Darah
I almost came in the elevator just now. Usually, I need an hour of foreplay and a powerful vibrator. I wasn’t embarrassed at all as he carried me through the hallway, my horny pheromones wafting behind me.
The sound of the door slamming closed behind us is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever heard.
After he sets me down, I reach for the hem of my dress like a woman on a mission. I want it over my head and on the floor as fast as physics will allow.
Suddenly, I’m hit with a blast of his heat. If he was any hotter, my wisecrack about burning up the sheets wouldn’t be a joke.
“Freeze!” His voice is rough, as though he just screamed for an hour.
I comply, partially bent at the waist, both hands gripping the hem of my hot-pink dress.
I’ve always had a mind of my own. My teachers used to scold me for having a bad attitude and not following directions. If my entire future didn’t depend on it, I would have mouthed off to Dengar a dozen times already.
But right here, right now? I’m perfectly compliant. The word submissive slams through me. Verik is issuing orders and instead of sassing back, I’m his puppet. If I hadn’t been dripping wet before his one-word command to freeze, I certainly am now.
He strides behind me and fits himself against my back. Though both of us are still clothed, we’re glued so tightly together I can feel his heartbeat.
“You do something to me, Darah. I have certain… needs I’ve never felt before. What I want is to be completely in charge. No, want is too puny a word. Need. I need to tell you what to do and… dominate you.”
Even as he’s trying to clutch onto his sanity, the lower half of his body is humping me, thrusting in a rhythm as old as time.
“If you don’t want that, just say so and I’ll stand in a freezing cold shower until my sanity comes back online. I’m seconds away from losing control.”
“No shower.” I’m surprised to hear how breathy my words are, how awkward. I think I’m as lost to this as he is. “T-tell me what to do.”
Instead of words coming out of his mouth, his first action is to grip the neck of my dress and rend it in two. The sound of the fabric tearing unleashes something inside both of us.
He maneuvers my bra and panties off me and only now turns my body so he can look at me.
“Beautiful.” His lust-roughened voice is soft and genuine, but by the feral look on his face, that’s probably the last word he’s going to say for a while. He circles his finger, motioning me to turn for him.
Instead of words of appreciation, he nods, his eyes no longer carnelian, but bright glowing red, as if there’s a fire smoldering inside him.
Although I thought he’d pounce on me, he stands where he is, choosing to unbelt his kilt and let it slap to the floor.
Yes. Commando. There’s something about him being stark naked except for those knee-high black boots that hits me like a gut-punch of arousal.
Perhaps he sees how his nudity affects me, because he strides to the other side of the room, letting me see every muscle slide under his charcoal-whorled skin. His haunches bunch and release with every step as his perfect ass retreats.
It’s only when he turns on his heel with military precision that he treats me to a full-frontal view. His cock is hard as stone, pulsing as it points to the ceiling. It’s not like the rest of his body. No, it’s as if something is burning underneath his skin, illuminating it from the inside. The lights are moving, almost like a crackling fire.
“If my mouth isn’t on your cock in one minute, I think I’ll die.” I’m not sure if those words escaped my lips or if they were just a thought.
I must have spoken them out loud, because he’s directly in front of me in one second flat, one palm gripping each of my shoulders.
“I’ll feed you my cock when I’m good and ready.” His eyes flare wide, telling me just how surprised he is by his bold statement. It’s as if we’ve both dropped in from outer space and are inhabiting different bodies than we’re used to. “Ask nicely.”
Another command that is so forceful it makes my knees weak.
I’m the woman who was so full of my own power I carried a war protest sign to my own graduation and was forcefully ejected before I could receive my diploma. I don’t kno where that Darah disappeared to, because I slide to my knees, look up into his red eyes that seem to be swirling with energy, and simply say, “Please.”
I guess that one word was eloquent enough, or perhaps it was the pleading look in my eyes, because he steps in close, grips his cock at the root, and swipes the head across my lips depositing a generous dollop of pre-cum.
“Don’t taste it yet.”
Why am I loving this? There’s something about my position on my knees in front of his still-booted feet and that he’s now towering over me. It’s making me drip with arousal.
His skin may look as if it’s about to burst into flames any second, but my body feels that way. My channel is clenching. My nipples are hard points thrusting out, desperate to be touched.
Although I’m dying to swipe my tongue along the seam of my lips and taste him, I stay in this position like one of those dogs trained by their master to eat the treat that’s been placed on his snout only upon command.
We have a wordless conversation as his lips tip into the tiniest smirk. That at this moment he reminds me of Dengar doesn’t matter at all. I’ll simply wait until he gives me his permission.
“You may taste me.”
I wonder what will happen, if he’ll punish me because the tip of my tongue barged through my lips on the word taste and didn’t wait for “me.”
Maybe Vucillians have magical cum, because the salty tang seems to do something to me. I moan from deep in the back of my throat as my eyes flutter closed. This does nothing to curb my lust. It only manages to fan the flames of my desire.
“Please.” This time, I let him see the extent of my yearning, hoping to soon have my lips stretched around that giant, pulsing cock of his.
This sounds so hot! Verik is definitely on my TBR list. I love Alana Khan’s books. I guess after a number of years, I am a sexual submissive, because I find that idea in stories turns me on. On the other hand, I am old enough to know that I have in real life been right in listening to my own wisdom and not somebody’s else’s orders. A dialectic choice. I guess that is why I fantasize and like to read the trope, but don’t actually participate in real life. Life has taught me that folly.
That’s why reading romance is so great: safe and sexy!