Violet turned over, deep in slumber yet slightly restless, as Amalia quietly rose to a crouch next to her. Amalia tucked the blanket slightly more snug around her sister, then carefully made her way out of the tangle of bodies sprawled across The Ghost of Mandachor. Soren sat with his back against the wall, arms resting on his knees, watching them all sleep.

  Amalia put a finger to her lips with a sheepish smile as she made her way over to him, then asked softly, “You good?”

  “Yeah,” he replied with a grin. “You up to no good?”

  She smirked back and patted him on the shoulder. “Oh it will be very good.” Then she slipped out the hatch.

  The night air was slightly chilly as she made her way down the ramp. Brana sat reading a book with a handgun strapped to her thigh, but none of them were seriously worried about the locals anymore. All of Boadicea was slightly terrified of them.

  “Hey, B,” Amalia said, “Can I get you anything?”

  “Oh shit, hey,” Brana said, looking up from her book. “No, I’m good. You off to where I think you’re going?”

  “That would be telling,” Amalia winked at her and skipped off into the night.

  Boadicea was quiet, it was a little past midnight and the moon hung large across the clear sky. It had been a couple days since everything had gone down in the middle of town, and tensions felt high any time the locals saw them now. But Amalia had one in particular she needed to clear the air with.

  The only three-story building in town still had lights on upstairs, and Amalia knocked lightly when she found the front doors locked. A shorn guard came down the stairs, hand on the grip of his holstered sidearm, and gave her a quizzical look through the door’s window.

  Amalia just smiled back at him. “May I come in?”

  “For what? Do you know what time it is?” He sounded very suspicious.

  “I need to talk with Mayor Dread.” Amalia held her hands up innocently. “I’m unarmed.”

  After a moment of hesitation, he let her in. She made her way upstairs and he followed behind—probably enjoying the view, but she didn’t really care.

  Venlin Dread was seated at his desk sipping a golden liquid out of a crystal glass. Another shorn guard was seated with him, the two of them had been discussing something, but broke off when she walked in.

  “Miss Amalia,” he said. His tone sounded genuinely surprised. “To uh, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Well,” Amalia cocked her head to the side, taking a slightly annoyed tone. “I have a sort of problem.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Venlin said. “Any way I can help, just ask. Please.”

  The lazarco’s black hide shone beautifully in the dimmed lights of his office, red patterned accents running across his body. Three of his hands glinted with gold rings on each finger. The hand on his upper-right arm was wrapped in a bandage from where Cale’s severed blade had cut him deep.

  “The problem!” Amalia almost yelled. “Is we were wrong about you.” She started to pace slightly. “I was enjoying our little flirts anytime we talked, batting eyelashes, the glances, all of it. But then everything started to look like you were some piece of shit Venlin, and dammit. I was so let down.”

  Venlin looked at his two guards, confused. The three of them looked at her again.

  “But now it’s clear,” Amalia said. “You’re not just good looking. You’re a good fucking dude. And I can’t leave this fucking planet without doing something about it.”

  Amalia pulled the top half of her robes off in one swift motion, her ample breasts perking up in the open air.

  The three men’s eyes all went wide.

  “I’m not really in the mood for group play tonight,” Amalia told the guards simply. “But regardless of if you’re here or not, I’m a couple minutes away from sucking the mayor’s soul out of his dick.”

  The guards both looked at Venlin. The one seated near him opened his mouth but couldn’t manage to find words.

  Finally, Venlin motioned for them to leave.

  They both made their way out, staring at Amalia as they went.

  She wiggled her fingers in a friendly ‘goodbye,’ smiling at them.

  Once the door clicked shut, her gaze slid smoothly back to Venlin.

  “A-are you serious?” Venlin was visibly nervous, but he also seemed excited.

  Amalia didn’t say anything. She pulled her bottom robes off and strode over to the desk, then grabbed the edge and pulled. The entire desk shoved sideways away from the mayor, and he sat there in his chair dumbfounded.

  He wore a loose white shirt buttoned only halfway up, and fitted dark trousers.

  Amalia’s eyes landed on the prize she was after, and she bit her bottom lip.

  Venlin swallowed hard, his hands shaking slightly, unsure of where to rest. “You, uh... you don’t waste time, do you?”

  “Nope,” Amalia said, popping the “p.” She circled behind him slowly, dragging her fingers across his broad shoulders as she passed. “Am I making you nervous? You can always tell me no.” Her voice was heavy with sin.

  His upper-left hand reached to unbutton the rest of his shirt, but Amalia leaned down and stopped him, pressing her chest lightly against his back.

  “Nope,” she whispered into his ear. “That’s my job.”

