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Izzy paced, her skirts swishing as much as her thoughts and emotions whirled. Her inner voice squealed, deafening the erratic beating of her heart. She had an Eth. Oyaz, the male she had lost her mind over, was hers. After a few fist pumps, she broke into a dance, as overwhelming waves of joy tumbled through her. When had she ever been this happy?
But therein lay the dilemma. She was about to do him on their ‘first date.’ Did it matter? She was nine years away from being forty, and it had been ages, like in centuries—she huffed—since she last had sex. Doing Marcus against the wall of the Cheery Cherry’s office didn’t count. Especially when he’d escaped off-world. Earth Armed Forces had harassed her for weeks.
Thankfully, the ass had stolen from her too, so they ruled her out as an accomplice. While slamming her against the office wall, he had siphoned money off the paychip in her wrist. Now, that had been an expensive lesson. She’d avoided men since then.
But Oyaz wasn’t Marcus, who now wiled away his days in Mars’ penal colony.
Oyaz’s heated kisses, his gentle caresses, and those swirling ice blue eyes said he wanted her. And to second guess this when she’d been praying for it, now that was silly. Besides, it was the year 2254. And the sexual revolution somewhere in the 1900s had freed women like her to sleep around willy-nilly. She wouldn’t mind a little willy and a lot of nilly.
Giggling, she pressed her fingers to her tender lips. No way on this battleship did Oyaz have a small...um, appendage.
Granny’s nipples, would he fit?
Slapping her thigh and relishing the tingling sting of it saved her from succumbing to the tendril of fear coiling around her lungs. Women gave birth, dilating to ten centimeters. She wrapped her arms around her torso. Just thinking about Oyaz doing anything to her set her senses alight. Excitement bounced her, sparked tingles, pooled fiery need in her core, and dampened her panties. She was a goner for sure.
Gasping, she gathered her dirty clothes still stacked on the chair and hurried into the bedroom. Spinning, she scanned for a place to stuff them. Ridges on the top right of a panel drew her notice, and she lunged, rebalanced her overloaded arms, and touched the grooves. The panel glided open, revealing shelves. Grinning like a cat that found the canary, she shoved the clothes to the rear of the shelf. Sighing, she peeled her jeans from the middle, dug in the pockets for her phone, and returned the jeans to the pile. The door closed when she stepped back. Convenient.
Beside the bed, she placed the phone after checking she had about thirty percent battery life. Not that there was a way to charge it onboard a battleship. Aliens didn’t have Earth’s antiquated technology, not with that glowing-in-the-arm thing.
“Izabelle?” Oyaz’s husky voice snatched her breath.
She hurried out of the bedroom. Then she slammed to a halt with her slippers squeaking on the metallic flooring.
In a robe, split wide down his chest, stood...her male.
Holy flaming nipples.
Her gaze roamed freely, lingering too long on the bronzed caramel of his chest, the flexing of his fingers, to his toes peeking out the bottom of the robe. His unbound hair swirled around him like a man underwater. While staring at her, he whispered something, and his hair braided itself. He swung it, caught the tail, then clipped it.
He drew in a deep inhale, expanding his chest until she prayed the robe would slip off and bare all. Her heart had long since lost its rhythm, and her lungs burned, urging her to breathe.
His nostrils flared, and a deep rumble traveled from his belly to his throat. “You scent...incredible.” With a few massive strides, he swooped her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom.
He lowered her to the bed until her knees touched down. With gentleness, his fingers lingered on her hips before he slid his hands up her back to dive into her hair.
“Soft.” Dipping his head, he buried his face in the curls, then gathered a few to rub along his cheek. “Undress, ensa, if you want to keep your garments.”
She squeaked. Would he strip them from her if she didn’t? Heat swelled, churning, and she pinched her thighs together against the growing ache.
A slow sensual smile curled his mouth, one dimple appeared in his cheek, and his blue eyes warmed. “As you wish.” With a flick of his wrists, her shirt flapped open, scattering the tiny buttons.
She quivered, digging her fingers into his robe as her breath whooshed out of her. Had she known, had she even thought of it, she might have chosen something sexier than a plain white serviceable bra. The smallest mercy was that her panties matched.
His focus settled on her breasts. She glanced away, not willing to peek at his reaction. Too small, right?
“Maker, Izabelle.”
At his whisper, she flicked her gaze up. He rested a trembling hand above her cleavage. His touch spread warmth, while the intensity in his eyes snagged her focus. A bomb could explode beside her, and she wouldn’t miss his fascinated daze.
“So...beautiful.” He ran a finger lower and hooked the clasp of her bra, then with a jerk, it too parted.
His breath hitched when her breasts bounced free. With the slowest of motions, he swept the torn shirt and bra off her. The cool air against her heated skin puckered her nipples. But when he feathered his palms across the peaks, they hardened into diamonds, shriveling the areolas around them. She whimpered, throwing her head back as pleasure barreled through her. Ogling his face through hooded eyes, she arched into his hands, desperate for his touch.
