Survival's Price (Saurellian Federation 3.6)

She slowed her pace, moving through the club as if she had all the time in the world. Nothing would make her stand out more than hurrying. She felt several men’s fingers clutch at her as she strolled past their tables, but she shook them off quickly.

She grabbed a waitress and asked her where the dressing rooms were.

The woman nodded toward the back of the stage, and Cybele made her way past yet another bouncer into the dancer’s rooms. He didn’t even notice she’d never been there before, thank the Goddess.

Apparently he didn’t bother to learn the dancers’ faces. She strode into the dressing room, pulling open a locker at the far end. Another woman gave her a strange look, and Cybele snarled, “Don’t f**k with me, little girl.”

She gave a squawk and ran out of the room.

Cybele ignored her. Fortunately, she’d found a locker belonging to someone practical. She wore a serviceable and somewhat plain pair of pants and a tunic when she wasn’t dancing for money. Cybele pulled them on, then threw a shawl over her shoulders and made for the exit. She was almost out the club’s back door when she heard him crashing though the dressing room. She would have made a clean escape if the bitch she’d seen before hadn’t betrayed her.

“She went that way. She threatened me!” she heard the woman shout in the distance, and the she took off running again.

He was right behind her, and while she wasn’t attracting the same kind of attention now that she wore clothing, there seemed to be no shaking him. Faster and faster she ran, ducking through corridors and pushing people out of her way. Sooner or later he was going to corner her if she didn’t think of something.

It happened sooner.

One minute she had turned down a small, darkened corridor and the next he hit her like a fully loaded freighter, slamming her to the ground and knocking the breath out of her lungs. Gasping for breath, she tried to crawl away from him on her belly. He pinned her, his long arms reaching around to grip her wrists, holding her tight as she struggled in silence. Screaming wouldn’t accomplish anything, she knew that already. If the station guards learned she was an assassin, she’d rot in their nasty little hellhole of a jail. No way.

His hips thrust against her, rubbing the swell of his erection against her ass. She stilled, wondering if she could use that to her advantage. He prodded her once more, prompting a rush of heat in her own body.

She wanted him just as much as she had back at the club, she thought in disgust. What the hell made him so attractive to her?

Maybe it’s the fact that he’s the only man who’s ever beaten you,her brain whispered insidiously.

She shook her head, refusing to acknowledge it. He hadn’t beaten her yet.

He jammed one knee between hers and thrust her legs apart roughly. She shivered and moaned, pushing her butt up at him.

His hand reached between them, fumbling at her clothing. She heard a snicking sound, and then something cold touched her skin. She stilled. He had a knife. Was she wrong? Was he going to kill her now?

All too soon she learned the answer. The knife sliced neatly through her pants and thong. He pulled it away from her body, and then fumbled at his leathers.

She probably could have escaped at that moment if she wanted to, but all she could think about was how good it would feel to have him slide home within her. Then she felt it, the hot, hard round tip of his cock, poised at the mouth of her cunt. She expected him to say something, to play one of the silly games men and women used to communicate their lust. Instead, he thrust into her with all the strength of a man pushed to the limit. Every fiber of her stretched, and for a second the urge to scream was almost too strong to control. Slowly he pulled back, leaving a sense of gaping emptiness. She pushed back up at him, desperate for more.

He slammed into her again. She bucked up at him, forcing him to ride her as their bodies responded to each other. Within moments he had loosened his grip on her arms, and she rose to her hands and knees.

It was easier to find leverage in this position. She thrust back at him harder, rocking her body into his with a force that sent shudders along her spine. Every nerve in her body connected along one tight, winding string, a cord that stretched tight with tension and sang out with need as he hit home. She heard a gasping noise, and then realized it came from her mouth. He filled her in a way that no other man had ever done, pushing her to the point of capacity and stretched just a little bit more. He was strong, just as strong as she was, and he wasn’t afraid to treat her roughly.

He was her perfect match.

Stories she’d heard from her mother, tales of perfect mates and true love, darted into her head. She might have snorted in disgust, but she couldn’t focus. All she could do was push back at him, again and again, their bodies slapping together with a force that should have rocked the entire station. Her heart pounded, and for one shining instant she thought she might die.

Suddenly it hit her with all the force of a sun exploding, wave after wave of release, pleasure beyond anything she’d experienced before. This was far more than the end of gnawing tension, far more than the relief of her own hand working in the night.

Certainly beyond any c**k she’d ever felt.

Every fiber of her being cried out to her, telling her she needed him, she had to keep him close. She had to protect him. Where had that come from? She collapsed forward, feeling him pump into her, working toward his own pleasure. She knew she should help, but she couldn’t. She had no energy, no drive.

She’d become a husk, a limp remnant of the woman she’d been two hours ago. She’d been bested by him physically and blown away by him sexually.

This wasn’t supposed to happen to her.

He came with a shout, his body shuddering and covering hers, his hot seed hitting her cervix with such force she felt every surge. Then he collapsed over her, apparently as stunned as she was, and the sound of their harsh breathing filled the corridor.

“What the hell was that?” he asked softly after a long silence, and she shrugged her shoulders. She had no damn idea.

“Oh shit,” she muttered suddenly, closing her eyes in disgust. Now would be the perfect time to kill him.

He might still be covering her, but there was no way he’d be able to stop her. His entire body was limp, defenseless as a child’s. He was hers.

She looked up at him and smiled, touching his face with one hand. His gaze was almost tender.

Just do it, she told herself. This is your job.

Her hand hardened and chopped toward his jugular. He blocked her without so much as blinking. It was only luck that she managed to buck him off an instant later. She leapt to her feet, and took off down the corridor. She darted a glance back to see if he was following, and didn’t even see the wall when she hit it. She dropped like a rock, unconscious.