program to scour for evidence of a cock like mine in these novels. Does Arra-bellah find them interesting? That would also be an important datapoint.
There are few knotting cocks, and the program highlights them for me, but the passages also contain prose.
“I love you,”the pirate says as he thrusts again.
She is filled, stretched, her mouth dropping open as her walls are subjected to more than she ever could have imagined. He’s deep and tight within her, their bodies pressed as if they interlock and will never untangle again.
“I love you too,” she gasps.
I shut the e-reader,trembling.
Love. My hearts thump my chest, each beat like nails hammered into the thick oak beams of the barn. Love isn't for someone like me. I'm a mere clone, one of thousands of Selthias class copies. I've been banished, a criminal, and I've been rejected before.
I squeeze my eyes shut, shoving down memories as sharp as shards of glass. My mother—no, the woman I thought was my mother—smiling at me. Assessing my test scores with a happy laugh. Running with me, playing with me, laying back onto the grass and looking at trails from short hoppers in the sky together to weave a story.
Leaving me at the gray door, turning around and walking away. She told me to stay and be quiet, and I did, so she would look back at me and say I'd passed some test.
But she never looked back.
The shards of memory work their way deeper, cutting as they go. I can’t go through that again. Arra-bellah’s a human with a completely different culture to mine, but she can still discard me. Look at how many times we’ve clashed, to Dom’s irritation.
My chest tightens, but I force myself to take a deep breath. I have to hope. She's different. Unique. Her mind works in incredible ways, a challenge to keep up with and always one step ahead of me. The image of her saving me, holding me, pulling me up with her to the surface, fills my hearts with warmth.
I flip the reader open with renewed purpose. I have to learn all this so I'll impress her. I'm a fast learner, all Selthiastock are, and I'm no different.
