Free Cherry Girl by Candy Dance Page B

the universe spiraling around outside the windows.
     
    The End.
    Read an excerpt from, Prey Hunter's Concubine / Princess Concubine
     
    Shybell knew this one before her. She knew by his armor, his stature . . . his entrance into what must be his quarters. This one was called, Prey Hunter. He was her master now.
    Slowly she drew her long, gold-painted fingernails in a languid gesture up over her sleekly round hips, stretching her back, arching it in a feminine and feline way as she hummed approvingly low in her throat. The Bengar’s reaction was beyond Kimaree male. He scented her. Purely masculine to her feminine. Oh, he was rough and so potent! She flipped her silky hair back over one shoulder in a slinky gesture of her head as she posed, licking her pulsating lips. That pulsation was a reaction from her female hormones, being drawn into a tingling awareness by his fiercely masculine presence.
    “Where do you go?” Prey Hunter demanded. His voice was a rumbling bass tone that slithered tantalizingly up her spine. Shybell arched her body more, then she turned with a slow and hip undulating movement to sway back into the room with a laughing murmur.
    “To find you ... perhaps,” Shybell replied huskily, peeking over her shoulder at him through the bangs of her sable hair. She paused before a pile of big fluffy pillows she had arranged on the end of his circular bed. Still peeking at him, she lay down amidst the pillows, posing for him. Her short top was red silk, her panties a bit of scarlet lace, and the bells on her toes tinkled. She rotated her bottom upward in a mating gesture, while she sprawled on her side. “To find what was promised ... perhaps,” she purred throatily.
    Prey Hunter was angered and it heightened her awareness of his maleness to excitement! Because he was also engaged ... aroused against his will perhaps. Anger and passion, what a heady mixture. She could do nothing less than appreciate it, because her hormones were also engaged, and her will was theirs. Perhaps later, when her hormones no longer held her so enthralled, then she would learn to be frightened of his girth, of his height. Of the way his shoulders and chest expanded as he entered the room. Of the graven planes of his face shadowed with ebony tattoos. A strip of tightly spaced alien lettering across his forehead and under each eye making the amber color of his eyes more startling and predatory. She was his prey as he circled her . . . and she stretched sensuously and enticingly amid the pillows.
    He came at her from behind, his armor gone, his massive chest bared. This she only knew because she could feel it as he pressed her forward into the plump pillows, laying his large and callused warrior’s hand on her squirming behind.
    “Mmm,” she purred, raising her bottom upward into his broad palm, arching her back and stretching her arms over her head. “Touch me, warrior,” she hummed.
    “Do you even know which one I am?” he growled. “Do you even care?”
    Suddenly, he flipped her onto her back roughly and he straddled her. Taking her breath away. He was nude and his male organ was huge, of an incredible length, and shiny-virile in its ruddy-pink presentation to her. His arms, his chest . . . everything about him was mountainous to her. Yet he did not hurt her, even as he ripped the silk of her top, baring her lush breasts to his seething gaze.
    “You are mine,” she moaned enticingly, bowing her body in an arc beneath him, until her soft belly cupped the steely meat of his turgid organ and she felt the heat of it sear her tender flesh. “Ohh ... mm,” she moaned heatedly.
    “You are nothing but a bitch in heat!” he rumbled, rubbing the wide column of his long penis against her belly.
    Shybell stilled instantly with her body becoming rigid. She was shocked! She was horrified ... and hurt. Yet her hormones were raging against her, even as she fought them desperately. “Get off me!” she shrieked suddenly, and then she