Page 22 of Prize for the Alien Grumpus

"You're purring," she says with a smile.

"Impossible. I do not purr."

But the rumbling in my chest says otherwise. Her fingers scratch gently behind my ears and the sound grows louder.

"You were saying?" Her eyes sparkle with mischief.

I silence her teasing with another kiss. She melts against me, soft and warm and perfect.

I pull back, my breath ragged. Mel's eyes are glazed, her lips swollen from our kisses. I want to devour her, claim her, make her mine. But I want to savor this, savor her.

"Too many clothes," I growl.

She blinks, a soft laugh escaping her lips. "Is that your way of asking me to undress?"

"No," I say, my voice a low rumble. "It's my way of telling you I'm going to undress you."

Her eyes widen, but she doesn't protest. I take her silence as consent and slip my claws under the hem of her shirt. The fabric is soft, but not as soft as her skin. I drag it up, revealing inch after inch of creamy flesh. She raises her arms, allowing me to pull the shirt off completely.

I toss it aside, my gaze locked onto her. She's wearing a simple black bra, her breasts heaving with each breath. I can see her pulse fluttering in her neck, can hear her heart pounding. I want to taste her there, feel her pulse beneath my tongue.

But first, I want to unwrap the rest of her.

I hook my claws into the waistband of her jeans, careful not to nick her skin. She sucks in a breath, her stomach quivering. I pop the button, drag down the zipper. The sound is loud in the quiet room, filled only with our ragged breaths.

She lifts her hips, allowing me to tug the jeans down her thighs, her calves, her ankles. I throw them aside, leaving her in nothing but her bra and a scrap of black lace that does nothing to hide her scent.

I can smell her arousal, sweet and musky. It drives me wild. I want to bury my face between her thighs, want to lap up her juices until she's screaming my name.

But I want to tease her first, want to make her beg for it.

I trace a claw along the edge of her panties, watching as goosebumps rise on her flesh. She squirms, her breath hitching. I do it again, this time on the other side. Her hips jerk, seeking more contact.

"Krampus," she whispers, a plea and a demand all at once.

I grin, knowing I've got her right where I want her. I hook my claws into her panties and tug. The fabric rips easily, baring her to me. She gasps, her eyes flying open. But she doesn't tell me to stop. She doesn't want me to stop.

I lower my head, inhaling deeply. Her scent is intoxicating. I can't wait any longer. I have to taste her.

I part her folds with my tongue, licking a long, slow stripe up her center. She moans, her hips bucking. I do it again, and again, each lick drawing out more of her sweet nectar.

She's writhing beneath me, her breath coming in short gasps. I can feel her tension building, can feel her getting closer to the edge. I want to push her over, want to feel her come apart on my tongue.

I focus on her clit, circling it with the tip of my tongue. Her moans grow louder, her hips bucking wildly. I slip a finger inside her, crooking it to hit that spot that makes her scream.

"Krampus!" she cries out, her body convulsing. I don't stop, don't let up. I keep licking, keep stroking, drawing out her orgasm until she's a shaking, sweaty mess.

Only then do I pull back, a satisfied grin on my face. She looks up at me, her eyes glazed, her cheeks flushed.

"I adore you, Melanie."

The look on her face is so perfect, I never want to forget it.

Not ever.

CHAPTER 9

MEL

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