When he closed around a globe, he brushed his mouth across hers. At the swipe of her tongue along his bottom lip, he growled, slid his hands from her breasts to her back, and yanked her against his chest. He took what he wanted, conquered her mouth, her senses, yet it wasn’t enough. She craved more. Her body ached to know him better, closer, harder.
He broke the kiss and pinned his cheek to hers, his rasps hot over her ear.
Her cheeks flushed at what she had to admit. “Oyaz, I’m not sure I can take more.”
He leaned back to smile. “You lack patience, ensa.”
Since the opportunity presented itself, she peeled his robe’s magnetic clasp apart and rubbed her breasts against his chest, fluttering her eyes shut on a whimper. The heat of him, the velvet of his muscles teasing her nipples, stole her ability to think.
On his rumble, her world tilted as he flipped her. He sprawled on top of her. Even though he kept his weight off in a push-up, the warmth of his body saturated her. She spread her thighs wide and hooked her legs around his hips, tugging him. As his hard-on pressed at her sex through her skirt, she writhed, searching for a specific position. It wasn’t enough.
“Next time, I’ll wait for you naked.” She clawed his biceps, urging him closer. Twisting and stretching, she tried to reach his lips.
“Izabelle...” He moaned, his muscles twitching under her fingertips.
Shifting his weight to one hand, he gripped her knee with the other and slipped his hand under her skirt. His hot touch along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh seized her lungs. Her core twanged and cried out in silence for release. Another rip registered as if far off, and air cooled her legs. A tug followed, and his fingers slipped, unhindered, into her folds.
She cried out, arching into his gentle touch, gyrating her hips until he brushed something infinitely sensitive. Then she gasped and held herself still, digging her nails into his arms as waves of bliss flowed outward, up to her nipples to her voice lodged in her throat.
He kissed her, and she latched onto his lips, needing them against her own, longing for the swipe of his dominating tongue.
Ending the kiss, he dipped his head and glanced at his hand between her thighs.
Fear was swift to cast its darkness, and she looped her arms around his neck and hung on. “Don’t stop.”
“Oh, ensa,” he smiled, “I have no intention of stopping. But I must learn what pleases you.” Pulling out of her embrace, he shifted onto his knees without breaking contact. “If I do this?” He flicked his finger to the side, and she whimpered when he stroked neglected nerves. “Or this?” Circling her nub, he strummed back and forth, and she cried out, coming off the bed when burning pleasure hit her.
Her world exploded. She didn’t care what she looked like writhing and thrashing. Colors trickled across her vision, her senses slammed into a pinnacle, every nerve ending tingled, reporting for duty, and the sweetest, purest joy saturated her body.
“Oyaz,” she hummed, ignoring the tug and pull when he shifted between her thighs.
“Guide me, Izabelle, my Dar Eth.” At his guttural request, she wrapped her fingers around the girth of his hard-on. She took a moment to gape at his bronzed length, then nudged it lower until he pressed into her.
“There.” Running her palm over the head, she released him, looped her legs around his hips, and angled her pelvis.
He supported his weight in a push-up again as he dipped into her. How he stretched her, how he stimulated the sensitive flesh of her channel, she couldn’t describe. She whimpered, needing each stroke, aching for that complete moment of peace that would fill her when he buried himself to the hilt.
They were not there yet, and he trembled, his eyes closed, his jaw clenched.
She feathered kisses along his chin, to his lips, and when he focused on her, she smiled. “Nice and slow, you can do this.”
He chuckled. “That is a given. Not harming you is not.”
“Then roll over.”
“Why?” Frowning, he pulled out with a groan.
She scrambled to her knees, and with her palm on his chest, shoved him onto his back. “If you’re scared of hurting me, let me do the impaling. You can flip me over once you’re in me.”
He folded his arms behind his head and watched as she climbed over him. Rumbles traveled through him when she spread her legs wide, exposing herself to him. Crushing her breasts to his chest, she twirled her hips, searching for the head of his cock, and once it stroked across her entrance, she lowered herself.
Sitting up took him deeper into her, but the sensations were wonderful, as he stretched her, rubbed along the walls, and reached her core. He gripped her hips and held her still while he raised his pelvis to meet her descent, but she was selfish and wallowed in the sensations of him deep within her.
Then her world tilted again when he flipped them. She laughed, stealing a kiss.
“Maker, Izabelle, you feel so good...Like nothing I have experienced before. So beautiful, I must be dying.” His eyelids fluttered as he withdrew and thrust in again.
Tears prickled her eyes, and her laughter caught in her throat. A breathless groan took over, and her mind blurred, as he ‘claimed’ her. There was no other word to describe him pounding into her, hitting her G-spot, shattering who she was, and reforming her as his. The colors left blinding spots on her retinae, and she clung to him, relishing the texture of his skin beneath her hands.
His roar reverberated off the walls, and he froze, while his gaze snagged hers. Something swirled in the ice blue depths, as intense as him buried in her. He cupped her cheek, traced the line of her nose, and pinched her chin, holding her still for a gentle kiss, one filling her with the ultimate hope.
That he would one day love her.
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