Rainier enjoyed the strain on his latest acquisition’s face each time he brushed against her. He brushed past her often, seeking every opportunity for contact he could find, or making excuses. Each time he touched her, the scent of cinnamon hooked into his skin. He would devour her when they reached his home, and his private chambers. He thought about taking her here, across the control panels of his ship, but he wanted the freedom to play with her. Eventually the female curled up on her seat in a tight ball and feigned sleep. Her position purposefully left no part of her exposed for him to take advantage of, a gesture that amused him to no end. As if she could escape him. None of the females ever escaped him until he was through with them. How many had Fizarian sold to him? Countless.
That smuggler scum charged him a steep price for this one, haggling for more than the generous sum he offered. Rainier scowled at her, wondering if she’d last long enough to recoup the credits. She certainly didn’t look all that hardy. He thought her spine might snap on the first stiff fucking. He sneered, planning to short Fizarian a few thousand cred when the delectable hint of cinnamon made his eyes cross. The ship docked. The female still feigned sleep but braced herself as he reached out to touch her shoulder. Rainier decided she was worth every cred.
“We’re here, sweetling. Time to see your new home.” His tone was a coaxing one, as if he’d tried to lure a wild animal to take food from his hand. She looked ready to snap and snarl at him. After a moment she put on a demure mask and meekly followed him out. She had fire inside. She would be fun to break.
Rainier’s home was rustic wealth, simple in design but high in quality. The layout was open, rooms sectioned off in neat box formation, plain but practical. The metal walls had never seen a coat of paint. It was a pure male’s abode, utterly lacking in feminine flair and appeal. It was also technologically decked out. The hum of inner machinery surrounded them as they moved down the hall. Not that he gave her much chance to admire her new home as he took hold of her, bringing her as close as his bulk would allow to drag her to his bedroom. The walls were thicker there, padded with soundproof plates. A massive bed occupied the majority of the space, long and low where he could lay her out to play.
“Now, let’s see what quality merchandise I paid for,” he said, and ripped her shift from her body. Cyrilla pushed him away with a sneer. He grabbed her exposed breast and twisted. “I’m your master female. Don’t you dare resist me.”
She looked down, lashes fluttering, demure once more. “Please,” she said, her voice soft. “I am tired from the journey here. Let me rest before--”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, just lie there and take it like a good slag,” he snarled, hooking an arm around her waist as he shuffled across the room. She didn’t fight him, going limp until he threw her onto the bed. She lay still as he crawled over her, hovering over her as he drew in a deep breath.
“Cinnamon,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “It’s the ultimate aphrodisiac for my species. Did you know that, sweetling? I don’t know if that bastard doused you in it or if it’s part of your natural allure, but the second I caught wind of it, I had to have you.” He clasped a handful of her hair, sniffing it before his tongue slid out and ran along her neck. “And I will have you. I’ll have you until you scream.”
Her pale face was serene, calm, despite his actions. Rainier frowned. He wanted her off balance, he wanted her fear, but the female surprised him. She inhaled, hunger and heat shifting across her features.
Cyrilla hooked a leg over Rainier’s doughy waist and flipped him onto his back. She rolled on top of him, her hair feathering over his face, bathing him in her clean cinnamon scent as she lifted his hands up over his head, clasping his wrists with her fingers.
Rainier gazed up at her, his eyes dilated and unfocused. “Now that’s more like it. You like to be on top, sweetling?”
She purred, tail twitching as she moved her body in a long sinuous movement that left him panting. His arms moved in her grip, and found he couldn’t break free. A sliver of panic edged his arousal. Cyrilla hovered over him, breathing hot and sweet in his ear.
“How about I make you scream?” Her tongue darted out, tracing along his plump cheek until they came nose to nose.
Cyrilla pulled back and smiled.