Page 29 of Alien Prince's Fake Bride
The simple words, the touch of his hands, the sheer relief of being out of that terrifying place, all coalesce into a wave of emotion. Gratitude washes over me, so profound it steals mybreath. And beneath the gratitude, a different kind of warmth begins to bloom, a response to his nearness, his strength, the undeniable pull I feel towards him.
His presence is overwhelming, and now he’s directing all his power towards making me feel better. What a leader he must be!
I lean into his touch, my eyes drifting closed. I’m sure I can feel my heart rate drop from the closeness. The scent of him, a mix of acrid smoke from that gun turret, and something uniquely his own, fills my senses. The image of his powerful form flashes in my mind, silhouetted against the chaotic lightning, with his tentacles waving. It’s no longer terrifying but strangely compelling. He faced that raw power to save me. That was insanely risky. Those bolts would have killed him as easily as me. By all rights, he should have left me to my self-inflicted fate.
But he didn’t.
A deep sense of connection, forged in fear and rescue, blossoms within me. I want to be closer, to express the overwhelming emotions swirling inside. I shift, my knees pressing into the soft cushioning of the bed. I reach up and find the strong, thick column of his neck. My thumbs trace the sharp angle of his jaw.
The light in the cabin slowly dims until I can see the starry sky outside the skylight.
The tentacle crown above his brow pulsates with a soft light, deep red. My lips part, and I lean forward, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between us, to show him the depth of my gratitude, the stirring of something more profound.
His breath hitches as my lips near his. His hands tighten on my jaw, then slide down to cup the back of my neck, his thumbs pressing gently into the sensitive skin there. The crimson inhis eyes burns with an intensity that mirrors the heat rising within me. He lowers his head slightly, meeting my gaze with an unspoken question.
But I get it. And the answer is,hell yes. Go for it.
I answer by tilting my head further, making my intention clear. A low groan rumbles in his chest as he understands. His grip on my neck shifts and guides me closer. The firm tips of his long, supple tendrils brush against my forehead as my lips finally meet his. It's a soft, hesitant touch at first, a silent acknowledgment of the moment. Then, with a shared intake of breath, the kiss deepens. His mouth opens slightly, and I part my own in response, a silent invitation.
The air between us crackles with a different kind of energy now, a tangible desire that eclipses the memory of that nightmarish room. His tongue traces my lower lip, and a shiver runs down my spine. I deepen the kiss further, my hands sliding from his neck to stroke the colorful tentacles and take gentle hold of them to pull him closer still.
“Ask your sword,” I rasp, “if she’s gassing us again.”
“I’m not gassing anyone,”the sword replies before she translates my question. “That was a one-time thing, and Mareliux knows why I had to. If I hadn’t, you might be lying in medbay right now, your brain burned out forever from the shock of suddenly experiencing Syntrix. I’ll shut up now.”
The kiss is electric, but in good way, like a spark that ignites the smoldering heat in my core. Mareliux’s lips are firm yet yielding, tasting of spice and something wild, untamed. His tentacles pulse under my fingers, their soft glow casting faint red shadowsacross the bed, mingling with the starlight streaming through the skylight above.
The starry expanse outside feels like a mirror to the vast, uncharted desire unfurling within me. I’m not afraid anymore — not of him, not of this alien strangeness. I know what he can do to me, how he can make my body sing, and that knowledge makes me bold.
I pull back just enough to catch my breath, my hands sliding down his broad chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his smooth, indigo skin. His eyes, crimson and molten, track my every move, hungry but patient, waiting for my lead.
“Mareliux,” I murmur, my voice thick with want, “I need you.”
The words are raw, unguarded, and they seem to undo him. Another low growl rumbles in his throat, and his tentacles quiver as their tips brush my shoulders like a lover’s caress.
He moves with deliberate slowness, his hands finding the hem of my shirt. “May I?” he asks, his voice a velvet growl that sends shivers down my spine.
I nod, lifting my arms, and he peels the fabric away, exposing my skin to the cool air of his cabin. My bra follows, then my pants, until I’m bare before him, my body humming with anticipation. The starlight bathes me in silver, and his gaze drinks me in, reverent yet ravenous.
“You’re exquisite,” he says, and there’s no mistaking the lust in his tone, tempered by that careful consideration I’ve come to trust.
His hands roam my body, tracing the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist, learning me all over again. His touch is firmer now,more confident, as if he’s memorized the map of my pleasure from last night and intends to chart it even better.
I lie back on the bed, the soft sheets cool against my heated skin. Mareliux sheds his boots and pants and follows, his large frame looming over me. But there’s no fear, only a thrilling curiosity, a need to feel him again. His lips find my collarbone, kissing a slow path down to my breasts. His tongue flicks over one nipple, teasing it to a tight peak, while a tentacle curls around the other, its tip pulsing with a gentle suction that makes me gasp. He’s learned me, all right — every touch is precise, deliberate, designed to drive me wild.
His mouth moves lower, trailing kisses across my stomach. His tentacles fan out to explore. One slides along my inner thigh, its smooth, flexible tip teasing the sensitive skin there, while another brushes the curve of my butt, sending sparks of pleasure through me. I spread my legs, inviting him closer, and he doesn’t hesitate. His lips find my pussy, warm and wet, his tongue lapping at my clit with a slow, deliberate rhythm that makes my hips buck.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan, my hands fisting the sheets as he works me.
His tentacles are everywhere now, moving with a dexterity that borders on magical. One slips inside me, thick and sinuous, curling against that perfect spot that makes my vision blur. Another wraps around my clit, pulsing in time with his tongue, amplifying every sensation. He’s better than last time, more attuned to my body, knowing exactly how to build the pressure. A third tentacle teases my entrance, sliding in alongside the first, stretching me just enough to make me whimper with need.
His fingers join the fray, one circling my clit while his mouth sucks gently, the combined assault of tongue, fingers, andtentacles overwhelming. The starlight above blurs as my body tenses, the pleasure coiling tighter, sharper, than before. He’s relentless, his tentacles moving in perfect sync, stroking and pulsing, driving me toward the edge with a precision that feels almost unfair. I grab at his head. My fingers tangle in his tentacles, and they pulse brighter, as if my touch fuels his own desire.
“Mareliux, I’m—oh, God?—”
The words dissolve into a scream as the orgasm hits, a tidal wave of ecstasy that rips through me. My body shakes, my pussy clenches around his tentacles, and my hips jerk wildly as I come harder than I ever have, the pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. I’m screaming his name and my voice echoes in the cabin, raw and unrestrained.
He doesn’t stop. His tongue and tentacles guide me through every shudder, every pulse, until I’m a trembling, gasping mess.
