Page 280 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

“You’re biased.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

I push his outer coat from his shoulders. Heavy dark fabric slides to the floor. My hands move over the scars beneath his shirt, familiar now, precious in a way that still catches me off guard sometimes. He shivers slightly when I touch the old burn near his ribs.

“Sensitive?” I ask softly.

“With you? Yes.”

God, I love that answer.

The room around us glows dim and amber from the ship’s evening-cycle lights. The air smells of warmed metal, clean linen, spice tea residue, and the rain scent that followed us back from the summit balconies. Beyond the viewport, stars drift silently across black space while the Wayward Thesis hums around us like a living heartbeat.

No alarms.

No collapsing worlds.

No one dying.

Just us.

Ghar lifts me easily, and I wrap my legs around his waist while laughing quietly into his shoulder.

“You’re showing off.”

“I am sentimental now.”

“That is still the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

He carries me toward the bed with slow confidence, kissing me between words, between breaths, between all the terrible fears we survived to reach this room.

I pull him down over me and kiss him until thought melts into sensation: the warmth of his skin beneath my palms, the roughness of old scars, the careful strength in his hands, the low sound he makes when I drag my fingers through his hair. He touches me like I am something cherished instead of something temporary.

“We choose our own fate,” he says.

“Damn straight.”

His lips part in a fierce, joyful grin. Then he rips my clothing right off of my body, manhandling me like a ragdoll. I yelp and shriek, though not from fear. Far from it.

Ghar pushes my thighs apart and shoves his face right in my pussy. I cry out, hands clutching at the ridges on his scaled head as his big, thick tongue slides through my pink groove. He makes the most delightful, growly, hungry sounds as he laps at my juices.

“Ghar,” I gasp as he sucks on my outer petals in succession. “Ghar, that feels so good…”

“Tastes so good, too,” he murmurs into the soft folds of my skin. His hands sweep up my sides, cupping my breasts as he redoubles his efforts between my legs. Ghar teases my swollen clit with his tongue, flicking it just the way he knows I like.

I suck in a ragged breath and clutch at him, body shivering with the impending orgasm. Yet he slows, drags out the finale, teasing me delightfully.

“Ghar!” I cry, this time a desperate plea. A desperate plea to cum. “Ghar!”

“Patience,” he says, lifting his face up temporarily. His scales are glazed with the fruits of his efforts. “You’ll cum when I say, and not before.”

That phrase alone almost gets me over the edge…almost. Then he envelops my clitoris in his mouth and sucks with varying speed and intensity. I let out a scream that leaves my throat raw, thrashing about beneath his scaled form.

A deluge of my juices washes over his face, but he doesn't stop. He seems egged on by it. My nails scrape across his scaled neck and shoulders as another shuddering orgasm slams into me. Then another. And another!

At last he shows mercy, pulling his mouth away and giving me his devilish grin. I can barely see him because of the climactic pulses of ecstasy thundering through my system.