Page 47 of An Alien for the Future

My breaths come shallow, each exhalation filling the space between us, but when a long pause stretches between us, I blink in confusion. What is he waiting for? I thought he would—

It hits me like a wave. He’s waiting for me.

He’s not assuming. He’s not taking. He’s waiting. For permission. For affirmation. Forme. And there’s something sweet in it—a sweetness that only makes the hard ache between my thighs pulse all the stronger.

“Tovan,” I whisper, voice still breathless from my release. I push myself up slightly, my weight supported on my elbows as I meet his intense gaze. He shifts ever so slightly, withdrawing just a fraction, as though to allow me space, like he’s giving me room to change my mind.

But I’m not changing my mind.

For the first time since I met him, I think I’m thinking clearly.

“Come here,” I say, and it comes out like a plea. My fingers beckon for him, and for a split second, his entire body freezes. Then something ripples through him—some deep, primal emotion, raw and uncontainable. His claw, which had been resting on my thigh, tightens slightly before he pulls away just enough to stand. He’s staring at me with something between reverence and disbelief as if he can’t quite make sense of my words.

“You…wantme?” he asks, his voice low, filled with uncertainty. Surprise.

My heart thuds against my ribs. He’s braced himself for rejection all this time? Shit. Perhaps he even expects it.

I don’t know whether it’s the battles of my past. I don’t know if that’s why his actions are making me melt inside. But for the first time in a long while, I don’t fight it anymore.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I want you.”

Tovan’s pupils narrow, his breathing becoming more jagged as my words sink in. With a grunt that sounds almost pained, he starts to undress, his large hands working quickly at the clasp of his trousers. My entire body hums with anticipation, and Ican only watch. God, I’ve already seen how strong he is, how powerful his body is, but as he reveals more and more of himself, I’m struck by the sheer masculine beauty of him. Every line, every muscle—it’s like he’s been carved from stone, honed by battle and time.

And then my eyes are drawn down, down, to where his length juts out, hard and proud.

Painfully aroused, Tovan’s inhuman cock juts proudly from between his thighs, so much larger and stranger than anything a human male could boast. Ridged and curved, the dark purple shaft pulses with every beat of his heart.

His skin is smooth there, like mine. No scales except for a splatter at the base. Small frilly protrusions decorate the upper part of his shaft alternating between raised bumps that form a line straight to his tip.

He’s already slick with arousal, the evidence of his desire for me clear and evident. I swallow hard, my body throbbing with a need so intense it’s overwhelming. I push myself up further, my gaze never leaving him as he climbs onto the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he’s afraid he might startle me.

But I’m not startled. I’m entranced. I’m eager. I reach out, my fingers grazing his cheek, his jaw, tracing the line of his neck down to his shoulder. His scales are warm, almost feverish, and I can feel the tremor that runs through him at my touch.

Tovan leans into my hand. “Lira’an,” he rasps, “Are you sure?”

In response, I lie back, pulling him with me. His body covers mine, his weight a delicious pressure that sends shivers of pleasure coursing through me. I can feel him, hard and hot, against my thigh, but he makes no move to rush, to claim. Instead, he presses his lips to mine. Still unsure of what to do, he rests them against mine before he kisses me, slow and deep.

I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back, urging him on. I can feel his length, slick and hot, pressing against my entrance, but still, he waits. His hand cups my face, his thumb brushing gently against my cheekbone.

“Tovan,” I whisper against his lips, “Please.”

With a groan, he shifts his hips, the head of his length pressing against my entrance. He’s slow, so slow, as if he’s savoring every second, every inch. I gasp as he pushes into me. Just an inch and yet it feels like he’s already filling me, stretching me, the sensation overwhelming and exhilarating all at once.

He pauses, his body trembling with restraint, as he gazes down at me. “Is this…am I hurting you?”

“Not enough.”

He pauses, a strange look coming over his face as he reaches up and taps his ear. I think it’s because he hasn’t heard me, so I shake my head instead, my hands sliding up his arms to grip his shoulders. “You feel,” I whisper, “...incredible.”

A shudder runs through him at my words, and he starts to move, his thrusts short and slow. He’s watching me, studying my reactions, adjusting his movements to draw out every gasp, every moan. It’s as if he’s learning me, memorizing me, with every stroke. “You’re so perfect. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oh, but he’s making me ache. Making me ache for something I’d convinced myself I couldn’t have.

I arch into him, my body meeting his, urging him deeper and Tovan stiffens, a strange look going across his face before he bares his fangs and growls deep in his throat.

“Lira’an,” he warns. Funny. I’ve never felt such power before. Not like this.

“I won’t break.”

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