Page 33 of Dealing With Drak

“What is this Magic Mike?” he asks curiously, following me as I lead him further up the river.

“A man who takes off his clothes to get money from women,” I explain poorly.

“These females pay to see him unclothed?” he echoes, lips quirked up. “Do you owe me payment now, Mean One?”

“You wouldn’t know how to use money if I gave it to you,” I snark.

“Perhaps there is something else you might wish to give me instead?”

The way his voice dips into a smooth, lusty tone makes my stomach go all warm.

“We’re here,” I croak, breathing out hard. “You can go stand under the spray like a shower, and I’ll get you some flowers—wait, no. I actually have a bar of soap. Hold on.”

Drak keeps his eyes narrowed on me as I riffle through my bag, finding an Irish Spring soap bar in a ziploc bag.

“I don’t have a new one, so you’ll have to use this,” I say, taking it out of the bag and passing it to him.

He holds the little green bar, looking at it with wide eyes. “You have used this before?”

“No need to look disgusted,” I sneer, putting my things back together.

“Oh, Mean One,” he drawls, his tone husky. “I am far from disgusted.”

He takes off, heading for the water while my jaw hits the floor. Did he just imply he’s aroused? That’s the furthest thing from disgusted, isn’t it?

First, he’s calling me beautiful, lovely, and mesmerizing, and now he’s excited to have my used bar of soap? Aliens are weird fucking friends.

Collecting myself, I peek over my shoulder to find him already in the water.

Butt.

Ass.

Naked.

My face flushes hot, and I smother a gasp, turning away with lightning speed. I just saw his whole backside, thick thighs, rippled back muscles, ass, and everything. And wow, was it a sight to behold.

Unable to resist, I angle myself to see him from the corner of my eye, watching as water rolls down his body, glistening under the sun. He slicks his hair back, the moisture extending the length to his lower back.

I lick my lips, my throat going dry while my cheeks flame. Shit, maybe I’m a weird friend, too, because I’m totally ogling Drak’s ass right now.

He’s rubbing my soap directly on his skin, too, lathering it all over. He’s so precise that he probably doesn’t even smell anymore. But hell, if I’m going to tell him to get out earlier than he wants to. There’s a dirty little part of me that hopes he’ll stay in there for hours.

And when he turns, fucking hell.

My eyes fall down his soaked stomach, tracking a rush of water all the way down to his cock. His thick, long, and hard cock. Either Drak is always ready for action and just good at hiding it, or he really is turned on by the simple fact that he’s using the soap I’ve cleaned myself with before.

Taking him all in, I think, how on Earth did Stee-vee and Marrec do it?

I mean, logically, I knew he’d be large, but whoa. The girth on that thing alone would have me walking bow-legged for weeks after one fuck. His shape is similar to human anatomy, but it’s much larger—a lot like the rest of him. Drak doesn’t seem to have any kind of foreskin or pubic hair. Just a bulbous but proportionate tip and smooth skin all over. Even the darker veins decorating his shaft look velvety soft. His dick is so thick that I know it has to be heavy.

He’d ruin me, and the longer I look at him, the more I think I’d love every second of it.

When my eyes trace back up his stomach to his chest, I stop short, finding his eyes locked on my face. There’s a hungry, filthy grin on his lips that makes my knees weak. I squeeze my thighs together, freezing like a deer in headlights.

Drak holds my gaze, dragging the bar of soap down his front, massaging it in small circles. Eventually, his hand moves lower, washing his cock with long soapy strokes. Fuck, is he jacking off or just getting clean?

It’s impossible to stop watching either way.

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