Page 34 of Grumpy Alien Boss

"A bit of both." His smile holds secrets as he reaches into his desk drawer.

The velvet box he produces makes my breath catch. When he opens it, I gasp. A delicate silver choker gleams against black silk, but what draws my eye is the stunning red star ruby mounted at its center. The gem catches the light, sparkling with an inner fire that reminds me of Dar's true eyes.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, reaching out to touch the cool metal.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, reaching out to touch the cool metal. The ruby catches the light, its deep red glinting like liquid fire.

Dar’s voice is low, that gravelly tone that alwayse. “It’s not just a necklace. There’s an isotope embedded in the ruby that allows me to track you. The range isn’t as extensive as the Vakutan subdermal chip, but it’s more... elegant.”

I raise an eyebrow, a flicker of irritation sparking. “So, you’re putting a tracker on me now? I thought we were past the whole ‘protective alien warrior’ routine.”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming. His hand brushes my arm, heat radiating off him even through my blouse. “It’s not about control, Olivia. It’s about keeping you safe. Especially with what’s coming.”

I want to argue, but the sincerity in his eyes stops me. Instead, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Fine. But if you’re going to put a tracker on me, the least you can do is help me put it on.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a sleek, alien-looking key, its surface etched with intricate patterns that seem to shift in the light.

“Turn around,” he says, his voice soft but commanding.

I hesitate for a moment before obeying, gathering my hair up and pulling it over my shoulder. The cool metal of the choker presses against my skin as Dar positions it around my neck. There’s a quietclickas he uses the key to secure it, the sound oddly final.

I turn back to face him, my fingers brushing over the smooth metal. “How do I take it off?”

“You don’t,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He slips the key onto a chain and hangs it around his own neck, the metal glinting against his chest. “It’s not just a tracker. It’s a silent affirmation. A constant reminder that you’re mine, and that you’re pleased to obey.”

Heat floods my body, pooling low in my stomach and spreading outward. My breath hitches, the flush creeping up my neck. My fingers linger on the choker, the cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth of my skin.

“Yes, Sir,” I breathe, my voice throaty and low,. The air between us crackles with tension, and for a moment, neither of us moves.

Dar’s eyes darken, and I can see the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. His hand reaches up, his fingers brushing against the choker, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through me.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

His lips crash into mine, fierce and demanding. Papers scatter as he lifts me onto the desk, his hands gripping my thighs like iron. I barely have time to gasp before his mouth is on my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sending shivers down my spine.

“Dar—” I start, but his hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my words. His eyes blaze with that predatory intensity I’ve come to crave, and I feel myself melt under his touch.

“Quiet,” he growls, his voice low and commanding. His free hand hikes up my skirt, and with a sharp tug, my panties are pushed aside. I feel the heat of him, the throbbing length of his scaled cock pressing against me, and then he’s inside, filling me in one relentless thrust.

The sensation is overwhelming—scales flexing, stretching, driving me to the edge before I can even catch my breath. I arch into him, my hands clawing at his shirt as I scream, the sound half instinct, half desperation. His hand muffles most of it, turning it into a whimper that only seems to spur him on.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “Take it. All of it.”

I’m trembling, already on the brink, when his phone rings, the shrill tone cutting through the haze of pleasure. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t even hesitate, just reaches for the phone with his free hand, his hips still driving into me with a rhythm that leaves me shuddering.

“Rook,” he barks into the phone, his voice steady despite the way he’s buried inside me.

I bite back a moan, the sound stifled by his hand, as another wave of pleasure crashes over me. My nails dig into his arm, muscles flexing under his skin, the power of him holding me down, keeping me exactly where he wants me.

“Yes, she’s ready,” he says into the phone, his gaze locking with mine. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—pride, maybe, or possessiveness—before he adds, “Bring it around front.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone aside, and releases his grip on my mouth. My breath comes in ragged gasps as he leans down, his lips brushing against mine in a way that’s almost tender.

“Your car is ready,” he says, his voice rough with need.

I barely have time to process the words before he thrusts into me again, hard and deep, and this time I can’t hold back the scream. His hand clamps down over my mouth again, muffling the sound, and I feel him pulse inside me as he comes, his body shuddering against mine.

For a moment, we’re both still, the only sound the ragged rhythm of our breathing. Then he pulls back, his hand falling away from my mouth, and I collapse onto the desk, boneless and spent.

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