Highlander's Need: Winter Solestice (Against All Odds Series 4) Page 9
Gwen was so fixated on Dantar and his fate that the import of what she was doing did not register with her when she willingly climbed into the floater with the pilot and the half-conscious Dantar. She only marveled at the way he passed into and out of lucidity with a strength that would be the pride of any warrior. She only half heard the pilot explain that the shambleclaws could not pass through the solid rock strata of the plateau, which was why the king had ordered this palace built atop it. She listened to Dantar as he ordered the pilot, with unwavering command in spite of his condition, that he was to be taken to the same bedchamber from which his consort had fled and that he was to be treated and spend the night there.
After all that had occurred—her refusal to accept his suit, her escape attempt, his taking a shambleclaw’s stinger for her—he actually still wanted to share a bed with her, and actually trusted her to remain by his side and make no reprisal against his attempt to coerce her submission. What kind of man was this, after all?
Back in the Royal bedchamber, the healer treated Dantar in Gwendolyn’s presence as if Gwen had done nothing against her, as if her bashing the healer in the head to make her escape had never happened. If anything, she was still deferential to Gwendolyn as her future queen. Without so much as a word of acknowledgement of anything that Gwen had done, the healer excused herself after further ministering to Dantar’s wound, putting a fresh protein strip on it, and feeding him some sort of antivenin that would see him through the night and ensure a full recovery.
Gwen noticed guards posted outside the portal before it slid shut with the healer on the other side of it. The intended of the king would be going nowhere tonight. She would stay in this chamber with him as he lay sleeping off the venom of the shambleclaw in the bed where he had meant to spend this night mounting her and binding them as one. And so Gwen watched him sleep, and marveled all the more at her temptation to climb between the covers with him and just lie at his side. She opted to sleep on one of the divans instead, and chose one that faced the bed. She sat up, watching him by starlight in the darkened bedchamber, watching the plates of his pecs rise and fall with his sleeping breaths, and played over and over in her mind the memory of him coming to her rescue. She had rejected him. She had all but hated him. And he had saved her.
He had saved her.
Sometime during the night, after spending who knows how much time watching Dantar sleep, Gwen passed off into a slumber of her own. She awoke with a start the next morning, the memory of where she was and what had happened flashing into her mind. She gasped, bolted up on the divan, and looked over to the bed. There he was, sitting up against the headboard, a breathtaking sight in the first rays of the day—silently watching her. His lips slowly spread into a smile.
“Good morning, Gwendolyn,” he said, with some sleep lingering in his voice.
“Dantar,” she said, blinking. “Are you… are you all right?”
“I am better,” he replied. “And all the better for knowing that you are unhurt.”
She blinked again, incredulously. “I’m unhurt? You’re actually concerned about me? Dantar, I ran away. I was ready to risk my life out there to get away from you. I wanted nothing to do with you. And all you can think about is that I’m unhurt?”
“You are my chosen queen, my intended bride. Even more important to me than my kingdom is the well-being of my lady.”
Gwen stood up from the divan, wanting to pace the floor, not knowing what to say to him. All the feelings that had churned up inside her when he rescued her from that creature came churning back again. “Dantar,” she said, “I wish you wouldn’t call me that. I wish you wouldn’t act as if we’re more to each other than we are. We haven’t even known each other a whole day and you’re talking as if we have a life together ahead of us.”
“We do have a life before us, Gwendolyn, if you would but let it be so. I offer you the love of a king. No one on my planet or yours can offer you more than I. No man of your world or mine can love you better than I. You have but to take my hand and join me in our bed, and it shall be done. All that I have shall be yours—my body, my heart, my zazansa, my world and realm. Can it be so unpleasant a thing?”
“But Dantar,” Gwen protested, feeling her protests growing weak in a way that troubled her, “it’s like I said before. You can’t just command love to happen.”
