Free Slave by Cheryl Brooks Page B

when my ‘dick’ is hard?”
    “Picked that one right up, didn’t you?” I said approvingly. “No, I don’t like—well, it does look very nice, but I really can’t…”
    “Tell my why you cannot,” he persisted. “Do you have another mate?”
    “No, it’s just that being with men messes up my thinking,” I explained. “I screw things up when I deal with men on anything other than a strictly businesslike basis. I just don’t handle it very well. It’s like someone who can’t hold his liquor, you know?”
    He understood that last reference, at least. “It intoxicates you?”
    “Yes, something like that.”
“Jacinth,” he chided softly. “It is supposed to intoxicate you.”
    “Well then, I guess I just don’t like being intoxicated,” I grumbled. “I don’t drink much liquor as a rule, either. I…lose control, and I don’t like not being in control.”
    His purr took on a musical, laughing note. “But you are in control. You control me,” he said. “I am your slave.”
    “Not anymore!” I insisted. “I let you go, remember?
    You are not my slave!”
    “But I think I would like to be,” he purred. “I believe I would like for you to tell me what to do for you. Things that would please you.”
    If he didn’t stop that incessant purring and quit massaging my back in that deeply sensuous fashion, I really was gonna have to stun him again! He moved closer and leaned over me, sliding his hands down my arms and across my upper chest.
    “If you’re my slave,” I countered, “I should be able to tell you to stop then, right?”
    His mouth was right next to my ear and the purring was driving me insane. “You could tell me, but since I am not really your slave , I do not have to listen.” His lips found my earlobe and he nipped it gently, pulling it through those sharp teeth of his. He sniffed my neck.
    “You smell of desire,” he murmured. “I have not smelled it in many years, but I have not forgotten it.
    You smell like a female of my race, Jacinth. Just exactly the same.”
    I felt his tongue sweep across my skin: hot and wet and so very, very delightful.
“You taste the same, as well,” he said against my neck.
    “Come and mate with me, my beautiful master, and I will give you joy unlike any you have ever known.”
    A likely story! Of course, I only thought that, though, because I seemed to have lost the power of speech all of a sudden. Oh, God, he’s doing it to me! I’m losing control …. He rubbed his cheek against mine, the way a cat will do when seeking a caress, and he followed with more of his body, stropping himself against me, making me wish he was doing it against my bare skin. Encircling my head with his hands, he brought my lips closer to his own and licked me firmly across the mouth until my lips parted in a sigh.
    Kissing must have been an established Zetithian custom, for he certainly seemed to know how to do it—
    teasing me with his full, sensuous lips before delving deeply into the recesses of my mouth with his tongue as though he would find sustenance there. The sweep of his tongue across my own sent a warm gush of fluid from between my thighs which he must have smelled, for his purr grew even louder, becoming mingled with a deep, throaty groan—a groan which came from me .
    I felt him take my hand and bring it up to wrap my fingers around his stiff shaft. I could feel the blood pulsing through it and thought about how he’d been abused. Poor Cat, he’d been hurt so much! Could I really refuse him this one, simple thing? All thoughts of my sister or my business or anything but Cat left my head completely. He had me now: it was going to happen, no matter what, and this was what I feared the most. This loss of will, of choice, of control. I felt my will slipping
away as instinct took over and I grasped him firmly in my hand, caressing his strong cock as he pushed against me, fucking my hand with that fabulous cockhead. I was just about to surrender