  Her hands slid down his front, undoing each button with a practiced flick of her fingers. Once his shirt was open, she ran her palms over his chest, feeling the ridges of muscle beneath his obsidian hide. His skin was warm, almost metallic to the touch, and the scarlet patterns that ran across him shone faintly in the low light.

  Venlin sat utterly still, all four arms hovering slightly like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch her yet.

  Amalia noticed and smiled.

  “Poor boy,” she cooed, stepping around to straddle him in the chair. “You’re used to giving orders, aren’t you?” Her lips were just a breath from him now.

  “I—” he started, but she silenced him with a kiss. It was hot, slow, and unrelenting, her hands curling into the back of his head as she deepened it. His lower arms wrapped around her waist instinctively, pulling her closer. She let him, grinding her hips into his lap until she felt the hard confirmation of his approval.

  Her mouth broke away with a slick pop, her voice sultry against his cheek. “That’s more like it.”

  She grabbed his uninjured upper hand and guided his hand to her chest. “Go ahead,” she said, tone mockingly sweet. She gently took his injured hand and planted tiny kisses across the back of his hand. “Good boys get rewarded.”

  Venlin’s hesitation melted away. One hand gripped her hip, another cupped her breast, and a third dragged fingertips down her spine.

  Amalia moaned softly and leaned back just enough to admire the view. “Oh yeah. You’re a fast learner.”

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  He looked dazed, pupils wide, breath heavy. “You’re... incredible.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” she teased, then slid down his body, kneeling between his legs. Her fingers hooked into his waistband, and she looked up at him with a devilish grin. She paused, staring up at him.

  He was frozen with anticipation.

  Amalia toyed with him for a moment. She ran her nails across the outside of his soft pants, tracing the bulging outline. She giggled when he squirmed and let out a soft moan.

  She kissed it through his pants as her fingers made their way back to his waistband. They curled around, then pulled hard. His pants dropped in one quick motion, and his length sprung free eagerly.

  Amalia bit her lip again, staring at it. Then she gazed up at him, locking eyes, and opened her mouth. Slowly, she moved lower, never breaking her gaze—the first contact of her mouth came as she sucked his balls into her mouth.

  “Holy shit—” Venlin let out. He started squirming in the chair, fighting against himself to not move too much.

  She pleasantly tortured him like that for a minute, touching nothing else sensitive, but running her hands across his hips and sides. Her tongue worked eagerly, rolling the orbs around in her mouth. By the time she broke away, a healthy dose of saliva had built up—running slightly down her chin as she rose.

  She wasted none of it, moving up to take his tip into her mouth, and plunging. She got half of it on the first try, and began to eagerly work up and down leaving a sloppy wet mess along him.

  He was squirming even harder, making adorable noises she couldn’t help but enjoy. He was close already, it had probably been a while for him. And she was good.

  “I, uh—” Venlin managed to say. So cute, at least trying to give her a heads up. It just showed how good of a man he was.

  Amalia’s hands circled around behind him, groping his butt and pulling him into her as she plunged hard, pushing past the resistance of her throat. She sank to the hilt, the base of him much thicker than the rest, but she took all she could.

  And he exploded.

  Her throat felt tight in the best way as hot ribbons pulsed out of him.

  Venlin let out a noise that was half-shouted, half-choked—one hand clawing at the arm of the chair, another gripping her shoulder as his whole body tensed beneath her. Amalia kept him buried deep, swallowing rhythmically, feeling every twitch.

  She moaned as he finished, a low noise bordering on a blissful, proud laugh.

  She didn’t pull back right away. She stared up at him, sultry, wanting him to know she wanted it. Her throat fluttered around him as she slowly eased off, lips dragging along his length with one last teasing swirl of her tongue around the tip.

  The taste was sharp, salty, with a rich, almost mineral bite.

  She swallowed once more with a grin.

  Venlin was panting, arms limp, his head tipped back as if she’d swung an uppercut hard into his jaw.

  Good.

  Amalia rose slightly on her knees, back arching, her large breasts on full display. Her own breath was a little ragged now, thighs slick from the effort, her body buzzing with arousal. The ache between her legs had gone from patient to demanding. She pressed her palm between her thighs and let out a low, shuddery sigh.

  Then she stood—slowly, sensually—and leaned forward, placing a kiss on his sternum. His skin was hot to the touch, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a damn mile.

  “Still breathing?” she teased.

  “I... yeah…” Venlin muttered, voice hoarse and wrecked. It almost sounded like a whimper.

  “Good,” Amalia said with a grin.

  She ran her fingers down his torso until she reached his length, still heavy as it lay half engorged. Her fingers wrapped around it and she pulled gently, guiding him to his feet. Then she led him over to the desk using his own personal leash.

  At the desk, she faced him and began stroking him slowly. Her other hand cupped one of her breasts, guiding the stiff nipple into his mouth.

