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?
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