Page 55 of Marked By the Bounty Hunter

“Perfect,” Tyrix finished, dismissing Mahra with a polite nod.

As soon as we were alone, I turned to him. “How did you even find this place?”

“Came here once, years ago,” he said, gazing out at the endless expanse of sea. “On a job tracking a dealer in stolen artifacts. Always wanted to come back… properly.”

I joined him at the window, letting the view wash over me. After so many years in cramped station corridors and grimy spaceports, the vast openness felt almost unreal.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He turned to me, tracing the purple markings that now adorned my skin—mirror images of his own. His satisfaction at seeing his claiming marks on me rippled through our bond, mingling with emotions he still struggled to express.

“You’re welcome.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “Now, shall we see what else this place has to offer?”

I grinned, already spotting the massive bathing chamber through an archway. “Oh, I have some ideas...”

The garden’smist settled on my skin like whispered promises as Tyrix’s knuckles grazed the side of my throat. “You seemedimpressed by the pool,” he said, tracing the neckline of my flight suit. “But you’re overdressed for the occasion.”

A shiver chased his fingers downward. “Funny. Last time I checked, you skipped basic pilot uniforms in favor of ‘strategic nudity.’“ My breath snagged as his teeth caught the zipper’s pull.

“Complaining?” The zipper hissed open, inch by excruciating inch. His mouth followed, tongue glancing over the hollow above my collarbone. “Your pulse says otherwise.”

The suit peeled away in stages—each brush of his calloused palms against newly bared skin a fresh argument against coherence. When he reached my waistband, he paused, breath humid against my navel. “Was this your plan when you booked the suite?”

Sunlight fractured through the floating waterfall beyond the pool’s edge as his teeth scraped the sensitive dip of my hip. Through our bond, I tasted his reply before he spoke—dark and syrupy, the way pleasure felt against closed eyelids.

“Optimism,” he corrected, mouth migrating south. The suit pooled at my ankles. “With—” a lick along the inside of my thigh “—thorough—” teeth grazing the tendon there “—research.”

My knees buckled against the polished stone bench as he dragged me down. The air smelled of chlorine and alien ferns as his hands caged my hips. “Should’ve requisitioned cushions,” I managed, fingers twisting in his hair.

His chuckle vibrated against me. “You want comfort now?”

The first swipe of his tongue stole my retort. Every nerve ignited—lightning strikes following fault lines I hadn’t known existed. His rhythm built like hyperspace coordinates, nonsensical fragments coalescing into devastating clarity. I dug my heels into the bench’s edge, the friction grounding me even as the world splintered.

“Look at you...” His words dissolved into open-mouthed kisses. “Like tharla nectar spiked with starlight. All those smugjabs and now—” a deliberate swirl “—you’re biting your wrist to stay quiet.”

The orgasm coiled sudden and vicious, body arching like a snapped tether. “Ty?—!”

“Finally.” He held me through the convulsions, relentless, until the stars behind my eyelids erupted into novas. My throat burned raw—had I screamed? The resort’s ambient music swallowed the sound, leaving only the wet click of his tongue against his lips as he pulled back.

The stone bench bit into my knees, but the discomfort evaporated when Tyrix’s gaze locked onto mine. Herosi oil and salt clung to his skin—that particular musk I’d learned to crave during long jumps between sectors. My fingers trembled against his belt clasp.

“Eager?” His smirk didn’t reach his eyes, too busy drinking in the way my thighs glistened.

“Compensating.” The buckle gave way. “For your earlier... thoroughness.”

His snort dissolved into a sharp inhale as I peeled the fabric down. The scent of him hit me first—musky and primal, edges softened by the resort’s floral breeze. I nuzzled the wiry hair at the base, savoring his twitch against my cheek. “All this planning,” I murmured against heated skin, “and you still forgot the hover cushions.”

His hand fisted in my hair. “You’re—ah—still talking.”

The first lick stole his sarcasm. His hips jerked upward, the thick vein along his shaft pulsing against my tongue. Through our bond came fractured images—my mouth glowing faintly violet where his pre-come smeared my lips, the way my nails bit crescent moons into his thighs.

“Stars’ breath, Nal...” His curse tangled with the waterfall’s distant crash as I took him deeper. Salt burst across my tongue with each bob of my head, his groans harmonizing with thecreak of stressed stone beneath us. When his fingers tightened warningly, I pulled back with a wet pop.

“Tharla nectar, was it?” I swiped my thumb across his leaking tip. “You taste like smuggled zorian rum—all heat and poor decisions.”

He yanked me upward, mouth claiming mine in a kiss that shared his flavor. “You want poor decisions?”

The world tilted as he flipped us, my spine meeting sun-warmed stone. His cock pressed against my entrance, both of us shuddering at the contact. “I want,” I growled, arching up, “to watch you unravel.”

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