Parallel Seduction

by Deidre Knight

  "Anything." He swallowed, letting his gaze rove over her gorgeous body.

  "I want you to Change."

  "My clothes?" She was confusing him with this barrage of succulent nakedness, and now this bizarre request. "Put my clothes back on? I don't understand."

  She smiled up into his face. "Your form. I want you to assume your natural Antousian one."

  Throwing both hands up, he backed away from her. "Never."

  "I need to see you, and I figured if I was naked, too, then you'd feel safe."

  Putting his back to her, he buried his head in his hands. "How can you ask that of me?"

  "Because I love you."

  "Then you wouldn't ask."

  He felt her hands slip about his waist, her firm breasts press into his back. "I'm asking it because I do love you—because I have to know everything about you. And you need to know that I accept all parts of you. All sides."

  With a cautious glance over his shoulder, he could see that she absolutely meant business. And it was strange, but he also felt a part of himself release, almost exhale—as if sharing such a hidden part of his nature was what had always been meant to be between the two of them.

  "You aren't going to like it," he threatened hoarsely. "It's not pretty at all."

  She stepped away from him, backing toward the sofa, and waved for him to continue. "I want to see you anyway."

  "This has never been me." His voice had a strange, waterfall quality, as if breaking over hard rocks.

  "But it is you, Scott. You're kneeling here right in front of me, and this is part of you." She shook her head from side to side. "You're not like most of your own people; you haven't committed genocide—to be proud of who and what you are doesn't mean that you are a part of your people's crimes."

  He hung his head, blinking his black, fathomless eyes. "I am ugly. It's what Veckus said, a monster."

  She pressed her face against his, rubbing her nose over his affectionately. "You're a beautiful man, no matter what form you take."

  Inside she'd begun to quiver oddly; to truly see Scott as the alien he was—through and through and with her own eyes—was intoxicating. Arousing. He just didn't seem to totally get his effect on her, even in this form.

  Pulling back, she saw that his naturally tan-colored skin had grown ruddy across both cheeks. So, even Antousians blushed. She lifted her hand and rubbed her fingertips over his hard jaw, over the plates that covered his facial features, tough and yet shockingly pliable, too. But his lips were what surprised her most, with their much softer sensuality—softer than any of his other harsh features. Bending forward again, she placed her lips over his, not knowing what to expect. Hell, he might have five tongues deep inside that Antousian mouth of his. But he didn't—because when he tilted his head cautiously to the side, slowly opening to her, it was no different from kissing him in his humanized form. His movements were a bit shyer and more tentative than his usual aggressive ways, perhaps, but it was just as warm, just as provocative, just as tantalizing as every other time she'd ever kissed Scott Dillon.

  Slipping her arms about his massive shoulders, she pulled his body closer to hers, and couldn't help but moan in arousal. In turn, he made an alien, low-pitched sound of desire that caused her hair to stand on end. Like his voice, it seemed to rumble from some hidden place deep within his chest. She stroked her fingertips along the back of his bare head, feeling the unusual ridge that ran down the center of it. As she caressed him that way, he began to tremble all over. Note to self, she thought, as he wrapped his powerful arms tight about her, that thick skull of his is an erogenous zone.

  "Bend down," she whispered, breaking the kiss. His black eyes narrowed.

  "I don't understand."

  She gestured with her fingers, waving him lower. "I can't reach where I want to go unless you bend down a lot lower."

  Cautiously he complied, bowing until she had a perfect bull's-eye mark for the crown of his bare head. She slid her hands along the base of his scalp and drew her lips against the top of his head, trailing her tongue and licking, like he loved in his other form, and kissing him slowly there. Bending into her chest, he trembled, clasped her hips with his extremely large hands, and purred. He moaned a few unintelligible words in Refarian, and purred some more as she stroked her hands across his colossal shoulders, feeling the tough muscles, the drawn tendons and hardened skin.

