I check. I’m relieved, bordering on euphoric, after winning the battle. I’m feeling triumphant and strong, protected and cared for. And now that the adrenaline level is dropping, I feel that I want to celebrate in a really physical way. His gentle hands on my skin are not helping.
“Feel fine,” I reply in a hoarse voice. I’m a little dizzy after the fight, a bit giddy.
He runs his hand gently up the side of my jumpsuit. It’s fine; he’s not a stranger. We’ve survived a deadly situation and probably saved each other’s lives.
Well, this is my chance. And now, I don’t care what he thinks. We won the fight.
Before he straightens up, I put my hand on the side of his head, clumsily but sincere. His hair is soft, his skin warm, his beard silky.
He looks up at me, and this time there’s no fire in his eyes, just heat.
“I see no other injury on you,” he says with more gravel in his voice than usual. “But I should make sure.”
“Yes. Make sure,” I echo, keeping my hand on his head and struggling with the mechanism of my alien jumpsuit. I manage to loosen it, and I see no reason to be coy, so I pull it down to my waist. Cora gave me a leather bra, but I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, and apparently today wasn’t it.
The cool ocean air hits my bare breasts and tightens my nipples instantly. Kenz’ox’s gaze drops to them, and the low sound that rumbles out of his chest is pure, unrestrained hunger.
He rises slowly, towering over me, one huge hand sliding up my ribs to cup my breast like it was made to fit his palm. His thumb brushes the peak, and I gasp at how sensitive I am. Every nerve is still singing from the fight.
“Dorie,” he growls, the alien syllables of my name rough and reverent at once. “I have wanted this since you killed the drok.”
I reach for the ties of his loincloth with shaking fingers. The leather knot gives, and the garment drops away while the belt stays on.
His cock is already hard, rising thick and heavy between us. It’s longer than any human man’s, the shaft a deep, shimmering bronze that darkens to indigo toward the broad, flared head. Along the upper ridge run flexible plates of cartilage. They are soft now, but I’m sure they stiffen and ripple when he’s fully aroused. At the root, nestled just above the heavy weight of his balls, a second, slimmer shaft curves upward—shorter, slick, smooth, and already moving in tiny, eager pulses.
I wrap my fingers around the main shaft, and he hisses, hips jerking forward. The ridges shift under my palm like living things, warm and velvety.
“So powerful,” I breathe in English. I’m trembling with need, and my brain can’t remember any caveman words.
He answers by lifting me clean off the ground, hands under my thighs, and I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct. My jumpsuit is still bunched at my hips. He shoves it lower with impatient growls until it drops off me. Neither of us cares. He spins and lays me down on the soft grass just outside the saucer’s hatch. The distant surf is a steady roar behind us.
Kenz’ox follows me down, mouth crashing over mine. The kiss is fierce, with teeth and tongue and the faint taste of alien blood he hasn’t bothered to wipe away. I arch up, dragging my bare breasts against the hard bulges of his chest, and he groans into my mouth.
His hand slides between us, fingers finding me soaked. One thick digit pushes inside, and I cry out at how easily he stretchesme, how ready I am. A second finger joins the first, curling, stroking, while his thumb circles my clit with devastating precision.
“Please,” I pant against his lips. “Inside. Now.”
He lines up, and the broad head nudges my entrance. The ridges catch and drag as he presses forward, one slow, relentless fraction of an inch at a time. I’m stretched wide, deliciously full, every ridge stroking sensitive places inside me until I’m trembling.
When he’s seated to the hilt, that smaller shaft settles firmly against my clit, warm and slick and already moving in tight, perfect circles.
“Oh fuck—” The words tear out of me as he draws back and thrusts again, deeper this time. The ridges ripple inside me, massaging my walls in waves. The secondary cock rubs my clit with every stroke, faster now, matching the building rhythm of his hips.
Kenz’ox buries his face in my neck, teeth grazing the tendon there, beard stroking the sensitive skin. “Woman,” he rasps. “Mywoman.”
I claw at his back, heels digging into the moss as he sets a hard, driving pace. Each thrust sends sparks exploding behind my eyes. The dual sensation is overwhelming, filled and rubbed and claimed in ways I never imagined.
My body is forced to stretch around the invader, and it protests in vain. Then, when it submits and stops resisting, it’s rewarded with smooth caresses from the alien features that look so scary but are so wonderful when he gets what he wants.
I’m fucking a caveman.
The climax hits me suddenly and violently. I scream his name, back bowing off the ground as pleasure crashes over me in endless waves. My inner walls clamp down on him, and the ridges seem to swell in response, locking us together.
Kenz’ox roars, hips snapping forward one final time. I feel the hot rush of his release deep inside, pulse after pulse, while the smaller shaft keeps stroking my clit through the aftershocks until I’m sobbing with overstimulation.
He collapses over me, careful to keep his weight on his elbows, breath sawing in and out of his massive chest. I cling to him, legs still wrapped around his waist, feeling the last tremors of that secondary cock fluttering against my oversensitive clit.
After a long moment he lifts his head, eyes glowing soft blue in the moonlight.
