“Whatever you do will feel good.” His voice came out raspy.
“Are you sure I can do this? I mean…hell.”
“Yes. Just remember that I make sounds. Some might sound as if I’m angry but it’s normal. You can’t hurt me and I ache for your touch.”
She focused on his cock. It was thick, perfect and something she’d consider beautiful. A smile almost surfaced when she realized that, never believing she’d ever pin that term on a man’s penis. Her fingers stroked the shaft, explored the soft skin wrapped around a rock-hard erection. A rumbled purr filled the room and she lifted her gaze to watch Brawn’s face.
He had closed his eyes, probably to make her more comfortable and he bit his lower lip. He looked sexy as hell and he wasn’t the only one who worried about being perverted because it was a hot image having him chained down. She only wished they were at her house, in her bed and alone.
He shifted a little on the bed when she wrapped her other hand around the crown of his cock, stroked it and grasped his shaft firmly. She started slow, exploring while stroking him up and down and his breathing increased. It fascinated her, watching his muscles ripple as he began to slowly rock his hips. A fine sheen of sweat broke out on his chest, his purrs increased in resonance and it was the hottest damn thing ever.
“I’m going to,” he growled, his voice harsh.
She released him with one hand, gripped the cup and wondered how the hell she was going to make that work. Brawn’s feet braced against the bottom bar of the cot he was chained to, he tilted his hips upward and she lowered his cock until it almost touched his belly. The cup caught his seed as he started to come.
He groaned loudly, shook with the force of his climax and she had to remember to hold the cup when she really wanted to just watch him. Hearing him caused her nipples to tighten. His body jerked a little with each stroke, filling the cup a little more as she milked him of every drop with her fingers. She released his shaft and he relaxed his muscles, his big body going lax, as he panted.
Becca remembered to cap the cup, stand and on shaky legs walked to the door. It opened before she reached it and Ray held out a gloved hand. His mouth opened but then snapped closed. He took it without comment and left, closing the door behind him. Becca rushed back to Brawn’s side after grabbing a new sample cup from the table.
His eyes were closed as he caught his breath and she stroked his chest after wiping off the lube with the edge of the blanket. “Are you okay?”
His incredible eyes opened to peer at her and the look in them was something she’d never forget as he smiled. The yellow had overtaken the blue, seemed nearly golden and took her breath away.
“I love your soft hands.”
Tears filled her eyes, unable to hold them back. “Good.”
Alarm killed his smile. “I’m sorry, Becca.”
“For what?”
“I’ve harmed you by association. You’re here doing this because you were living with me. I shouldn’t have left Homeland. You’d be home if I hadn’t.”
She leaned over him, her hair falling across his arm and chest, and got close enough to nearly touch her lips to his. “I’m just glad you’re okay. We have to do this seven more times.”
“You are crying. This hurts you.”
“It’s the stress, Brawn.” Her hand caressed his chest. “I’m not hurt. I’m more worried about you than me. You’re the one chained down who has to do this seven more times. I got the easy part, actually.”
He nodded sharply. “The faster this is over, the sooner they will return us to the cage to feed us. Let’s do this.”
Surprise shot through her. “Again? So soon?”
He gave her a grim look of determination. “I’m Species. I’m ready.”
Brawn refused to admit that her touching him had been a staggering experience and he already ached for her to begin again. He could have sworn he smelled her arousal but it was probably from earlier. Her tears tore him up inside and he knew once this was over, if they were rescued, this day would haunt her.
She leaned back from him and he missed her closeness instantly. He closed his eyes so she felt more comfortable not being watched, knew her aversion to that from her words about the cameras and hated the way his cock stiffened with need from knowing her hands would be on him again soon.
The light brush of her fingertips made him bite his lip to stifle a snarl. His heart raced, his arms strained against the chains and he wanted to break them. He was grateful they held. Otherwise he’d grab her, tear off her clothes and pin her under his body. He wanted inside her so bad it was killing him.
Just the mental image of her under him, her thighs spread and his cock driving into her pussy was enough to make him ready to come. Her hands were stoking him. They felt amazing but he just knew it would feel better with her vaginal walls squeezing him tighter than her current hold on him.
“Tighter,” he hissed through gritted teeth, hating himself just a little more for even asking.
Her hands gripped him more firmly, moved faster and he knew shame as he rasped out that she should grab the cup. The world became a white haze of pleasure as he came hard, tried to remember to breathe and it didn’t stop until she released his sex. He panted, caught his breath and knew pure hell. Not only would Becca never look at him again without being reminded of what the evil Mercile employees were capable of but she’d believe he was a pathetic male who couldn’t hold his seed long enough to give pleasure if they were to share sex.
Light caresses traced his skin and her hair tickled as she leaned against his side. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’re a team and we’re going to get through this. Six more times. That’s all.”
Rage gripped him. She was trying to comfort him, assure him that they’d somehow survive and he even failed her there. He nodded, not trusting himself to look at her in case she looked upon him with pity. He couldn’t take that.
“It will be.” He kept his voice firm, strong and hoped she didn’t lose all respect for him.
Chapter Eight
Brawn was so silent that Becca worried about him deeply. She finished her oatmeal, a horrible, overcooked bowl of cold mush and almost envied him the bloody steaks he’d been given. She sat on the cot inside their cage, he sat cross-legged in the far corner with the plate balanced on his lap and avoided even glancing her way. He’d been that way ever since she’d taken the last semen sample from him and the goon squad had returned to transfer them back to the cage.
“How are the steaks?” She tried a casual question to test his mood.
“Cold.” He took another bite, blood dripped onto the plate and he chewed. “They seared them but it was a while ago. I think they put them in a refrigerator afterward.”
“I’m sorry. Do you want some oatmeal?” She glanced at the half-eaten portion, more than willing to give him the rest. As hungry as she was, it was like eating pasty, tasteless glue.
He shook his head. “Keep up your strength. Eat it all.”
He didn’t offer her any of his steak and her shoulders sagged. She’d been hopeful he’d share. She’d take nearly raw and cold meat over tasteless crap any day. “Are you tired? We could share the cot.”
That got her a frowning look. “I’ll sleep on the floor. Lie down if you wish to rest.”
Anger and pain hit at the same time as she dropped her gaze. “I’m fine. I thought you might be tired. You can have the bed and I’ll sit on the floor. You need the rest.” He’d just given up eight samples, and he might not be human, but she figured any guy would want to sleep after that kind of activity.
“I am used to hardships. The bed is yours.”