Page 39 of Alien Mine

If that wasn’t a challenge, she’d never heard one. She raked her fingernails down his chest, hard enough to pleasure, not hard enough to draw blood. “Why ever not?”

He groaned into her hair and his erection bobbed against her tummy. “You’re not ready for me.”

“Well, now,” she teased gently. “That depends on whatyou’re offering.”

Dyuvad pushed her onto her back and slid on top of her, and captured her mouth in a hungry kiss before she could catch her next breath, before she could do more than return what he was giving in full measure. He was deliciously heavy on top of her, his mouth greedy and demanding, devouring her in rough slides of his lips and tongue as his hips rocked against hers and heated passion burst into her, fully formed.

Oh, it was good to be held again, good to be loved. Good for the man doing the loving to be so strong and good and kind, and sexy as sin to boot. Dyuvad could have any woman he wanted. He’d had his pick that day at the beach, probably had all his life, and likely would again.

Yet he wanted her, a single mom with nothing to offer but a whole lot of work on a rundown farm.

He eased his hips off hers and slid a finger under the elastic of her panties, into her core. She drew back on a gasp, breaking their kiss, and arched her hips into the easy thrusting. “Dyuvad, please.”

“You don’t have to beg, beauty,” he said, and his finger slid out, leaving her bereft and empty. A moment later, he wrapped his hand around her panties and yanked them down, and was on top of her again, pressing her into the bed, his muscled body heavy and warm and right. “Tell me to stop.”

She dug her fingernails into his back and wiggled her hips, sliding the head of his erection along her wet heat. “Not on your life, mister.”

And he laughed softly and pressed his hips forward, slowly easing into her. “I live to serve.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Serving me?”

“Yes,” he said simply, and thrust a final time, fully seating himself inside her. “You feel so good, so…”

His next words were low murmurs in a vaguely familiar language, whispered between soft kisses pressed to her forehead, her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. He moved against her, gliding his erection in and out of her core, and she moved with him, silentlyurging him to take what little she had to give, to take it and build it into something new and wondrously heady, something bright and alive and molten.

To take the fire licking her skin and feed it until it scorched them both.

Together, they rose along a writhing flame, higher and higher, faster and harder, consuming each other in a desperate headlong rush. Rachel’s hands slid along Dyuvad’s sweat-slicked back, grappling for purchase. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched her back, and hung on the precipice of release as he thrust into her over and over again, his breath a panting moan against her skin.

And because he was there, because he was pleasuring her so well and she needed more, so much more of him than she’d ever dreamed, she squeezed her muscles around him and bit his throat, sucking his salt-glazed skin into her mouth. He groaned and quickened his pace, pounding into her, wild and gloriously hard, and she burst into a million burning pieces and moaned her release into his throat, and lost herself in his unfettered passion.

His hips thrust against hers once, twice, three times in rapid succession, then his own release throbbed into her, filling her, and he slowed and finally stilled. “Beauty,” he murmured, a reverent whisper full of wonder and need. “Let me clean you.”

She tightened her limbs around him, holding him in place. “Not yet. I want to feel you inside me for a while more.”

“Just for a while,” he agreed, and slid to the side, still ensconced in her heat, taking her with him. She placed her palm over the unsteady thrum of his heart and drifted into sleep wrapped within Dyuvad’s strong embrace.

Rachel woke to an empty bed and a brightly lit room. She frowned at the rumpled pillow resting so innocently beside her own. When a man loved a woman as good as Dyuvad had loved her, he ought to stick around for the aftermath, oughtn’t he?

That was simple common courtesy.

She flopped over onto her back and glared at the shadows drifting across the white plaster ceiling. Maybe where Dyuvad came from, a man could get away with leaving a woman’s bed before she was ready for him to. Didn’t mean he could get away with it here.

Rachel flung the covers back and slithered out of bed, grabbed fresh clothes and a towel and plodded into the bathroom. A quick shower later, she dressed and brushed her teeth, and stalked into the kitchen, her mood not one whit lighter for completing the simple routine.

Dyuvad was propped against a counter, coffee cup in hand, listening to Kelly natter away about the solar system while Tiny tried to shove half a waffle into her pint-sized mouth. He glanced up at Rachel when she entered, then lifted his cup, hiding a small, knowing grin behind a sip.

A wave of something warm and alive flooded through her, heating her cheeks. Rachel glanced away. Talk about lighting a bulb from ten feet away. If he kept that up, she’d have to send the girls over to Fate’s so she could drag Dyuvad back to bed.

And didn’t that just make her a shameless hussy.

She bit her lower lip, stifling her own smile, and slid into a chair at the table next to Kelly. “Morning, Sunshine.”

Kelly leaned over and brushed a sloppy kiss across Rachel’s cheek. “Morning, Mama. We done did the chores already.”

“Did you, now?” Rachel cupped a hand over her eldest’s shiny hair. My, how they grew up. This one seemed determined to grow a bit too fast, but what could a mother do to stop the inevitable? “What about the milking?”

Tiny dropped a sticky fork into her half-full plate and jabbered away in her made up language, all smiles and bouncing curls.

---