by Cara Bristol
I cupped his face with my palm.
“Kissing is better with the eyes closed,” he said.
We stared at each other, not awkwardly, but intimately. I drank in his dark heated gaze, the curve of his lips, the scruff of beard that had sent delicious tingles skipping along nerve endings, his horns. Curiosity was killing me. What did they feel like?
“Your horns…are they hard or soft?” I asked.
He dipped his head. “Find out for yourself.”
I touched one. Warm. Leathery. Not as hard as bone but firmer than cartilage—and pulsing from the blood coursing through it. So, enervated tissue. Growing bolder, I ran my palm over the nub. It seemed to swell under my touch.
A growl erupted from his throat, a throaty masculine rumble so sexual, I jerked my hand away. Good gods, that sound. Pure sex. “Y-you didn’t tell me…” My face flooded with embarrassment. Like a perv preying on unsuspecting passengers on a crowded airtrain, I’d groped a man.
“That’s never happened before.” He rubbed the horn and uttered not so much as a peep. “Try again.” He grabbed my hand and brought it to his head. Maybe it was imagination, but the nub seemed to pulse more. I heard the start of a rumble, but he broke it off and sucked in a deep breath instead. I missed that growl. I was a perv.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Why are you sorry?”
“The sound disturbs you.”
In all the right ways, which, of course, made it all the wrong ways. This situation couldn’t be allowed to follow its natural trajectory. Distance—we needed distance. I scrambled to my feet. My heart pinged in my chest. My underwear, if I’d been wearing any, would have been damp. Yeah, he had that sort of effect on me.
“No, it’s my fault.” Touching his horns had been a bad idea, even though he had invited it.
“How is it your fault?”
“I shouldn’t have touched you.”
“I liked it when you touched me.”
My knees wobbled. “Y-you shouldn’t say that.”
He got to his feet. “Why not? I like you. You’re my mate.”
Those were the reasons! Touching him, getting that growly response gave me ideas I shouldn’t be having, made me yearn for a real relationship with a man who cared about me. That epiphany shook me up. In a very short time, I’d begun thinking of a mating with an alien as a real relationship. I bit back a choke.
“Men on your planet don’t have horns?” He changed the subject. Sort of.
“No.”
“What do they have?”
My face surged with heat again. What was wrong with me? I wasn’t a blusher. In my recent life, physical tells could have led to a fatality—mine. “The usual equipment,” I mumbled.
“Like?”
I clapped a hand over my mouth and snorted through my fingers. Were we really having this conversation? “I’m sorry. I can’t talk about penises with you.”
A horrible thought leaped into my head. I’d assumed his bulge was his…but he was an alien. Who knew what he had inside his pants? “You do have one, don’t you?” The question tripped out of my mouth. Maybe he had more than one…maybe Dakonians mated in ways we didn’t. Just because they resembled humans didn’t mean they shared the same plumbing, or that it functioned the same. Nobody on Terra had horns!
“Of course, I do.”
“Just one?”
“I only need one. Would you like to see?” He cocked his head and smiled, a sly grin filled with so much devilish charm and so little remorse, lust careened on a collision course with good sense. Gods help me, I did want to see!
My face flamed.
Torg chuckled.
I ducked my head. Was he mocking me or flirting? Or serious? The info vids hadn’t discussed mating habits. Men here might woo their females by flashing. What had possessed me to kiss him? I felt out of my element. Not that I had an element. I’d had a few lovers, but men hadn’t clamored to date me. Not on Terra or here. The other women of the SS Australia had been selected one by one until I remained alone. Then Torg had rushed in. He acted like he desired me now—but that disappointment when he’d first seen me had been real.
He tucked a finger under my chin. I expected amusement, but his gaze was serious. “Starconner, I am glad you came to Dakon. I apologize for my teasing.”
“It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right if I offended you.”
“I’m not offended.”
“Then what are you?”
