Page 32 of Gyft

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, then nods his head as if resigned to making things right. He turns to go after them, but I wrap my hand around his lower arm. His ends of his freelig are standing up like he’s stressed.

“Actually, I don’t think that’s necessary, husband. I think I just want to spend some time with a gorgeous male.”

“Me?” He swallows again, this time a hopeful look on his handsome face.

“You.” I stand on tiptoe and kiss his pouty lips. And sure as shit, I don’t imagine that fang growth. They do grow.

“Gyft?” I ask.

“Ignore it,” he mumbles. “I shouldn’t want to taste you.”

Taste me? “Does that mean you want some naked time?”

Lust fills his face. “Would you be willing? Right here? Right now?”

I nod seriously. “Can’t really resist you. Been thinking about you all morning.”

“You have?”

“Well, that’s probably a lie. More like I’ve been thinking about you since I first saw you in the forest. I just felt guilty because I’d gotten married and didn’t know you were him.”

“I’m glad I married you,” he whispers, nudging my nose with his. “You’re the perfect alien bride.”

That makes me giggle. “Anywhere a little quieter?”

“We can find a hidden moment in the wagon,” he reminds me.

I brighten. “You’re right. The flaps tie closed and we’ll be able to hear if anyone approaches. Let’s casually walk that way. Don’t make it obvious.” I let my hand brush across the front of his pants, feeling his cock harden.

“Well, how will I walk now?” he grumbles.

But we manage.

He takes my hand and we slowly–casually–wander toward the parking area, smiling at people who look like they want to talk but take one look at Gyft’s face and move onward.

As soon as the wagon’s in sight, I halt him with a palm to his ridged abdomen. Ooh, yes, I can feel the heat of his skin through the fabric of his uniform, can feel the taut pull of his muscles at the touch of my hand.

“Look, we can’t climb in together. People will know what we’re doing. I’ll slide in first and in a few minutes, you come in and everyone will just think you’re getting something, not that I’m in there waiting for you.”

He smiles, showing fang. “How long do I have to wait?”

I giggle and slide away from him, heading toward the other side of the wagon. “Long enough for these people out here to forget I went in.”

He gets the surprise of his life when he slips in behind me because I’m waiting completely naked. It’s hushed whispers and muted giggling as we get him undressed between kisses, his fangs elongating as he scrapes them over my neck.

His breath is heated against my throbbing pulse. There’s a new awareness, a tension so thick you can cut it with a knife. My hands are everywhere, his rounded shoulders, his bulging biceps, skittering across his tight back as he covers my body with his.

When his hand covers my mouth and his cock plunges inside me? Ecstasy.

Each time he pulls out of my heat, I feel him, slick with my wet, creating friction as he plunges back in. In and out, he builds rhythm, faster and faster.

When the tension builds so big that my orgasm is about to break, I can sense he’s at the same level. It’s like I feel him, we’re so connected in this moment. He’s wound so tight it’s like a rubber band about to snap.

His fangs scrape along the tendon in my neck, his tongue darts out to lick the sting and I’m pretty sure I know what he wants.

A bite.

I want it too.

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