Want to play a game? Pretend that you love me. I do love you. The story of Maia, the one and only female Shareem who was in love with Rylan, a Level 2 Shareem, since they were children.

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His forbidden kiss, which made it sweeter. She traced the sculpted muscles of his bare shoulders and back. Her fingers caught on the black chain on his left biceps, which indicated what he was. Maia wore a similar chain, hers more delicate. His skin was hot. Her own body temperature shot up to meet his. Rylan skimmed his hand across her sarong, loosening the fabric.

This was forbidden. Maia was a prototype, the only female Shareem ever made. She was off-limits to the male Shareem. To everyone. Many experiments were yet to be made on Maia. As adults, he was teaching her all about deep pleasure.

He was a level two Shareem, which meant he specialized in games and wicked fun. Rylan smiled his devastating smile that began in one corner then spread across his face.

A wicked light entered his eyes. A Shareem male, fully aroused, was a beautiful sight. His irises widened, filling his eyes with pure, dark blue. His skin had gone flame-hot under her fingertips, and shone with perspiration. He still wore his loincloth, which hugged his hips, but she felt his huge cock behind it, erect and wanting.

His light brown hair, streaked from the sun, was scraped back from his face and fastened in a tail, caught once at his nape and again halfway down his back. Maia loved his hair. She loved his smile, and his eyes and his lovely, long cock. Well, everything about him. She belonged to Rylan, in her mind.

He never let the other Shareem, especially Rio, with his black hair and sinful smiles, touch her. She and Rylan never fucked fully, because DNAmo wanted Maia to remain a virgin until they began experiments.

But Rylan showed her that they could have all kinds of pleasure other than vaginal penetration. The lights were low in her bedroom, the mikes muted, so no one who happened to be monitoring her could see or hear. They would assume her asleep. Rylan had learned long ago how to diddle the computers to give them privacy. Her Shareem temperature jumped another few degrees.

He could make it sting, but not hurt, pain and pleasure mixed until she burst into a glorious climax. She loved it when he played full Dom, but he did not always. Sometimes he teased her, brushing the whip over her skin, then putting it away and leaving her. The man knew how to make her want him. As if he needed to try. Her breasts ached, and her thighs were wet with cream. His face stilled, and the spark left his eyes.

His Shareem pheromones had drifted over her, making her hormones dance in response. Rio was a level three Shareem, which meant a full Dom. He wore black leather that matched his waist-length black hair, and his blue eyes were always—watchful. Or to fuck her. Or both. In any case, Maia had smiled and walked away from him. She belonged to Rylan.

She nodded. But Shareem had been genetically programmed not to feel strong emotion. Not love or hate, rage, depression or joy. They existed in a neutral state, friendly, happy and content. Well, that was the theory. In truth, Maia loved Rylan to distraction. With deft fingers, Rylan finished loosening the sarong and stripped it from her. She stood, naked, in front of him, loving the way his gaze roved her body. The stark hunger in his eyes made her happy.

Her skin prickled, and a dark wanting coiled in her belly. Rylan got off the bed. He towered over her, eight inches over six feet. She was shorter than he, genetically altered so that smaller men would not be intimidated by her. She intimidated them anyway.

No one had liked the way the female Shareem had turned out, which was why she was the only one. The female researchers liked to list her shortcomings.

The male researchers stuttered and dropped things when she came near them. Rylan always called her beautiful. And mine. The amusement had gone from his tone. Maia shivered in excitement and fear. She knew Rylan would never hurt her, but he was Shareem, and Shareem sometimes lost that edge of control. That was why women craved them. Shareem were expert lovers, but they also carried a hint of danger. Maia put her palms on the bedcovers and bent at the waist.

Her hips stood up over the edge of the bed. Sometimes he prepared her, drawing the smooth lash over her bare back and down her thighs. Sometimes he pushed it between her legs, massaging her clit, pressing it against her opening. Today, the leather came down abruptly, slap, on her rear. She gasped. He whipped her again.

She devoured it with her gaze, stiff and erect and oh-so long. I want it in me. Please, please, please let the gods make him fuck me before he can stop himself. Never Rio. She lost coherence. I love you, I love you. Her climax took her hard. She welcomed it, falling onto the bed, her own hands finding her warm slit.

Tears of release poured from her eyes. Rylan lifted her in his arms and sat on the bed, his mouth on her skin, his tongue sculpting her face, licking away her tears.

His skin burned, and his cock, engorged and erect, nudged at her buttocks. She wanted it inside her so bad. She wanted to squeeze it into her, to hold him, all of him. He wanted it as much as she did, but as always, he held himself in rigid control.

Not that way. I want you so much. That did not make the pain any less. He moved her fingers out of the way and pressed his own into her slit, massaging her mound with the heel of his hand.

She arched against him, loving the sensation, loving the feel of his hard arm around her back. A sense of being protected surrounded her. Rylan always took care of her, no matter that he was even forbidden to see her. He stroked her, fingers working magic, until she came again.


Maia and Rylan






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