Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
“Is that what you’re going for?” I ask her as I add wispier white strands to Queen Solana’s hair with a stylus pen. Her skin is a lilac purple, and her round, delicate face resembles Luna. I even drew the curves of her body with Luna in mind.
“She’s perfect. Can you slide over to him?” She points to the tall, shirtless fellow beside the queen. Guy is smoking hot. Queen chose well. He’s a carbon copy of me and my good looks, after all.
It’s character art Luna requested.
I track over to him, and she says, “He’s missing an earring and your win some lose some tattoo on your wrist.”
“You like his smirk though?”
“Smirk is on point.”
I grin down at her. “Think so too.” She can’t see me. She’s a thousand percent concentrated on the tablet in her hands, and my grin widens while I zoom in on his wrist.
When I’ve executed those final details, she raises the tablet and appraises the two characters side by side. Alien royalty and a human bodyguard.
I can’t see her expression. Not as she asks, “Would you want to create a whole story with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking about using elements of the Thebulan saga to create an allegory of my life…of your life, of our past and present together.”
It crashes into me like a ten-foot wave, and I’m almost swept under. “You wanna write our love story.”
“And I want you to draw it.”
I’m stunned to silence. Did not expect that to come out of her.
Luna rotates around to face me, kneeling between my legs. “You can say no. I plan to write it anyway as a comic storyboard. It might help me process the pools of memory. But it’d be a big endeavor to draw each panel.”
“You’re kidding yourself if you don’t think I’ll draw the whole fucking thing.”
She blows back, overwhelmed tears springing. “Really?”
“Really,” I nod. “I’ve got all the time in the world for you, for us, for this. Especially if it’ll help your recovery.” It’ll be better if she can visualize her words, and I’d love to add that element for Luna. “It’s just for us?”
“Yeah. Just for us.” Her smile flushes her cheeks. “I’ll have to alter some of the Thebulan lore. Solana will need to be a princess since my mom will be the queen of the Thebulan royal family.”
“I can work on a rough sketch of Homecoming.”
We brainstorm a storyline of how Princess Solana attends her brother’s dance at a galactic, more Thebulan version of Dalton Academy. We’ll workshop the name. There, Solana sees the human guard her family hired to protect him.
“Does this princess have a jellyfish umbrella?” I ask.
“Yep, but it’s a real glowing jellyfish.”
“That’s dope,” I grin and sweep her soft features, then the length of her. My love for Luna slams into a visceral need to kiss her. To press her against me. To fuck her.
Her breath shallows.
Our gazes latch in desire, but we do our best to talk about the comic. The sexual tension strains her voice at a certain point. I’m so fucking hard.
That’s it. I tuck away the tablet in a wall pocket inside the bunk.
Footsteps patter down the aisle. More muffled noises around the bathroom, I’m assuming, but Luna barely pays attention to the jumbled cacophony. She’s crawling on my lap. Her black silky nightgown pools at her thighs as she straddles me.
I skate my fingers over her collar, slipping off her spaghetti strap. Blood pumps south, my cock tensing against my drawstring pants. Her lips ache over mine while she whispers, “I need you. Ineedyou.” She’s grinding on me.
I’m torched. Dying for Luna. I hold her face and murmur in her ear, “Be very quiet.”
She’s nodding repeatedly.
We’ve had sex every night in our bunk. Been nearly silent each time, but too many people are awake and on this bus now. I don’t like her on top when anyone can fling open the curtain and see her.
We go under the gray comforter. We’re on our sides, making out like it’s our destiny to be lip-locked. Heat ramps up to the thousandth degree. We’re a furnace together, blazing hot.
She shudders, gripping my neck like she’s struggling not to release a moan. Sweat builds on my flexed muscles, and I kiss her deeper, our legs threading.
“Off,” she rasps, tugging at my pants.
With a couple maneuvers, I free myself of my pants and boxer-briefs. Then I flip Luna and drag her back to my chest. An aching, soft noise ejects from her parted lips, and I breathe against her ear, “Quiet, or I can’t fuck you how you need to be fucked.”
She digs her ass into my cock.
Fuck. I trail kisses up her neck.
Sheets are sticking to our damp bodies, and I draw them down to my waist. If anyone opens the curtain, they’d just have a real good view of my tattooed back. Luna is facing the wall. The window curtain is flung open. Nighttime in Arizona. The view is a blur as the bus moves at about fifty-five. Not too fast, not too slow. Exactly how I wanna take Luna.