“Yes,” he said, breathless. “I like everything you do to me.” He reached to trace her lips once more. She sucked his thumb into her mouth, teasing the pad of it across her tongue. He watched
,
his eyes fixed on her lips. “Please, Melia.”
“Mm.”
She shook her head, refusing to release his thumb. Her fingers explored every inch of his cock, the ridges and lines of veins, and lower, down beneath his erection to the malleable sac where his firm, round balls awaited her inspection. She palmed them and suckled his thumb deeper within her mouth.
Her body burned with desire. She wished he would reach for her and pleasure her as she was doing to him. His eyes closed, and he settled his free hand between her legs. His fingers lowered reluctantly, but sought the thickness of her cock with more experience than she possessed. He gripped it just right and massaged her in ways that made her shiver with ecstasy.
“All tucked in and snoozing.” Golga’s voice interrupted them.
Melia released Enrue. He hastily placed his hands in his lap. She snapped the shackle over his wrist and then over the seat’s arm. “Stay here,” she whispered.
He
nodded,
his face aghast at having almost been discovered.
She squinted in the gray light at Golga. Her long hair was braided now, her clothing tight, accentuating those handful-sized breasts. Desire raging, Melia strode forth, tempted to possess the self-assured assassin. She’d been with Daschia for a year now, his little toy. She suited his tastes, violent when needed, demure in the bedroom.
“You’re playing with your quarry again,” Golga
said,
her voice a dulcet drone. “Do you need help?” She took a step and smiled. “Want me to tie him up for you? Want me to watch?”
Melia chuckled. She slipped her left hand around the minx’s waist and pulled her muscular but thin body to hers. Upon feeling the erection crushed between them, Golga moaned with longing. Melia lowered her mouth and forced the woman into a feral kiss. As she did so, she found the slim piece of metal Daschia often used on his victims and thrust it into Golga’s throat. Blood spurted. She released the woman and took in the shocked look of death. Gags and gurgles rent the air. Enrue let out a choked sound as well.
“There now,” Melia said. We’re alone at last. She dragged the woman’s body out, heading for the incinerator.
* * * *
The murder he’d just witnessed scared away any sense of passion Enrue had. He tugged at the shackles and wondered if he could escape.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
he
thought.
She’s insane.
She returned to him, her eyes dancing with mischief. He couldn’t get past the shape of her body—a man’s body. It squelched his desire as did her ruthless ways. Unbuttoning the black shirt, Melia tossed it over the back of a chair, a lurid grin curling her lips. “I like you restrained like this.” She untied her pants and kicked off her shoes. “Stand up. I want to undress you.”
He swallowed and stood, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. “I need to see you,” he urged. “To touch your lips, to feel you wrapped around me, part of me.”
Those large, dark lips frowned. “You have no idea what I went through to get this shape. Or what I did to him when I killed him.” Pants fell over bare feet. She walked toward him. Fingers finished the buttons on his shirt, making quick work of it. She tugged his pants down, skimming fingers over his cock. “The Empire thinks I’m dead, Enrue. My body was found in a Tarafian hotel, my eyes gouged out,
my
neck broken. Oh the blood. It was a messy death.”
“What are you saying?” He flinched when she tugged his underpants down. Cocks touched and caressed against each other.
“The reason the Empire killed off my kind was not because of what we could do to
our
bodies. That aspect has its merits. It was what my kind could do to manipulate the flesh of others. Half-breeds have never been recorded as having such strength, but then, there were so few of us.” She traced his arm, her gold eyes narrowing.
His skin crawled as if he’d touched a hot wire. Glancing at his forearm, he gasped as the fair coloring shifted to the same dark shade as hers. Enrue stepped back, breaking the change.
“I can make you into me. I can share the change. It’s not easy, not something I enjoy doing as much as shifting my shape.”
“Please,” he began, placing one hand on her cheek. The chain to his shackles chinked against the chair handle. “I’ve not felt anything for such a long time, not the pull of passion, the lure of desire. No love, no hope for being anything but alone…until
I
first saw you.”
The face she bore twisted with confusion and finally, understanding. She fisted her hands and raised them, a longing in her eyes as she stared at the ceiling. For that instant, Enrue thought she looked just like the Unangi statue of Urden.
“I feel the same.” She closed those cat-like eyes, lowered her hands, and leaned forward to kiss him. He closed his and tried to relax, to accept the shape she’d taken. Smaller lips pressed to his. The hardness of a man’s phallus faded and soon only heat and softness met his cock. Her small breasts crushed into his chest, the nipples hard and tempting.
Without opening his eyes, he hugged her to him and led her backwards, finding the seat once more. He lifted her to his lap, impaling her heat with his hardening cock and kissing her with all the pent-up desire he’d missed for so long. Together they rocked in the primal dance of
mating,
only he kept the rhythm slow, savoring every soft intake of breath that brought the sweet scent of her skin.
Epilogue
Sima sat squeezed into the front seat by her husband, her attention on the sky, searching, seeking the one man who had always ignored her and pushed her away. Her father was gone, maybe dead, more likely a hostage to be used as an example by Kyleena. Yet, he had come for her, risked his life in exchange for her freedom.
O’ka steered the shuttle toward the Tarafian palace, her cold expression grim. “You are the Shiemir now.” She offered a sidelong glance. “And I will do as your father commanded. I will teach you.”
Sima nodded. She closed her eyes and snuggled into Razi’s chest. His arms closed over her. “I can’t do this by myself,” she whispered.
His lips pressed to her forehead. “You’re not alone.”
The
End
About
the Author
Anastasia Rabiyah writes erotic romance, paranormal erotic romance, and fantasy. She often crosses genres in order to follow her muses into the darkness where they seek out destiny in all its forms. She believes in fairies, demons, angels, magic, passion, chocolate, supportive friends, e-books, and writing critique groups. Her deepest desire is to pursue her creative dreams and realize them. Every spare moment she devotes to writing for her haunting muses.
Visit her on the web at:
PURPLE SWORD PUBLICATIONS
Romantic Speculative Fiction