Her Alien Protector: Voxeran Fated Mates #6

by Hall, Presley

  Darting my tongue out to lick my lips, I collect the remnants of Willow’s slick arousal, shuddering slightly as desire nearly overwhelms me. I’m about to begin lapping at her little nub again, but the beautiful Terran woman tightens her grip on my hair, tugging me upward more insistently.

  “No, I need… I need you, Bohrir. I want to feel you inside me so badly. Please. Come up here.”

  I clench my jaw, warring with the last few shreds of my self-control. There’s no mistaking the truth in her voice, and my cock throbs at her words, spilling droplets of seed on the leather of my loincloth as arousal drips from me.

  But even if she wants this, I have to be careful. She wasn’t wrong about my power and strength. I’m so much bigger than she is, my body so hard and massive compared to hers, and if the strength of my desire for my mate caused me to hurt her in any way, I would never forgive myself.

  Lifting my head, I follow her urging and crawl back up to hover over her, settling my hips between her thighs. Starlight and the glow from my markings illuminate her face in the darkness, and the look in her eyes nearly undoes me.

  Not just the desire I see in them, but the trust.

  I will never betray that trust.

  As I stare down at her face, enraptured by the sight of her, Willow reaches between us and slides her hand beneath my loincloth. She gasps softly as her fingers brush over the thick length of my cock, the skin slicked with my own arousal.

  My stomach clenches, my balls drawing up as I fight with my body to keep from spilling my release right here and now. It feels so good as she gently explores the shape and contours of my shaft, running her fingertips over the node at the base and the ridge that runs along the length of it. My body is vibrating with barely leashed lust, my jaw clenched so tightly that my cheeks ache.

  When she releases my cock and fumbles with the ties of my loincloth, I drag in several long breaths as I work to master myself. Then she tosses the scrap of leather away, and there’s nothing left between us.

  “I’ve never…” Willow swallows, wrapping her delicate hand around my pulsing shaft as she guides me to her soaked entrance. “I’ve never felt this way with anyone. It’s never been like this.”

  “For me either,” I rasp, letting her hear the truth of my words. I’ve been with very few other women, and those experiences pale so far in comparison to this that they might as well not even exist. For me, all that exists—all that will ever exist—is the woman in my arms right now.

  The crown of my cock nudges her slick opening, and she sucks in a deep breath, her breasts pressing against my chest as she arches beneath me. She wraps her legs around my waist, and I can’t hold back any longer.

  I pitch my hips forward and slide into her, feeling her wet heat envelop me as I fill her up. She’s so tight, her inner muscles gripping me hard, and when I bottom out and grind against her, she lets out a soft whimper. I realize that the node at the base of my shaft is rubbing against the spot where she liked having my tongue so much earlier, so I circle my hips a little without pulling out, giving her more pressure there.

  “Yes! Oh, yes!”

  Her cry of pleasure spurs me on, and I draw back slowly and then plunge in again, lost in the incredible perfection of this moment. It’s more than I ever dreamed of, more than I ever dared hope for—not just the feel of being inside her, but the closeness, the way I’m losing track of where she ends and I begin. Her willingness, and how she clings to me as if she never wants to let me go.

  I don’t know how much longer I can last. It’s been a long period of celibacy since our arrival on this godsforsaken planet, and the few moments of relief I’ve found in the woods with my fist wrapped around my cock are nothing compared to this pleasure. Every thrust brings me closer to climax, and I grit my teeth as my heart pounds wildly inside my chest.

  Drawing out entirely, I slide my cock through Willow’s wet folds, rubbing her hard little nub with the underside of my shaft. I thrust into her again and then pull out and glide through her folds, alternating like that as a means of holding off my release.

  My gaze drops downward to watch the way her body stretches to accommodate my thick length, the way her skin glistens with a combination of our arousal.

  Willow looks down too, and her breath catches. Her voice is strained as she murmurs, “I’m gonna come again, Bohrir. I’m so close. Come with me. Please.”