“Why? Does it not require merely a mutual, shared act of will; a mutual opening of hearts and a mutual desire of bodies? Empires have thus been built, Gwendolyn. I look upon you now and I see a woman in relief that I have come to no harm, a woman who would have grieved more than she thought she could had I perished in the act of saving her. It is in your eyes, Gwendolyn. It is not gratitude; it is more. Why do you deny it? Why do you deny what could transpire in this bed even now? Would your heart not be even more gladdened and joyous in my sex than it is in the mere knowledge that I shall live?”
Before Gwen could respond, Dantar pulled the bedsheets from him in a single, sweeping motion. He then stripped away the silken leggings from his lower body and cast them to the floor by the bed. Gwen forgot to breathe at the sight of his mighty musculature fully exposed to her. Between the tremendous trunks of his legs, under a wreath of pubic hair, was his royal scepter, wondrously long and wondrously thick, veins twisting along its length, an ample and delicious foreskin surrounding a blunt mushroom head. It was such a heavy bludgeon of flesh that it could not stand straight up; it curved forward, throbbing its erect readiness.
Gwen felt her resistance start to crumble like the palace walls before an oncoming storm.
Dantar held out a hand to her and said, “I do not wish to conquer you and make you someone that you are not. I ask only to make the two of us together more than we are apart. As King and Queen, I wish us to grow our lives together and make all that I am a part of all that you are. Is that not all that any marriage should be? What matter that we have known one another for so short a time? Come to bed with me and we shall make a short time forever.”
There was not a trace of logic in anything that he said. As a woman of reason and intellect, Gwendolyn Rush knew that she should dismiss his every word, reject it all out of hand. This was no basis for a life, not any kind of life that she could understand. And yet…as a scientist she routinely faced a universe filled with things she did not understand. That was the nature of science—the embracing of the unknown without fear.
The next thing she knew she was climbing onto the bed, her eyes riveted on the majestic thing rising and curving between Dantar’s thighs. She brought her eyes up to meet his, and he moved at once. With the same hand he had held out to her, he took her by the arm and pulled her to him. All at once, Gwen was encircled by the awesome, sweetly crushing arms of the King of Sarma and received his lips and tongue in a kiss more luxurious than all the furnishings of the royal bedchamber.
Gwen’s resistance was gone as if blown away by the very sandstorm from which she had been taken. One kiss became another, and another and another, and somewhere amid the kisses his hands slid the gown from her body and made her nearly naked, with only her halter and underthings remaining. His warm hands caressed and explored the full, round curves of her thighs and buttocks; roamed the large and plump contours below her waist without inhibition or restraint. He parted their kiss long enough to ask, “Why do you speak of your body as though it is not a thing of desire? Do the men of Earth not compete to enter and be inside a woman such as you?”
Feeling more shy and vulnerable than she had yet felt in all her time here, Gwen softly replied, “A lot of men don’t. A lot of them would rather do it to…another kind of woman. One who’s built a little…smaller than I am.”
“They are fools,” Dantar said. “They are not worthy of you. I shall ever be worthy and I shall ever be true.” And he took her mouth in another torrid kiss to erase all doubt. At the slow parting of their lips, he drilled his eyes into hers and asked, “Will you do me the honor of going to my zazansa and tasting of me?”
Understanding what he wanted, Gwen nodded yes and moved herself down to his parted thighs where his erect bludgeon awaited her. She breathed in, catching a whiff of his musky man scent, before parting her lips and putting the foreskin-encircled head in her mouth. Dantar leaned his head back against his pillow, shut his eyes, and let out a long “Mmmmm…” of pleasure, the first intimate pleasure of the royal bed. Responding to his delight, Gwen opened wide and slid further down his veined and pulsing shaft, filling her mouth with him. He tasted marvelous. Consuming his piece, Gwen felt herself slowly becoming a denizen of another world.