  He was alien; no doubt about that fact, and maybe it was her immense love for the man, or maybe it was that their hearts were calibrated perfectly to each other, but she'd never seen a more gorgeous creature in her entire life than Scott Dillon, right now in his natural Antousian form.

  Finally, she stilled her lips against the crown of his head and whispered, "You're two feet taller than I am." And she began to giggle. "That's a big height differential."

  He pulled back, meeting her gaze. She saw unimagined depths of emotion in his large, almond-shaped eyes. "Your point?"

  He was loosening up, sounding more like his usual cocky self, and had the same familiar glint of sardonic mischief in his eyes as he normally did.

  "I don't think we can have sex with you Changed like this." With a flirtatious toss of her hair, she reached for his extremely long, permanently erect length. "And this … well, I don't think it will even fit without killing me. Might even pop right back out my throat." She giggled, slowly stroking his erection, feeling the hardness of it, the way it was ridged and yet incredibly soft underneath, one massive vein running the full, thick nine inches of it.

  He snorted, reeling backward from her. "I can't believe.…" He paused, clearing his throat.

  "Don't be so self-conscious about your voice. It mesmerizes me."

  He dropped his head into the palm of his hand, hesitating, then finally said, "I can't believe you'd entertain sex with me, like this"—he thumped his chest with his fist—"all huge and monstrous and rough."

  She flung herself forward at him, wrapping her arms about his neck. "Don't you get it, you stubborn, irritating man? I am in love with you. I may not have known you very long in real time, but I've known you absolutely forever in my heart, and in my future, and in my dreams. I might as well have been with you from the very beginning of time with the way that I love you. All of you, damn it." She ran her hands along his shoulders, down along his chest. "Don't you see how you're turning me on?"

  He reached very gently and touched her cheek. "I've always been a man at war with myself. It's going to take some time for you to heal that in me."

  "I can prove it to you."

  He cocked his head sideways, blinking his large black eyes. "Prove what?"

  "That even this body of yours totally turns me on."

  He waited, watching her, and she took his calloused hand and drew it between her legs, slowly stroking his long fingers over her folds of skin, and along the slick wetness that he'd caused so easily by arousing her. Very gently, she drew one of his long fingers closer, placing it against her slippery opening. "Try me," she urged, leaning back into the sofa.

  Wide-eyed, he gaped at her, then with a nod, gently slipped one finger inside of her, sliding it back and forth, feeling the dampness, the warmth that he'd caused. She closed her own hand over his, felt his movement within her, caressing the back of his hand as he stroked her.

  She panted, arching into the pillows of the sofa, and after a moment he retracted his finger, trailing it—and a path of wetness—along her thigh. He said nothing for many long moments, and then slowly rose to his feet, walking away from her and toward the kitchen.

  It was interesting watching his gait, how poised, measured, proud it was—so incredibly graceful in such a large, bulky creature. She suspected that he perceived his Antousian body quite differently; he despised his genetic heritage, so of course he reviled this form, and couldn't see the beauty in it.

  He braced both hands along the kitchen counter, shaking his head from side to side in seeming disbelief. She studied his backside, the powerful musculature tha
t rippled along his entire naked body. He reminded her of some Greek warrior, captured in stone: monumental and fearsome, but the very essence of raw beauty. When long moments spun out, her heart began to hammer. Was she pushing too hard with him, and too fast? Working too pointedly to make him accept himself—and her love for him?

  But after another moment, he surprised her by throwing his head back and releasing a wonderful, deep, rumbling laugh. And then he turned to face her.

  "You love me. You honestly love everything about me." There was wonder in his large alien eyes, amazement, as he studied her from across the room. She could read everything in his expressions, no matter the form.

  She wrinkled her nose, beaming back at him. "Of course."

  He smiled gloriously, and then with a slight whoop and holler, rushed her, Changing before he'd even reached where she sat naked and watching. Practically landing atop her, he swept her into his arms there on the sofa, rolling her beneath him. "If my ugly cuss of an Antousian self turns you on"—he laughed some more, beaming—"then you really must think I'm an okay guy."