“I don’t know.” I fluttered my hands. “Scared—but I’m not afraid of you.” I dropped my gaze to my bare feet. Synthetic footwear had been inadequate. Terra One World had done little to prepare us, to prepare me. The others had volunteered, but I’d been shoved onto the ship with no forewarning or orientation.
“I was scared, too,” he said quietly.
My gaze snapped to his face. “Why?”
“What if you didn’t like me? What if you arrived and hated it? I had one shot to get a mate.”
I did like him—too much, in fact. Nor did I hate Dakon. But I couldn’t stay. His fears were as legitimate as mine. He had much to lose, too. I didn’t want to hurt this man. It was unfair to lead him on, to sleep with him, to let him believe we were mates.
The earnest entreaty, the uncertainty in his eyes had the wrong words tripping from my mouth. “I do like you, Torg. The climate is a shock, but I don’t hate it here.”
His smile radiated relief. “I’m glad.” Gently, he hugged me and rested his cheek against my head. His warmth enveloped me while his thudding heart drummed out a serenade. I was so done for.
I lifted my head to peer at him, and he kissed me.
Chapter Eight
Torg
I did that mouth brushing thing with Starr, and she melted against me, wrapping her slender arms around my neck. The sweet, exotic scent of her breath and taste stirred my desire. Before meeting her, I could not have imagined meshing mouths with another person, but I couldn’t seem to get enough of it with her. Kissing her caused my manhood to ache with a fierce longing.
She felt so small in my arms. Dakonian females were much bigger, huskier. Almost as tall and strong as males, their quick swing could blacken a man’s eye if he didn’t duck fast enough. Starr didn’t look big enough to hurt an insect. Her tiny stature, a concern at first, had become strangely appealing. I liked holding her, the way she fit in my arms.
I’d expected to desire coupling with my mate—that was part of the reason I’d wanted one—but the intensity surprised me. Flames of lust licked at my loins, set my blood to boiling.
Until the Terrans’ arrival, we had met no outsiders. If other clans had survived the apocalypse and lived on the opposite side of our world, we had no way to find out. The members of the fifteen clans were all the people we knew. Not all of us were friends, but none of us were strangers.
However, Starr and I were strangers, and I’d vowed to be patient.
One more kiss…
“I know it’s too soon,” I murmured against her lips. I’d awakened this morning alone. It seemed like a very long time ago to me. I wrenched my mouth away to bury my face against her neck, inhaling her alluring scent. Savoring it. Dakonians had a well-developed sense of smell, scent and taste merging into one. Would she think it strange that I sniffed her?
Do what’s right. Be strong. “I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not ready for.” My body protested, hating me.
“I’m ready.”
Muscles tautened. The scent of her honeyed arousal worsened my hunger. I could almost taste her desire.
“Be sure.” My voice was hoarse.
She lifted her hand and stroked one of my horns. A shaft of rapture shot through my body. Even my fingertips buzzed. “I’m sure of you, and this moment.” She rose up to do that kissing thing, but I was already there, plundering for more of her sweetness.
Starr clutched my shoulders with her tiny hands. When we broke apart for air, she went
for the toggles of my tunic. She worked one loose in the same time it took me to undo the other four. I flung off my shirt, toed off my boots, and tore off my pants.
Starr’s eyes widened with shock. Had I acted out of turn? Undressed too soon? I recalled her resistance to changing out of her wet clothing. Had I violated a Terran mating custom? The men there weren’t that different from us, were they? Too late, I remembered her questions about my penis. I hadn’t seen a naked Terran man—didn’t care to—maybe all my assumptions were wrong.
A blush suffused Starr’s neck and face. “Wow. You are…um…proportionate.”
I dropped to my knees in front of her. “What does that mean, proportionate?”
Pink deepened to scarlet. “Well, you’re a, uh, very tall man.”
“I’m not so tall now. I’m sitting.”
“Oh, no, you’re still tall.” She clapped a hand over her mouth as laughter bubbled from her lips. I didn’t get the sense she laughed at me, but I didn’t understand her amusement, either. We had a lot of cultural differences to clear up—to be dealt with later. Eager to see her, I pinched the hem of the tunic she wore and tugged it upward.
