“Look,” she interrupted rudely. “If you are going to talk English, do it correctly. As far as I am concerned, a
pava
is what I am
experiencing
. What I
have
is a vagina. You can even use pussy or cunt. I won’t object.” Inwardly, she thrilled at the sound of the naughty words. “Choose one of those words, okay?”
He nodded sharply. “Yet will I fill your pus-sy. Your va-gi-na. I will be steadfast in this duty.”
She inwardly shook her head. What, did he think her moved by his reassurance of his competency as a lover? On the contrary, his expertise only highlighted her lack and escalated her fears of their future mating.
And he saw making love to her as his duty?
She cringed at this new blow to her budding self-esteem. She had no experience, no knowledge. Was it her fault that no mature, eligible males existed among the colonists to help her explore her sexuality?
Her teeth absently worrying her bottom lip, she struggled to categorize the contradictory feelings assailing her. For him to call her a tiny thing and mean it made her feel dainty and feminine—something she had craved for a very long time. On the other hand, she floundered in uncertain waters. She had no idea how to handle this situation and so she rejected his allure, falling back on sarcasm to hide her insecurity.
“Was there supposed to be a marriage
proposal in there, somewhere?” she asked snidely. “I hope not, since I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse, Prince Glendevtorvas.
“Thanks just the same, but no thanks. Unlike you, I do not consider it
my
duty to accept you.”
“What say you?”
The prince’s disbelieving words rang in her ears. “You dare dismiss me so?”
“Let me see…” Nnora tapped a deliberately insolent finger to the tip of her chin, pretending to consider her behavior. “Yep, I do. See, I may be in my second
pava
and unmated, but I’ll never be so desperate that I have to be someone’s
duty
,” she said, her voice gone chill.
“So, as the saying goes—don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord spit you.”
With an imperious finger, she indicated the door to the hallway. “Bye-bye! What a pleasure it’s been meeting you…
Not
. And you needn’t worry your
little—
” she glanced disparagingly down at his crotch “—head about me, I’ll just wait for the next crop of maturing boys.”
She watched, heart-sick as the insult fell on fertile ground.
Growling, the Prince captured her gaze. His burnished gold eyes, grown hard, bored down into hers as he deliberately ripped off his black t-shirt. Another angry jerk loosened the fastening of his jeans. “I have offered you honorable marriage and plentiful fucking and you reject me out of hand—to wait on boys who may not even make it to manhood.”
Glendevtorvas moved toward her, male arrogance personified and rolled up in one irate package. She backed up, not willing to tangle with the warrior, whose swirling emotions were an almost visible cloud about him. Tripping over the fringed throw rug in her haste to distance herself from the determined male stalking toward her with lust twisting his implacably masculine face, she shivered with a mixture of desire and wariness.
Strong hands snatched her into the air, preventing an ignominious fall, only to pin her against the bathroom door.
“But why wait, my lady?” Glendevtorvas gritted from between clenched teeth, forcing a heavy thigh between her legs and grinding his hips into her pubic mound. “I am a mature male ready to service you, since
servicing
seems to be all you are concerned with.”
Chapter Four
That ripped shirt implied a sensual threat Nnora didn’t think she could handle. Even while she flinched away from the thought of her inadequacy, she couldn’t help staring hungrily at the taut expanse of his exposed chest, her eyes irresistibly drawn to his muscular physique. Something told her she was in deep trouble.
Oh, Hell’s bells! This guy embodies the epitome of sheer masculine virility and I’ve just insulted his manhood.
She gulped, pushing against his shoulders to create some space between them.
Devtorvas yanked her against him, the steely fingers of one large hand sinking into the full curve of her ass. The jeans-covered solid bulge of his cock nudged the tender skin of her belly as he wrapped his arms about her, head lowering.
She parted her lips to apologize…to breathe…and his tongue surged in, claiming her mouth in a heated carnal foray that wiped away her ability to speak and sent jagged shards of electrifying excitement careening through her bloodstream.
“Ooooh, god…” she moaned, shuddering as his masterful tongue plunged into her mouth again and again, while one hand caressed her scalp, his fingers snagging in her tangled hair.
Oh, stars above, the man could kiss!
She melted into his embrace. Her breasts, flattened against the firm, warm flesh of his broad torso, tingled and burned. Beneath the terrycloth towel, her nipples jutted, lengthened into little diamond pikes that stabbed at his impervious flesh. Never had she felt such intense arousal from a simple kiss.
Simple? Lord, but there was nothing simple about his kisses!
His tongue forced its way into the moist space behind her teeth, filling her mouth with the hot and spicy taste of his essence and her pulse pounded. She moaned, all thought of resistance blasted from her mind.
Caught in his sensual storm, almost swooning from the unfamiliar emotions his touch ignited within her, she turned to flame in his sexual heat, returning his kisses with a fervor she didn’t know she possessed. A river of need washed over her and flowed out of her. Her pussy throbbed, releasing a gush of liquid heat.