  “Slanch.”

  I grit out the curse word, driving inside her again and then wrapping my arms around her lithe frame as I sit back on my heels. In this position, she’s sitting on my lap with my cock buried to the hilt inside her, her small breasts pressed against my chest.

  She gasps again, rolling her hips against mine as her walls contract around me. I mirror her movement, thrusting shallowly upward as we find a rhythm together. I can’t thrust in and out as fully as I did when she was on her back beneath me, but it doesn’t matter. Every time she undulates her hips, her tight heat ripples and clenches around my shaft, and it feels so slanching good I think it might kill me.

  “Gods,” I groan. “Don’t stop, my kira. I’m right there with you. I’m going to—oh, slanch!”

  The release I’ve been desperately holding back breaks loose in a rush, and my cock pulses as I grip Willow’s hips, impaling her as deeply as possible. She tilts her head back when her own climax strikes, and I bury my face in her neck, devouring the warm, soft skin there as wave after wave of pleasure washes through me.

  My cock is still pulsing weakly inside her as I finally begin to catch my breath, emptying every last drop of my arousal into her channel. My feverish lips roam over the flesh of her throat, and I realize in a rush that everything I told her earlier was true. What happened between us has solidified the bond.

  The connection I have with Willow seems stronger than ever now, an attachment so deep that to break it would be as painful as tearing one of my limbs away.

  I would do anything for her, I think dazedly. I would lay down my life for her.

  Gently, I lean over to rest Willow on her back again, settling over her with my cock still buried inside her. Although the blinding pleasure of my orgasm has faded, I’m not ready to let go of the connection yet, of the perfection of being joined completely with my mate. I rest one hand beside her head, bracing my weight on my arm as I brush a few strands of dark red hair back from her face.

  “Are you all right?” I ask quietly.

  She smiles up at me, her chest rising and falling as she works to catch her breath. “I’m better than all right. I’m… amazing.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  Unable to resist, I drop my head to press my lips to hers again, claiming another kiss as she laughs softly. Mindful of the weight of my larger frame, I carefully withdraw from her channel and lie down next to her, tucking her possessively against my body. Our faces are so close that our noses almost touch, and I gaze into her eyes in the darkness, entranced by everything I see there.

  “I didn’t know it could be like that,” she murmurs, and I see her eyes glisten slightly before she blinks the tears away. “That sex could feel so… good.”

  My heart clenches painfully in my chest as I think of what kinds of prior experiences she’s had, and I wish more than anything in this moment that Gornok were here so I could rip his head from his body with my bare hands.

  I can feel my body tensing up with anger, and I do my best to relax it. Gornok isn’t here right now. The only one who’s here is my mate, and she doesn’t need my rage, even if it is on her behalf.

  “I haven’t gone through what you have,” I murmur. “But I can tell you, it’s never been like that for me before either. I desire you in a way that defies words, Willow. My heart, my mind, and my body all crave you equally.”

  She swallows, the pulse in her throat fluttering as she holds my gaze. “Me too. It’s… overwhelming.” She hesitates, then shakes her head, letting out a sigh. “After Gornok and his men captured me, and when I ended up stranded on Nuthora
with them and realized I truly had no hope of escape, I built walls around my heart to survive. I shut myself off to feeling things—both good and bad—because not feeling was the only way to get by without going insane or losing all hope. And it worked. I survived. I got by.”

  Sadness echoes in every word she speaks, and I pull her a little closer. She buries her face in the crook of my neck, holding on to me just as tightly as I’m holding on to her. I can no longer see her face, but this feels even more intimate somehow, the two of us clinging to each other in the dark.

  She’s quiet for a long moment, and I don’t push her to say more. I just run my fingers through her soft hair, reminding her that I’m right here.

  “When I met you,” she finally whispers, “the walls I’d built around my heart started to come down. I didn’t mean for them to, and it scared me so much to feel them crumbling away. I was drawn to you in a way I didn’t understand, even though I tried to convince myself not to trust you or any of the others. But the armor I had worn for so long was gone, and I couldn’t seem to put it back up. For the first time in a long time, I was feeling things, and it felt terrifying to have my heart be so exposed.”

