by Presley Hall
If anything, it feels as if he’s in my power as I draw him into my mouth, my tongue sliding over and around the tip of his throbbing cock. He groans, his head tipping back.
“Harper…”
His large hand slides into my thick dark hair as my lips make their way downward. I suck all of him deep into my mouth and slide my tongue along the length of him, enjoying the taste and feel of him.
I love the way the muscles of his thighs tremble under my touch, the way his fingers tangle in my hair and grip my head, the way his cock pulses in my mouth. I adore the way he shivers when I take my other hand and slide it between his legs, stroking the soft, fragile flesh there as my lips reach his abdomen, taking all of him into my throat.
He curses softly under his breath as I swallow, and I feel him tense when I do it again, finding a rhythm as I lick and suck, going up and down until he’s panting. When he can’t take it anymore, he drags me to my feet, groaning as he kisses me hard.
Then he sweeps me up into his arms, carrying me down the hall to our bedroom.
Our bedroom.
The thought sends a shiver of happiness through me as he sets me down. He reaches for the cord that holds my dress together, and when it falls free, he slides the fragile silk off of my shoulders. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of the fabric sliding over my body, revealing my small breasts, my waist, my narrow hips.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he whispers reverently.
He gently pushes me back to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling between my legs as he spreads them wide. His fingers slide up my inner thighs as he kisses the delicate flesh there. I gasp when his lips touch the hot, aching place between my legs, his tongue flicking out to taste me, and his groan when he discovers how wet I already am vibrates against my skin.
“Does having me in your mouth turn you on?” he asks, looking up at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes. He pauses, his lips near enough that I can feel his warm breath between my legs as he slides two fingers into me, his thumb pressed against my clit.
“Yes,” I whisper. My body is already flushed with heat at the sight of this massive warrior kneeling between my legs, his lips inches from my body, his fingers inside of me.
“Tell me,” he rumbles, his fingers beginning to move. “Tell me what you like.”
“I love how you… oh, god,” I moan, my hips twitching under his hand. “Please…”
“Tell me.” His eyes gleam, and I sigh helplessly as I begin to feel the pleasure build deep within me, shudders of it already rippling over my skin.
“I love how you feel in my mouth,” I whisper. “I love sucking your cock…”
“Oh, is that so?” He grins. “And do you love when I do this?”
He moves forward, his tongue replacing his thumb, swirling over my clit, soft and wet and hot, and my legs splay outward as I grip the edge of the mattress, my head falling back.
“Yes,” I groan. “Oh god, that feels so good.”
“Are you going to come for me?” His fingers move faster, and he licks my clit again, pressing his mouth hard against me as he swirls his tongue. He sucks gently, sending waves of pleasure through my body that I never imagined before him.
“Yes… oh… God!”
I’m on the edge. All it takes is one more flick of his tongue, one more press of his fingers deep inside of me, and it hits me.
“I’m coming!” I cry out, my fingers digging hard into the blanket as my back arches, my hips grinding against Malav’s face as he keeps going, never stopping even for a second as the orgasm washes over me in endless waves.
He picks me up then, laying me back in the bed, and I feel his cock press against my still-quivering body, hard and throbbing against my soft, wet flesh.
“Gods, you feel so good,” he groans, pushing forwards so that the tip of his shaft is inside of me. I shudder with a fresh wave of pleasure as he slides into me inch by inch, my sensitive nerves crying out as he fills me.
The sensation of him inside of me is like nothing I ever imagined. I never knew sex could be like this.
I look up at him, at his broad, muscular body hovering over mine, his bronzed skin gleaming as I slide my hands over him, his thick cock filling me, and I’m overcome with awe that he’s mine, that he loves me, that I love him.
That somehow, this is my life.
“I love you,” I whisper, clasping his face. My fingers gently stroke his horns as he begins to move inside of me. I see his eyes darken with pleasure, feel him pulse and harden inside of me, and I wrap my legs around him, pulling him closer to me.
“And I love you,” he says quietly, his gaze fixed on mine as he moves inside of me.
It’s something more than sex, deeper than just bodies giving and receiving pleasure—it’s the most intimate thing I’ve ever felt. Here, in our bed, in our home, I feel a peace and security that I’ve never known.
I’ve found where I’m meant to be, at last. And I’ve never been more grateful for anything.
He threads his fingers through my hair as he leans down to kiss me deeply, his tongue tangling with mine as he groans. Then I feel him shiver against me, his rhythm faltering as he reaches the edge and pleasure overtakes him.
It ripples through me too, my body arching against his as we come together, pressed skin to skin from forehead to toes, our bodies wrapped around each other as he throbs inside of me, connected in a way I’ve never been with anyone else.
