Alien Romance: Rusneon Mates Boxed Set: A Scifi Alien Abduction Romance (Alien Romance, Alien Invasion Romance, BBW)

by Ashley Hunter

“You … you don’t have to,” she finally managed to reply. Her voice was still strange to her, but now it was because it was thick and heavy with feelings she had long denied.

  She wanted him. She knew this now, could finally admit it to herself.

  But she had to know for sure.

  “Do you really love me?” she asked.

  Rushael raised an eyebrow.

  “I said it, did I not?” he said. He saw her expression, and the raised eyebrow dropped into a frown. “You doubt my words.”

  Cynthia sighed. Her hands were still shaking.

  “No,” she said. “Not yours. Just … every other man who has said that to me …”

  She trailed off, aware that she was in all likelihood ruining the moment but still needing to know.

  Rushael came to her. He knelt in front of her, and raised his hand to the side of her face. His touch was, as it had been before, electrifying, and Cynthia drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes when he made contact.

  “Cynthia, look at me,” he said. Cynthia obeyed, and Rushael moved his hand from the side of her face to take her hands into his. He held her gaze as he spoke.

  “Cynthia Withers, I have never spoken words more true than those I am about to speak right now.”

  He squeezed her hands.

  “I swear on my honour, on my father’s grave, and on the livelihood of my people,” and Cynthia drew in a deep breath and felt – actually, physically felt – the truth behind Rushael’s gaze and touch and voice.

  “Cynthia. I love you,” he said.

  He meant it. He really, really meant it.

  “I love you too,” she said, and the words came up and out of her mouth all in a rush and she laughed and squeezed his hands and he grinned right back at her. She leaned forward and opened her mouth, and he tilted his chin.

  They kissed.

  It was fire and electricity and wet, writhing sex. Their lips pressed together, then parted to make way for their tongues. Cynthia felt her body go limp as all her energy and passion found its way to her mouth and leapt across to Rushael’s body. He pressed back, and gave her his own heat and lust and hunger, and Cynthia found her body coming alive all over again.

  He broke the kiss first, and she chased him for a moment before collecting herself. She drew in a deep breath, and was surprised to find she had pressed her nails into his shoulders while kissing him.

  “This is not appropriate,” Rushael said. He stood up, and for a moment Cynthia thought he was simply going to walk away. She started to let her hands slide from his shoulders, convinced that this was it, but he caught her by the wrists and pulled her to her feet.

  “We should move to the master bedroom,” he said.

  The implication hit Cynthia with a warm rush of wet heat. A grin spread across her face, and she bit her bottom lip. She didn’t want to seem too eager for what was to come, but she wanted – no needed this – and she needed him to know.

  She decided to keep it simple.

  “Okay,” she said. Her voice shook, and she wasn’t sure how she was going to manage to walk all the way to the bedroom on her own.

  He carried her.

  There was a moment where he looked like he was simply going to walk away, with the obvious expectation that she would follow along behind him. Cynthia drew in the tiniest breath, and he paused and tilted his head to one side. Realisation dawned in his eyes, and he swept her up in his arms.

  “Are you comfortable?” he asked, and Cynthia giggled and nodded. His right arm had slipped up her thighs, and pulled her dress up with it, but she really didn’t mind right now. She looped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt him shift his upper body a little, and let out a small, shivering breath as his muscles slid and bunched under the fabric of his clothing.

  In a few minutes, she thought, she would be able to feel his bare flesh. That thought alone sent a warm, rippling shiver through her body, and she tightened her grip around Rushael’s neck. He didn’t complain – probably because he barley noticed, Cynthia thought – and she kept the grip tight as he carried her to the bedroom.

  He set her down on the bed, but seemed reluctant to let her go. He adjusted his hold on her so that his right hand was still on her hip – under her dress. She could feel his fingers making tiny little strokes on her skin, and she pressed against the touch with the slightest shift of her body.

  His other hand was cupping the back of her head. Cynthia kept her arms looped around his neck, and pulled him down toward her. He could have resisted – would have been able to hold back indefinitely, quite frankly – but he allowed her to guide him down.

  They kissed, and his right hand moved across her hip. A single finger traced across her pelvis, and Cynthia let out an eager whimper of anticipation as she opened her legs. The feeling had moved beyond fire or electricity; it was nothing more than needy demanding hunger now.

  The tip of his finger traced up the inside of her thigh. Cynthia raised her hips and tried to press down on the taunting, teasing touch, even as she pressed her mouth against his and their tongues writhed together. She needed this, and she needed it now.

  He recognised her hunger and ceased taunting her. His hand pressed against her sex, and she let out a long shivering cry as he briefly slid a finger inside her. She began to move against his wrist, her arms locked around his neck as she gazed into his eyes, and he kissed her deeply.

  She could feel the pressure building in her. It pulsed up and down her spine and drove out all thought, leaving only the grinding, gasping sensation. It grew, and grew, and she threw her head back and let it overtake her.

  Rushael pressed the palm of his hand against her pelvis, and she ground her clit against the touch even as he curled and uncurled his finger inside her.

