When She Belongs: A SciFi Alien Romance (A Risdaverse Tale Book 4)

by Ruby Dixon

  She looks up at me with shining eyes, and to my surprise, her hands go to my belt.

  My cock, already aching, stiffens to new heights. Her hands are so close, her scent so musky and enticing… "What are you doing, Sophie?" I reach out and gently card my fingers through her soft hair. It was up earlier, and now it falls down around her shoulders like a dark cloud. It's beautiful. She's beautiful.

  She leans into my caress, closing her eyes and pressing her cheek against my palm. "I missed you today."

  When I was but a short distance away? My chest hurts from all the feelings that threaten to pour out. "My cousin is…enthusiastic."

  Sophie turns her face, nuzzling against my hand, her lips pressing against my skin. "I don't want to think about her for the rest of the night."

  Me either.

  "Come to bed," she tells me. Her hands move to the clasp of my belt, and then she flicks the switch. The belt loosens and slithers, retracting. Sophie touches the auto-fastener on my trou next, her hand grazing over my cock.

  I freeze.

  Sophie does, too. She looks up at me, her lips parted, her breathing fast. "Can I…look at you?"

  I groan. "Have you not looked yet, then?" I have memorized the folds of her pretty cunt and the curve of her hips. The images will haunt me for the rest of my days, imagining my fingers against their softness.

  She shakes her head, biting her lip. "I didn't want to be impolite. Didn't want to look unless I was invited." Sophie presses her mouth against my palm again, her touch feathery-soft.

  "I'm yours," I murmur. "Do what you like with me."

  Sophie looks up at me, her eyes shining, and she tugs on my unfastened trou, pulling them down. "I told myself tonight was just going to be kisses. Deep kisses. But then I thought about you and…" Her palms flatten against my hips. "I wanted to touch you, too. Is that okay?"

  As if there would ever be a situation in which I would refuse. "You know I would love your touch. But only if you are ready."

  Shifting on the bed, Sophie glances up at me. "I feel pretty ready right now. I'm all aching and turned on at the thought of being with you tonight, even if I'm the only one touching myself." She leans in and slides my trou all the way down my thighs, and then she's face to face with my cock. Her gaze locks onto it, onto the four piercings that stud the head, then the two that stud the base, one on top, underneath my spur, one underneath, next to my sac. She gazes at me, breathless, and her fingers flutter in the air close to my skin, as if she wants to touch me but hesitates.

  "You don't have to," I murmur. "If you just want to look, I understand." The way she stares at me is making me hard as a metal pipe. Even now, pre-cum wets the head of my cock, gliding down my skin, just from her stare.

  Instead of backing away, Sophie reaches out and traces one small fingertip along a vein on the underside of my shaft. I nearly choke with the pleasure of it and force myself to remain still as she touches me. "Your cock doesn't look like a human cock."

  That deflates some of my pleasure. I glance down at my cock, and it looks as it ever has. "This is bad?"

  "Oh, no." Her cheeks flush. "No, you're different in good ways." Her finger continues to tease up and down that vein, petting it.

  "In what ways?" I am curious now…curious and utterly aroused.

  "Well, you're blue." She chuckles, and the throaty sound makes my body twitch in response. "And you have a spur, which is new. And you have these." She runs a fingertip over the stud of one of my crown-piercings, sending waves of lust through me. "Which, human men have them, too. It's just not as common. I've never seen one before." She glances up at me, smiling. "And now I'm seeing a lot of them all in one spot." Before I can grunt a response, her fingers graze over the shaft of my cock. "You have these ridges…kind of like on your nose, but not." She licks her lips, fascinated as she touches one and then another, and it takes everything I have not to move a muscle. "I bet they feel good, though. So good."

  A groan slips from my throat.

  "And you're so big." Her voice is achingly soft. "Like, I knew you were big anyhow, but seeing you up close like this and touching you just reminds me how big you are."

  My arousal dims. I don't want her thinking I'm too big. Big can be frightening, and I don't want her to be scared of me. "I would never harm you."

