After a couple of deep, calming breaths to collect myself, I push my shoulders back, lift my chin, and march as confidently as I can back into the room where Khan is still standing by the bench.
“Emma,” he says softly, and his voice feels like a caress. “Come to me.”
I don’t want to, I have no reason to, and yet my feet begin to move towards him, regardless. Does he have me under some kind of hypnotic spell?
Jesus, this all sucks so much!
Within moments, I’m standing in front of him, and what he does next startles me. Reaching out with lightning quick reflexes, he tugs me into his arms, pressing me up against his huge chest. “Breathe,” he whispers, and again my body obeys his command without any conscious effort on my part. In fact, I’m not sure I’m even physically able to resist.
The heat radiating off him engulfs me, and his thick scent is even more overpowering. It’s like he flipped a switch and brought me back to the lust-filled Emma I was before I fainted. An intense, slow pulse thumps between my thighs, and my heart begins to thud. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the most insistent need I’ve ever experienced, and it’s so all-encompassing that I’m debilitated, powerless to resist as Khan’s big hand slides up the back of my neck to the base of my skull. He grips my hair, tugs my head back, and then, with a growl which vibrates through my core, he covers my mouth with his own.
He tastes as good as he smells. Rich and chocolatey, with a smokey edge.
I kiss him back with a hunger I can’t fathom, gasping as his tongue finds mine and explores it with slow, passionate strokes. He’s still gripping the back of my head but his other hand slides possessively down my body, exploring, kneading first my breast, then my side, then running down my hip before slipping between my legs.
When he cups my pussy in his huge palm, my swollen clit pulses against his hand, and I bite his lower lip, desperate for more of his touch. More of him.
The fever’s back, a heat billowing through me with every heartbeat. Nothing else exists, nothing else matters. Khan’s hands burn on my skin but if he stops touching me, my heart will stop.
I bite him again, harder, and his reaction is immediate: he tears off my panties with a single, sharp tug, then plunges two fingers deep inside me.
I’m so wet that they glide in easily, and my sex clenches around them even as he kisses me again—more roughly this time. His tongue is fucking my mouth in tandem with his fingers inside me, and my brain short circuits. I want his cock.
Ineedhis cock.
He adds a third finger, stretching me. It’s brutal—and I love it. I want this pleasure edged in pain. Like chocolate sprinkled with sea salt. Only when his twisting fingers fill me enough to hurt will the sensation be enough.
His thumb finds my clit and at the first stroke, I explode, a bolt of desire shooting through my lower belly as I climax, my pussy clutching rhythmically at his fingers.
He drinks my moans, coaxing wave after wave of pleasure from me, until the spasms finally abate.
Even though I’ve just had the hardest orgasm of my life, I mourn the loss as his fingers leave my drenched pussy and he stops kissing me. I feel empty, desperate, unsatisfied.
Like I’m in heat.
It’s then that I remember the aliens’ conversation.Estrus.That’s what they called it. Going into heat. Something to do with scent. I scoffed inwardly at the idea when they mentioned it.
I’m not scoffing now. This shit is real.
Khan’s eyes are fixed on mine. They’re blazing with the same hunger I’m sure is reflected in my own gaze as he moves slowly, down, down… until he’s on his knees. Before I can realize what’s happening, he’s hooked one of my legs over his broad shoulder, and his tongue is swiping along my crease.
I clutch his head, my fingers threading through his long, dark hair as he licks my clit with breathtaking precision, instinctively knowing the ideal pressure and rhythm to drive me out of my ever-loving mind.
I’m so wet, I can feel it running down the inside of my thigh, and yet, instead of feeling ashamed that he’s having this effect on me, even that sensation is turning me on more.
My entire pussy is vibrating. Khan is growling as he eats me out. It’s almost like a big cat’s purr, and it’s doing things to me I can’t explain.
All I can do is feel.
I’ve been on the edge of another orgasm since the moment his tongue found my aching, pulsating little nub, and it’s like he’s keeping me there deliberately—no surcease, no completion, just the never-ending torment of being on the razor’s edge of coming.
“Please,” I croak, clutching his head. I’m vaguely aware that I’m trembling. “Please…”
If he heard me, he’s ignoring my pleas. Instead, he keeps on licking me, his tongue tracing circles around my engorged clit before dipping into my dripping core, gathering more of my juice before returning to the bundle of nerves my entire being has been reduced to.
I’m sobbing helplessly, grinding my hips and pulling him closer to me in a desperate attempt to find completion.
His response is to slide his hands up to my hips and grip them so hard it hurts, pinning me in place, leaving me powerless to do anything but accept the torment.