  He kissed her neck, and murmured three words in her ear.

  “I love you.”

  And that was enough.

  The pulse erupted outward and filled her entire body. She cried out and arched her back against his touch, shivering and shuddering as the sensation overwhelmed.

  She fell back, gasping for air. The orgasm had been sharp and sudden, a very literal shock to her body.

  Rushael pulled Cynthia’s dress up her body. She lifted herself up off the bed and let him undress her, holding his eyes for as long as she could and relocking his gaze when the fabric had been pulled over her head.

  She fought the urge to cover herself, feeling embarrassed even in the post-orgasm glow. He looked at her for a long, long time, and then he did something that surprised Cynthia completely.

  He smiled.

  It was an unabashed grin, as naked as she was and utterly enthusiastic.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, and Cynthia found herself matching his expression. She covered her mouth as she let out a little laugh, then she held her hands out to him.

  “Come here, you,” she said.

  And he did.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  He knelt between her legs and started to undress. Slowly, holding Cynthia’s eyes the entire time. She lay back and enjoyed the show, biting her lip as his shirt came off and finally revealed his naked, powerful muscles to her. His clothes had always been tight – tight enough to read the movement in his shoulders when he picked something up – but this was different. Now he was exposed; it was just him and her.

  And then he took off his pants, and Cynthia’s eyes widened as his erection was revealed. It was – he was perfect, even down to the shape of his glans.

  Cynthia leaned forward, then shifted her position so that she was kneeling in front of him and resting on her elbows. She looked up at him, and saw the tense anticipation on his face.

  They didn’t need to speak. She knew what he wanted.

  Cynthia had the sudden desire to be absolutely wicked. She leaned forward. She opened her mouth and let out a long breath. There was no sound, but she felt Rushael shift his weight and guessed that he’d just tensed all his muscles.

&nb
sp; She grinned. He was doing his best to stay in control, even now.

  We’ll see about that, she thought.

  She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his glans. She flicked out her tongue, and could have sworn she heard him groan.

  It was working. But he was still holding back.

  Cynthia opened her mouth and took as much of his cock into her mouth as she could manage. She over-reached and had to pull back, but over the little cough she made she heard Rushael let out a shivering breath. What was more, she could feel him grow closer in her mouth.

  She began to work on his erection in earnest, massaging her lips halfway along his length while swirling her tongue around his glans. She took one hand and stroked it down the length that was still free of her mouth, then cupped his balls and gently massaged them.

  His hands fell on her head. His grip tightened, pulling on her hair. She could feel his fingers trembling, and a sudden thrill ran through her body. He could easily overpower her, if he wanted to. Why was she taunting him like this?

  But his grip was gentle. He was just pulling her away from his erection, guiding her head upward. She went willingly, but ran her tongue up over his belly and chest as she went. She allowed herself an inward grin as she saw his muscles tense and quiver under her touch.

  And then she was gazing into his eyes, and the raw naked hunger that burned there took her breath away.

  A moment later, he was kissing her, his tongue pressing and writhing against hers, and she let out a whimper. One of his hands was still tangled up in her hair, but he slid the other one down her spine to cup her backside and pull her against him.

  His erection pressed against her, and she could feel the hard heat along her belly and she knew she wanted him inside her now. She began to move her hips against him – or tried to, at least. His hand was still on her backside, holding her in place, and she couldn’t really move away from his grip.

  He broke the kiss – not her. He teased her with the promise of another one, but their lips never quite touched and she let out a low, hungry whimper that would have shocked her had she been in any state of mind to actually hear it.

  She wasn’t in control right now. He was, without question.

  But still he held her tenderly, if firmly. And there was genuine concern in his eyes, even as he smiled at her and teased her with the promise of another kiss. He pulled back for a moment, and Cynthia dug her nails into his shoulders.

  “I’m not going to leave you,” he said. “I just want to be sure.”

  He freed his hand from her hair and cupped her chin.

  “Do you want this?” he asked.

  Cynthia answered before he’d even finished speaking.

  “Yes,” she almost shouted, and then she bit her lip and blushed, amazed at how brazen she was.

  Rushael nodded, then grinned. He slid both his hands down to Cynthia’s hips, picked her up, and laid her on her back. It was an effortless movement, and Cynthia felt a thrill run through her body at the sensation of being completely under his control.

  He knelt over her, and she glanced down and moved her knees apart in anticipation as he moved into position. He braced himself on one of his hands, and ran the other up her body – over her body, across her breast, to briefly play with her nipple before running up further to trace the veins in her neck and cup the side of her face.

  He leaned down. Cynthia parted her lips and let her tongue dart out, and he imitated the gesture. She reached down. She took his erection in her hand – gently, as gently as he’d held her and was touching her – and pulled him toward her.

  He kissed her and slid inside her at the exact same time. Cynthia lifted her hips up, wanting, needing, demanding all of him all at once. She let out a moan that was muffled by the press of his mouth against hers.

  It was bliss. It was heaven. It was everything and nothing all at once, an absence of anything but the moment – and so the moment consumed all. It was transcendental.

  And it got better.