  Her exhale brushes over my skin in a warm gust, and she makes a noise in her throat. “I didn’t realize until those barriers came down just how much I had been shutting myself off from life. It’s like I was locked inside a room with no windows or doors. Staying alive, but just… existing. Nothing more.”

  “I wish I had found you earlier, my kira,” I murmur, my voice strained. “I wish I could’ve saved you from that.”

  “Me too,” she admits softly. “But the fact that you found me at all feels like a miracle.”

  I huff a breath. “When that slanching traitor K’Mek stole the diamantum from us, it felt like our mission had been cursed with the worst luck imaginable. But perhaps the gods knew there was more that we needed to do in the city than just trade for the communicator. It’s hard to be grateful that K’Mek betrayed us, but in a strange way, I am.”

  Willow lifts her head again, drawing back enough to meet my gaze. “When you carried me away from Gornok’s den, I had no idea how much you’d change my life. I was still so numb then, and part of me was sure I was just trading one captor for another.”

  I clench my jaw, regret cutting sharply through my chest. I hate the idea that anyone might think of me that way, especially my mate. Her fear of me in that moment is completely understandable, but I will always regret it. I open my mouth to tell her so, but before I can speak, she takes one of my hands and brings it to her chest, resting it just over her heart.

  I can feel the softness of her breast beneath my palm, the warmth of her skin and the fast rhythm of her heartbeat, and it makes my breath catch in my throat.

  “For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had dreams that seem to fade away as soon as I wake. My past has felt like a black hole, a gaping chasm of unanswered questions. But now… the darkness doesn’t seem so impenetrable. The chasm doesn’t seem so deep. I’m remembering things, and I think it’s because of you. The walls I built around my heart were keeping everything out, and now that they’ve come down, there’s room for those memories again.”

  Something painfully sweet swells in my chest, and I roll Willow gently onto her back again, keeping my hand on her chest as I rise up on one elbow to gaze down at her. She looks like a goddess with her red hair splayed out around her head, her eyes luminous in the starlight.

  “I promise I’ll do what I can to help you recover more of your memories,” I vow. “And as long as I’m alive, you will not need to rebuild the armor around your heart—because I will shield it from pain with everything I have in me.”

  Willow blinks, her lips quivering slightly. Then she reaches up and hooks the back of my neck, pulling me down toward her as she lifts her head to meet me for a kiss.

  The contact of our lips is both heated and sweet, and the ever-present spark of desire flares into an inferno in my veins as my hand slides over slightly to palm her breast, squeezing and massaging the soft flesh.

  I will never be able to get enough of this woman.

  17

  Willow

  The first thing that greets me as I open my eyes in the morning is the sight of Bohrir’s face hovering over mine.

  I laugh, my voice still hoarse from sleep. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, my kira,” he rumbles.

  He’s smiling, and I know I am too. I can’t help it. There’s a sort of giddy excitement flitting around in my chest, making my pulse race a little faster as I gaze up at the man who calls himself my mate. The excitement in his features makes him look younger and more carefree than usual, and his full lips are temptingly kissable.

  “You spoke in your sleep again last night,” he tells me.

  My grin widens. I have no idea how late it was when we finally fell asleep in each other’s arms, but after a second round of intense sex with Bohrir, I was utterly sated and exhausted. I passed out quickly, and I wasn’t sure I would even have any dreams, given how tired I was.

  But I did. And what’s more, I feel like I can recall little snippets of them, hovering at the edges of my mind. With a little nudge, I might be able to remember more.

  “I want to hear everything,” I tell him, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. “Let’s get up first though. You started teaching me about traps yesterday, and I want to learn more.”

  For some reason, it seems easier to access my memories when I’ve got something else to focus on as well, as if distracting my brain helps me pry at the loose floorboards in my mind.

