KRAL: A sci-fi alien romance (Mail-Order Brides of Crakair Book 4)

by Ava Ross

  When he looked up again, she saw vulnerability mixed in with the lust on his face. The feeling was echoed in her. His tongue glided along his lower lip, and she moaned. What would that forked tip feel like on her breasts, let alone other, intimate places?

  “Touch me more, if you want,” she said in a husky voice. Heat swirled through her, centering between her legs.

  “Does touch on your breasts feel good?” he asked.

  “It’s incredibly arousing.”

  He flashed his fangs. “I wish to arouse you. All the time.” Leaning forward, he flicked his tongue across her nipple. When she gasped, he glanced up. Gone was the vulnerability, replaced by fire and a touch of the cockiness she’d seen hints of and loved.

  She couldn’t hold herself back and thrust her chest forward, fully into his hand.

  He teased the nipple between his thumb and finger and watched while she squirmed. She closed her eyes and gave in to the moment. For too long, she’d been on the run. Afraid. Now, she only wanted to savor the heady emotions growing for Kral.

  While his fingers continued to stroke one nipple, he sucked the other into his mouth. His tongue glided across it, each of the forked sides wrapping around the base and tugging.

  She was going to explode, and the impact would be bigger than that of the space station.

  One of his naanans took over from his hand, locking onto her nipple, and something in the tip fluttered.

  Her eyes popped open, and she jerked toward him. “What…?”

  “Do you like it?” he asked, his voice deeper than the center of the galaxy. Other naanans teased along the top of her pants, undoing the knotted rope she’d used to keep the overly large garment from falling around her ankles. The knot released, and the pants fell.

  No undies—panties—either. She’d been going au natural under her stolen clothing since she was captured. As for the dress she’d been wearing when she was kidnapped, it had been torn and stained, and she’d tossed it into the trash.

  “You are…the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he said in awe.

  The self-conscious woman inside her wanted her to squirm and deny his words. But the new Mila, the one who’d escaped alien captors and survived alone on an alien space station for days, stepped forward.

  “I want you,” she said.

  “I will give you everything I have,” he said reverently. “All of me.” He urged her backward to lie across the front dash, in a smooth section without dials. Then he dropped to his knees in front of her and lifted her legs to place them on his shoulders. “This…” He waved to her body lying in front of him. “Is beautiful. But this…” He pressed a fist against his chest before pressing it against hers, in the same place, above her heart. “This is timeless and possesses a beauty beyond compare.”

  “Kral.” He was going to make her heart fracture into a thousand pieces, but she had a feeling he’d find a way to gather them up and seal them back together.

  “I wish to taste all of you,” he said, leaning forward. “I will give you an orgasm with my mouth.”

  Holy shit. She was going to let him do it, too. She’d wanted this since his fingers accidentally slid between her legs, since his fangs and naanans grazed her nipple. From the moment he’d fallen on top of her in the tub.

  “It is my wish to pleasure you always,” he said as his fingers stroked down her folds. A naanan teased across her thigh and settled on her clit.

  It vibrated.

  She bucked, nearly sliding off the dash. But he chuckled and braced her in place. “Are you falling for me, my mate?”

  “Funny,” she groaned out. Shit, she could barely think with his fingers tracing along her slit and the naanan latched on and humming.

  “I wish to see you come,” he said.

  It felt so good, it made her eyes roll back in her head. “Far be it for me to deny you your wishes.”

  “Yes, you are right.” He laughed again. “Always give in to my wishes.”

  “Don’t get too cocky.”

  “Do you not wish to give in?”

  She did. A billion times, but especially now.

  “Kral,” she said, the power building inside her. Her body tightened as tiny spasms swept through her, dragging her closer and closer to complete satisfaction.

  “Yes, my mate?” He stroked her slit, the tip of his finger barely dipping inside her.

  She wanted him to stand in front of her and drive himself inside. She’d seen hints of his cock pressing against his pants, and it looked thick. Big.