  Rushael and Cynthia began to move against each other, perfectly synchronised, sharing a breath and a desire. There was no separation of self; they were there for each other and that was all.

  The hot, wet, electric heat grew and rolled back and forth between them, a wild, crackling pulse of love and lust.

  It grew within them, filled them completely, pulsed against the inside of their bodies like a living thing. The pulse grew faster, stronger, a wild energy that neither of them controlled.

  It exploded. They exploded, both of them, each of them, together in a shivering, shuddering orgasm that seemed to be shared between them.

  Cynthia was beyond herself for a very long time. Pulse after pulse ran through her body, each declining slightly more than the last. She wasn’t sure when it was going to stop, if it ever was going to stop, and to be honest she wasn’t sure she wanted it to.

  But the feeling eventually faded.

  She let out a long, shuddering breath, and was surprised to find that she had wrapped her ankles around Rushael’s waist at some point. He was still holding her, and she him – but while she could only lie there and catch her breath, he was kissing her neck and nibbling her earlobe.

  She let out a long, contented moan, and let her legs slide from Rushael’s back.

  “That,” she gasped, and had to pause to draw in another breath. “That … was amazing.”

  He chuckled, and she turned her face to his and they kissed once again.

  She never wanted this to end.

  But of course, it had to.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I have to go.”

  They were not the words Cynthia was expecting to hear. They were not the words Cynthia wanted to hear.

  They didn’t register at first. She just sat in the chair, a book open in her lap, and stared at Rushael as he stood by the bookcase.

  You go away every day, was the first thought to enter her mind, so why are you telling me about this now? But that thought found its answer before it reached her mouth, and she realised what Rushael meant.

  “For how long?” she asked.

  “A few days,” he said. He smoothed his hands down the sides of his thighs and Cynthia knew he was lying.

  She could have said something about it. But she didn’t.

  He saw the expression on her face and offered the palms of his hands to her.

  “There is unrest amongst the southern warlords. Zai-archon Verek wants me to –”

  But Cynthia didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. Verek. The man that had glared at her with such utter contempt and scorn as he ordered her execution barely two weeks ago now. She couldn’t help but shudder at the memory of his face – and Rushael couldn’t help but notice her reaction.

  He misread it for something else, and crossed the room to kneel beside her chair.

  “My love,” he said, and Cynthia drew in a sharp breath and felt a familiar warmth spread through her body – from her chest, now, and then downward, but familiar all the same. She smiled, and clasped one of Rushael’s hands in her own.

  “It will only be a few days, I swear,” he said.

  “Liar,” Cynthia replied. His expression flickered, but Cynthia was still smiling, even as she let the word fall from her lips, and he smiled back at her.

  “Alright, maybe a little bit,” Rushael conceded. “I don’t know how long it will take. The zai-archon insists there won’t be too much resistance.”

  They shared a silent moment at that. Without saying a single word, they both knew exactly how trustworthy the zai-archon could be.

  Cynthia traced the tips of her fingers across the back of Rushael’s knuckles. Is it dangerous? she wanted to ask – but then, she didn’t really want to know the answer to that. Will you have to hurt anyone? Another question she didn’t really want answered: what if they hurt him instead?

  There were so many things she wanted to say – so many ways she wanted to say the same thing – and yet, all she could do was dance
her fingertips across the back of Rushael’s hand while trying to find something that didn’t lead to a horrible truth.

  “I don’t want you to go,” she finally said.

  Rushael let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, then turned his hand over and pulled Cynthia’s fingers to his mouth. He kissed each finger in turn, softly, refusing to look her in the eyes. Only when he was done did he meet her gaze, and in them Cynthia read her answer.

  I don’t want to leave you.

  “I cannot disobey the zai-archon,” he said. There was an entire world hiding beneath those words, seething and fuming with ugly meaning.

  Cynthia slid her hand to the back of Rushael’s head and pulled him toward her. They kissed, a desperate and frantic contact, breathless and laden with all the words they could not say.

  “Come back,” Cynthia whispered. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

  Rushael nodded. He pressed his forehead against hers, and clasped his hand over hers.

  “Just a few days,” he said.

  Cynthia had the first nightmare that very night.

  She awoke with a violent refusal halfway out of her throat and cut it short before it could escape. She lay there awhile, heart pounding in her chest, as she waited for the terror to fade.

  It didn’t. And, disturbingly, nor did the memories of the dream – the nightmare.

  In her dream, she was back before the paraitek. This time, however, she was alone, and naked. Verek stood in front of her, his sinister leer taking in her entire body as she stood with her hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed.

  “You belong to me,” he said. “You are mine. That little child Rushael will not have you.”

  “No,” Cynthia whispered. She wanted to scream, wanted to raise her head and spit in Verek’s eye, but in the dream all she could manage was a soft whisper of a response.

  Verek knew – thanks to dream-logic, Cynthia knew that he knew what she was thinking. And it delighted him. He laughed – a cruel, cutting sound, like an axe – and raised a hand to Cynthia’s face.

  “You are mine, Earth-woman,” he said. “And I will claim you soon. Come to me.”