All thoughts of resistance were gone. All protests and inhibitions, all reasons for not accepting his desire or her own were now null and void. Gwen had not known as many men in her life as she would have liked, and she poured years of too much wanting and too little having into the way she sucked Dantar’s tool. Dantar flexed the plates of his chest and ab muscles and, at the satisfaction of his man-meat being hungrily devoured by his chosen mate, emitted grunts and groans that were more like the utterances of an animal than the sounds that a king would make. His leg muscles twitched and his toes curled in response to the way she pulled at his length and let it slide along her tongue. He took pride at the portion of his erection she could slip into her mouth, and found utter delight in the way she let it slip out only to move her tongue to the base and swirl it around the circumference. He knew instinctively that Gwen must have practiced oral sex in her mind thousands of times, anticipating and hoping for a moment such as this. He resolved that there would be many such moments, not only this morning but each day for the rest of their lives, and that they would be the preamble to still greater joys.
Gwen continued making a meal of the bounty between Dantar’s legs, taking his piece in long and sumptuous sucks, and sending her tongue down behind the root of his maleness to lick at the generous roundness of the man-fruits that lay so ripe in his sac. She feasted on him and sent wave after wave of delight rolling through the fantasy of muscles that was his body, savoring the succulent taste of him, feeling as though she would never get enough—until at last he looked down his torso at her, stroked the dark thickness of her hair, and said, “Come back up now and take me inside your gliarra.”
Once again context told Gwen his meaning. Her gliarra could be only one thing, and hearing that he was ready for it, she was all at once aware of how wet and engorged it had become from the way she had sucked his zazansa. Wearing a Mona Lisa smile and exhaling in anticipation, she climbed back up onto the bed beside Dantar and lay on her back with knees bent and thighs parted. He moved with all the speed, surety, and skill that he had shown rescuing her outside, whisking away her halter and undergarments and making her naked. With the same decisiveness he climbed atop her and lowered himself into the valley between her legs, bringing his bludgeon, wet from her sucking, into play. Gwen wrapped her arms around his shoulders and moaned long and joyously at the first passage of Dantar’s tool between her slippery folds and deep into her passage.
Dantar took her with all the pent-up fire and passion of having wanted to be inside her since the day before. All of his unrelieved wanting went into every deep, hard, swift stroke of his long and beautiful tool inside Gwen’s wet and quivering gliarra. While pumping fast and furiously in and out of her, he lowered his face to hers and kissed and licked her lips. “At last I am in you,” he moaned softly into her mouth. “I am in you and you are so good. I wish never to take myself out of you. I wish I could keep it in you forever.” And he beat on and on, throwing the full force of his muscles against her, slamming ecstatically against Gwen’s mound and driving his hard weapon of flesh into her tightening wetness.
Gwen made incoherent and rapturous sounds of bliss under Dantar, accepting his every thrust, receiving and welcoming his every stroke, and feeling herself becoming someone new with the way he penetrated and possessed her. She felt her flesh and her being joining his, yielding to him and merging with him. She felt his awesome erection making her a part of him as it claimed the moist and slick depths of her sex. She could only imagine that he was reaching all the way to her womb, and that when his moment arrived he would pour himself into her as a raging river.
Gwen held tight to him, feeling his thrusts and beats as if in every cell of her body, letting him build the intensity of his mad, frenzied humping to where it must inevitably go. When he tore his lips from hers, gritted his teeth, and released a loud grunt into the air—“Uuuhhh…!”, she knew that the moment was upon him. With a last impassioned blow against her mound, he drove his length all the way into her and held it there. He kept his teeth clenched and made a sound akin to Rrrrrr…!, the sure sign that his godlike body was now charged with orgasm and that a mighty burst of sticky white wetness was now surging into Gwen’s depths. She tightened her thighs around him, encouraging him to empty himself into her completely, to give her every drop that he produced. And Dantar obliged her. He kept his throbbing length locked inside her for a long time before finally relaxing on top of her.
