Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 47569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47569 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Her tiny hands come to my hips and then slide up my body, making me wish I wasn’t wearing this stupid suit. It’s part of the arrangement. Eleadian males come to the club every night dressed in immaculate suits. I suppose they give a certain impression to the human world.
We don’t wear anything like this at home. The most we ever wear are loose black pants. Rarely shoes. Never shirts. Clothing is not something we concern ourselves with on Eleadia. The temperature is perfect year-round. There is no need for more, and we don’t use clothing as any sort of status symbol. It’s practical and nothing more.
Ava is insatiable, returning my kiss with just as much driving need as I feel. Her hands slide under my suit jacket and push it off my shoulders.
I reach back and help her, dropping it to the floor before yanking on my black tie next. For a female who told me just moments ago that she didn’t want to have sex on the first date, she’s tackling the buttons of my dress shirt as though she’ll expire without getting it off me.
This frenzy was not in my plans. I knew I would feel it, but I hadn’t expected to act on it, nor had I understood how powerful it would be.
I need to look at her, so I release her lips and put a few inches between us. While I finish unbuttoning my shirt, I watch her squirm. She’s so aroused that it’s consuming her and causing her to forget how frustrated she was with me just moments ago.
Her dress is tiny. It barely covers her bottom to begin with, and it has inched up her body enough that I can see the black lace thong she’s wearing under it. I want to push the dress off her body and tug that thong down her sexy legs with my teeth. Her strappy heels can go last.
It’s heady knowing that once I remove these three items from her body, she will never again wear clothing. She has no idea that after I unwrap my present, it will remain unwrapped for the rest of our lives. The only thing I will permit her to wear, starting now, will be a soft absorbent diaper.
Introducing her to that last concept is going to be a battle. I’m well aware it’s a battle for every single Eleadian male. Human females are not accustomed to being coddled and cared for by their mates. They thrive on misplaced independence and demand to be treated as though they are dominant.
Perhaps on Earth, females are capable of that level of dominance in some cases. Maybe even a lot of instances. But that’s not the Eleadian way. No matter how hard Ava protests, she will eventually learn that submitting to me has rewards she’s never dreamed of.
I will treat her like a princess, but it’s going to be a challenge teaching her to accept that. Very challenging.
As I tug my shirt off my arms, leaving my chest bare, I also kick off the uncomfortable dress shoes.
My mate is licking her lips as her gaze roams all over my chest. Eleadians are not vain by nature. We don’t compare ourselves to others. We haven’t had females on our planet for over a century, so no one alive today has any recollection of what it was like for our parents and their parents. Perhaps things were different. It’s possible the females, centuries ago, vied for the attention of the males. Did they compete? Did they primp themselves? Did the males have any sort of hierarchy?
Recorded teaching indicates there has never been such a thing on my planet. According to historical documents, matings have always been fated. There was never any reason to fight over a man or take any measures to get someone’s attention. Either the two were fated or they were not.
Ava can’t grasp that concept, and it will be a long time before she does. All I can do is woo her until she softens to the idea.
Arousal is leaking from her pussy. I can smell it. The air is permeated with her need. As if she can no longer maintain eye contact with my chest, her head lolls back and forth. Her slender legs are parted, and she fists her hands at her sides and lifts her hips, offering herself to me.
Every inhale is a struggle. I’m losing the battle to keep my pants on. I need to win that battle, though, so I don’t touch the button or the zipper. Instead, I set my palms on my Little girl’s inner thighs, press them open wider, and bring my lips down to kiss the inside of her thigh.
She cries out, breathing heavily. “Ganrax…”
I lift my head. “Papi, Little one. Call me Papi.”
“Please… I need…”