  And she’d heard they vibrated.

  Damn, she needed to find out.

  Other naanans stroked her breasts and vibrated against her nipples.

  This was pure bliss. She’d died, and he’d taken her there.

  Her nipples tightened, and she was so wet, she had to be dripping.

  She shivered, and it wasn’t solely due to the cool temperature. She ached to feel him moving inside her. Taking her to heights she’d never experienced before.

  He stroked her legs, his tongue gliding up her thigh, moving close but never touching where she ached for him most.

  “Kral,” she sighed, fisting his naanans. She glided her fingers down to the tips and stroked them.

  He shuddered, and his mouth paused over her clit. “That…Mila.” Her name croaked out of him. “You…”

  “Fair play, my mate,” she said. “I don’t intend to only receive an orgasm today.”

  “It is for the female. Never the male.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because…” His tongue flicked out and traced along her slit.

  She moaned and lifted her hips upward, her heels braced on his shoulders. “You need to experience this, too, and I’m gonna make it happen.”

  “You. This is about you.”

  Her fingers stilled on his naanans. “Nope, dude. It’s about both of us.”

  “Us, but this one minar, you.” His eyes darkened. “For me, there will be later.”

  She would hold that statement as a promise.

  “Kral.” His name came out in a plea.

  When his finger glided down her slit, she jerked up toward him, gasping. He dipped inside her then pulled his finger out and licked it.

  “Sweeter than jinjin fruit.” He growled, his breath hot on her skin. “I need to taste more.”

  She was going to come before he did more than stroke her.

  He dipped his finger into her engorged folds, pushing and gliding, but he stopped partway inside. “And what is this?”

  “Shit, shit,” she sighed, her body on fire. A few more pumps, and she was going to blast across the galaxy. “Don’t touch that.”

  “What is it?” He stroked his finger across a small round mound inside her.

  “My G-spot. Don’t touch it!”

  “Why ever not?”

  “Because…Because…”

  “Do you not like it?”

  “Shit, yes.”

  “Then I wish to touch it. Often.”

  Fuck.

  “I sense you are about to orgasm, Mila. Do it. Let it go. I want to feel it on my fingers and taste it on my tongue.” He glided his finger across her G-spot again, and she bucked and moaned. “This intrigues me. Do you have other pleasure spots you will share?”

  She was so close. “Kral.”

  “Yes?” His naanans continued to stroke her breasts, her tender inner thighs. Shit. How could a guy have hair that sucked and teased? It wasn’t fair.

  She wiggled and somehow found enough wits to speak. “Stop fooling around.”

  “You are right. Why waste time when I need to do this?” He stroked up her to her clit, where the tip of his tongue coiled around her and tugged.

  Her body rocketed to the stars.

  While she shuddered and shook, his fingers teased inside her, stroking her folds before dipping in to tweak her G-spot. Over and over. Pumping. Pushing.

  For an improviser, he sure learned fast.

  Moving
down lower, he drove his tongue inside her. It was long and thick, and the forked end flicked deeply.

  “Kral!”

  He lifted his head. “Yes, my mate?”

  His naanans. Shit, his naanans. Two worked her breasts while others stroked her everywhere else. It was like having sex with three guys at the same time, each making sure no part of her body went wanting.

  His mouth. And his incredible tongue.

  She moaned and whimpered and begged him to do this forever.

  Until the world crashed over her, and she fell back on her bed, a spent wreck.

  “Are you ready for the grand tour of the ship?” he asked.

  After she’d gushed all over the place and he’d licked it up, he’d sat back and tugged her onto his lap. His naanans had stroked her back and shoulders, while his arms wrapped her up, keeping her safe and warm.

  They’d stared through the windows, marveling at the stars.

  “A tour?” she said. “Sure.” Rising, she stood on her limp legs, her insides still shimmering from her “courtship orgasm” and dressed. After, she stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. Hot, but fast.