  He latched on immediately, and she ran her hand across the back of his head, pulling him in closer.

  “Good boy,” she breathed out softly. Her eyes fluttered closed, feeling the eagerness as he suckled.

  He looked up at her, stunned but still latched and sucking.

  And he was hard again.

  She pulled his head away from her, a wet pop sounding out as he broke free from her chest.

  Still stroking, she asked, “Are you a good mayor?”

  He nodded, mouth still open. His eyes were half closed, gaze thick with lust.

  “I bet it’s a stressful position,” she breathed at him, stroking faster.

  “Yes,” he almost growled the word.

  “You have so much pent up stress to work through, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” His teeth were bared as he said it.

  Amalia pushed him away, half aggressive, half playful.

  The look he gave her was like a feral animal ready to pounce.

  She bit her lip and kept her eyes locked on him as long as possible as she slowly turned around. Then she kept her knees locked and bent over the desk, legs spread wide.

  Amalia gently rocked her hips back and forth, shaking her ass at him.

  She heard him step closer, slow and deliberate. Her lips parted slightly as the cool air kissed between her legs, every breath sending sparks across skin already aching to be touched.

  She smiled wide as a strong hand landed on her hip. Another splayed across her lower back, holding her steady.

  Then she felt it—his tip nudging between her folds, slick from her spit and still hot from before. She gasped, her whole body twitching at the contact. Every part of her was burning with desire now.

  “Don’t make me wait,” she whimpered. “I want to feel you.”

  Venlin growled low in his throat, and then he pushed in—slow, careful, stretching her inch by inch.

  Amalia let out a moan that cracked into a gasp halfway through. “Shit…”

  He paused, his hand stroking her back like he was making sure she could take it.

  Amalia arched her back and—

  “I said don’t make me wait.”

  She slammed her hips back into him.

  That broke whatever restraint he had left.

  He grabbed her hips with two hands and began to thrust—deep, steady, filling her with each stroke. Her breath hitched every time he bottomed out, the girth of him grinding against places inside her that made her grab the desk so hard her knuckles turned white.

  She couldn’t stop the noises. Little gasps, moans, a laugh here and there when a particularly deep stroke hit just right. It wasn’t just pleasure—it was satisfaction. Power. Control. Her thighs were trembling, her whole body burning, her mind swimming in the haze of him filling her.

  One of his hands slid up her belly and cupped her breast, the flesh spilling out as he squeezed a greedy handful. Another snuck around her clit—pressing, rubbing, circling in rhythm with his thrusts.

  “Gods—yes—Ven—”

  Amalia let out a sob of pleasure, barely able to form words.

  “—Fuck me Venlin!”

  She felt fingers in her hair as he pressed her face to the desk. He pounded into her, faster now, slapping skin and breathless grunts filling the office. His nails raked gently along her ribs, his fingers teasing and scratching, and suddenly—

  Amalia was cumming.

  Her body tensed hard, her vision went white at the edges, and a cry tore out of her throat as her whole torso shook—gushing, clenching, trembling with every nerve on fire.

  But he didn’t stop.

  Even as she spasmed and gasped, he kept thrusting, holding her in place, his breathing ragged now.

  “You want it?” he grunted behind her. “You want me to fill you up?”

  Amalia moaned, her voice desperate. “Fuck yes, do it—”

  He slammed deep one last time and held there—giving her even the extra thick base—and came again, hard.

  Amalia reached between her legs—through the dripping mess of them—and lightly raked her nails across his balls, coaxing every bit out. She could feel the pulses, thick heat spilling inside her as he grunted and shook above her.

  He stayed in her for a long moment—panting and arms trembling. As she lay bent over the desk with a fine sheen of sweat across her skin, every muscle sang with satisfaction.

  Eventually, he pulled back, his heavy length sliding out with a wet noise. He collapsed backward into the chair.

  Amalia pushed herself up off the desk and turned around slowly. Her legs were still shaking and she smiled wide, running a hand through her messy hair. She didn’t even have to look down—she laughed softly and felt a thick gush of his release slip out, running down her legs.

  “Messy boy,” she teased.

  Venlin looked like he might die of happiness.

  “I don’t think I can move,” he muttered.

  Amalia grabbed one of his discarded glasses of golden liquor and took a sip, grinning as she perched on the edge of his desk. “Good,” she said.

  She reached over to the decanter and poured another round of liquid gold into the glass. “Remember to be good, even after I’m gone,” she said softly to him.

  He looked up, almost distraught. The pheromones were working, and he already felt like he was in love. Not much she could do to help that.

  Amalia swirled the liquor over her tongue, savoring the burn. Then she straddled his lap again and kissed him—hot and full, the drink spilling between their mouths in a shared, breathless mess.