  The happiness in Bohrir’s eyes beams like sunshine, and he skates his hand down my naked body as he nuzzles my cheek. “As you wish, my kira.”

  We get up and get dressed, a process that takes a lot longer than it should because we keep getting distracted by each other’s naked bodies. Having sex with Bohrir twice did nothing to sate or dampen my desire for him, and he seems to feel the same way about me.

  This all feels so strange, in the best possible way. It’s unfamiliar to want someone’s hands on me, to feel safe and treasured when he touches me, but I’m quickly becoming addicted to it.

  Once we’re clothed, albeit a bit disheveled and out of breath, we make our way through the forest to forage for some breakfast. Bohrir lets me take the lead, allowing me to utilize the knowledge I’ve gained about which plants are safe to touch and eat—although he sticks close to my side, clearly prepared to protect or defend me if needed.

  We eat our food as we walk back toward the camp, and my free hand finds its way into Bohrir’s without any conscious thought at all. He glances down at me as our fingers interlace, and the look in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat.

  It’s similar to the way he’s always looked at me, even before he realized we were mates. I can recall practically running away from him back at the village when I encountered him in the street and our eyes met. The weight in his gaze scared me then, but it doesn’t now.

  Because now I know what it means.

  When we return to camp, Bohrir picks up the snare he helped me build yesterday, raising his eyebrows as he waggles it. “Since you know how to make the snare now, the next lesson will be how to use it. Are you ready?”

  “Definitely.”

  He grins at my enthusiasm, and we head into the woods again, making our way toward the lake. We don’t get too close to the water this time, skirting around it and following the shoreline a little way.

  “When you’re looking for a spot to lay a trap,” Bohrir tells me, kneeling on the ground and gesturing for me to follow suit, “it helps to think like the animal you’re trying to snare. And all animals require food and water.”

  “Ah. So putting the snare near a water source means something we want to trap will be more likely to pass by?”

  “Exactly.” He beams at me, seeming pleased by my quick grasp of his lesson.

  We work together side by side as he shows
me how to place the trap, and after a little while, I look up at him, my heart kicking up a notch in my chest. I’m torn between trying to temper my hope and letting it run free as I take a deep breath and ask, “What did I say last night?”

  Bohrir glances at me, his violet-blue eyes softening. “I think you were dreaming of your grandmother again. You said ‘I’ll go get Bapa.’”

  My body jerks, my eyes widening as the word hits me like a brick in the chest.

  “Bapa,” I murmur. As I speak, a face materializes in my mind’s eye—an older man with hazel irises, a broad nose, and deep crow’s feet around his eyes. His hair is streaked with silver and combed back from his face in a careful style, and there are lines around his mouth too, as if he smiles a lot.

  Bapa.

  “That’s what I used to call my grandfather,” I murmur, my voice choked with emotion. “And I called my grandma Mimi.”

  Another face flashes through my mind as I speak. A gasp slips from my lips as a wave of recognition hits me.

  I couldn’t see it in my dream, but I can see it now.

  Her kind eyes. Her easy smile. The little scar on her chin that she told me she’d gotten as a girl playing a game of tag.

  I force myself to focus on laying the trap like Bohrir showed me, allowing the task to distract me just enough to let more memories flow through my mind unhindered. My hands shake a little, and my voice is barely a whisper when I speak.

  “They raised me. Mimi and Bapa. I think… I think my parents died when I was young. I can’t remember how it happened, but I know I grew up living with my grandparents. They had a big house with creaky stairs and a big window seat on the first floor where I used to sit and read.”

  Images flash through my head as I speak, as if I’m conjuring them up with my words. There’s still a lot that’s fuzzy and indistinct, but every memory that surfaces seems to dredge up several more, leading to a cascade of new recollections that makes me reel. I’m still fiddling with the trap, but I barely register what I’m doing anymore. My head is filled with the sound of my grandfather’s voice, the smell of my grandmother’s perfume, and the taste of the cherry pie she used to make during the summers.