Merriment ceased. Her eyes grew round as I peeled the garment off her.
I had no familiarity with the gods she often referred to, but their name sprang to my lips as I gazed upon her beauty for the very first time. Her smooth skin was free of blemish, unlike my own marked by scars incurred fighting beasts and hunting kel. Her bounteous breasts would fill my hands, the hard pink tips, my mouth. Her stomach pooched out with an alluring curve. And she was yellow all over. Well, not all over, but the nest of golden curls shielding the apex of her thighs was.
I hungered for her so much, I shook with the force of it. She was perfect. I don’t know why the harsh words spilled out of my mouth. “You’re too skinny.” What a horrible thing to say! I cringed and braced for a biting retort and a cuff to the head. I deserved no less. “I-I…I’m sorry.” An apology couldn’t undo the hurtful words. Due to my loose tongue, my first mating would end in disaster.
She gaped. “You think I’m skinny?”
How could I repair what thoughtlessness had ruined? Her thinness didn’t matter to me. Our women built up fat to protect them in our icy climate. Starr was skinny—by our standards. Some hearty kel stews and roasts would fatten her up, but if she never gained another pound, she would still be beautiful to me.
She flung herself at me, grabbing my neck and hugging hard. Her luscious breasts pressed against my chest; her curly mound brushed my manhood. She was so soft, so warm. I had to stay focused, try to fix the damage my impulsive words had caused.
She attacked my face with kisses. “That’s the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me.”
Nice? The translator had malfunctioned again, because she’d misunderstood. By a fortuitous error, I’d gotten a pass. Starr was sliding her naked body against mine and smashing her mouth to my lips. My horns swelled under her touch, sending sizzling sensations through my body. I groaned.
I stroked her unusual-colored hair, entranced by the liquidity of the long strands, which slipped through my fingers like water. Slick as dog snot. There was so much to discover. Her shoulders rounded softly over delicate bones. The indenture in her throat invited my lips. Her breasts filled my hands to overflowing. There, she was not skinny at all. I rubbed my thumbs over her nipples, and they hardened like illuvian pebbles but tasted as sweet as the berries we picked during the growing season.
As I suckled, Starr moaned and arched, her response heightening the desire already coursing through me. I needed to plunge my cock into my mate’s body, but I needed to please her first.
I slid a hand to the yellow curls and toyed with them then delved between her legs. Conversations with other men who’d been mated had told me what to expect but hadn’t prepared me for the revelation of her desire. Her womanhood had readied for me, releasing its honey to slicken her folds. An intense satisfaction, pride almost, swelled within me, exciting my cock to the point of pain.
When I found her pleasure nub and caressed with slow circles, her wetness increased, coating my fingers. Anticipation tightened in my chest as I probed her entrance and slid my finger inside. Slick, muscled walls squeezed. I could only imagine how it would feel to have her body grip my manhood. Soon, very soon, I would find out.
She nearly undid me when she wrapped her hands around my member and stroked me from base to tip, where my essence pearled. My cock had known no one’s touch but my own. It preferred hers. My body shuddered, and I had to grit my teeth as lust burgeoned, surging so close to the surface I feared I would spill myself in her hands. I’d waited so long. I growled a warning, but instead of ceasing, she tightened her grasp around my manhood.
Before I shamed myself, I wrenched away. Later, when my control was not so tenuous, I could pleasure her slowly, multiple times. We had a lifetime of long nights ahead of us.
I flipped her onto her stomach and lifted her hips. She peered at me, her expression wry. “I should have guessed…”
“Guessed what?”
“Nothing.” She tossed her head, flinging that beautiful straw hair over her shoulder. “We’ll talk later.”
“Talk. Later. Good.”
