by Ruby Dixon
“Yes,” I say and pull at the fastenings of my jumper. I tug it open, and my breasts spill free.
He looks at my bare skin with something akin to wonder. His large, three-fingered hand lifts, and he presses his palm not to my breast, as I expect, but the smooth valley between them. He strokes my skin, then runs his knuckles up and down over my breastbone, fascinated.
Then, Vektal’s attention turns to my breasts, and he brushes those knuckles over my nipple. I gasp, feeling arousal bolt through my body, and he seems equally surprised at the texture of my skin there. He lightly touches one with a fingertip and the nipple hardens and puckers at his touch.
“Sem,” he says in a low, reverent voice. Then he touches my skin between my breasts again. “Sem.”
“Soft?” I ask. I touch his chest, the ridges there, and then shake my head. “Sem?”
“Georgie sem,” he says, voice ragged. The thought looks like it tortures him.
“Yeah, I guess I’m pretty soft,” I agree, smiling. “But fun to touch, right?” And I grab his hand and put it back on my breast.
He responds by kissing me again, and I lean into his caresses. There’s something about him that’s so very delicious. His kisses turn hungrier, and I moan as his hand cups my breast. I press against him, wanting more of his touch.
Vektal’s big hand moves over my body, exploring me. He pushes at my open jacket, and I remove it because I want him to touch all of me. Pressing my skin against his is warmer than any piece of clothing. I want to be against him, naked, and the thought of his big body covering mine sends shivers of anticipation through me. I shimmy out of my jacket, the tight sleeves resisting a little thanks to my bad wrist and the wrappings around it, but I’m topless soon enough.
I push at his vest, because turnabout is fair play, and he removes it. Then we’re both half-naked and gazing at each other, exploring the differences in our bodies. He has the textured, armor-like patches on his arms and chest; I’m soft all over. He’s got suede-like skin that feels like heaven against mine. We both have belly-buttons and nipples. I run my hands over his, and they feel hard, textured, like the armor plates. Maybe that’s why he’s so fascinated at the softness of mine.
I press my breasts against him and tuck my chin against one hard shoulder. This allows me to run my hands down his back, and I sigh with pleasure as I continue touching him. He’s purring so hard his entire chest is practically vibrating, and it feels good against my skin. His shoulders are enormous, the strength in them turning me on. His back has more of the textured ripples down his spine, and they lead to his tail. I have to admit that the tail makes me smile. It’s a long cord tufted with black hair like on his head, and it’s currently lashing back and forth against the blankets.
“Georgie,” Vektal murmurs into my ear, and then I feel him nuzzle at my neck.
Oooh. My nipples harden in response, and I cling to him as he licks the tender skin of my neck, then goes to my ears and teases an earlobe with his tongue. By the time he returns to my neck a few moments later, I’m moaning with pleasure and rubbing my breasts against his big chest.
His hands go to my ass, and he pulls me against him. Then he’s brushing his lips over my breast, and I cry out when he takes a nipple into his mouth. I cling to his horns, holding on to him as he coaxes and teases my nipple with his lips.
Oh, sweet Jesus, the tongue ridges are a delicious torture. They drag over my sensitive nipples, until I’m practically climbing the big guy. I’m panting and feeding him my breast, and over and over he nuzzles it with his mouth until I want to scream with need.
Vektal’s hands tug at my pants, and that seems like a fantastic idea to me. I shuck them with quick movements, eager to be naked against him. “You too,” I tell him, pressing my mouth to his again. “Want you naked too.”
I get to my feet to pry the tight pants off. I’m pretty wet, and I can feel my juices when I press my thighs together. I have no panties on under the uniform, so by the time I get it off, I’m totally naked—pasty, bruised skin and all.
My big alien pushes my hands aside when I try to go back into his arms. Instead, he insists on checking over all my bruises, I assume looking for new ones. I roll my eyes and endure his ministrations, more interested in getting into his pants than having him peek at my bruises. When he insists I turn around so he can look at my back, I give him an exasperated sigh and put my hands to his breeches, sliding them in to cup his groin.
That gets his attention, fast.
My hands curl around his length, and with touch only, I feel the differences between him and human men. For one, his girth is pretty freaking impressive. He’s scalding hot to the touch, and in addition to his huge size, he’s got that hard knob, like a knuckle-shaped ridge that protrudes over his cock. I have no idea what it’s for and no questions to ask about it. He’s also ridged here, though the skin feels less abrasive, more textured like his tongue.
God, I bet it feels amazing inside a girl. I shiver at the thought. Lucky females of his race. “I’m interested in seeing more of this,” I tell him. I slide my fingers underneath his cock and feel the base of his sac. I wonder if he’s sensitive there.
His hands go to my hair, and he begins to kiss me again, flicking that textured tongue against mine. I moan and grip his cock tighter. I want him naked, but he’s still wearing his pants, so I try to fix that for him. Unfortunately, I can’t figure out how to unlace them. He’s got a breechcloth of some kind over leggings that are rigged with some sort of complex laces that are too much for this needy girl to figure out. I settle for shoving them down his hips.