  She gazed up into his eyes, stroking his black hair. "An okay guy? Is that how you'd put it?"

  "Wouldn't you?"

  She blew on his lips softly, trying to tickle him. Maybe even to soothe his war-ravaged soul. "I'd say handsome, gorgeous, beautiful. Everything I have ever wanted—in any man—for all my adult life."

  He ran a thumb over her lower lip, studying her face. The light dusting of freckles, the lovely gray eyes—eyes that were able to focus on him now, giving them so much more power over his heart. Inside, he felt as if something that had grown tough and cold—so many years ago—had finally begun to thaw. His bare body atop hers, he felt his cock respond, twitching and thickening a bit more. So much foreplay, and now there was only one damned thing he wanted—to take Hope Harper, and not with reflexive cuffs binding his body.

  Freely, that was how he wanted her—freely with his heart and mind and soul.

  "Hope." He nuzzled her collarbone. "I'm gonna stand up, and we're going to make love."

  "Stand up?" Her gray eyes widened curiously.

  He gave her a smug grin. "I'm of the opinion that you like doing it against walls." She flushed instantly. "And since that was our first time in another life of ours—and this is our real first time, the one that truly counts—I kinda figure that it's my lady's pleasure. Walls it shall be."

  She swallowed visibly. "I'd do it with you against any wall you can think of."

  Scott rose off of her, working to determine the best setting for this interlude of theirs. Outside the large penthouse windows the night was dark, but a slight swirling of snow could be seen, illuminated by their interior lights. This living room didn't offer the right wall, he decided, or enough privacy, given the large plate-glass windows, so he strode toward the master bedroom.

  Ah! Here, indeed, he thought, noticing the short distance from wall to opulent bed. It was like every dream and vision he'd had of that cheap, tawdry motel room in their other timeline, only shined up, made perfect. That this reality was so much more right than their original one gave him immense hope for their future.

  With a light, teasing whistle, he called to her in the next room. "Hey, baby doll, come and get it." Folding both arms across his chest, he leaned against the wall, assuming his sultriest, most seductive look.

  "You sound like a dinner bell." She laughed, appearing in the doorway.

  "If I'm your meat.…" He touched his erection and gave it a meaningful tug. "Then you're my gravy."

  "Food and sex do not go together that way." She swatted at him, and he swung her up into his arms; she wrapped her strong, lithe legs about him, and just like that, he had her pinned against the wall.

  "I thought you'd find it sexy." He nibbled at her ear.

  "If it were strawberries and champagne.…"

  "I'm a vegetarian anyway. It was supposed to be a human joke."

  She pressed her face in close to his, and he could feel the heated arousal in her whole body. With one hand she clutched him across his back. "Later, when we're lying in bed, rubbing oil over each other's bodies, and napping and wishing we never had to sleep … you can feed me anything you want then."

  "That an invitation, sweetheart?"

  "You bet it is."

  With a deep, contented sigh of pleasure, he drove his hardened cock up inside of her, sliding easily into the waiting grasp of her warmth. She was the lightest woman he'd ever made love to, so easy to suspend between the wall and his own frantic body. As they drove hard together, he slammed his forearm into the wall over and over, and half prayed that none of the other guests would complain.

  Hope arched her petite body, holding fast to Scott's shoulders, but it wasn't like she needed to in order to keep a grip on him. He had a firm, strong hold on her, and with every thrust of his muscular body he drove a little bit deeper inside of her. Tightening her legs around his hips, she squeezed against his cock, and in return he howled softly in pleasure.

  She pushed her face against his, breathing hard, and his own huffing breaths filled her ears. "Don't ever stop doing this to me," she murmured, and this finally undid the man completely. With a reverberating growl he drove into her, not working to be gentle, but taking everything they both wanted. She reached climax right as he came within her.

