Page 21 of Star Marked Warriors

No, not like seven-feet-tall Kaelum-type guys, but six-foot Morris kind of guys, who worked out and were what a college friend had once referred to as “alphaholes.”

Guys who ate all red meat and made fun of vegetarians.

Guys who were sometimes a little pushy, and while that was exactly what I wanted in some ways, they always seemed to take it too far. I wanted a guy who said, “Let’s have Mexican food for dinner,” when I was having trouble making a decision, and instead I got guys who said, “Go buy me Mexican food for dinner.”

And there was Kaelum, saying, “Let me give you an orgasm, taking nothing for myself.”

Yeah, consent was a mess in this situation.

No, I hadn’t been given another choice than to be here.

But you know what? He was asking. And when I had said no, he’d taken his hand off me and asked permission instead of pushing me, and wheedling, and trying to make me feel guilty for saying no.

Plus, you know, he was right. I was pretty hard up. In my way and his.

Agreeing to sex wasn’t agreeing to a marriage proposal. And it would be a good test, too, wouldn’t it? To see if he meant it when he said he only wanted to learn about me, and not push and push until he got his way, and I let him fuck me.

So, still biting my lip, I took his hand and pulled it between my legs again. His fingers spread, and I pushed up into the flat of his palm. It was huge and hot against my cock, and just that much friction would do the job.

“Okay,” I whispered on a breath, and the second I did, his hand disappeared from me. I groaned, my head flopping back against the ridiculously luxurious bed. “Oh my god, what—”

That was when he reached up and peeled my boxer briefs off me.

I sucked in a breath, as though it were cold or shocking, when it was neither. It was warm, almost tropical—we were practically outside, after all. And I’d given him permission to—

Oh holy hell.

What the hell was he... ?

I looked down to where he was, his enormous body between my splayed legs, as he licked his way up my cock. His tongue was—it was like a cat’s. Okay, not quite like a cat’s, when it was so wet and soft, but there was a hint of that sticky, rough and ridged feel as he licked his way up the sensitive skin on the underside of my cock, and the incredible drag against my skin made my eyes roll back into my head.

Oh my god.

That was not a possible sensation.

He left a tingle behind, too, like the feeling when I ate a piece of fresh pineapple.

My out-of-control brain remembered something about that happening because pineapples had digestive enzymes in them, and it made a wild kind of sense. Digestive enzymes in saliva. Sure, why not?

But if it was going to damage me, his mother would have warned me about it, right? She sure hadn’t seemed damaged, and there must be some bonus to having to sleep with a terse guy like the king.

A bonus like a textured tongue that made you tingly literally everywhere.

In the worst BJ manners ever, I whined and arched up into him. It had been too long since I’d had anything but my own hand on my cock, and that tongue was just utter perfection. I needed more of it. Needed that tiny bit of texture and little tingle.

Kaelum didn’t gag or pull back and give me an unimpressed glare. No, instead, he looked up into my eyes, as though checking for a response. At my slack-jawed moan, his eyes twinkled, and he made a noise in his chest that vibrated his whole body.

And that was it. I didn’t even have time to warn him I was going to come when electricity zinged into me, surging white-hot and liquid through my whole body, making me arch up again with a whimper that ended in a squeak when he sucked at me—not only unoffended by the lack of warning, but determined to drain every last drop of come from my balls.

Shortest blowjob ever, but also... best.

I lay there, panting and staring up at the ceiling, and Kaelum’s self-satisfied face came into view. “That was effective?”

Even as smug as he looked, there was a hint of something else in his voice. Something not so supremely confident. So I planted my hands on his cheeks and pulled him in for a kiss.

That tongue was no less strange in my mouth than on my dick, just the tiniest bit rough against my own as I swept in and tasted myself in his mouth, and the similarities to the tingle of pineapple were even sharper, there on my lips.

I’d always liked pineapple.

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