It was with the greatest reluctance that Dantar pulled out, but also with the knowledge that he had one more duty to perform as her mate. Slowly he climbed down between Gwen’s thighs to where his zazansa had been, and let his tongue find the pulpy knob that controlled the one joy even greater than his penetration of her. She moaned at what he did, the licking and sucking at what his tongue so skillfully found. He played with it, licking and swirling and stroking, carrying her along with every pass of his tongue upon it until he brought her up to the heights that he had reached by thrusting inside her. Her ultimate, wailing outcry of euphoria told him that his mission was accomplished and that ripples of unbridled pleasure were now spreading and bouncing through the body of his new mate.
Afterwards, they sat up in each other’s arms in bed, mouths sliding and sucking together, hands roaming over breasts and pecs and down to the treasures between their legs. “It is done, my love,” said Dantar. “Or in truth, it is only begun: for I shall have you in bed all this day and all this night. I shall lie atop you and enter you and fill you many times before we are wed. The servants will bring food and drink that we need not leave here. We need only lie together and know one another’s bodies.”
“Still with the royal wedding?” she sighed before giving in to another sensuous kiss.
“It must be. Thus joined in body, we must join in life.” And he kissed her yet again to underline his decree.
Gwendolyn Rush, having thus been fantastically sexed by a man beyond her imagining, a man who expressed in no uncertain terms his intention to keep her and sex her without let, relaxed in his arms and pondered what he offered her. But this time she pondered it without indignation, without outrage, without resistance or the thought of protest. Perhaps she had been looking at the whole thing in the wrong way.
She had come to Sarma seeking answers about the origins of its people and their relationship to her own. Perhaps in his desire for a queen and her desire for knowledge lay an opportunity. As Dantar’s queen she would hold vast authority and have the resources of a planet at her disposal. There might just be a way to be the woman under Dantar in his bed and to accomplish what she set out to do.
The ruler of a planet could surely build a university of her own.
THE END
My Alien Alpha
Alien Romance
Another amazing night, I see.
Disappointed, the woman took a sip of her blackberry schnapps while observing the inside of the bar. The place was almost full, mostly occupied by single women and the occasional middle-aged man in search of an easy lay.
Jasmine, old girl, you have officially hit rock bottom, she told herself, unintentionally lifting the glass up to her mouth again a mere moment before she managed to regain control and put it back on the table.
The night is young and I will have to drive home afterward. She only noted what she already knew, a transparent and fairly ineffective attempt to slow the pace of her drink
ing.
“Fun,” the woman spoke aloud, allowing her voice to be drowned out by the merciless racket given off by the latest popular tune. Reacting to the mention of the word, her lips contracted, bending upwards to form a sarcastic smile. It had been ages since anyone had managed to amuse Jasmine, and by the look of things in this place, the trend wasn’t going to change any time soon.
How do they do it? She asked herself, unable to pry her eyes away from the other patrons, completely and utterly shocked by their sheer banality. Eagerly displaying empty smiles, the various people—both paired and individual—danced and yelled while downing glass after glass of cheap alcoholic beverages, all just to temporarily become mindless enough to enjoy this place.
Is that the point of life? Drink away your boredom every night, only to have to do it all over again tomorrow? In response to that train of thought, Jasmine’s arm moved by itself again, allowing the pleasant aroma of her liquor to take some of the edge off.
Not nearly enough, I’m afraid. Slowly, she placed the glass back onto the table, feeling the draw of its contents the very second it left her mouth.
Maybe I should follow the others’ lead tonight after all, she considered while watching what little was left of the sweet, potent liquid as it swirled around its transparent little container. Get myself wasted, hook up with one of these guys… Let loose for a little bit. Maybe I’ll feel a bit better tomorrow, then.
Now partially willing to check out her options, Jasmine lifted her gaze from the table and started scanning the bar again. The situation hadn’t changed. In fact it had gotten worse, as a rural-looking elderly chap mistook Jasmine’s curiosity for interest and immediately set foot toward her.