  For several moments they clung together, breathing heavily and staring into each other's eyes. As she felt him grow softer inside of her, the trickling wetness of his warmth roll down her leg, he became gentle all over again.

  With a delicate, careful turn, he carried her toward the bed, her legs still wrapped about him. He eased her down onto the comforter, and together they curled up beside each other, just gazing into the other's eyes.

  "You are the most amazing woman I've ever known," he told her softly, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

  "Well, maybe you haven't known that many women," she teased, and he grew serious.

  "I've been trying to find you for years, Hope. You wouldn't believe how long and how hard I kept on looking—I just never understood what I was really doing. I can see now that a part of me knew you were on the horizon, and I think I got impatient."

  "You had a lot of sex with a lot of women," she agreed in understanding.

  "I kept looking for you," he amended. Then, curling her up against his own body, molding them together, he whispered, "And I thank All in heaven that I don't have to look anywhere else ever again. We're together, and nobody's ever going to drive us apart."

  Hope closed her eyes, still thankful that there was such a marked change when she opened and closed them, not near-blackness all the time.

  "Yes, sweetheart." She snuggled up against him, and had to agree.

  They'd found each other from across the universe, and no one—not a human or alien—would drive them apart, not ever again.

  Thank you for purchasing Parallel Seduction. Keep reading to get more info on Deidre’s books!

  Get lost in the Parallel Series and connect with Deidre!

  THE PARALLEL SERIES:

  Next: Parallel Fire (A Novella)

  Soldier Anna Draekus firmly believes in business before pleasure. But when an accident leaves her stranded with superior Nevin Daniels, keeping her hands to herself proves to be her biggest challenge yet.

  Parallel Desire (Book Four)

  Scott Dillon is desperately trying to outrun the pain of losing his wife and unborn child. But the past is catching up fast, and the woman who’s loved him from afar might be the only one who can keep him from being lost forever.

  Parallel Attraction (Book One)

  Finding a mate is the last thing on Jared Bennett’s mind. But the exiled alien king can’t deny the primal desire to claim Kelsey Wells as his own, even as a war rages around them.

  Parallel Heat (Book Two)

  Lieutenant Thea Haven was meant to be queen, but her would-be king chose another. While still reeling from the loss, she meets a man that promis
es to cure her heartbreak – but at what cost?

  GODS OF MIDNIGHT SERIES (Immortal Spartan Warriors):

  Red Fire (Book One)

  Red Kiss (Book Two)

  Red Demon (Book Three)

  Red Mortal (Book Four)

  Red Blooded: A Gods of Midnight Novella

  “Red Angel,” short story in the On the Hunt anthology

  Want to gab about all things Parallel with Deidre? Like her Facebook page, follow her on Twitter @DeidreKnight, opt in to her newsletter for exclusive content and contests, or visit her online home www.DeidreKnight.com!

  Excerpt from Parallel Desire!

  A Future

  No one was coming. The thought sounded hollow and round, like one of the crudest bullets in the humans' arsenal. There wasn't a soul who could help his wife, no one at all.

  Vainly he searched the battlefield for a healer, but they'd been tapped dry by the day's carnage; to the very last man and woman they were spent. The medics were knee-deep in loss and bloodshed, unable to hike the long distance to the wind-battered tent where Hope lay dying as she labored in vain to deliver their baby girl. Human or hybrid, the doctors couldn't say for sure what their child would be, yet Scott Dillon knew one fact for certain: Precious Leisa would be theirs. It was the only thing he needed to know about their daughter, born of love in a time of hardship and turmoil—born to them against all odds, including Hope's fragile health.

  He could picture the tufts of light blonde hair atop Leisa's head, silvery gold, just like Hope's, and he could already feel her nestling close beneath his chin on cold nights like this one. In a cruel world made so much crueler by the years of endless fighting, their tiny child would smell of innocence. And perfection … of a love that defied battle lines as well as the lines that separated species.