Braden Read Online Free

how big I am as I wedge into your tightness. You don’t know if you
can take me.
    “But you do take me, more and more. You’re so hot and wet
that you open for me, and take my twelve-inch Shareem cock as far as it will
go.
    “Then you start moaning, making all those beautiful noises
you’d make when you’re fucked. My whole body presses against you, your breasts
hard on my chest, your nipples scraping me. Your nails rake down my back, your
feet press my ass as you hang on.
    “I’m fucking you, fucking you so hard, so good, and you are
so damn tight. So damn, damn tight, my Elisa…”
    Words faded as Braden’s mind went blank to all sensation but
friction on cock. His body knew it wasn’t Elisa, so it was nowhere near as
good. But hell, right now this was all he had.
    Braden’s cock got tighter, harder, his body hotter than
hell—or Bor Narga, whichever was worse. He felt the come, the jerking pulses,
the need to squirt all over Elisa and inside her.
    “Damn, woman, I want your pussy,” he moaned.
    Then he screamed, “Elisa!” And came all over the place.
    Braden braced himself on the wall, nearly sobbing with the
relief of his orgasm. Ropes of come circled his fingers, the cream of a man who
was dying for a woman. He was breathing hard, fast, panting. Braden threw his
head back, his hips moving faster.
    Fuck, fuck. Fuck!
    And then it was over. Braden fell against the wall, panting
in release.
    He felt a tiny bit better but it wasn’t as good, not nearly
as good, as being inside Elisa. Elisa would be perfection.
    Once Braden could walk again he staggered into his bathroom.
A towel beckoned from the rack and he grabbed it, wrapping it around his
too-sensitive cock.
    Braden groaned. He daydreamed of Elisa’s slim fingers, so
efficient on the library terminal. What would they feel like gently cleaning
him off with the towel?
    Aw, damn it.
    His cock was rising again. Braden slammed on his water
shower, stepped under the hot stream and let his hand have its wicked way with
him again.
    * * * * *
    Braden checked the time readout on the train platform for
the zillionth time. A quarter of an hour to midnight, and Elisa still hadn’t
shown.
    She wasn’t going to—Braden had figured that by now. He’d
have to go home again, back to his fantasies, back to another shower and
another bottle of lube. He’d jerked off so many times his hand was going to
start demanding candy and jewelry.
    The last train left at midnight, and if Braden didn’t get on
it, the two female patrollers who wandered the platform would arrest him. Maybe
stun-gunning him just for fun.
    Patrollers were trained to resist the calming effect of
Shareem pheromones, some patrollers better at it than others. Rees, the master,
rendered their resistance training useless—Rees could make the patrollers not
take notice of him or forget what they were about to ask him. They always
neglected to demand his ident card, the shit. When another Shareem was with
Rees, he could extend that fuzzy forgetfulness to both of them, but Braden was
on his own tonight.
    These patrollers had been eyeing Braden since he’d arrived,
watching him lounge on a bench drinking coffee as hovertrain after hovertrain
went back to Pas City without him.
    They moved toward Braden now, ready to be pains in his ass.
    “You’ve been here a long time, Shareem,” one said.
    She spoke in the sneering, condescending tone that all
patrollers used. They must take seminars in sneering.
    “Yeah?” Braden said. “So have you.”
    “It’s our job to be here,” the second said. Yep, same
seminar.
    “Must be rough having nothing to do but follow a man around
a train station,” Braden said.
    “You’re not a man,” the second one said.
    Suck me, woman.
    The first one held out her hand. “Let me see your ident
card.”
    “Why? You can look me up in the database. My picture’s in
there. Not my best shot, but you get the idea.”
    “Ident card.”
    Fuckers. A Shareem refusing to give a