With an inner thrill of power, smelling her own tangy scent rising from between her slick folds, she watched Devtorvas fling his head back, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air like a stallion catching the scent of his mare in heat. She felt his chest expand and press against her swollen breasts as he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the fragrance of her lust. His arms tightened about her, anchoring her to his rampant body.
“I smell the sweet bouquet of your pava flower! It tells me you want me, whatever words you might say. Do not fear this, fem. I want you as much as you want me. Maybe more.”
Bold, he gripped the cheeks of her bottom and she squirmed as he wedged a knee between her legs. His thick thigh pushed the hem of her towel up as he dragged her body forward. His large palms kneaded her ass. He lifted her, rocking her on his steely thigh, rubbing her pussy and clit against the rough heat of his denim-clad cock.
“Feel how hard I am for you.”
His mouth swooped down again, tormenting her with another mind-tangling kiss.
They were so close, his alluring fragrance—essence of rampant masculinity, hot and exciting—inundated her senses. Desire roared through her as his unique scent seared her lungs, burning a fiery path deep inside her body. Her spine went limp. Her knees went weak. She dug her nails into the firm flesh of his corded forearms, holding on for dear life. Her wits reeling under his expert tutelage, she realized she didn’t want to tear herself away. His cock, pressing into her belly, told her his arousal matched her own.
The feel of him against her body and under her hands, all mounded muscle and thrusting man, sparked her natural curiosity. She wanted to know everything about him…the textures of his skin, the depth of his emotions…the contrast of his hard, muscular planes against her soft, hairless silkiness.
She swept her hands up and down the warm flesh of his arms and chest, her earlier agitation forgotten. While their mouths and tongues tangled, her fingers spread and flexed, measuring, testing and tweaking beaded male nipples. She had never felt anything remotely resembling this firestorm of passion he evoked in her. She opened her senses to the experience, wanting to indulge in everything he did to her.
The stubborn streak embedded in her core would not allow the total escape she sought in his arms. Even now her inner voice screamed, telling her she should not allow the prince to think she had given in to his heavy-handed seduction. Regretfully, she struggled to pry her lips apart from his searing kisses. Placing a hand between their mouths, she quickly composed a salve for her pride.
“Don’t think my reaction a tribute to your skill. You take advantage of the fact that I am in pava and not likely to resist even you. As horny as I am, any warm male body would illicit the same reactions.”
While she spoke, he had been attempting to reclaim her mouth. Now, he paused, a fierce frown distorting his devilishly handsome face. A frown that gradually gave way to a knowing smile.
Shaking his head at her, he pulled back just enough to brush his chest against the towel covering the aching points of her distended nipples.
“I am not misinformed by your words, fem. I refuse to be upset by your insult. I know you but seek a way to deny your feelings for me,” he growled, moving his lower body in a way that rekindled her flaming passion.
“The exchange of pheromones triggers Rb’qarmshi arousal. Without them, we could not take this first step in joining. The smell of your flowering has triggered my own scent, to which you are reacting.
“The joining has begun. The taste of me makes you hungrier. You want my tongue in your mouth.”
She gasped, outraged at his words. “I have never heard a more arrogant statement!”
“I am not arrogant where you are concerned, fem. In fact, I am humbled. I have been ready for you since you danced in your cleaning room. My heart trembled as I smelled your spilled juices.” He nudged closer to her, rubbing himself against her like a big, cuddly teddy bear.
She’d had a teddy bear. Hugging it had never caused her to react like she did now. Her breasts drew taut; her nipples stiffened and tented the towel, long and jutting. She shivered when he brushed the tips with his thumbs.
“You fool only yourself with this talk of responding to anyone. My vow…once I seat your nipples, complete our mating, you will no longer make such statements.” His broad masculine hand rubbed intimately across the naked expanse of her hip. One long thick finger caressed the slightly raised mark of her royal birth.
When had he gotten his hands beneath her towel?
Shocked free of the dark allure of his sinfully arousing touch, she scrambled to regain control of her self-will. She railed at herself, aghast at his ability to bewitch her to the point where she lost all sense.
What’s wrong with me? Where is my sense of decency? How does he make me forget the rules of behavior Mom Brewster painstakingly instilled? Why am I allowing a man I don’t even know to make a docile meal of me? After all, I was never tempted or driven to give in to my sexual desires during my last pava—never like this!
But if he’s telling the truth, I felt no desire for human males because they gave off no pheromones. What do I feel for him, then? Is it the beginning of love or do I desire him only because we’ve begun this joining-thing?
She shook her head. At the moment, none of that mattered.
Regardless of how I feel, how much I want this man, I refuse to be my father’s puppet. Let him play his games of empire and dominance if he will. But until I can meet with father face-to-face and get some answers, this mating is so not going to happen.
Her mind made up, she sought a way to bank her passion, which didn’t prove easy. While she had been thinking, his hands had been caressing her hips, running possessively up and down her flank. His lips had been nibbling her ear and pressing hot kisses into the crease of her neck. She had to find a way to deflect his attention and, at the same time, escape his clutches.
She decided upon attack.
“Hey, get your hand off my ass, buddy! I never gave you permission to handle me like that!” She made an abortive attempt at dislodging his wandering hands.
