The General ✔️ (Zolan Book 1)

46

The sounds of his mother's cries eventually fade. He leads me into a lowly lit bedroom. Its four-poster bed that has chains of gold entwined with linens draping down. It's a ridiculous display of wealth.

War is in such a grim mood that the few crystals illuminating the room seem to dim.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his large palms on his knees. I examine him for the umpteenth time. He's heavy with muscle and scarred with experience. He wears grey and tanned cloth that's well-worn and dull, but he doesn't need silk and diamonds like the royals to establish his dominance. Everyone knows he's at the top of the pyramid.

My General has always been strong for so long— careless like a tall tsunami wave that defies gravity, daring like a mountain reaching for the sun.

Now he sits before me, eyes on the ground, shoulders slumped. He has fought so much— for his planet, for me.

I've given him hell, and now I see the error in my ways. I shouldn't have tried to convince myself that we don't belong together. From the moment I saw this intimidating hulk, I should have fought tooth and nail for him.

It took so many twists and turns for me to realize that I love him. My General. I love him more than I love my planet, Earth.

I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing his face to my chest. He sighs heavily and nuzzles his face between my breasts. We stay in that position for a long time. I rub his tense shoulders and occasionally kiss his head.

The sound of trickling makes me look at the right wall. There's a tub there, placed below to a tube that protrudes from the wall and produces water in an alien-plumbing system style.

The water flows until the tub is half-full.

"Let me wash your back," I tell War. We traveled on the road under the sun for hours. A bath is overdue.

"You go first," he returns.

I don't argue. I tie my hair in a high bun and walk to the tub, undressing on the way and knowing that War's eyes are glued to my ass.

I don't linger in the tub. I wash my important areas, lathering them clean with the ridiculous soaps that are available. When I'm done, I step out dripping wet, and B-Line for him. He's not slouching anymore. His back is straight, his fists clenching, and eyes alert. They move from my face to my breasts and sex. He can't get enough of them.

I push my hips at him, straddling his sturdy lap. The water on my bare skin saturates his shirt, and I suspect I'm wetting his thighs with something other than water. He's already hard, his cocks ready to take my challenge and ride me until I'm bobbing around, thoughts scrambled, pussy sore, lips rambling a whimsical plea for mercy.

I push at his chest, but War doesn't move an inch. I should have expected that.

He raises an eyebrow at me, and I pout because he's making me fail at being sexy.

"Can you lie on your back, please?"

He leans back slowly until he's flat on the bed. I stare at his body like it's a candy festival. There is so much flesh to this man that I don't know where to begin.

I giggle. Of course I know where to start.

Choking on those fat lollipops.

I fuss with the ties at his pants, gasping when I finally dig him out. Even after consuming these things and bouncing on them, I'm surprised by their girth. It's like War was made to impregnate all women on the planet. These cocks can fuck and satisfy a million women, and then some.

I kneel on the ground, face plant onto his lap, and lick every inch of glorious skin. I flatten my tongue on his balls and don't leave them until they're coated in my saliva. Then, I lick up one of his cocks, tracing the thickest vein that wraps around like a rope that struggles to contain the damned thing.