Rider King part 48

We camp with Rexon, who demands Dramon and I take his tent. I hesitate because I don’t want to invade his space. I know Dramon is annoyed, too. He doesn’t like that he couldn’t put our own tent up and has to take Rexon’s “leftovers,” but he doesn’t want me sleeping outside, either.

Beysha is across the tent from us. It’s dark in here, and I can tell she’s asleep because of her deep breathing.

I’m thinking about all the things we have to do as I lay in Dramon’s arms in the dead of night. My skin is refreshed from when he wiped the sand and sweat with a damp cloth. He didn’t like it when I turned the cloth to him, because he was eager to hand-feed me as if I was a child.

We’re pressed against each other now. My head is on his arm and my back pressed to his front as we spoon.

Tomorrow, we’ll start looking for our third Rider King. I’m disappointed that my pregnancy won’t let me spar with anyone to test their skills, but I’m not risking my health.

“Are you feeling alright?” Dramon grumbles behind me. I furrow deeper against him, loving the vibrations of his chest.

“Mhm.”

He rearranges me so I’m lying face-down atop his chest, and I nuzzle deeper into his enormous warmth. One of his hands casually slides over my ass and under my dress.

“Dramon,” I whisper in warning.

He kisses the top of my head and becomes bolder.

I look worriedly in Beysha’s direction.

Dramon’s thick fingers rub me back and forth, suffocating my arguments with every licking stroke. With an annoyed grunt, I open my legs wide in a bracket-style, and let those maddening fingers of his do what they want.

Soon, I’m the one who is breathing heavily.

I hump his thigh as he finger-fucks me, making the cloth between us shuffle with little sounds. I’m sure Dramon’s thigh is soaked with my slick, but my hips have a mind of their own.

I’m so close.

I swallow a shriek when my hips are lifted and I’m hauled to my husband’s face.

I lie down to hide my figure from Beysha and anyone that might peek in as Dramon eats me out. He tongues me with a ferocity that makes it seem like he didn’t just have dinner hours ago.

I shudder and come on his tongue, and he shoves his tip inside as if searching for more.

“Dramon,” I hiss, both pleased and outraged.

He kissed my pussy, pulls me down to kiss my belly, and then he kisses my lips, too.

I’m back atop his chest, sleepy and thoroughly satisfied. I’m not an unfair lover, so I reach for the ties of his trousers.

“Do you want me to…”

He palms my hand and pulls it away from his bulging erection. He kisses it, and then says, “sleep now.”

I make a mental note to send him into a coma the next time give him a blowjob, and then I listen to his command by falling asleep.

The next morning, I notice that Dramon let me sleep in again. I fix my clothes and go outside in search of him.

Heads snap left and right as men look at me. The men from the Capital are a little more discreet since they’re used to my presence, but Rexon’s are more shaken up.

I smile awkwardly, and intertwine my hands in front of me.

I find Dramon and Rexon in the middle of the camp, scowling as they argue about fires-knows what. They look an insult away from swinging.

“Good morning!” I slide next to Dramon. “Are you two being nice to each other?”

Dramon huffs, and Rexon crosses his arms over his chest.

“Did you eat yet?” Dramon asks.

“Not yet. Why are you two arguing?”

Dramon shakes his head. “Eat first.”

“Don’t start,” I warn. “Tell me what the fight is about this time.”

“He wants to scout across the Great River for men. I spent a great deal of my childhood there, so I know there will not be much skill to find. Men there are farmers and traders, not fighters.”

“I have heard otherwise,” Rexon argues. “And your childhood ended long ago.”

“Neither of you will win this argument,” I interject. “We’re starting by collecting beasts. They’re needed for travel.”

Dramon’s eyes widen. “That is madness. Domesticating those animals takes time.”

I smile. “Beysha mentioned her father was a beast breeder. She’ll know where to start. We need these animals if we want to get anywhere, so start planning and be nice to each-other.”

