Page 58 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, Rekkgar, please.”
He doesn’t hesitate.
He tears the lace away with a single rip, tossing it to the floor like it offends him. Then he drops to his knees—on his knees, between my thighs, his massive body dwarfed only by the intensity in his gaze as he hooks my knees over his shoulders and leans in.
The first stroke of his tongue makes me sob.
“Fuck,” I whimper, my head falling back. “Rekk—oh—gods—Rekkgar!”
He growls against my pussy, the vibration sending a fresh jolt of pleasure straight to my core. His tongue works with devastating precision—broad licks, sharp flicks, little circles that make my thighs tremble and my hips buck. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even slow when I come, writhing on the countertop, crying out his name as my orgasm crashes over me like a rogue wave.
He holds me through it, licking me gently as I shudder, then presses a kiss to my inner thigh and looks up with eyes that glow with something dark and beautiful.
“You taste better than anything I’ve ever cooked,” he murmurs. “Better than any victory.”
I pull him up by the front of his tunic and kiss him again, tasting myself on his lips. My hands scramble to undo the magnetic clasps across his chest, each one popping open with a hiss until the tunic falls away, revealing hard muscle, dark scales, and a constellation of old scars.
“Gods, you’re beautiful,” I breathe, my palms trailing down his chest, over the slash of scar tissue that rakes across his ribs. “Every inch.”
He growls again,low and trembling, and fumbles at his waistband. I help, my hands shaking with anticipation as I bare him.
And then I see it—his cock, thick, long, ridged with the same faint red markings as the rest of his body. My breath catches.
“Will I fit?” I ask, half-teasing, half-terrified.
His eyes darken. “I’ll make you fit.”
And then he kisses me again—rougher now, more desperate—before positioning himself between my thighs. He slides the thick head of his cock through my folds, groaning as it catches on my still-sensitive clit. I gasp, my nails digging into his back.
“Ready?” he asks, his voice raw.
I nod. “Yes. Fuck me, Rekkgar.”
He pushes in.
Slow. So slow. Stretching me inch by inch until I think I’ll shatter. I whimper, my head falling back, my mouth open as he fills me completely.
“Oh… gods,” I gasp. “You’re—fuck—you’re so big.”
“You’re perfect,” he growls, his forehead pressed to mine. “So tight. So wet. Ruby, fuck, I can’t?—”
He thrusts.
Hard.
I cry out, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist as he fucks me in deep, punishing strokes that send sparks flying behind my eyes. The prep counter shakes. The spice jars fall. Somewhere in the distance, something shatters.
I don’t care.
“Harder,” I beg. “Don’t hold back.”
He doesn’t.
He slams into me, every thrust rocking my body, every growl making my pussy clench tighter around him. His cybernetic eye flares red, and he cups my face like I’m breakable even as he pounds into me like he’s coming undone.
“I’ve wanted this,” he gasps, “so long—so fucking long—Ruby?—”
“Me too,” I sob, tears spilling over. “I’ve wanted you—every day—every fucking day?—”
