I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. Once her body relaxed, I kicked her legs open, my legs bending, caging them on either side. I paused at the feel of my body pressed against hers; she stilled, breathing deep.

I closed my eyes, trying to fight how good she felt against me, but as her ass shifted and dragged along my cock I knew I wouldn’t move, couldn’t move. I wanted her, Georgian or not, flush against my body. I needed it. I wanted my dick sliding in her wetness, and I wanted to feel her moans coming deep and strong as I massaged her limbs.

The female sighed, causing me to still, but then she leaned back against me, her head dropping to lean on my shoulder. Every part of me was frozen. This close, I could feel her breathing. This close, I could feel her racing heartbeat. This close, I could smell her sweet-tasting skin. Unable to stop myself, I pushed her hair over one shoulder and licked over her racing pulse—she tasted perfect.

The female shifted in front of me, her ass rubbing against my hard cock. A rumble built in my chest. My eyes rolled as heat built in my veins.

I placed my hands on her arms and began circling the muscles, bringing the blood back to her starved limbs. Her body sunk farther against mine. My hands explored her body, up and down her arms, until they moved to her waist. I didn’t stop. I continued kneading at her flesh—over her stomach, her torso, until my hands came to her tits.

My hips rolled when the kotyonok’s back arched. Her pussy slid along my dick, and I groaned at the feel. I palmed her tits harder, until the Georgian’s breath stuttered and strained.

Her feet planted next to mine in the mattress and, with her eyes closed, her hips rolled some more. Unable to stop myself from groaning, I grazed my teeth against the crook of her neck, before biting down and sucking her sweet skin into my mouth.

Needing to feel more of her body, I dropped my hands from her tits and moved them down to her thighs. My hands spread on the outer muscle and massaged in. She turned her face into my neck, her warm breath washing over my face. Shivers darted down my back at having her face so close to mine. For a second I entertained the thought of turning my face into hers. But I stopped myself. I stopped myself from giving that much to the victim in my arms.

She was the gateway to my hit. I knew she could never be anything more. My stomach tightened as I considered those words. As my hands explored her silky skin, a deep need inside wanted me to possess her and take her as my own.

I’d never had anything of my own. Even my sister wasn’t mine anymore, ripped from my arms when I was twelve, never to be held again.

This female writhing in my arms was bringing warmth to my cold dead heart. Her strength and courage as she took both pain and pleasure, destroyed the hatred I had of Georgian females. She was nothing like Mistress. This Georgian was a warrior queen compared to that sadistic whore.

Kotyonok suddenly moaned. I realized my hands had moved to her inner thighs. Now aware of how my touch was making her react, I closed in farther to her pussy, the heat of her skin showing me the way.

Flicking out my finger, I brushed it over her clit—it was swollen and ready. As I touched the raised nub, the female shuddered and cried out. Her hands, previously lying to the sides, slammed to land on my forearms. Her fingers gripped deeply into my skin, her fingernails breaking open my flesh.

Flames soared in my body, an intense heat, an unbearable need, commanding me to take her. Leading by feel and need alone, I wrenched apart her legs and pushed my dick through her pussy lips, her hot cream wrapping me in its heat. Using the grip on her thighs, I powered forward until the tip of my dick dragged against her swollen clit.

She moaned in my arms, her head rolling from side to side against my shoulder. But my vision blurred, and a single-minded determination took hold of my body—to make us both come like this.

Just like this.

Pulling her legs even farther apart, I thrust faster and faster, until a pressure built in my thighs. The female’s breathing labored, her skin scalding to the touch. Unable to resist, I turned my head toward hers until my cheek lay across her forehead, Her skin was damp. I pressed my lips to her face. Her head pulled back, and wide shocked brown eyes slammed into mine. I was locked in. Couldn’t look away as my dick pushed against her harder.

Then the female’s eyes fluttered. She choked in a breath as her body stilled. A deep red flush ambushed her cheeks and chest. A loud cry ripped from her throat. As I felt the entrance of her pussy clenching, searching for my dick, a rush of heat took me captive until I roared out in release. Light burst behind my eyes as I came harder than I’d ever come under Mistress’s commands. I fought for breath as, darting my gaze down between the little Georgian’s legs, I saw my release coating her inner thighs. I stared and stared at the sight. A wave of possession rippled through my body.

I stayed still, unsure if I could ever move again, when I felt a hand stroke along the long scar on my right cheek. I threw back my head. Even with this sharp movement the female’s hand never moved. I swallowed and watched as her finger began to move again, down my face, following the path of the scar to its end point, on my chest.

I loosened the grip on her thighs, grunting when she sat on my softening dick. My heart beat faster than ever as she reached down to cover her hand with my own. My eyebrows pulled down in confusion when, taking her small hand, she lifted my hand and brought it to the center of her chest. Her eyes never left mine as she took control of my index finger and ran it over her skin until it stopped on her shoulder.

The female blinked, and blinked again, until she pressed the pad of my finger farther down her skin and silently began to move my finger in circles. My breathing paused when I knew I was feeling the rough skin of the scar on her shoulder. I exhaled deeply and she moved my finger across to her other shoulder, repeating the action.

She watched me like she wanted to speak, but her mouth stayed closed, her lips unmoving. Finally, she journeyed our joined hands to the third scar I knew she had on her hip.

This time, as my finger ran over the skin, she whispered, “We both have scars.”

My skin pricked at the understanding in her voice. She’d spoken to me. She hadn’t talked at me or through me or commanded me. She’d talked to me. Like I was someone worth talking to.

Like I was human. Not a killer beast.

She waited for my answer, her skin gradually returning to its olive tone from the flushed red. Unsure what to say, I nodded my head.

A flicker of a smile hooked on her upper lip, and the coil that was wound tight in my chest began to loosen.