Amy Redwood: Alien Best Man

He’d kissed me. He’d read my mind. He’d even brought me to an orgasm. But he’d never penetrated me. He’d never really fucked me before. I gazed at him, the reality of the act sinking in with sharp clarity as he moved his hips flush against mine. Then he said something that sent my entire being into a spasm of fright.

“Qay, leave us alone.”

“No,” I yelled, trying to get up, but the movement alone wrought a startled moan from my lips. Zyn’s weight pinned me to the bed, almost crushed me. Already I couldn’t feel Qay’s hand on my knee anymore, already I saw him turning away.

“But, but…” I raked me mind. “You have to stay. It’s tradition.”

“I already witnessed the joining of heart and soul.” And I watched him leave the room, my heart breaking. How could I ever forgive him?

When the door clicked shut, the silence in the room grew thicker with each second.

I closed my eyes, knowing it made no sense to fight. Zyn was too strong. When he moved on top of me, I bit back a moan. I loathed that the friction of his cock stroking my insides brought me pleasure.

“I don’t care,” I said, trying to hide my broken heart in sarcasm. “Feel free to fuck me any way you want to.”

“Your permission, my heart, is something I won’t need tonight.” My damn breasts tightened as he pulled his cock out of me, the movement wringing a sharp intake of breath from my lungs. I grit my teeth, waiting for him to thrust in again, waiting for him to fuck me like the savage he was.

When he moved from the mattress, making me bounce on top of it, I stared after him. He’d pulled his pants up, walked to a small table and poured himself a glass of clear liquid.

“Thirsty?” he asked, carrying the glass over to me.

“Trying to make me drunk?”

“Sit up,” he said, and like a puppet on strings I did, didn’t even think about it. My throat tightened, seeing him loom above me while I was at his mercy on his bed, wearing nothing but a pair of shoes. “Now drink.” I took the glass. Water ran down my throat. I actually would have preferred something stronger. When the glass was empty, I flung it across the room. “You did that on purpose, you bastard.”

“I thought it would be best to get past all that tradition first, so I could send your lover away.”

“What the hell do you want from me?”

“You know,” he said quietly. “You know what we both want from one another.”

“What?” I whispered, knowing what he meant but not ready to admit it.

“I will give you the pleasure you crave,” he said. “The kind of pleasure Qay can’t give you because he loves you too much. He has mastered your heart, but not your body. I’ll master both.”

“I won’t let you.” I got up from the bed, had already crossed the room when a heavy hand fell on my shoulder. “I want to leave.”

“You don’t want to leave.” The cruel edge to his voice sent shivers down my back.

His hand came around my neck, held me still. He lifted my hair and something cold slid along my skin and snapped shut around the necklace. He gave a tug at the leash.

“Now we’ll play.”

He had clipped a leash to the choker, and if I was honest with myself, I’d known from the start he would. He’d been inside my head, knew what I craved, and he was giving it to me, one cruel move at a time.

Zyn returned my gaze, leisurely checking me out, holding the leash in one hand, and in the other—the riding crop.

I wrapped my arms around my chest. But my stupid shoes forced my back into an arc, pushing my breasts forward and my ass backward. I could deal with nakedness, but those shoes turned me into his plaything, his object. Blood rushed to my face and shame crept up my spine under his scrutinizing gaze.

I was glad that he had sent Qay away.

He stepped behind me and swung the riding crop at my ass. I bit my lip, catching the moan that wanted to escape at the sound of leather meeting my bare skin with a satisfying snap. And there was the sting, the pain that his smack had evoked.

It hadn’t really hurt—the smack. Not nearly enough. But the implications of him swatting at my bare ass while I stood before him, wearing those shoes, the choker, the leash. It brought me to my knees. Lust tugged at me, intensified by the humiliation he put me through.

Crouching, he seized me by my neck and tugged my head up, forcing me to look at him. Calmly, he said, “I didn’t allow you to kneel. The next time you do anything without being given permission, I’ll punish you.” This was when I stopped pretending that I didn’t long for Zyn.

He stroked the riding crop lightly over my breasts. My cunt spasmed as he gave each nipple a sharp little flick. I didn’t know how much he could sense of my desires.

But he licked his lips like a snake tasting the air when I let out a long moan. He didn’t penetrate my thoughts, hadn’t tried to. But I was astutely aware that he still sensed something about me. My inner thighs were damp and I noticed how his gaze was drawn to the juncture between my legs. I spread my thighs, just a little, giving him more to look at. My move didn’t fool him. He knew exactly that I was baiting him.

The flat tip of the riding crop traveled over my stomach and a breathless surge of excitement gripped me. I wanted to lose myself in his touch, in his cruelty, but couldn’t.

Something was holding me back, and I realized that if I ever wanted to find mindless pleasure with him, he would need to earn my limitless trust. How, I couldn’t say. But I found myself wanting him to find a way for me to submit completely and utterly to his wishes.

I wanted him to rope me, spank me. I wanted his sadistic eyes on me as he shamed me into tears. I craved this rough treatment, it made me feel alive. And I wanted him to fuck me, never knowing what he would do or demand next.

Pointing with the riding crop to the bed, he said, “Get over there.” I rose to one knee, attempting to stand, when a hard tug at the choker brought me down on my knees again. Wincing, tears shot into my eyes as the metal choker bit into my neck.

The smack he wielded had me crying out. There was nothing teasing about how he had brought the crop against my ass.

“Why did you try to stand?”

I shook my head, my movement restricted by him holding the leash. “I just thought—”

“Don’t,” he said. “Now get over to the bed.”

He stayed behind me, leash in hand, and I felt his gaze against my ass as I crawled on all fours toward the bed.

“Stop,” he said, giving me a light tap with the crop. He grabbed one, two thick pillows and stacked them on top of each other in the middle of the bed. “Up,” he said, nodding toward the pile of cushions.

I slid myself onto it, resting my upper body on the length of the cushions, keeping my knees on the hard floor. I hugged my arms around the pillows, enjoying the softness at my breasts while my knees already hurt from kneeling on the floor.

“Spread those legs,” he said, slapping my inner thighs with the crop. “Don’t get up from this position until I tell you to. If you ever feel the need to scream, you can muffle the sound by biting into the pillow.” He laughed, a truly dark sound that had my nipples hardening into aching points. I rubbed against the pillow until a tug at the leash had me gasping. “Stop that,” he said. “You will not touch yourself or bring yourself pleasure in any way.”

He tugged harder at the leash, putting pressure on my throat, making me gasp for breath. I wanted to rise to ease the strain but couldn’t. He hadn’t allowed me to move, and obeying him was more pleasurable than getting oxygen.

When I stopped rubbing against the pillow, the pressure of the choker against my throat eased.