  Damn, she needed to stop thinking in those terms.

  She got the idea he’d enjoyed the kiss—let alone everything else they’d done—if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by. It was big. She’d heard Crakairian males were large all over, and the rumors appeared to be true with Kral. A longing to feel his skin pressed against hers rose inside her again, nearly overwhelming her.

  “None of that,” she whispered to herself.

  He quirked one brow ridge upward. She couldn’t call it an eyebrow without hair, but it had essentially the same effect. And the gesture was cute. “None of what?”

  “You know what I mean.” She waved her hand to his body. “Stop being so sexy.”

  He advanced on her.

  She backed up. For self-preservation. Certainly not because she was afraid of him. Her heart raced and delicious fire blazed through her body. Maybe her fellow Earthlings were onto something there with their old “skip the courtship” thing.

  “Stop it,” she said with a laugh.

  He kept coming.

  She kept backing until her butt hit the wall.

  He braced his hands on either side of her head and leaned in close. As he nibbled along her jawline, he spoke in a low, gruff voice. “You find me sexy?”

  “Don’t you know it already?”

  “How could I?”

  He seemed to have a fascination with her ear, because he bit down on it as if tasting, then lathed it with his tongue.

  Her legs shook. No, her whole body shook.

  She was definitely thinking about ditching the courtship.

  Wait.

  “Hold on there,” she said, pressing a finger up between them. “Courtship. Marriage. Then comes the fucking. Not that I’m opposed to moving the game pieces around.”

  “There will be fucking,” he said with humor in his voice. “Lots of fucking.”

  Oh, fuck.

  Her laughter snorted out. Fuck was right. Damn, her body had a one-track mind.

  He backed away from her. “I must resist you at least until I have ensured we are safe on this craft.” He tugged her close and wrapped his arms around her. “We will take things as they come.” Stepping back, he bowed. “Prepare to be fully courted, my mate.”

  Fourteen

  Kral

  Kral’s cock throbbed with need.

  He wanted her beneath him. On top of him. And against the wall with her legs wrapped around his waist while he drove inside her.

  Completely naked.

  Solely at his mercy.

  Today, tonight, tomorrow, and for the rest of their days.

  But he was determined to follow the rules and do this right, and that meant courtship. Marriage. Then the fucking.

  Fuck. It was all he could do not to snarl. There was nothing he could do about his damn cock that felt like a steel rod in his pants. Yes, she had offered to give him satisfaction, but he could not relax his guard until he was sure they were safe.

  As they headed to the exit, he couldn’t help noticing the pulse beating feverishly in her throat, the way her breathing had gone ragged, or the way she clung to his hand.

  He loved that she yearned for more, that she was as unsettled about him as he was about her. Was he foolish to have already half-fallen for the Earth female he’d been matched with? What if she decided partway through his courtship that she wanted to return to Earth? It would be impossible to let her go.

  He wouldn’t force a relationship, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do all he could to persuade her to stay.

  They entered a hall behind the bridge.

  Chee-chee started to scoot past them, but she grabbed one of his arms. “Not so fast, little guy. We need to fix you up and then you can scurry around the ship.”

  The meerdreg gave Kral a long-suffering look, but remained calm while she placed him in the Commander’s chair.

  “I need something about this long.” She held up her fingers. “And stiff. Like a thin piece of wood. And tape if we have it.”

  Kral dug through the cabinets in the back of the bridge and located what she needed. He watched as she carefully splinted the meerdreg’s leg.

  The creature hopped off the chair and moved forward as if testing the fit.

  “Chee. Chee-chee!” he said before leaping back into the Commander’s chair. He sat and stared out the front windscreen as if he planned to take charge of the ship. Perhaps he did. Kral had never thought much about meerdregs, but it was clear they were intelligent and savvy.

  “Is that okay, little guy?” Mila asked, stooped down beside the chair.

