Page 107 of Red Scale Daddy
I grasp him and my knees go weak as his fingers dip between my pussy lips, testing my wetness. I feebly pull at the clasps of his trousers, but he undoes them while still maintaining a firm hold on my ass.
His cock stands at full attention, dark red ridges mottling the surface. Dux’s crown has a vague heart shape to it, and is crowned with a pearlescent dot of moisture. His masculine, musky aroma fills my nostrils and all of the sudden I forget about the galactic core, the signal, everything.
He stands up, towering over me, and suddenly spins me around to face away from him. Dux bends me over the back of the pilot’s chair, my toes barely touching the ground as he shoves my thighs widely apart.
I arch my spine, pressing back ionto him as he slowly enters me. A groan escapes my body as he fills and stretches me with his magnificent length. Then his powerful hands gripo myu thighs and he thrusts into me for the first time.
My mouth forms an O as my eyes close of their own accord. I see our translucent reflection in the cockpit glass, his massive red form looming over me as he curls his body and then snaps forward with every thrust. His eyes have that look, the look that says he’s completely given himself over to his desires--and that he’s using me to fulfill them.
I thrash about on the back of the chair, pulse after pulse of ecstasy streaming through my body. And he doesn’t stop, blasting my breath out of me with every pivot of his hips. I suck in a ragged breath of air only to let it out as a piercing scream.
He cums inside of me, filling me with his alien seed. Then his cock throbs like crazy, pushing me over the precipice of another orgasm that makes me wonder if I’ll have bones left afterward. I’m a loose limbed, shivering, orgasmic mess who can’t hope to stasnd on her own when he pulls out of me, but Dux has mecovered. He takes me in his arms and sweeps me into his lap as he takes the captain’s chair.
I pull myu legs up onto his lap and press my face into his chest. I don’t want to think about what just happened, if it was a mistake or whatever. I just want to bask in this feeling, this feeling of safety and being worshipped, even if it’s only temporary. Even if it’s only in my head.
Time stretches.
Not lost.
Just… unmeasured.
When the intensity finally begins to ebb, it does so gradually, the urgency softening into something quieter but no less present. My breathing steadies in increments. My awareness expands again, pulling the ship, the mission, reality back into focus piece by piece.
“This changes nothing,” I say, forcing clarity into my voice. “We still need to find my father and get out of here.”
Dux watches me, not reaching for me again, not challenging the distance. “Didn’t say it would.”
“It was…god, it was...” I grasp loosely at the air as if I might pluck the right words.
“Yes,.” he agrees. “It was.”
Something’s changed now. I can feel it in the way he stays close without crowding me. In the way I’m aware of him even when I’m not looking. In the way the silence between us feels different now.
“Dux,” I say, not turning.
“Yeah?”
“We finish repairs. We leave. We follow the signal.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“It is a plan.”
“I’ll try not to ruin it.”
CHAPTER 16
DUX
The stars do not hold still.
They smear across the forward display in long, bending arcs, stretching into pale ribbons that slide over one another as the ship advances. Light warps and folds in slow, deliberate distortions, as if the void itself has thickened and begun to drag everything passing through it. The effect unsettles the eye in a way that resists adjustment; every instinct expects fixed points, something stable to anchor against, but nothing here stays where it should.
The vibration beneath my boots runs deeper than before, no longer a steady hum but a layered pulse that rises and falls in uneven intervals. It travels up through the deck plating, into my legs, and settles in my chest with a dull, persistent pressure that makes every breath feel slightly out of sync. The ship holds together, but it does so with effort now, every system working harder than it was designed to admit.
Roma leans forward in the pilot’s chair, the glow from her console catching along the edge of her jaw and the bridge of her nose. Her hands move in precise patterns across the controls, each adjustment placed exactly where it needs to be, each correction made without hesitation. The efficiency in hermovement never slips, yet something beneath it runs tighter than before, a restrained urgency that sharpens the edges of her control.
I watch her longer than I should.
