Stud by Cheryl Brooks

inside her and to bask in the warm glow of his eyes. Was this how it felt to be in love, or was this merely lust? Never having experienced either of those emotions before, she could only speculate, but surely lust wouldn’t be so painful.
    Mental pain, that is. There was no physical discomfort this time—what little she’d felt the night before was already forgotten—but the pain of anticipated loss, of knowing that she had only a short time to be with him overrode a great deal of the pleasure. She tried to put it out of her mind, but it wouldn’t stop, nor would it listen to her wishes, but kept right on tormenting her.
    “Don’t leave me,” she gasped at last.
    “It isn’t safe for me to stay,” he groaned. “Your father—”
    “Can go hang for all I care,” she shot back at him. “He doesn’t own me. I know I’ve put up with it for a long time, but—” She broke off there. Tarq didn’t know her plans, and she reminded herself that it would be best if he never did. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m just… it’s been a long day, that’s all.”
    “I know the feeling.”
    His tone made her wonder how he’d spent the time, but when his thrusts altered subtly, her thoughts were once again riveted on the present. Don’t think, just feel, she told herself silently. Remember this moment forever.
    The blessed moon was still full and bright, sending tiny sparks flickering over the soft spirals of his hair. The scent of his body, so seductive and compelling, swirled through her head while the sound of his breathing filled her ears and his strong shaft filled her core. She reached up and touched his face, thinking that surely he couldn’t be real. How could anything be so perfect and still be real? He had to be a dream.
    “I missed you today.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
    He smiled down at her, his sharp fangs gleaming in the moonlight. “I know that feeling too.”
    Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Was she the one he’d missed? It was too much to hope for, but whether he meant it or not didn’t matter. He was here now, making love to her like the dream lover he was. Perhaps it was best not to discuss it.
    Tarq, however, seemed to think that further conversation was indicated. “Mmm… Lucy,” he purred as he rocked her slowly and gently. “You feel so good.”
    Just the way he said her name made her shiver with delight, but what he was doing with his penis was even better. She could feel that arch pressing against… something—something wonderfully sensitive. Licking his lips, he reached beneath her to pull up her gown. “I was in too much of a hurry before,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
    She didn’t reply immediately since her gown was covering her face, but in another second it was fluttering, whisper soft, to the floor. His shirt followed and then he eased out of his jeans after toeing off his sandals.
    “That’s better.” His lips found her breast as his hair brushed lightly over her arms. “Wouldn’t want my Lucy to miss out on anything.”
    The “my Lucy” sent her rocketing straight back to dreamland—a place where they were not only lovers but lifelong mates—and prompted her to consider his needs, desires, and preferences even more than her own. Gasping as he teased her nipple, she whispered, “Is there anything you want me to do for you? Something you like better than anything else?”
    She thought he hesitated. “Lucy,” he murmured against her skin, “I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t be better because you were the one doing it. You can do whatever you wish. I promise to love every second of it.”
    Recalling what Jublansk had said about Zetithians tasting good had set Lucy’s thoughts on a wicked path, but how did you ask a man if he would like to be tasted? Did you just blurt it out, or was there a more graceful way of putting it? “I-I want to… Jublansk said you would taste good, and I thought you