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She looked at her chest. Pink marks streaked across it. “That’s temporary damage and it’s minor.”
Her cyborg bent over her. “I’ll repair it.” He extended his tongue.
She trembled with anticipation.
He licked one of the binding marks. And she nearly levitated off the sleeping support, it felt so good. Her skin bubbled with his nanocybotics.
Her male laved and sucked and covered her with effervescence. She moaned and threaded her fingers through his hair, holding him to her as he leisurely adored her breasts with his tongue and lips.
Fast was thrilling. But sometimes slow was better. And Drift acted as though he was in no rush to complete his self-assigned task.
That drove her wild. She arched her back, pushing her curves against his warm mouth, and she curved her fingers over his scalp.
All she needed was a flick of his tongue over one of her nipples, and she’d?—
The cursed male dragged his lips downward, denying her that release. “You’re so soft.” His words were both felt and heard. “And you’re so mine.”
As he progressed, he left a trail of fizzing over her skin, and her desire ratcheted even higher. She hadn’t believed that was possible. Her toes curled.
Fates. He was right. She was his. In all ways.
He lowered her flight suit more and more, and every part of her he exposed to the cool air, he then heated with his lips, with the flat of his tongue.
Fears for the future and thoughts of vengeance against their shared enemy evaporated. There was only space in her thoughts for her cyborg, for her great yearning.
She ached for his touch, for his repairing, as he called it.
That healing delved deeper than her skin or her flesh. It permeated her battered soul.
When Drift reached her now fuzz-covered mons, she spread her legs. He ignored her blatant request for a pussy licking and he skimmed the tip of his tongue over her hips.
“You’re teasing me.” She shifted under him. Her passion was becoming unbearably intense.
“I’m exploring you.” His eyes glittered. The male knew what he was doing to her. “Like any great pilot, I’m plotting my course. I process my destination.” He gazed at that intimate part of her.
She needed him. Desperately.
“Do I take the scenic route?” He glided his tongue in a wide circle around her pussy, from above her mons, to the left side of her, over her upper thighs, and across her right side to the gentle rounding of her lower stomach.
She shook more and more violently with desire.
“Do I make some stops?” He gripped her knees and parted them more.
His big hands were rough and warm, and she craved that touch over more of her.
And Fates, if he took the heel of one of his palms and ground it against her clit, she’d explode.
“Yes, I see a stop I want to make.” He lapped up the rivulets of wetness streaming down her inner thighs.
Her pussy clenched around nothing. A low moan escaped her lips.
“You’re delicious, my female.” He smacked his lips. Appreciation lit his unique eyes.
“Then drink from me, my male.” She tilted her hips, offering him her pussy. “Give me release before I split into two.”
“Ahhh…you’re requesting a direct trip.” His voice lilted with mirth. “That comes with a cost.”
“If that cost is my mind, I’ve already paid it.” She was wild with yearning. “Land this ship, pilot. Your passenger has reached her breaking point.”
