Page 23 of Mated to the Alien Warlord

Her hands dug into my shoulder and biceps for purchase while her groin began to gyrate against my cock, stiffening him so hard, dizziness overcame me. Her legs opened invitingly, and I moved my hand from her back to between us to aim my cock at her opening.

She might have been inexperienced, but her instincts were formidable, and I could only guess at the exquisite lover she would make in the near future when she lifted herself to help me sheathe my cock inside her.

"Vandor," she moaned as I slipped into her slick passage. It was a tight fight, but oh so rewarding.

I cupped her ass and gently directed her up and down and soon she took up the rhythm. Her hands left my shoulders, to grasp the outer edges of the tub as her movement on top of me increased.

My tongue licked over her breasts, teased first one then the other nipple, while both of my hands were now firmly planted on each side of her hips, grabbing her harder with each thrust up and down.

Water lapped over the edges and down on the floor, but neither of us paid any attention to it, both of us were caught up in the sensations heating our blood.

Her pussy's muscles clamped around me, pulsed; her head lowered, her lips searched for mine, and I gladly complied. Our fiery kiss was only matched by the pulsing in our blood.

Nothing else existed but the friction of moving in and out of her, the brush of her skin against mine, and our intertwined lips.

Her hands let go of the tub, her legs squeezed mine, and her body stiffened as a deep moan escaped her. I opened my eyes and took in the mesmerizing sight of her coming all around me. Her expression looked almost surprised as if she hadn't expected the sensations raking through her body, and the urge to possess this magnificent creature overcame me with a never before experienced intensity.

I grabbed her face with both hands and crushed my lips to hers, moving my lower body up and down, thrusting into her pulsing cunt as she shattered all around me.

"Vandor!"

Her crying my name in the midst of her orgasm did me in, and with a loud, "MINE!" I claimed her fully, unloading my seed deep into her welcoming womb and prayed it would take root.

At that moment and for the rest of my life, I wanted nothing more than to possess her, claim her as MINE, and make that claim known to the world by fathering a child on her.

Her body convulsed against mine as keening sounds escaped her between panting breaths, her heart hammered wildly against my chest, and I was loving every moment of it.

"Czira," I brushed her wet hair from her face and brought her head to lean against mine. "Czira," I repeated, unable to say anything else, too caught up in an array of emotions I had never experienced before.

"I like being your czira," she said when she found her voice.

"I like you being my czira," I smiled.

WeleftKendryx'soutpostdays ago and had almost reached Steppenfort when word reached the khazar that Fionbyr's army had been spotted nearby.

Gryck decided to leave the train of camp followers behind immediately, and Vandor and I had our first argument when he ordered me to stay with the camp while he took off with the khazar's army to pursue Fionbyr to put an end to the civil war once and for all.

I hated being left behind, not knowing where he was, how he was, and with no word of what was happening.

The baggage train was ordered to move forward toward Steppenfort, but the going was incredibly slow. A journey that would normally take two days ended up taking a week, because when we reached the River Dunway the bridge connecting it to the other side where Steppenfort was had been destroyed. Undoubtedly done by Fionbyr's warriors.

Forced to move down the river to find another bridge, more days passed, and when we finally found a bridge large enough to accommodate the wagons and their heavy loads, we had to travel back upriver the same distance.

I felt lost during those days. I had grown used to sleeping with Vandor by my side, and the company of Kendryx and Gryck. Here among the camp followers, I had no place.

I tried to befriend the various women who came from all parts of life. There were seamstresses, cooks, servants, and harlots. None of which wanted to befriend a woman so far removed from their ranking, and I didn't blame them. We had nothing in common and even though I had never cared for rank or title, they did.

Which was why I rode alone at the head of the column, flanked by the guards Vandor had assigned to me who were unfortunately too intimidated to speak to me. And when we weren't riding, I slept alone in my tent after servants brought me dinner or breakfast.

I couldn't have said how many times I cursed Vandor for leaving me behind, although I understood that I would have been a handicap to him and the others. In all honesty, I wasn't eager to witness a battle either, so I grudgingly endured the trip to Steppenfort.

Nobody was more surprised than me when on the seventh day of our trek, Steppenfort finally came into view. My breath caught when I watched a lone rider gallop toward us. At first, I thought it was my yearning for Vandor that played tricks on my mind and made me see things, but the nearer the rider drew, the more unmistakable his form became.

"Vandor," I cried, and kicked my horse into a gallop to meet my husband halfway.

He was out of his saddle even before his horse came to a full standstill, and I nearly flew out of mine when I stopped my horse in mid-gallop.

Hands I had missed so much encircled my waist and pulled me off my horse to crush me against a massive chest, while swinging me in a circle, before hard lips pressed against mine in a soul-searing kiss.

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