Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
After a long pause, he nods. “I believe you.”
My shoulders slump in relief. “Thank Mother Earth.”
“But I think you’re still lying about something,” he warns.
I straighten again, trying to hide my surprise and guilt. “I’ve told you my truth.”
He narrows his eyes but says nothing more.
“If you were wise, you’d make me feel something other than pain if you want me to tell you things,” I say. I can’t imagine what makes me say it. Maybe the steady pulse between my legs. The way he pried my knees open and inspected me. The wetness of my pussy. He called it need.
Yes, it feels like need.
I try to rub my nose and bang the cuffs into my lip, forgetting I still have the cursed things on. “Ouch.” I wince and push the back of my hand against the flesh to alleviate the sting.
“Taisha, are you all right?” He grabs my hands, pulls them down to examine my mouth. Touches my lower lip with one hand, holding my head in place with his other. “Stay still, let me see,” he orders. “I know humans are delicate creatures.” He gently runs his thumb along my lower lip causing a thrum in my core. A tightening of my nipples. “No, you’re not even cut. There’s nothing.”
“Veck.” He releases the cuffs and my hands fall from each other with a soft hiss. “Don’t do anything unwise.”
But I already am doing something very, very unwise. I reach for his horns, because I can’t wait a second longer to feel their texture. And even as my hands move—before I make contact with his skin, he pulls me in for a kiss.
I gasp into his mouth and then relax, letting him control the embrace. He grabs my hands and puts them onto the sides of his face—with a sort of warning noise, then uses his tongue to explore my mouth.
I’m greedy for him, already intoxicated with his scent, his touch. I’ve never touched a male like this in my life, my body seems to be figuring it out just fine with his help. He’s warm and strong and I revel in the power in his arms, his legs. His chest. I press myself against him any way I can and shift my thighs as our tongues meet, again and again. I want something else.
“I know what you want,” he murmurs, pulling back from my lips for a second.
He does? I’m not even sure I do. I certainly don’t know what I’m doing. But my body seems to.
My eyes are shut. I’m floating. I shift my feet. A second ago, I was shocked and embarrassed to be naked in front of him. Now, it’s the best thing in the galaxy, or almost the best thing, because I think there is something else coming. Something is growing inside of me, a spark that burns hotter and brighter.
I moan into his mouth, and he kisses me harder. This time when I reach for his horns, he lets me, and they’re just as perfect as I imagined: warm, firm, solid. His pulse thrums in them when I squeeze, just like I imagined, and I do it again and again, until he growls and kisses me so hard it hurts my lip worse than the bump with the cuffs. But I like it, I want more, and I keep playing with his horns by instinct, feeling him harden under my legs.
I reach one hand to stroke him and he groans, grabs my hand in his. Not stopping me, but checking me. “Do you know what you’re doing?” His voice is husky. Full of need. “Have you done this before?”
“No, but I want this,” I whisper.
“You don’t know what you want.” His voice is tortured.
“Please.” My voice breaks. “Please.”
“Please, what?” He sounds half amused, half frustrated. “Do you even know the word?”
I can’t put it into words, even, but what I need is absolution. I need to be transfigured. I need something beyond myself, to make up for what I’ve been through these past planet rotations. I think I’m asking him to save my life.
“Just please,” I repeat. I spread my legs, and he rests his hand on my thigh. And then there’s no stopping what comes next, no words that matter.
His fingers find the soft warm skin of my inner thigh, and then the press upward. I hold my breath, not daring to imagine what will come, until he touches the hot silk between my legs. It’s then that I cry out and bury my face in his neck, biting down hard on his skin, until he growls.
“Straddle me,” he orders, helping me climb over his lap so I face him, ride him, legs wide. “Don’t touch my horns.” He grimaces. “Or else I won’t be able to stop…”
“To stop what?” My eyes flicker shut, and I press my lips to him.