WarDog: Book Twelve in the Galaxy Gladiators Alien Abduction Romance Series

by Alana Khan

  I focus on the hem of my scarf dress as it gently sways. Setting my goal to make it swing, I snap my hips from side-to-side. I like the way the fabric moves. Keeping my gaze away from the reflection of my face, knowing I’d be embarrassed, I just focus on the hem. When it’s moving more wildly, I pay attention to the feelings in my body.

  It feels good to shake my hips in time with the music, to feel the pulsing beat and allow my torso and limbs to dive in and experience it. It’s as if I’m savoring music for the first time. I immerse myself even deeper, allowing my shoulders into the mix. Then my head, as it dips front to back and side to side.

  I’m fully in the music for the first time in my life. When I glance at my reflection I see the hem of my dress twirling and floating, giving glimpses of calves and knees and even a flash of my thighs.

  The male in the reflection looks like he belongs with me. We’re both gyrating primitively to the pounding beat. I’m having fun! And my body is fully alive.

  I toss my head back and laugh, my lips turned up in a happy smile. For the first time since we entered the dining room, I look comfortably into Bayne’s eyes.

  “We look good together,” he says, his heated gaze on me, that golden gaze flicking from my head to my toes and back again.

  I move close to him, throw my arms around his furred shoulders, and place my lips next to his ear. “Indeed.”

  Was Grace watching? She’s disc jockeying tonight, and she chose this moment to change from the hammering beat of this fast song to a slow ballad she found somewhere on the Intergalactic Database.

  Bayne slips his arms around me, his hands resting on my hips, and tugs me closer. Everything is different than it was a moment ago. From frenzied movement, hips thrusting, head bobbing, to melting into my partner’s embrace.

  My mind takes a snapshot of every detail of this moment. I love the feel of my fingers in Bayne’s pelt. It’s an auburn ruff that matches his hair and covers his shoulders and upper back. The hair is soft, just like WarDog’s. If someone had described this to me back on Earth it probably would have sounded awful, but here, now, on Bayne, it’s wonderful.

  It’s soft and makes the skin underneath it even warmer than the rest of his body. It enhances his masculinity and the fact that he’s alien. I like that he’s not like anyone I dated before. He’s different. Sexier.

  My hands trail lower, skimming over the black leather sash crossing his back so they can touch his warm exposed skin. There’s something so compelling about his soft skin covering hard muscles below. My palms lodge respectfully at his waist, unwilling to violate the boundary of his kilt.

  His hands, though, aren’t being quite so respectful. They’re roaming wildly up and down my back. From the nape of my neck and my shoulders to my waist, then making little forays lower. When I don’t protest, they rise to my shoulder blades, then slide down my back and lodge even lower each time.

  Now his palms are resting on the globes of my ass. Not tight, mind you. Not clenching, but soft, like a whisper. Their heat seeps through, and knowing they’re so close to my private parts sets my world on fire.

  He tugs me to him, and I feel his erection even though it’s covered by the stiff leather of his kilt. One large palm grips my ass and drags me closer while the other cups the nape of my neck and pulls me toward him so he can own my mouth.

  This kiss is nothing like what we shared in the solarium. Perhaps he was holding back there because there were no chaperones—no external constraints. Here he knows he can’t tear off my clothes and sheathe himself in me, so he can play with fire.

  And play with fire he does. He’s kissing me with fervor, his lips slanting down on mine, savoring the feeling, tasting me from all angles. He’s holding nothing back, making soft moaning sounds from the back of his throat.

  His tongue flicks against the seam of my mouth and I open to him expectantly. Welcoming him inside me. My mind flashes me a picture of how I’ll welcome him inside me in other ways, hopefully later tonight.

  Desire slams into me. It strikes in my belly, then rips through me like wildfire, pricking the tips of my breasts, igniting in my pelvis, and creating an epicenter in my clit.

  My entire body is sensitized after coming online during our wild, primitive dance. Now my little bundle of nerves is pounding, demanding, and announcing its need by pulsing. My channel quivers.

  Bayne sniffs. It’s just one quick intake of breath. I imagine the canine inside him couldn’t help himself. I’m certain he smells my need. Although I denied it in the past, I’m certain there's no denying it now. In fact, I have no desire to.

  I double down. Instead of disavowing it, I press my lips to his canine-shaped ear and whisper, “I want you, Bayne.”

  He slides his hands so they’re each cupping one of my ass cheeks and easily lifts me off the floor, pulling me against him so his hard cock presses against my neediest spot. He doesn’t stop there, lifting me up and down in tiny pulses, massaging me in full view of everyone in the room.

  Instead of looking around, guaranteeing my mortification, I close my eyes and delve into the feeling of desire snaking through every cell in my body.

  He slowly slides me down until my feet touch the floor again, then lodges one hand at my waist, one between my shoulder blades, and continues our dance.

  “You’re a naughty male.” My words scold, but there’s no censure in my voice.