  "I know." Sophie looks up at me with shining eyes. Her fingers rub back and forth on my skin. "You're soft here, too. You feel like suede. It makes me want to pet you everywhere."

  I pant, my hands closing into helpless fists at my sides. "I…am glad you like it. I want to please you."

  "You do," she tells me in that low, sweet voice. And before I can say anything else, her fingers curl around my shaft, and she leans in and swipes the tip of her tongue across the head of my cock, an utterly mischievous expression on her face.

  It takes everything I have not to come in that moment. I close my eyes, picturing my seed splattering all over her face, and I shake with the need for control. "Sophie."

  "Shhh," she whispers, her breath hot on my cock. "I'm learning so much about you right now. Let me keep going."

  As if I would ever ask her to stop? I am many things, but I am no fool.

  50

  SOPHIE

  I feel totally empowered and in control as I flick my tongue over the head of Jerrok's cock, tasting his seed. It tastes pretty much the same no matter the race, I've learned, but there's something about Jerrok that makes me enjoy this. It's clear he didn't expect me to do any of this—I'm not sure I expected to do this myself—but now that I'm touching him, I'm having far too much fun to stop.

  He's just so expressive and responsive. He acts like my touch is a gift, not an obligation. He has this look of surprise on his face when I put my hands on him, and I love that look. I love surprising him. I love caressing him. I love pleasing him. Kisses can wait a bit longer. For now, he's been so good to me and helped me so much that I want to do this to please him.

  Well, if I'm being honest with myself, it's not just for him. It's for me, too.

  I love that feeling of being in control, of being the one responsible for his pleasure. I know I could stop right now and he wouldn't pressure me to continue. He'd suffer with an aching erection and focus totally on me, because that's who Jerrok is as a person. He's all rough and grumbly on the outside, and an absolute marshmallow on the inside.

  And marshmallows deserve to be nibbled on, darn it.

  So I lean in, pressing my lips to the head of his cock and wetting my mouth with his pre-cum. He sucks in a startled breath that makes me want to do more, and I dart my tongue out, licking him. I swirl the tip around the head of his cock, learning his piercings even as I pleasure him. I'm not sure why he's got four studded like a compass, but I find it fascinating and sexy, just like the rest of him. I grip his shaft and press my lips down his length with hot, open-mouthed little kisses. He's velvety soft over steel, hard and hot and yet so, so pettable. It's a shame that the mesakkah are so enthusiastically into plas-film for everything and—

  Shit.

  I look up at him, horrified. "Oh god. Should I be using plas-film?"

  "What?" His voice is hoarse. Jerrok opens his eyes to give me a dazed look. "For what?"

  "On your cock." I give his length a little squeeze with my fingers. "What about germs—"

  "Kef the germs," he mutters, shaking his head. "Don't stop. You're perfect…"

  Preening with pride, I lower my head and flick my tongue at the piercing nestled on the underside of his cock, against his sac. He lets out a grunt—or more like a “guh”—as I do. I let myself experiment with touching him, tracing each ridge with fascination, caressing the head, and learning his spur. It feels different than I thought it would, more like the cartilage of an ear, but slightly harder. He doesn't seem to flip out when I touch it, so it must not be similar to a clit.

  The head of him is too big to fit comfortably in my mouth, especially with the piercings, so I focus on licking and teasing, then
sucking at the tip as I work his shaft with my grip. He's very quiet as I lavish his cock with attention, and after a few moments, I notice that it's a little too quiet. I want to know that he likes what I'm doing. I want to hear his breath stutter.

  I want to hear him call me his good girl.

  I look up at him, lapping at the tip of his cock. His face is rigid with stress, his mouth pressed into a thin line. His hands are fists at his side, and he holds himself so, so tightly.

  My poor Jerrok.

  "Why won't you look at me?" I ask softly.

  He heaves a labored breath and then, ever so slowly, moves his head down to watch me. His neck is corded and taut, as if it's taking all his willpower not to move. As our eyes meet, I flick my tongue over the head of his cock again, as if I'm licking an ice cream. His nostrils flare.