Most of the week is the same. Dramon and Rexon fight over the stupidest things— who gets to train the men in the mornings, Rexon taking my hand to help me over a puddle. They even look in the same direction whenever someone calls out “Rider King,” and then scowl at each other.

Unlike Dramon, I’m convinced that Rexon isn’t pursuing me anymore. His eyes remain on my face at all times, and he addresses me respectfully. That gaze of his often strays toward Beysha, especially whenever she goes to feed the six beasts we have in captivity. It’s like he’s ready to pounce if she’s attacked.

Beysha, of course, is blind. She’s so excited that the beasts are warming up to her that she’s in her own little world. She has her own tent now, and it’s no coincidence Rexon placed his directly across from hers.

I’m watching Dramon spar with a group of five older males. He’s scolds them when they make mistakes and gives them a slight nod of approval when they do well.

My pregnant, horny body is swooning as I lean on a tree and watch his muscles glisten. I should be in the tent, checking some maps, but I’m watching him as if for the first time.

Someone swings a blade, and blood splatters as a chunk is taken from Dramon’s bicep.

I’m running toward him before the blood finishes landing on the soil.

Dramon’s head snaps toward me, and his red eyes narrow with an intensity that I’ve never seen before on any male.

“NO!”

The boom of his voice has me staggering, and I almost fall.

Dramon looks horrified. His eyes aren’t on his bleeding arm. Instead, they’re on me.

He drops his sword and covers his face with his hands. I have no idea what’s going through his mind.

Straightening, I close the distance between us as a small crowd gathers. I don’t care about hiding my affection, though. I wrap my arms around Dramon’s waist, and rest my cheek on his hot chest.

“What’s going on?” I whisper.

“Waters,” he curses, hugging me tight until I’m plastered against him. “Forgive me. I saw you running into the field, and I thought of… I thought of Salina when she was pregnant and I accidentally struck her.”

“It’s alright. I’m me, not her. I know how to evade strikes.”

He holds me tighter, although he knows everyone is watching. “I know, my heart, but you are still vulnerable, and now I have two of you to lose. I can’t lose you for the third time. It would kill me.”

I curse Salina, I curse The Vanishing, I curse his trauma, and I curse that I’m lying when I say, “it will be alright.”

It won’t be alright, because I don’t know what is coming our way.

“Wait,” he protests. “I’m getting blood on your clothes.”

“Dramon,” I huff. “I love you, but you can be ridiculous sometimes. Do I look like the type of female who cares about getting nails under her dirt? Do I look like Lady Greed?”

He pulls back and looks at me, wide-eyed.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Ugh, you Rider Kings are so outrageous. Come. Let’s get your arm patched.” I take his hand and lead him to our tent as I rant about him needing to be more careful.

I sound just like him.

He’s silent the whole time, and I don’t realize why until we’re cuddling in bed at night.

I told him I loved him.

a/n: I think the next chapter is the last! IMPORTANT UPDATES:

“Alien’s Curvy Nightmare” will be a short-story like Akdronis. Maybe 5 chapters. I’ve been inspired to write another damn alien story. SOMEONE STOP ME FROM WRITING MORE OF THESE BIG-DICKED ALIENS, PLEASE.

Here is a messy version of the description:

Sex makes them stronger.

We’re at war, and the Zolano warriors need women in their furs to enhance their fighting performance. They’re known for their skills in the battlefield and in the sheets, so it’s easy for them to get volunteering women who gladly rut them in the name of patriotism.

Then there’s me. I’m not there to have sex with alien warriors. I’m there to clean their dishes and laundry, straighten their sex-wrinkled sheets, and hope I don’t anger any of these beast-like males.

Of course nothing goes right. The General comes up to me, asking me to lift my skirt. I somehow avoid fainting, and stutter a “no.”

He’s shocked. I’ve never seen this man shocked before. I’ve never seen him looking anything but bored or angry. There’s a dozen willing women here who wouldn’t dream of turning him down, but the General wants me— his quiet maid, the human with the plain body and the backbone to reject him.