  “I was just thinking the same thing about you.” He flashes me a smile full of sharp, white teeth. Instead of frightening me, they spark a zing of lust through my body.

  We continue dancing, through fast tempos and slow ballads. Every minute that passes ratchets up my desire. Although my hands were intimately acquainted with his canine form, I’d petted him for months, we’ve only touched his humanoid form for a few hours.

  On this dance floor, he’s touched me almost everywhere—except the few square inches that matter. My body wants him. No. My body is desperate for him.

  Finally, the first couple leaves the room, giving us an excuse to follow.

  “Join me, Bayne? Join me in my room?” I gaze into those swirling golden eyes.

  “You’re sure you want this? You’re ready? We can wait.”

  I wonder how hard it must be for him to have offered that. He’s been rock hard for hours, and the fact that there’s a primitive canine inside him must be another yearning he needs to control.

  “No.” I shake my head. “No more waiting.” If he doesn’t leave with me soon, I’m going to tear off that kilt and mount him on the dance floor.

  He pulls me toward Maddie the cook and thanks her for the delicious spread she prepared, although neither of us tasted a morsel. Then he approaches Grace and praises her for the music she found to entertain us.

  Now he grips my small hand in his large one and drags me toward the doorway and down the hall. What started out as a swift walk has turned into a jog until we arrive at my door. I slap my hand on the palm plate and we slip inside before the door fully opens, as if the entire adventure had been choreographed.

  We giggle for a moment, thrilled with our little escapade, then it’s silent in our little room.

  “Has it been enough hoaras?” he asks, his gorgeous face serious, as if he doesn’t want to break my rules.

  I nod, a shy smile on my face. I don’t know how this handsome male could be any more beautiful, but the blend of relief and desire on his face makes me want him even more.

  It suddenly occurs to me that I wouldn’t have made a good girl scout. I’m not prepared. “I hadn’t expected this, Bayne. I’m not on any protection.”

  After having been in canine form for the last decade, it takes him a moment to comprehend my meaning.

  “We can’t . . .?” His eyes dip to the ‘v’ between my legs then back to my face.

  “There are many things we can do. But I don’t want to make a baby.”

  A shadow crosses his face. I don’t know if it’s in response to my rejection or if perhaps he does
n’t understand what I’m saying. If he lived on a primitive planet, perhaps he doesn’t know how babies are made. Is that even possible?

  “The many things we can do, Willa, they would include this?” he asks, a wicked smile on his face as he slides his palms across my breasts, over the fabric. Even with layers of clothes in the way, the heat of his skin and the intimacy of his touch pricks my nipples. I magically feel a corresponding zing in my nethers.

  “They would,” I answer solemnly.

  “And these many things, they would include this?” He tilts his head as the flat of his palm slips between my legs, the heel of his hand pressing on my clit.

  After I suck in a sharp intake of breath, I answer, “They would.”

  “And my mouth, Willa? Could my mouth explore anywhere it wants?”

  “Absolutely, Bayne.”

  “And would there be any prohibitions against bringing you pleasure? I wouldn’t want to violate any rules.”

  “No. No prohibitions against that.” I relieve him of the need to ask the next question by offering, “As there are no prohibitions against my mouth exploring or bringing you pleasure.”

  “I’ve dreamed of that, Willa. All those things,” his tone is urgent and sweet and sexy—a potent combination.

  I love his direct innocence and decide to honor him with mine, even though it’s not as easy for me. “I’ve dreamed of it too, Bayne.”

  After its incursion between my legs, his hand has been curled at his side. Six inches separate us, although it feels like a mile.

  The hum of the motors is the only sound in the cabin. I feel the gentle vibration through the soles of my feet. It’s just Bayne and me, both standing still, shoulders stiff, gazing into each other’s eyes. I feel as if I’m waiting for the starter’s pistol.

  Bam. It’s almost as if we both hear it. He erases the distance between us, places his hands on my waist, and drags my body against his. His kiss is a hard possession, speaking volumes of need and desire. My response is just as clear as I kiss him back with no hesitation, no reservations.

  We’re no longer in the dining room with every soul on board watching. We’re alone in this room, having already agreed to our plan of action. I kick off my shoes, lift my leg, and surround him with it. My heel against the back of his thigh, I pull him closer so I can feel the hard ridge of his cock between the lee of my thighs.

  Moaning with pleasure, I grind against him, my eyes flashing open at the ferocity of my desire and my lack of restraint. He takes my cue and presses me closer, rubbing against me. He may be the canine, but I feel like a bitch in heat.

  He drags his mouth from mine long enough to pull my dress over my head. I feel shy for a moment, then embarrassed when I remember that he’s seen me naked hundreds of times. I had put that out of my mind.

  “You’re beautiful, Willa,” his voice is deep and full of passion. No matter what I see when I look at myself in the mirror, I far prefer the affirmation that’s in his eyes. When he says I’m beautiful, I have no doubt he means it.

