“Yes, I am very, very—”
“I would bring you pleasure like you have never known, my sweet Ni-Kee.” A tongue swipes across the sharp tip of one fang, and I suck in a breath. It’s long, and from the small glimpse I caught of it, covered in a rough, scale-like pattern.
“I can scent you, my little mate. Perhaps I could help you relax as we work together to raise your body temperature.”
Goosebumps pebble along my arms and neck, and I back up a step. I should not be imagining what his tongue would feel like between my legs. I should absolutely not be thinking about it.
But I am. I scrub a hand down my face. I’ve spent too long in space with only a crappy vibrator for company, because woo boy, am I thinking about it.
“No sex,” I squeak out. “No sex,” I try again, only succeeding in a raspy whisper.
“Not tonight,” he agrees amiably. “Just warmth.”
With that, he tugs his pants off, holding his arms out to me.
Holy shit.
Nobody on Earth knew anything about that, that’s for damn sure. If human females knew about what the firepower Suevans carried belowdecks, they very well might line up to get here. I bite my cheeks, wondering how our resident tech expert and monster romance aficionado, Bex, is faring. I try closing my eyes, but the image of his massive cock is burned across my retinas. I crack one eye back open, just to make sure I saw it right. For science.
Yep.
It’s not scaly like the hide on his shoulders and arms, not exactly, but there’s a faint pattern all along the thick shaft, giving it a slightly bumpy appearance. Draz is hard, too, and my muscles clench reflexively at the thought of all that cock. What would those bumps feel like?
“Are you worried it will be too much for you?” he asks.
My eyes go wide.
“I thought you said you were not interested in sex? You are staring at it. It may be large, compared to you, little human wife, but I would prepare you to take it.” He bites the words off with a low growl, and heat winds through me at his raw sexuality.
“That is correct, not interested in sex,” I manage. “It’s just. It’s there. S-s-sorry.” A shiver wracks me.
“Ah, my Ni-Kee, my sweet mate. You may look your fill, if it pleases you. But do it as we share our body heat, because I cannot stand to see you cold.”
Right. I take a step forward, keeping my gaze clamped somewhere in the distance over his shoulder, where two snails leave a phosphorescent slime trail. Yes, this is a safe place to stare.
I take another step forward, and Draz’s taloned hands grip my biceps gently. His cock nudges against my hip. I close my eyes. He kneels down, taking me with him.
“Ni-Kee, it would be better if you also removed your clothing.”
I almost start to swear again, but think better of it at the last minute. He’s right.
“F-f-f-ine.” I pull my sodden tank over my shoulders, and it slaps wetly against the ground. My sports bra is staying. I move my hips, starting to tug down my pants, and Draz lets out a ragged groan that brings me up short.
“Do not stop, beautiful female,” he manages.
“Get it under control,” I tell him, tugging my pants off the rest of the way.
“I am trying,” he says, his body tense. “It is very hard, considering the succulent fragrance of your cunt, now perfuming the air. Your skin is very soft.”
“My what?!”
“Is that not the right word?” His breath gusts against my neck, hot, so hot compared to how cold my flesh is.
“It’s not polite to talk about it,” I say. His heat seeps into me, and it is absolutely delicious after taking off my soaked clothes.
“It is not polite to talk about how I want to taste the sweet nectar between your legs as I bring you to the peak of your pleasure?”
“Yep.” I nod emphatically. “That would be very impolite.” A jolt of desire shocks through me at the thought, and I squeeze my eyes shut—like that’s going to stop it. Like that’s going to stop the feeling of his hard, muscled body caging mine in. Like it’s going to blot out the feeling of his massive cock, nudging at the thin fabric of the underwear on my hip.
“But I can smell your desire,” he says, groaning again.
It’s embarrassing. “Please stop smelling it.” File that under things I never anticipated uttering in my life.
“I cannot hold my breath,” he says.
“Breathe through your mouth,” I snap. I need him to talk about something else, anything else. I squirm against him, somehow turned on. I should not be turned on.
But my body is absolutely down with it.
I open my eyes. Snails. I should think about snails. Over his shoulder, snails climb the wall of the hollow tree we’re resting in. Who sleeps in a tree? We’re like a pair of fairytale princesses, complete with magic snails that are making art on the—my eyes narrow at the shape of the slime trail.
“Does that look like…” My lips clamp shut.
Draz turns to glance over his shoulder. “It does rather look like a cock. If you like, you can compare mine to it, and see how it measures up.”
I groan, and he lets out a small laugh, the motion sending a shiver down my spine. Not of cold—his body is burning that off pretty well—but of desire. He laughs again, and I realize he was joking. I’m sitting on a dangerous alien’s lap, his hard dick poking my hip, and he’s making jokes about snails leaving glowing phallic graffiti on the inside of a tree.
It’s so ridiculous that I can’t help letting out a small laugh as well, and then we’re both laughing hysterically, Draz’s huge shoulders shaking with it.
After a minute, the manic giggles die away, and we’re left with the raging storm outside and the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.
CHAPTER EIGHT
DRAZ
Her laughter dies. She stares up at me with her oddly beautiful human eyes, the white ring blueish in the light from the snails. The perfume of her arousal continues to sweeten the air, and I wonder at it. Suevan females only become aroused when they are ready to take a mate.
But my wife, my Ni-Kee, insists she does not want to mate, even though her body tells me it is ready.
“Why do you look at me like that?” I ask softly.
Hair plastered to her head from the rain, Ni-Kee seems even tinier now. She shifts again, and I try not to notice how soft and full the curve of her ass is, how powerful the muscle underneath, despite her relatively small stature.
“You surprise me.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” she says softly. “It’s not a bad thing.”
I want to preen. I want to flip her to her back and surprise her with what I can do with my tongue. Instead, I wait, hoping she takes the lead. Hoping she tells me more of what she is thinking.
Her shaking slowly subsides, the sound of her teeth clattering together replaced by deep breathing.
My little mate is asleep.
I hold her close, gratified she can at least trust me to hold her and watch over her. Her hair is soaked, and I run my fingers through it. It’s much finer than mine, so coarse that the rain practically runs right off it. If I do not comb through it, I am sure it will snarl and tangle and be uncomfortable.
I refuse to allow my mate to be uncomfortable.