  "Should I stop?" I ask. I've been enjoying myself, and in more ways than one. My panties are soaked and I'm squirming even as I sit at the edge of the bed and pleasure him. I want more than anything to keep going…but I also need to make sure that this is all right with him. His lack of response is starting to kill my enjoyment, though. One-sided pleasure is no pleasure at all.

  "I just…" His throat works as he swallows. There's such intense hunger in his eyes that it takes my breath away. "I don't want to scare you."

  "Scare me?" I lick him again, teasing deliberately, and his eyes flare with need. Oh, I like that response. It makes me clench my thighs tighter as my core pulses.

  "Because…I need you so much." His hands flex again, and one of them creaks.

  For some reason, that small noise fills me with all kinds of endearment for him. Is he holding back because he's afraid of scaring me with his need? That's so sweet…and completely understandable. I've been so afraid of everything for the last while, and now I finally feel like I'm becoming myself again. He doesn't know that, though, because I haven't said it to him. So he's being cautious and judging from his clenched fists, is waiting for me to panic so he can withdraw.

  It makes me ache even more for him. Not just because of who he is, but because he's so thoughtful. So I take his hand in mine, uncurling his fist, and then place it in my hair. "I want you to touch me," I tell him softly. "I need you to show me how much you like when I pleasure you, because I like it. It feeds my arousal, too. I love hearing your breath catch. I love hearing you call out my name." I lean in and rub my face against his cock, like a kitten, and glance up at him. "And if I want to stop or I'm scared, I'll tell you. I promise."

  "You…want me to touch you?"

  "More than anything," I whisper.

  His hand creaks again as it tightens in my hair, and I fight back a little moan. Oh god, yes. That's exactly what I want.

  "This…doesn't make you feel like a slave?" he asks. "I don't want you to feel—"

  "It's different," I promise him. "This is freely given, not taken. That's the difference." I look up at him and can't resist licking the head of his cock again, letting my tongue drag against the closest piercing. "Just because I like hearing you call me a good girl doesn't mean I want to be a slave."

  He groans, his pupils blown, and he rubs at my scalp before tangling his hand in my hair again. "Did you like that?"

  I whimper, nodding, and lick his cock again frantically. "So much."

  "Because you know I'll take care of you?"

  Maybe that's it. Maybe it just emphasizes how safe I feel with him that I let him have control over me in the bedroom, just a little. I make an eager noise in my throat and suck on the head of his cock again, working his sac with my hand.

  Jerrok's voice is rough and raspy as he holds my face against his cock, sending a searing bolt of heat through my body in response. "You're so keffing pretty when you do that."

  I moan, frantically trying to take him into my mouth. I can fit the head just a little, but the piercings make me stop before getting far. Instead, I suck on the head as tightly as I can and pump his shaft once, roughly.

  He lets out a low hiss.

  "I want to make you come," I tell him eagerly. I want him to get that same release that he's given me, even if he didn't touch me. They still feel like his orgasms as well as mine, because he coached me through them. I want to share this one with him, too. I rub my face against his cock, gazing up at him. "What do you like?"

  Jerrok closes his eyes, and his hand strokes my cheek. "I like everything. Kef me, everything." His cock presses slightly against my mouth even as he says this, and I'm not even sure if Jerrok realizes what he's doing. It makes me giddy, though, and I latch onto him again, licking and sucking, my hands on his shaft as if I can somehow ignore physics and feed him all the way down my throat with sheer enthusiasm.

  I hear his breath catch, and then the taste of salt is in my mouth. I can feel him tense, his tail flicking madly behind him. "Wait," he grits out. "Do you want me—"

  I take him deeper, because I already know the answer to that question, and I suck hard.

  With a gasp, Jerrok thrusts into my mouth. He shuttles the head against my tongue, his hips jerking, and then he comes, his entire body groaning with the force of his release. His hand moves to my hair, tightening there as seed spills over my tongue and down the sides of my mouth, and I lap up as much as I can, cleaning him. I love the shudders that move through him, accompanied with a fresh wave of his taste, and when he finally pulls free from my mouth, he's panting and there's a dazed look on his face.

