Joy slams through him so hard I feel it in the air. His glow kicks brighter, stars swirling in dizzy eddies under his skin. His throat works, once, twice.
“Slow,” he vows. “I will…prepare you. I have listened…to the others.”
My brain stutters. Listened? To Tharn and Jacqui? To Rok?
“Wait,” I squeak. “You did wh?—”
He doesn’t give me time to unpack the implications of alien voyeurism. He moves, bearing me backward and forcing my legs to spread for him. The question dies in my throat as he fills that space like he was built for it.
He doesn’t just touch me. He lowers himself between my thighs and inhales, eyes fluttering closed for the briefest second as he takes in my scent. His hands settle on my hips, huge and splayed as his thumbs brush the crease where leg meets torso.
Then his mouth is on me.
The first lick steals my breath.
The second steals my reason.
His tongue is broad and hot. Textured, velvety ridges open and drag against me in slow strokes.
I slam my head back against the rock, fingers locking in his hair as his purr starts up low, the vibration traveling straight through his lips into me.
Sarven growls, holding my thighs open as he explores. I thought he would be hesitant. I was wrong.
His mouth closes over me as he sucks and swallows, tongue swirling through my folds. When he finds my clit and I jerk, he focuses there more, the pressure just shy of too much.
“Sarven,” I gasp.
He hums against me, pleased, then does it again.
The hum and the tongue ridges together are unfair.
My hips jerk, trying to climb up the wall, and he just tightens his grip, purring louder. The sound wraps around my pelvis like a second set of hands.
I am gone.
He is using everything he’s learned. Every gasp, every shattered “yes” from earlier, every hitch in my breath when his fingers brushed me. He remembers where I shook under his hand and reproduces it with his tongue, with improvements.
“Sarven…please…” I choke out.
He doesn’t stop.
He makes a low, wordless sound and chases my pleasure harder, dragging those ridges over me in exactly the right pattern, building the tension in my belly into something hot and unstoppable.
“Yes,” I sob.
The world narrows to his mouth and my pulse.
And then, I shatter.
My cry rips its way out of me, echoing off the stone. My hips jerk off the ground; he holds me there, mouth locked to me, drinking down every spasm like it’s sacred.
Light flares in my periphery. His glow answering my orgasm with wild, pulsing brightness that sends constellations reflecting across the cave walls.
Sarven growls his satisfaction against my thigh, a pleased little rumble that says ‘yes’.
He licks me through the aftershocks, gentler now, broad strokes that feel like worship. By the time he lifts his head, I’m whimpering and twitching with overstimulation.
Sarven looks down at me. His mouth and chin are slick, his eyes dark, the stars beneath his skin too bright. His chest rises and falls like he just ran across half the desert with a sand serpent on his back.
