Hope remembered Lokmi playfully telling her he’d like to give her a spanking. Had he ever spanked Piras? Could she spank Piras? Apparently, it was an activity on the table.
Hope envisioned her hairbrush in her hand, peppering the Dramok’s beautifully curved ass with its hard surface. She imagined his raspy-sexy voice raised in whimpers as she disciplined him for some slight, real or conjured. Of him kneeling at her feet, accepting his punishment, growing hard and eager as she wielded control over him. As she served his need to surrender while he served hers to take command.
The idea of Piras kneeling gave her another fantasy. His strong jaw, and possibly an equally strong tongue—what could she have him do with those?
“Sholt,” she repeated. “If you say it, I have to halt whatever I’m doing to you.”
He nodded, his eyes growing wide. His respiration was coming quicker. “You must stop right away. But it would take a lot for me to say it.”
“Okay.” Hope swallowed hard. “I understand.”
“What would you like me to do first, Matara? I am yours to command.” He slid from his chair to kneel before her on the floor. He laid his cheek on her knee and stared up at her with a look of surrender.
She blinked at him. Well, the first order was easy enough, because it was what she’d wanted from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him. “Undress. Let me see you naked.”
Piras rolled off his knees to sit on his ass so he could pull his boots off, which he did with almost unseemly haste. The spicy scent of arousal, similar to Lokmi’s but with a bit more sharpness, drifted to Hope’s nostrils. Piras’s excitement was even more apparent when he got to his feet and his uniform stretched over blatant need.
Hope caught herself biting her lower lip as Piras pulled at the collar of his formsuit. The front seam parted with a whispering sound, showing a strip of skin from throat to below his navel. He tugged at the fabric to expose muscled shoulders. They were not as bulky as Lokmi or Kila’s, but exquisitely formed all the same. Ditto for his biceps, smooth-skinned and lined with the barest hint of veins.
His chest—yes, she liked that too. Lokmi’s had been wide and bulky. Piras again had smaller, elegantly crafted swells of muscle. He was so gracefully shaped, he came close to making his clanmates appear clunky in comparison.
As Piras exposed himself to her view, Hope took in the supple ridges of his abdomen. She found it hard to breathe as she gazed at the lovely way his body narrowed from the width of his chest and shoulders to his waist. It was as if his body had been tapered to flow. He was exquisite, she thought, enthralled with the vision. Truly a beautiful statement of manhood.
He bent to slide his pants down his legs, the angle shielding his sexes from sight as he stripped his clothing away. He kicked off the lower part of his uniform and gradually unbent, giving her a nice, slow contemplation of calves, knees, and thighs as supple and lithe as the rest. At last, she was treated to the display of his cocks, extending from his magnificent body.
Long, with broad bases to almost pointed tips, they bobbed as if to greet her while she regarded them. The lengths, shaded slightly darker than the rest of his brown skin, gleamed with wetness. A hint of veins ran down them, and Hope imagined she could see his pulse throbbing with excitement.
Sweet prophets, these Kalquorian men made her glad to be living in a time when she could enjoy them, even a time as uncertain as this.
Hope’s voice was thick when she said, “Can I touch?”
Piras smiled, his head bent so his hair swung forward, forcing him to peek at her like a shy boy. “You are in control. You can do whatever you like. I am the one who needs permission to do anything.”
Right. He was hers, not the other way around. Hope was supposed to be ordering him to do stuff. She shivered, trying to wrap her head around the power she wielded. What was she going to do with him?