Page 49 of What Makes an Alien a Dad?

The video image came into focus.

Maya sat on the small round couch in her apartment here at the hospital. The milky glow from the screen cast pale highlights on her smooth brown skin, and there was a lot of her skin on display. Her legs bent, she leaned on a cushion sideways, wearing...

What the fuck was Maya wearing?

He stood up to take a better look. He’d never seen anything like this on her before. Pink, and frothy, and scandalously revealing.

“Okay, so...” She smoothed the see-through fabric over the rounded swell of her belly. “Like I said, if you don’t like what you’re seeing, please close and delete this right now.”

How could any man alive not like what he saw?

He devoured every curve of her body with his eyes, afraid to breathe lest he miss a thing. He had no idea why she sent this to him. But there was no way he could close the video or even force his eyes away from the screen.

“I miss you...” she said softly. “And the truth is, I really, really miss being touched. Can I just pretend this is your hand, not mine?”

Lifting a hand, she stroked the side of her neck with the tips of her fingers. His own fingers twitched even as his arms remained stretched down his sides.

He stopped questioning what was going on, completely swept away in the action.

“Do you like the lingerie?” she murmured from the screen.

“Love it,” he croaked, forgetting she wouldn’t hear him.

“It’s rather naughty, isn’t it?” She cupped her breast through the fabric.

As her hand slid down a little, he noticed the cups of her top were made from thin, interwoven ribbons. They parted under her squeeze, letting the hard, brown nipple poke through. She flicked it with her thumb, and he nearly choked on his drool.

His knees gave in and he dropped his ass on the couch that luckily happened to be right there. If it wasn’t, he’d hit the floor, but it wouldn’t really matter. He didn’t think he’d notice even if all seventy-six floors of the building collapsed under him. His eyes glued to the screen, all he saw, all he could think about was her.

She sat up, cupping both breasts now. Her eyelids fluttered a little and her mouth parted as she played with her nipples, tormenting him with every squeeze, pat, and tweak.

He dug his fingers into the soft leather of the couch. His blood heated. His heart pounded so hard, he feared it would jump out of his throat and drop to his hooves. He ripped his shirt off over his head. The material tangled in his horns, and he tore at it, getting rid of the shirt without taking his eyes off Maya.

“Oh, it feels so good,” she moaned, shifting to open her legs a little.

He jerked his legs wider, too, giving more space to his raging erection. When did he get hard? He had no idea. But his cock throbbed like a metal rod stuck into a burning furnace.

“I wish you could touch me here.” Maya slid her hand under her flimsy excuse for a shirt. The muscles in her thighs twitched and another soft moan escaped her lips.

“I wish I could touch you everywhere, sweetheart,” he rumbled, tearing his pants open.

His cock sprang into his hand, hot and needy. He would never make it to the spa in time to take care of this. Besides, no machine would be able to replicate what was playing out on the screen for him.

Fuck the sex pods.

Maya glanced at him, her dark eyes twinkling enticingly from under her long, thick eyelashes.

“Do you want to see?” She bit her lip, working her hand between her thighs under her shirt.

“Fuck. Yes.” He fisted his cock, gasping in a wave of pleasure and ache. “Show it to me, Maya.”

Her eyes held his from beyond the screen as she slowly raised her knees, then parted them, lifting the hem of her lingerie. Her underwear was made of ribbons, too. And they were soaked, her arousal turning the fabric from pink to burgundy.

“Fuuuuck,” he growled, flexing his fist around his cock so hard, the pain made him howl. But there was pleasure, too. So, so much pleasure. Watching her touch herself almost made him come right then and there.

She parted the ribbons, allowing him a glimpse at her dusky, slick folds and the tight bud above her opening. He leaned closer, pumping his length in the same rhythm as she let her fingers dance on herself.

It looked beautiful. And it felt simply glorious.

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