Firelight danced on the moons of her bottom. Her womanhood glistened, desire scenting the air. I inhaled, filling my head and senses with her tantalizing essence. I guided my manhood to her entrance. The mere touch of wetness to my skin sent sharp excitement careening, but then an unexpected sudden doubt assailed me. My mate was so tiny. She’d been so tight around my finger.
I froze.
“Torg? What are you waiting for?” Starr lifted her hips higher and wiggled her bottom.
“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do. Trust me.”
She believed what she said, but what if she was wrong? But when she wiggled again, hesitation caved. I grabbed her hips and thrust inside. Her womanhood hugged my cock, igniting a bliss so intense I saw stars. Saw my Starr. Currents of pleasure jolted every nerve ending.
Instinct took over my actions. Advance and retreat. A warrior’s dance, a lover’s entreaty. Sweat beaded on my forehead and stung my eyes. Muscles bunched. Rational thoughts did not exist anymore, save for one: pleasure my mate. I curled a hand over her hip to find her pleasure center. As I rocked, I stroked.
Starr moaned, and an answering growl rumbled up from my chest. We were meant for this, she and I. My yellow-haired petite alien mate. Together, we moved in perfect sync.
Around my cock, her channel pulsed, and sensations spiraled through my manhood. Pressure and tension built at the base.
“Oh gods, I’m going to come,” Starr gasped. “Oh fuck.”
I did not need the translator to understand her cries of rapture. Having brought bliss to my female, I surrendered to my own. Pleasure exploded within me, and my essence spewed forth.
My knees shook as did the rest of my body, and I feared I could collapse and crush her, but I couldn’t release her yet. Wrapping an arm around her stomach, I rolled to my side and tucked her into the curve of my body. Contentment and thankfulness filled me. For a moment, I couldn’t speak, I could only feel. Union consummated, nothing would ever separate us.
Chapter Nine
Starr
“This is my mate!” Torg announced. “Her name is Starrconner. Please make her feel welcome.”
“Hello, Starrconner! Welcome, Starrconner!” Greetings rumbled up from the crowd assembled a few steps below us.
Although two hundred people wasn’t a huge gathering, it seemed bigger when everyone gawked at you like they’d seen, well, an alien.
Torg had called a meeting to introduce me to his clan. He’d carried in a pedestal of wood upon which I stood to raise my height closer to his so the people could see me better. They gathered in a clearing while Torg and I stood under the dubious shelter o
f a gazebo-like structure. Wind whipped in through the open sides to lash at my face. Still, the rest of me was quite toasty in my new kel attire: leather leggings and tunic, boots, the coat I’d been given the night before, and new mittens. I hardly noticed the smell.
A strong gust of wind tore the hood from my head, sending my hair flying around my face. En masse, the crowd gasped. Eyes widened and whispers skittered through the assembly. What the hell? I gathered up my hair, shoved it under the hood, and glanced up at Torg. “What’s wrong?” I whispered.
He managed to smile at me while scowling at the crowd. “They have not seen yellow hair before,” he murmured.
“Oh.” I eyed the Dakonians. There wasn’t a single towhead among the sea of men with brown, almost black hair, dark eyes, and swarthy skin. I’d been taught staring was rude, but since they gawked at me, I felt at liberty to do the same.
They seemed huge to me, like furry bear-sized people. The women pretty much resembled the men in height, brawn, and fierce features. Only when comparing them side by side could I distinguish one gender from the other.
No wonder no one had chosen me. I looked like an alien to these people. Andrea, Tessa, and the other tall, dark women fit in better. I glanced up at Torg. He beamed with pride. I’d never seen a happier man. But would he have claimed me if he’d had a choice?
Don’t obsess. Let that go.
A male stood in the front row, posture rigid, arms folded. The hood of his kel concealed much of his face, but his bearing radiated disgruntlement. Torg had told me some men opposed the exchange program. Perhaps he was one of them. Or, in my nervousness, was I reading too much into it? I eyed the man. Uh no. Definite animosity. I sidled closer to Torg, and he slipped his arm around my waist.
“What is Terra like?” shouted a man in the crowd.