  “Chee.”

  As long as the beastie kept his claws to himself, he had a home with Kral forever.

  “Don’t get into trouble,” she said, shaking her finger at the creature. She fed Kral a look reminiscent of an indulgent parent.

  The meerdreg sighed and ran his claws along the arm of the chair.

  “Do you think he’ll mess things up?” Mila asked, gnawing on her lower lip. “Maybe we should get him down from there.”

  “And do what with him?”

  “No clue. He should rest. Let that leg heal.”

  “The ship is on autopilot, now. He cannot change that.” Kral hoped not, anyway.

  “Maybe he’s thinking about his friends.”

  “If he is not happy on Crakair, we will bring him to Yarris once he has healed.”

  Her shoulders loosened. “Okay. That’s a good plan.”

  He shut the door, and they faced the hall.

  The ship was built like all other smaller star cruisers he’d traveled on, containing a bridge spanning the front of the craft, a main hallway behind with small rooms on either side and, if he guessed correctly, crew quarters at the end. Beneath the floor, Kral suspected he’d find electrical and engine compartments.

  He opened doors to find two closets located on either side of the hall.

  “What are these for?” Mila asked, fingering one of the silver garments hanging inside.

  “For space missions on the outer portion of the ship mid-flight or when stopped, when they’re unable to pull into a repair dock.”

  He tugged one of the suits out and scowled at it.

  “It might fit me rather than you,” she said with a smirk.

  About the right size of Mila, it was made for a much slighter body than Kral’s, and for a person with four arms.

  “Let’s hope we don’t need to do any repairs,” she said in all seriousness, seeing the gravity of the situation. “Because I can’t picture myself putting this on and going outside.”

  Kral held in his shudder at the reminder if something like that happened, they’d be helpless.

  After tossing the suit back into the closet with the rest of the equipment, he shut the door and continued down the hall.

  They located a small galley kitchen on the right. Ass
uming there was food on board, they could eat it in the break room he spied on the left.

  “The ship looks about like what I’d expect to find,” Mila said, walking into the dining room. “Reminds me of sci-fi movies I used to watch when I was a kid.” She opened one of the cabinets mounted along one wall but found it empty. The rest contained dishes and eating implements, cups, but no food.

  They left the dining area continued down the hall, finding compartments containing tools and supplies on either side of the passage.

  Near the end of the hall and on the left, they found a droid crew regeneration room with a charging pool, useless to a human and Crakairian. And on the right, a small bathroom.

  He did not see the tub to feature in one of his courtship rituals. Modern Crakairians took zither baths, but Vikirs preferred a more traditional soaking. While Kral lacked the necessary components for a Vikir courtship bath, he would improvise. His aching body told him he’d need a long soak to make up for the lack once he reached his home.

  “Can I, uh…” Mila pointed to the toileting unit mounted on the left wall.

  “Of course.”

  He stepped out into the hall and shut the door.

  Mila emerged not long after, her body quivering.

  “What is wrong?” he asked, poking his head back into the room, his hand reaching for his sword. He didn’t see anything amiss. Had she encountered a threat?

  “The toilet essentially attacked me.” She put her hand on his arm, stilling it before he pulled his weapon. “While I appreciate you going caveman protector on my behalf, we might need it before we reach Crakair.”

  “How do you mean, attacked?”

  Her face flushed. “The toilet grabbed my legs while I was, uh, sitting. Something from underneath tried to…” She shuddered, and her eyes widened. “Talk about alien probes.”

  “The Al’kieern require a specific type of cleaning after they—”

  She held up her hand. “I don’t need to hear the details. Nearly lived it already. If I was a timid person, I’d be traumatized for life.” Shaking her head, a smile teased across her lips. “Fortunately, I’m a bold kind of woman.”

  “You are.” He admired her greatly. She’d been through so much over the past likar, events that could break a person. Yet here she was, smiling about Al’kieern toileting units.