  I swipe at my lips, gazing up at him. I'm practically squirming in my seat, because I need to hear that I did everything right, that he liked all of it. That he's never come so hard before. I don't know when I turned into this person in constant need of praise, but when he lets out a little huff of a laugh and gives me a warm look, it feels better than anything.

  "Kef me, you're beautiful," Jerrok whispers, cupping my face in his hands. He gazes down at me with wonder, like he's never seen anything like me in his life.

  I might just become utterly addicted to that sort of look.

  He kneels on the floor in front of me, and I feel a pang of distress at the effort it takes him. I hate that his limbs are so terrible, when it's something so easily fixed with money. It's so unfair. But he kisses me with the most gentle of touches, and his eyes meet mine. "Now can I touch you?"

  51

  SOPHIE

  "You…you still want to touch me?"

  I don't know why the thought makes me so shy. Why shouldn't he touch me? I've given him pleasure, why shouldn't he turn around and give me some? But it's been so long since anyone has thought about my needs that I sometimes forget about them myself. This week has been a revelation, unlocking that sexual side of me again…and yet it's all been one-sided. For some reason, I thought I'd pleasure Jerrok, and then we'd cuddle into bed together and go to sleep.

  That he's asking for more sends a ping of alarm through me.

  Jerrok nods, stroking my hair. "I can smell just how turned on you are, Sophie. You've given me a gift; let me do the same for you."

  I hesitate.

  "You're nervous. Tell me why."

  "I don't know why," I admit. "I guess because it's different."

  "Let us talk it through. Do you think I will hurt you?" His tone is gentle, easy, his fingers stroking my hair, my neck, my cheek. It's like he can't stop touching me. "Or take advantage of you in some way?"

  I consider this. "No…"

  "Do you think that I will do something you don't like, and ignore you if you ask me to stop?"

  "No."

  "Are you worried I will maul you or bruise you?" He extends one hand and we both hear it creak loudly. "Because of these?"

  "Not at all." Greatly daring, I reach out and brush my fingers over his mouth. His lips are darkened and slightly swollen, and I realize he must have been biting them while I had his cock in my mouth. I love that. I love that my touch made him feel so good.

  "Then talk it through with me," he says, voice reasonable, gaze easy. "If it is not me you are afraid o
f, is it…yourself?"

  "It sounds silly, doesn't it?" I whisper.

  "Not at all." He runs his thumb along my jaw, then lightly touches my ear, and I lean into the caress. "I have never told anyone this, but when I first got my prosthetics…I spent two or three months seated. I did not walk unless the medical caregivers forced me to. I was afraid that they would not work right, or they would not work for me, and I did not want to get my hopes up. I did not like the way my changed body felt. It was easier to have no expectations of anything."

  I nod, pressing a kiss into his big hand. "I just…what if I don't like it?"

  "Then I will stop. It is as simple as that."

  "But…what if your touch bothers me?" A small curl of shame rises in my belly.

  "Does it bother you right now?" he asks, fingers gliding along my neck. "Or when my mouth meets yours?" When I shake my head in denial, he continues. "Then we will focus on the things that you like and go from there." He smiles at me. "We can take it one day at a time, one step at a time. If you do not want me to touch you this night, then I will not. But I wanted to ask, because I wanted you to realize how badly I want to touch you, too."

  I know he does. It's in the avid way he looks at me, the way his hands keep touching me constantly. It's in the way he calls me his good girl when I touch myself, and how he talks me through every orgasm. He lets me know that he's there with me every step of the way…so why does this feel so big and terrifying?

  I suspect it's because I'm afraid that he'll touch me, and I'll go to a bad place, and it'll ruin any hope I have of us having any sort of joy together. "Will you hate me if I don't like it?" I ask, trembling.

  "Never. Like I said, we will find things you do like and go from there. You are only as broken as you let yourself be, Sophie. It took me time to get out of my chair and to walk with my new limbs, but I did. I just had to take that first step. You do, too."

  I manage an awkward smile. "You re-learning how to walk is a very different thing than me worrying about sex."