“That’s—” I can barely speak, “—the least sexy explanation for the most incredible sensation I’ve ever—”
He laughs, dark and possessive, and drops to his knees.
My trousers don’t stand a chance. One sharp tug and the fastening gives; another and they’re pooled around my ankles. He presses his mouth to the front of my underwear, breathing me in like I’m something sacred, and the vibration against my clit even through fabric makes my knees buckle.
“Rynn—”
“Hold still,” he growls, and hooks his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. Instead of pulling them down, he tears them clean off—literally rips the fabric away—and then his mouth is on me with no barrier, tongue delving into slick folds like he’s starving.
I scream. I actually scream, because the vibration is inside me now, rolling against my clit in waves while his tongue fucks into me with devastating precision. My hands scrabble at the wallbehind me, searching for something to hold onto as my legs threaten to give out.
He pins my hips with one hand, holding me exactly where he wants me, and slides two fingers inside me without warning. The stretch combined with that relentless vibration makes my vision go white at the edges.
“Gods—Rynn—please—”
He curls his fingers, finds that spot that makes me see stars, and hums against my clit. The vibration intensifies until I’m sobbing, thighs shaking, so close I can taste it.
Then he stops.
Pulls his mouth away, fingers still buried deep but no longer moving, and looks up at me with black eyes and a wicked, wicked smile.
“Not yet,” he says, voice like gravel. “I’ve waited too long to rush this.”
I’m going to kill him. I’m actually going to murder an alien prince.
He stands slowly, dragging his tongue up my body as he goes—over my stomach, between my breasts, along my throat—until he’s looming over me again. His fingers are still inside me, barely moving, just enough to keep me trembling on the edge.
“Please,” I whisper against his mouth. “I need—”
“I know what you need,” he says, and finally, finally starts moving his fingers again—slow, deep strokes that make my toes curl. “But I’m going to give you everything first.”
He kisses me as he works me open—three fingers now, stretching me with careful patience while his thumb circles my clit in lazy figure-eights. The vibration never stops, a constant thrum that’s building something massive inside me.
When he finally pulls his fingers free, I whine at the loss, but then he’s lifting me—hands under my thighs, pressing meback against the wall—and I wrap my legs around his waist instinctively.
He carries me the three steps to the narrow bunk like I’m made of spun glass and starlight, even though his hands are shaking with the effort of holding back.
When he lowers me to the mattress, I expect him to follow immediately, to cover me and take. Instead, he stands at the foot of the bunk, breathing hard, eyes devouring every inch of bare skin I’ve offered him. The bioluminescence along his chest and arms is strobing now, faster, brighter, reacting to the sight of me spread out and waiting.
I prop myself up on my elbows, chest heaving. “Rynn.”
He reaches for the fastening of his trousers with fingers that aren’t quite steady. The sound of the magnetic seal parting is obscenely loud in the small cabin.
“Wait,” I rasp.
He freezes instantly, hand on his waistband, vulnerability flashing across his face like lightning. Fear that this is the moment I come to my senses and stop everything.
“I want to watch,” I tell him, voice rough. “Slowly.”
The relief that floods his features is so raw it steals my breath. Then his smile turns filthy, predatory, utterly shameless.
He takes his time.
One deliberate inch at a time, he slides the trousers down over sharp hips, revealing more glowing lines that arrow downward like guiding light. The scales along his thighs shimmer electric blue when the fabric drags over them. When the trousers finally pool at his feet and he steps free, I forget how to breathe.
He’s… magnificent.
Long, thick, flushed darker than the rest of him, and ridged in subtle, spiraling patterns that catch the light every time he shifts. A bead of moisture pearls at the tip, glowing faintly, like everything else about him right now.