Vektal chuckles and murmurs something against my mouth. He pulls at the laces, and his pants sag, then fall down. Well, damn it. Maybe I just don’t know how alien clothing works. I no longer care, either, because my big, beautiful alien is naked and I get to bask in the glory that is Vektal. When he stands at his full height, he’s utterly gorgeous.
He looks down at me, blue eyes glowing brightly, and his chest rumbles with the continuous purr. His hand goes between my breasts again, and I wonder if he’s checking for a purr of my own. “Humans don’t do that,” I tell him. “We get wet instead.” And I take his hand and guide it to my pussy, so he can see for himself.
My big alien falls to his knees and groans. He presses kisses to my stomach and then my pussy, and then holds my hips and puts his mouth directly on me.
I gasp and my knees get weak, so I have to cling to one of his horns again. In response, he lifts me off my feet and places me down in the furs, looping my legs over his shoulders and burying his face between my thighs. His tongue sweeps over my labia, and I moan when it circles around my clit.
Oh, God. Then he’s licking me with that crazy tongue of his, sweeping those ridges over my sensitive flesh and lapping up my juices. I whimper and cling to his horns, spreading my legs wider. It feels utterly incredible. I’ve had sex before and oral sex several times, but between the purring and the textured tongue? I’ve never had anything quite like this. Two licks and I’m moaning. Three more and I’m grinding my hips against his face. Two more after that and I’m practically coming off the furs, panting and crying out with need.
And my big, brutal alien just ignores my pleading for an orgasm and keeps on licking me with slow, steady, sensual motions that tell me he’s enjoying this as much as I am. He murmurs soft, unintelligible words with every stroke of his tongue, and when it swirls around the entrance to my core, I practically come out of my own skin. “Please,” I sob. “Oh God, please!”
But of course he doesn’t understand me. So I wail and beg for an orgasm, and he just licks away as I clutch his horns and think this is the most incredible, pleasurable torture I’ve ever known.
“Stop,” I moan. I’m so ready to come I’m aching inside. I want him deep inside me, filling me up. The licking and nibbling is just making me utterly crazy with need. “Oh God, stop, Vektal. I want you in me now.”
In response, his tongue thrusts into my co
re.
Deep.
And rubs.
I come apart in the hardest orgasm I’ve ever had, my legs locking around his face. I might be screaming his name and clinging to his horns. I might be thrashing against the furs. I’m not really sure because I’m seeing stars at the moment, and between that and the orgasm, there’s no room for any other conscious thought.
He growls, clearly enjoying that I’m coming, and just laps harder, which makes my orgasm seem to go on for mile after endless mile. I’m utterly spent and exhausted when he finally lifts his head, his eyes practically glowing like headlights, and licks his sinfully wet mouth.
I feel wrung out at the sight of that. I’ve come so hard and so frequently that I’m pretty sure that wasn’t one orgasm but a dozen stacked on top of one another, cascading with every flick of his talented, talented tongue. “God, your women must have some incredible stamina,” I tell him weakly as he crawls over my body like a big blue-gray panther and begins to nuzzle at my throat. I need a rest break, but he’s raring to go, pressing his mouth along my skin and licking all the parts he finds the softest.
And before long, I’m moaning and dragging my hands over that suede-soft skin, wanting him deep inside me. “Vektal,” I breathe and lock a leg around his hips. He’s so warm, the purring inside him fierce.
He touches my cheek and murmurs something soft and sweet and then my name. His hips settle between mine, and I realize again just how big his equipment is. Suddenly all of his enthusiastic licking takes on a new meaning because at least I’m wet as hell, which will ease the way.
“Georgie,” he murmurs, and I realize he’s saying something I’ve heard before. “Georgie sa-akh Vektal.” He nuzzles my throat again, and I feel his cock press against my core. It feels enormous, but I’m in this until the end, and I’m ready for him to fill me up. So ready.
Beyond ready, really.
He presses his lips to mine again and then begins to push into me. My body’s stretching to accommodate him, and I drag my hands over his skin, stroking and petting as he presses in, inch by thick inch.
When he’s seated entirely, I learn something new. That knob? The bony ridge I had no idea what it was for? I’ve still got no freaking clue, but I do notice that as he sinks into me, it pushes through my labia and brushes against my clit. I’m trying to analyze this unique sensation when he moves his hips and shallowly thrusts again.
And every nerve ending lights up in response to the push of that knob against my clit.
“Oooooh,” I moan. It reminds me of the time I had a Rabbit Vibrator and it worked my clit at the same time as my core. Having sex with Vektal? It’s like that, but better. Even more intense.
This . . . might kill me out of sheer pleasure. I cling to him as he begins to thrust again, sucking in a breath when his ridge pushes against my clit again. Did I think that the pussy-eating was too much to handle because of his sheer enthusiasm? It’s nothing compared to the mind-blowing sensation of him fucking the hell out of me, that ridge teasing my clit with every stroke, the ridges inside him humming against my g-spot. I come again. And again. I claw his back and scream my pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over, whispering soft words. I’m coming apart with every stroke of his cock, until I’m boneless and weak and mewing—
—and still coming.
