Page 64 of The Alien in the Archive

She trails off with a low moan, continuing to roll her nipples, pinching, pulling. I’m sprawled in my chair now, wishing she was here.

“I wish I was there, too,” she says, quite literally reading my mind. “Thorne…talk to me.”

“Not exactly easy to talk right now,” I mutter through clenched teeth. I’m painfully hard, needing her, longing for her,alwayslonging for her.

I growl and stand, pacing, raking a hand through my hair.

“Indulge me,” she whispers.

It nearly undoes me.

I stride through the curtain to my room, desperate to get out of my clothes. I’m suddenly too warm, when I’m nearly always cold. Her heat is radiating through me, even from miles away. I sprawl out amidst the cushions and blankets, undoing my pants…

“What would you do to me?” she breathes.

I hiss out a breath when I finally wrap my fingers around my cock, pretending it’s her touching me. The connection between us trembles and spasms. I stroke myself, and Page’s right hand crawls down her body, beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“Touch you,” I choke out, grasping my cock. “Just like that.”

Two fingers are on her clit, dragging up and down. Her lips part and she arches her back, and it’s almost like I’m in the room, because she’s picturing me there. We’re in two places at once, bouncing off each other. “What else?” she asks.

“Lick you,” I rasp. I learn what she likes as I picture her, as I live in her head for a moment. “Taste you…between your legs. I would suck on your clit, beg for you to come…”

“Oh God!”

I stop talking as I imagine it—myself, between her legs, her thighs clamped around my head. We’re floating in some dream space, a collage of her filthy fantasies, memories of ustogether, my own fantasies, newly acquired from those damnable books…

We become those covers; Page in a sinfully laced corset, her breasts pouring over the top, her skirts hitched around her waist as I lash her with my tongue. Her fingers knot in my hair, tugging hard, as hard as she’s touching herself right now. She lets out a low, throaty laugh, thrusting her hips against my face. “You’ve been doing research.”

“For you,” I reply. “For you.”

I roll over into my bed, bury my face in the pillows. I want to suffocate between her thighs, breathe her in. Her scent is still in my sheets, and I pretend it’s her cunt, clamping my teeth around the fabric.

“Thorne!” she gasps. “Fuck me…”

Her fingers slide into her cunt, thrusting deep, and my hips jerk against the blankets. My cock is still in my hand, rutting against the blankets, and in that dream space…

…I’m inside her. Inside Page, inside my mate,mine, mine…

She rides along with me, not questioning my words, fucking herself on her fingers. Obscene sounds fill the silence of her room—wet, thrusting, her cunt sucking at her fingertips. Gods, she would feel so good wrapped around me. The heat of her, the wet, devouring heat…

My hands touch her everywhere, more hands than I truly have. I’m grasping her breasts, pulling her hair, licking her clit, fucking her cunt. My fingers dig into the flesh of her ass as I pound into her, snarling into her neck, “Mine!”

She spasms around her fingers, a strangled cry echoing against the ceiling of her room. And the clench of my hand around my cock…it’s almost enough. Almost enough to convince me it’s her cunt, milking me dry.

I thrust hard against the bed as I come, cursing into the blankets, longing for her as I do every endless night. Page iswhispering my name, chanting it over and over. Her orgasm lasts a long time, and because of that, so does mine. I can’t stop touching myself, chasing satisfaction.

I go limp, breathing hard, my skin still warm. I don’t open my eyes; I want to be in that room with her, still there.

She’s still touching herself, more languid now, crawling toward another orgasm. This is normal for her, I realize; her species can climax multiple times in a row.

I picture myself lying beside her, touching her. Her grey eyes meet mine in that dream space.

“How many can you give me?” I ask.

Her lips part…another orgasm shakes her, though it’s gentler than the first. I feel it secondhand, pleasure making me groan.

“Another?”

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