“Your kisses and full participation led me to think otherwise, fem.” His husky voice rumbled next to her ear just before his tongue dipped and swirled into the sensitive opening. His hands resumed their devastating course.
Shivering and gulping, she bit back a scream of frustration. She wrestled with the surging lust that roared through her, battling herself more than him.
She so needed to end this swiftly…lest she give in.
Sighing dramatically, she went boneless against him, letting her considerable weight rest fully on him. She waited for his gallantry to kick in, for him to shift his hold to support her sagging body. He didn’t disappoint her.
The moment he moved to secure her, she twisted out of his grasp and skipped away, tightening the fastening of her towel. She couldn’t resist the victorious gesture of sticking her tongue out at him. The look in his eyes had her scurrying towards the door.
“I have a better use for that tongue, fem.” Glendevtorvas flashed a marauder’s grin as he lunged after her and caught the trailing towel edge. He gave it a hard wrench.
With a cry of dismay, she gripped her scant covering and refused to let it go. Holding on with grim determination, she pulled in the opposite direction. Her feet slid on the slick tiled floor and she fought for traction as she was dragged inexorably towards him.
His arm, a band of iron, tightened about her waist. He held her in place by fisting his left hand in her long hair.
“Do not make me hurt you.”
“Let me go!” She twisted wildly, snarling.
“Stop fighting me! I don’t intend to harm you.” Tightening his grip on her, he nonchalantly brushed aside the vicious kick she aimed at his genitals. “I only want to know what changed your mind, so I can change it back.”
She didn’t deign to answer, too busy using her breath to fuel her struggle. Seeing she couldn’t break his grasp, she knew she certainly couldn’t win this battle of muscles. Yet she refused to quit trying.
They wrestled. She pushed at him. He shifted his grip and held on. She turned within his grasp, used her body to slam him into the furniture.
They struggled back and forth in the narrow space between dresser and bed. He controlled her easily, allowing only enough room for her to brush her body all along his. She vigorously kicked her legs and rocked her body, managing to knock over every lamp and table in the small bedroom. She had occasion to be thankful for the strong Velcro fastening of her towel, since she almost lost hold of it several times.
She couldn’t believe how weak she felt in contrast to his easy strength. Always before, her denser molecular structure enabled her to best any opponent. She’d surprised Ron by tackling him and holding him down, the one time he’d attacked her after an especially bad session in bed. Against the prince, she could not hold her own. She shuddered, thinking what her fate would be if, instead of merely restraining her frantic struggles, he truly wished to hurt her.
A surprised cry flew out of her mouth as she felt herself falling backward. He had flung her backward across the dark wood-grained surface of the dresser. His hard body came down over her, pinning her down. Her toweling rode up in the skirmish, and his bulging crotch pressed intimately into the cradle of her splayed thighs. Her pussy throbbed with need.
Despite her body’s insistent urges, she was still not prepared to give in. She would not live her life at her father’s whim. She would never allow him to hand her over as goods in a trade deal. “Let me go! I’m through playing.”
“I am not. Not yet.”
He groaned then placed a stinging string of kisses down her jaw. His hand slid up from her knee, his fingers teasing the pouty lips nestled between her thighs before dipping inside her to test her honeyed interior. His fingers re-emerged, dripping with her juices. He licked them clean then delved back inside. His lips nuzzled at her shoulders as his fingers probed deeply.
Her hips arched up into his touch. A primal cry of need rang from her gasping mouth. He applied two more thick digits, stretching and playing her with his large fingers. The pleasure went off the scale, spinning her into a sudden climax. Her spine bowed, belly tightened, legs jack-knifed as she came, screaming. “Devtorvas!”
“I am here, cherzda’va and I like the sound of my name screamed from your sweet mouth. Take more, grasp more pleasure…then scream my name again.”
His hand mashed against her mound, his fingers pistoned in and out of her, driving her swiftly to another, higher peak.
She tossed her head, desperately trying to throw off the escalating fireball. She feared the magnitude of her response. Her mind whirled under the powerful thrusting of his fingers, shocked to feel her body reaching for another flashpoint.
She convulsed, almost sobbing from the intense overload of sensations flooding her. Her nipples stabbed at the sky, the diamond-hard bits abraded by the terry cloth towel. Every muscle in her body clenched then released as she bucked under the power of the enormous orgasm. The muscles in her neck gave way, dropping her head against the dresser.
A cold wave of shame washed over her, icing her flesh. Humiliated that he had won her willing participation, she determined he should not realize just how much she had surrendered.
Eyes tightly closed, refusing to look at him, she groped sightlessly for something—anything—she could use as a weapon. Her scrabbling fingers closed over Lori’s heavy silver hand mirror. Breathing an apology to her foster-sister, she brought it crashing down on his head.
His eyes closed, his grip went slack and she quickly darted out from under him. He dizzily reeled away, hands clutching his head, cursing in both English and his native tongue. He recovered almost instantly from the blow and, in a move too fast for her to counter, intercepted her escape.