Page 99 of Invasive Species
“That too, but I think that’s the left one.” I skim my fingers over my skin, wishing for it to be Gara’s huge hand swirling around my breast before hovering my fingers over my pebbled nipple.
A moan rips from him. If he’s this heated already just seeing me on display for him, he’s going to cream his pants by the time I get to the main course.
Licking my lips, I stop fucking around and squeeze my nipple, pretending it’s a precise pinch with his fingers as I twist back and forth. The pleasure-pain melds into the storm gathering between my legs, and I have to press my thighs together briefly.
“Good,” Gara pants, slack jawed. “You like that.”
“I do,” I whisper, leaning back. Once I’m lying flat on the toasty jello, I say, “I’m imagining you behind my back, enveloping me from behind.”
“Yes,” he says, voice low and rough. “I’d hold you in my arms, hands on your breasts.”
“And I’d rub myself just like this…” I grind backward, but instead of the hard scaled surface of his honed torso pressing against my ass, I sink deeper into the jello. I arch my back, ass in the air to free it, and my legs and shoulders settle lower into the bed instead.
Gara makes a choking noise, and I lift my head to grin at him. His legs are shaking, scales strobing red to green like demented Christmas lights.
“Teasing you is kind of fun,” I admit.
“I’d teaseyou,” Gara promises. “Arra-bellah, I want to see you touch yourself the way you like.”
Ah, well. I need a heavy vibration to get enough clit stimulation to come, but my Magic Wand is back at Ellen’s farm, hopefully well-hidden and not just under the covers like always. I can get myself off lying on my front using a fist and my bodyweight, but it’s not the visual feast I want to bestow on Gara.
I move my hands to my pussy… or try to. I’ve sunk so deep into the orange-soda colored substance that I can’t move my arms fast at all, and it’s like trying to push through treacle.
I gulp. I’ve had nightmares like this, where I can’t move from my bed and run from whatever’s chasing me, but I’m awake and aroused and I can’t do anything about it.
“Um, Gara?”
“Arra-bellah,” he pants.
“I’m stuck.”
“Then we’ll get you out of the nutrient-bed…” His face turns mischievous, and there’s a whole other beautiful side to Gara that I immediately want to fuck and paint, preferably both together like before in a fuckpaint session lasting many, many hours. He looks like a trickster god. “Unless you want to stay like that?”
“Gara, I need you.”
He snaps into all business. “I’ll get you out?—”
“Gara, I want to come.” There’s a needy whine to myvoice. It’s kind of hot, kind of frustrating, and it fuels the knot of heat growing in my midsection.
“Then let’s free you and you may do so.”
“But I want you inside me.” Where’s this coming from? I’m not shy about my needs, but even I know this is a bit much.
Even though it’s the truth.
I know intuitively I need Gara in order to be safe, whole and well, as if he can work magic and make everything go away. But I could be on my deathbed and likely to die any heartbeat away, and I’d still take the risk, not because I’m thinking with my pussy and desperate for an orgasm, but because Iknow.
Gara’s my cure.
“Please!” I beg.
THIRTY-TWO
GARA
The sob tearingfrom her throat sends all caution straight out of my brain. She needs me, she needs me, she needs me.
I have to cure her.