In the aftermath, with my head pillowed on his chest, I whisper, “Thank you.”
“For what?” He touches my hair, and I sigh softly.
“For finding Molly. For this. For… everything.” I can’t put it all into words.
He kisses the top of my head. “Of course,” he murmurs. “I would do anything for my Irisa. For you, Harper.”
I relax into the circle of his arms, my eyes drifting closed, and I realize I’m more deliriously happy than I ever dreamed I could be.
Finally, I’m home.
Epilogue
Autumn
The sounds of the band warming up filter through the air as I sit down at my dressing table and shrug off my robe. With deft, practiced movements, I pin up the thick curls of my long red hair. Sometime during my set, I’ll pull the hairpin out and let my fiery locks tumble around my shoulders. That usually nets me a good round of tips. Sometimes even more than when I take items of clothing off.
I’ve gotten good at this.
The dressing room is full, humans and humanoid aliens alike all here for the same reason—the pleasure of the patrons sitting outside in the bar. The air is thick with perfumes of every kind, the powdery scent of makeup, and the thick, cloying scent of the oil that some of the other strippers put on, and it gives me a headache. But I ignore it—I need to make a good amount of tips tonight. I can’t afford to be off my game.
I can’t help but overhear the other women talking as I apply my makeup. They’re discussing the gladiator fights in the arena on the other side of Monri—it’s been all most of the dancers have been talking about for days now. There’s a new group of alien fighters in town that have been taking over the arenas, from what I’ve heard, and apparently they came into the bar last night.
It was my night off, so I didn’t see them. Which is for the best, and I try to ignore the excited chatter behind me. I don’t trust alien men, not of any kind.
When it comes right down to it, I don’t trust any men. I try not to look at the patrons in the bar when I dance; they don’t matter to me. I’m here for one reason, and one reason only. It’s all I think about, from the time I step through the door of the dressing room until the moment I get dressed and leave.
But tonight, when I go out on stage, I look out into the crowd without meaning to.
As my gaze scans the packed room, it stops suddenly on a single figure. Sitting several seats across from me is a tall, bronzed man, more muscular than anyone I’ve ever seen. He has gleaming dark eyes and curved horns that shimmer almost golden
in the dim light of the bar.
And those dark eyes are fixed directly on me.
I’ve never seen anyone or anything like him. And despite my best efforts, I can’t stop glancing back at him as I dance, moving across the stage like water. When I shed the black sheer robe that covers my lingerie, I see his gaze sweep over me, and my skin heats as if I’m on fire.
It’s a feeling I haven’t had in a long time.
And never like that.
But I tear my attention away from him, refocusing as I lean against the pole in the center of the stage, arching my back as I trail my fingers down my throat, over my chest. I refuse to look at him, commanding myself to forget about him, to focus, to remember why I’m here.
It’s just another night, like the dozens that came before this one, and the dozens that will come after.
Until I can finally earn enough tokens to get away from this place.
I’m glad when my set is over. It’s not like me to let someone affect me just by looking at me, and it makes me feel uneasy, unsettled. I want to get home to something familiar.
I hurry through the streets of Monri when it’s time to go, very aware of the money stuffed into the cuffed ankle of my pants, hidden by the flowing fabric. I walk with purpose into the sketchy part of town where I rent a small pod. It’s shabby and run-down, and I wish I could afford something better.
Maybe one day I will. But for now, every cent that I have goes toward saving for the day when I can finally get out of here.
As I step inside, a small voice calls out. “Hi, Mommy! You’re home!”
My heart swells with love as the bedroom door swings open and my little girl runs out, throwing her arms wide as she leaps into my embrace.
I hold her close to me, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair. This is what I live for, what I work for, what every cent of my savings goes toward.
Getting us out of here.
She pulls back, looking at me with her big, worried eyes. “How was work, Mommy?”
“Oh, you know,” I say casually. “It was work.”
I set her down and fish the money out of its hiding spot, adding it to the box where I hide it beneath the sofa after setting aside a few tokens to pay the woman I hire as a sitter. I resist the urge to count it. I’ll do that later.
And no matter how many times I count and recount it, I know it’s not enough yet. Not enough to get us to a world where we can be safe, me and my daughter. Somewhere that isn’t a black-market trading post like Wauru, somewhere civilized, somewhere that will accept her.
Where she’ll be safe.
My half-human, half-alien child.
***
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Also by Presley Hall
Fated Mates of the Kalixian Warriors Series
Claimed - Book 1
Stolen - Book 2
Rescued - Book 3
Bound - Book 4
Broken - Book 5
NOTE: Each book in this series can be read as a standalone, but for maximum enjoyment, it’s recommended that you read the series in order.
