Page 32 of Across the Crimson Sands

The feeling of her touch on such a sensitive part of my anatomy went straight to my cock, a reminder of our differences, yet in this moment, those differences only served to heighten the experience.

I fucked her with my tongue, each stroke deliberate and precise, desperate to memorize every fold, every texture, every taste of her. Arilee’s cries of pleasure grew louder, her words jumbled and incoherent as she neared the edge once again.

“Please, Rokan, I can’t—” she gasped, her body tense with the impending release.

I knew what she needed. I increased the pressure, my tongue flicking rapidly against her clit as I slid two fingers inside her. Her inner walls clenched around them, a vice-like grip that threatened to undo me.

“Let go, Arilee,” I murmured against her, the vibrations of my voice adding another layer of sensation. “I’ve got you.”

Her cry reverberated through the room as she shattered beneath me. Arilee’s body quaked, her hips bucking against my face while ecstasy coursed through her. I savored every drop of her essence, the flavor making my head spin.

I pulled back, pressing my lips to her inner thigh before standing tall. There lay Arilee, the picture of fulfilled bliss, her chest heaving with each labored breath. A surge of pride swelled within me at the sight of her expression.

But I’d only just begun.

ARILEE

Rokan knelt over me, his powerful form casting a shadow across my body. For the first time, I got a clear view of his impressive manhood.

The broad, triangular head gleamed in the dim light. A series of soft flanges ran down the sides, unlike anything I’d seen on a human. My breath quickened as I took in the sight, remembering how it had felt inside me before.

But this was different. In the desert, we’d coupled out of raw need and animal instinct. Now, a deeper connection hummed between us and I searched Rokan’s face, wondering if he felt it too.

I knew he was broken. The war had left its scars, visible and hidden. But I was broken too, in my own way. Maybe that’s why we fit together now, two jagged pieces finding an unexpected alignment.

Rokan lowered himself onto me, his lips capturing mine. He entered me slowly, letting me adjust to his size. A gasp escaped me at the delicious stretch.

All thoughts fled my mind as he began to move. The flanges along his shaft created incredible friction, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core. I clung to his broad shoulders, nails digging into gray skin.

“Rokan,” I breathed against his mouth.

He growled in response, the sound vibrating through his chest. What was happening between us?

I arched up to meet his thrusts, our bodies finding a perfect rhythm. Sweat beaded on my skin as the heat between us built. Rokan’s markings captured my gaze, hypnotizing me.

The world around us dissolved, leaving only the sacred space our bodies created. Rokan moved with a deliberate patience that unraveled me thread by thread. Each deliberate stroke of his alien anatomy stoked the fire within me, a slow burn that promised an inferno.

I felt myself opening up to him, not just physically but emotionally. With every measured thrust, he claimed a part of me I hadn’t known was up for grabs. My breath hitched as he filled me completely, the flanges of his cock rubbing against places inside me that had never been touched.

“You’re so tight, Arilee,” Rokan murmured, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within my chest. “So perfect.”

His words sent lightning through my body, enflaming me further. My legs coiled around his waist, pulling him even closer, if that was possible. Our bodies were slick with sweat, moving together in a dance as old as time, yet somehow, it felt new, felt like us.

Rokan’s hands explored my body, tracing the curves and dips as if memorizing them. He touched me like I was precious, like I was his, and a small part of me reveled in that possessiveness. His fingers found my breasts, teasing my nipples into hard peaks, and I arched into his touch, craving more.

“Rokan,” I gasped, words tangling in my mind. “Please, I need?—”

I didn’t even know what I was asking for, but he understood. He always seemed to understand. He shifted his angle slightly, and the new position sent a blaze of pleasure through me so intense that my vision whited out.

“There?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he watched my face. “Did you like that?”

I could only nod, my ability to form words stolen by the sensations coursing through me. He repeated the motion, each thrust driving me higher, closer to the edge of something monumental.

The room was filled with sounds—the wet slap of skin on skin, the ragged cadence of our breaths, the desperate cries that escaped my throat every time he hit that perfect spot.

The tension built within me, a coiled spring winding tighter and tighter with each deliberate movement of Rokan’s hips. I clung to him, my fingers digging into his back, as if he were my anchor in the storm of pleasure that threatened to sweep me away.

“Let go, Arilee,” Rokan commanded, his voice a rough whisper in my ear. “I’ve got you.”

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