  He rips my bra over my head and tosses it onto the floor to join the dress. When his eyes flick to the patch of fabric covering my sex, I move to drag it over my hips. He shakes his head and steps even closer.

  His palms start at my shoulders, skimming downward along my upper arms, forearms and circling my wrists. They travel to my waist, his thumbs hooking my panties, and then glide down as he kneels in front of me.

  Both Bayne and my panties are now at my feet. He looks up at me like a knight pledging fealty to his queen.

  “Granted,” I say, not even sure what I mean, just giving him permission to do whatever he wants from here on out.

  His mouth is at my navel of all places. Certainly not what I’ve been dreaming of, but when the tip of his tongue invades that space, I must admit it’s more erotic than I ever dreamed. Then his teeth score a line to the seam of my leg.

  He springs to his feet and lifts me in one fluid motion. After setting me on the edge of my bed, he goes down on his knees, splits me wide, and dips his tongue into my center.

  For a moment, I wish for more foreplay, then realize the last two hours have been foreplay. No, the last month has been as I’ve watched him stalk around the ship wearing nothing more than a scrap of fabric around his sex.

  I’m lying on my back, the soles of my feet on the edge of the bed where he placed them. His tongue thrusts into me, licking and piercing and devouring me. His thumbs have pulled apart my outer lips, his fingers surround my clit, titillating my bundle of nerves but not touching. The tip of his tongue slides along my slick slit on a slow journey to the little bud that is desperate with desire.

  My fingers glide through his silky hair and lodge on his furred shoulders as I prepare to hang on for the ride. His strong hands grip my hips as if he has the need to hold me in place although the last thing on my mind is any desire to wiggle out of his grasp.

  “Oh!” escapes my mouth at the exquisite pleasure of his tongue. At times it’s almost delicate as it licks and swipes. Then he picks up my subtle cues as I press closer, and he applies more pressure to the perfect spot.

  An orgasm sneaks up on me. I didn’t even feel it build as my muscles spasm. It’s one of those events you’re not even sure is a climax, with a few half-hearted spasms that hardly give you release—they just leave you wanting more.

  Bayne’s beautiful head lifts to inspect me, a quizzical look on his face, his head tipped, brow slightly lowered. The embarrassing awareness comes barreling at me that he’s seen me orgasm before, and this was nothing like what he spied as a furry creature.

  What he watched from the side of my bed was usually frenzied self-pleasuring of the one-and-done variety designed to get me off and then get on with my day or go to sleep. Does he think his work here is done?

  “More.” I don’t know how my voice is breathy and demanding at the same time.

  He grins at me, making no effort to hide his long, sharp teeth, then removes his clothes before he returns to his task. This time he’s less goal-driven. He nuzzles me with his nose, gives me the most careful nips with canine teeth, and teases me until my fingers grip his pelt.

  My head whips back and forth on the pillow as I clutch him, moaning. I love looking at his auburn head bobbing between my legs, feeling the hard rasp of his fingers at my hips, and that talented, dedicated tongue providing me endless pleasure.

  This time when my climax builds, there’s no doubt it’s going to be a real one. My thighs quiver as I press against his tongue even harder, straining to reach the pinnacle. When his hand slips up my thigh, awakening every nerve ending along the way, I’m panting—so close.

  “Yes!” One hundred percent of my focus is on that hand, hoping it will lodge in my hot, waiting channel.

  One thick finger slides inside me, giving my waiting muscles something to clamp onto. I release at that moment with a long, low keen of pleasure. The spasm lingers for glorious moments as my pelvis arches off the bed and my fingers tighten in his fur.

  The orgasm went on so long, the muscles in my belly feel tender. I almost feel too spent to pull him up to lie with me.

  His lips bestow affectionate kisses to me, dotting my face with the sweetest little smacks. I smell myself on him. It’s intimate.

  “That was amazing,” I say after dragging my lids open so I can look into his beautiful, swirling golden eyes.

  His answer is a low growl that is as far from aggressive as a sound can be. It’s rough and masculine and appreciative.

  “Highest praises to you, Sir.”

  He nips me with his blunt front teeth, then scrapes one sharp canine down the curve of my jawline.

  After pulling me close so we’re both lying on our hips, he holds me in his arms, somehow rocking me a bit. I feel safer than I’ve felt in a long time, and allow myself to sink into the feeling.

  “So that’s what you meant when you offered to ease me? I don’t know what I was thinking when I refused,” I joke, but it’s als
o meant as an apology.

  “We’ll make up for it now,” he promises. “The males talk about their females constantly. They say Earth females are capable of endless pleasure. I’d like to experiment—I wonder what they mean by endless?”

  He laughs, but I think he’s serious. He won’t get any complaints from me.

  “And you, Bayne? Are you ready for your pleasure?”

  A shadow of sadness flits across his face, then he hides it with a smile as he says, “Always.”

  I can’t read his mind, but for a moment I remember how long he was in canine form, and how little pleasure he’s had in his life. This thought just makes me want to give him more of it.