His fingertips ghost along my collarbone, down my arm, and across my hip bone. “You’re so beautiful.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don’t look away. Instead, I reach for the buttons of his crisp button-down shirt, my fingers fumbling slightly with nerves and anticipation. He helps me, sitting up to shrug out of the formal shirt, revealing warm green skin and a torso wrapped in muscle.
I press my palm to his warm chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath my hand, just as fast as mine.
“Are you nervous?” I whisper.
He nods, his tusks catching the moonlight. “I want this to be good for you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I cup his face in my hands. “You won’t. I trust you.”
His expression softens at those words, and he kisses me again—deeper, hungrier, his body pressing mine into the soft mattress under my back. His hands explore with more confidence now, and when he finds the hem of my chemise and begins to guide it up my body, I catch my breath. Then he’s pulling it off over my head, and it slips to the floor beside the bed as his gaze shifts to my naked body.
Heat touches my skin everywhere his eyes move: my breasts as they rise and fall with my quick breaths, the dip of my stomach, the patch of wispy lavender hair between my legs.
“Your turn,” I whisper, drawing his eyes back to mine.
He doesn’t hesitate, wasting no time in standing and loosening his trousers, then dropping them with a muted rustle. His cock springs free, and I rise up onto my elbows to drink in the sight of him: his green skin, his firm body, the bob of his shaft as he takes a step toward the bed.
With one arm, he smoothly shifts me up the mattress until my head finds the pillow. Then he crawls atop me, and there’s nothing left between us but skin and shuddering breaths.
Gently, his lowers himself onto one elbow, his hard length pressing against my thigh, and he finds the hot place between my legs. Immediately, I gasp, arching my back and spreading my knees so his hand can cup me fully.
“I’m going to go slow,” he murmurs against my neck, his warm breath sending goose bumps across my naked skin. “We’ll take as much time as you need.”
I can’t find words, so I just nod. His lips begin trailing kisses along my jaw, my throat, my collarbone, and then one of his fingers slides inside me.
I moan, already wanting more, even though we’ve just gotten started. My eyes open, and I glance down along the length of our bodies, finding his cock hard and waiting, ready to push inside me.
“Aric,” I whisper, and it comes out like a desperate plea.
“I know,” he says softly. “I’ve got you.”
He adds another finger, stretching me further. As his fingers slide in and out of me, his thumb brushes my clit, and I bite my lip, the trembling in my body intensifying. I get wetter, and his fingers move inside me with more ease.
“I,” I gasp. “I think I’m ready.”
For a moment, he pauses, leaning up on his elbow to look me in the eyes. “Already? You’re sure you don’t wanna take more time?”
I nod. “Positive.”
He reaches for the nightstand beside his bed and pulls open the drawer, from which he produces a small packet. Protection. The practical part of my brain is grateful he thought ahead, even as the rest of me is too lost in sensation to care about anything except the feel of his body against mine.
And now I want to feel itinsidemine.
I watch with some fascination as Aric rips the tiny packet open with his teeth and rolls the condom over the gleaming tip of his cock, then along his shaft until he’s fully sheathed. When he’s done, he rises onto his hands and settles between my spread legs. His cock finds my pussy, and he drags his tip through the wetness pooling there.
“Tell me if this is too much,” he says.
And then he gently pushes inside me.
The initial moment is sharp—a sting that makes me tense and gasp, my fingers clutching the blanket beneath me. Aric freezes immediately, his eyes searching my face with concern.
“Breathe,” he whispers, holding perfectly still, not trying to sink any deeper. “Just breathe. We can stop if—”
“No,” I manage, forcing myself to relax, to adjust to the stretch. “No, don’t stop. Just... give me a second.”
He nods, his jaw tight with restraint, and leans forward to press soft kisses to my forehead, my temple, andmy lips while we both adjust. And gradually—slowly—the discomfort between my legs fades, replaced by something else. Something that makes me shift my hips experimentally, drawing a groan from deep in his chest.