My exhausted legs quiver as his strokes begin to take on a wilder edge. Vektal bares his fangs, his own features tightening as an orgasm rises inside him. I rake my nails down the tough, ridged spots on his chest and arms, and he growls low in his throat and shudders. I can tell he likes that, and I do it again. Come for me, baby, I think as he wrings another orgasm out of me and I choke on the overwhelming pleasure.
Then I feel him pulse inside me. Like the rest of his body, his semen feels several degrees hotter than my skin, and I can feel it as he comes, his growl of pleasure becoming louder and louder, the purr in his throat a thunderous rumble. He thrusts hard, and his fingers dig into my hips as he comes, and I feel him coming inside me, over and over again. It’s a new sensation for me.
Hell, all of this is.
But when he collapses on top of me like a big delicious blanket, and then presses his ridged forehead to my flat one and murmurs my name?
I feel content. Boneless—of course—but utterly, completely content. And I want to ask him if he wants to take me up the mountain tomorrow. But it seems like the wrong time to ask. I don’t want him to think I only slept with him because I want him to do something for me.
If I’m totally honest with myself, I slept with him because I’m completely attracted to him. The horns, the blue-gray skin, the tail, the weird cock, all of it. His gruff, protective demeanor. It does it for me.
He shifts over me, clearly trying to pull his weight off of me. I cling to him, because I love the feel of his big warm body over mine, in mine. And I sigh with contentment.
Vektal, on the other hand, begins to kiss me again. I feel him move his hips in a shallow thrust.
A small moan rises from my throat again. “It’s a good thing you can’t make me pregnant, buddy,” I say, even as I lock my feet behind his back.
• • •
VEKTAL
All night long, my khui thrums with contentment in my chest.
I have claimed my mate. Over and over, she’s welcomed me into her small, soft body, until we’re both exhausted from pleasure. Being with a resonance mate is like no other feeling; I am pleased to my very marrow with my sweet Georgie. I cannot wait to return to the tribal caverns with her. My hand caresses her soft skin even as she snores in my ear, the sunlight streaming in through the gaps in the cave-mouth covering.
I cannot wait for her to swell with my child. Our child. My khui was wise to pick her, even though she is small. She is strong in heart and spirit, and creative and enthusiastic in the furs. She doesn’t resonate for me. Not yet. But when she carries a khui, she will thrum with pleasure at my touch, like I do at hers.
From now until my spirit departs this plane, there shall be none for me but her.
I touch her sleeping features reverently, memorizing them. She’s a strange, tiny thing and soft all over, but her cunt grips my cock so tightly it’s an ecstasy that cannot be described. Her taste is sweet, but the expressions she makes as I fill her with my cock? Even sweeter.
I look forward to tonight, when I will drag my Georgie back to bed until she’s mewing with exhaustion but still eager for more as I pump into her.
I press my mouth to hers to wake her. “Georgie?”
Her eyes, still so dull and lifeless without the shine of a khui, flutter open. It will need to be remedied and soon, I decide. She looks tired, the circles under her eyes deep against her pale skin.
“Vektal,” she murmurs happily and slides a hand down my chest, which starts my khui to thrumming again.
“Mountain?” I ask her, raising a brow with amusement as she tries to burrow back under the blankets and return to sleep.
That wakes her up. “Mountain?” she asks, eyes wide.
I nod. “Dress yourself. I will check the traps, and then we will go.”
“Dnno wutyew sd butlessgo.” She looks excited, flinging her pale arms around the cave and searching for her discarded clothing.
It takes some convincing to get her to stay in the cave while I go out to check the traps, but with hand gestures and our few words, I manage to relay that I will go much faster if I am alone. She kisses me frantically before I leave, as if ensuring that I’ll return for her.
As if anything would ever keep me from her side again.
Rubbing my pulsing chest, I smile to myself and trudge through the snow. Yet another night of steadily falling powder, and the trails are almost entirely covered. I have walked these grounds many times in the past, though, and know exactly where to set my traps for them to yield prey. Since it is just Georgie and me, my traps are small and their catches, even smaller. Were I hunting for my people, I would seek dvisti, bring them down, and then bu
ry them in the snow with a marker until a party could be sent back later to retrieve the bounty. This morning, though, I have two quilled beasts and a small hopper to feed my Georgie. There is no nearby stream, so I gather pure, sweet snow in my skin and then hold it against my chest so it can melt.
I check all my traps, and it’s not until I’m returning back from the last one that I notice an oddly-shaped lump in the newly fallen snow. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I approach it, then nudge it with a boot to uncover what lies underneath.
It’s a foot. Small, bare, and five-toed—like my Georgie.
It’s frozen solid.
As I stare down at it, I realize my Georgie’s not here alone. This is why she’s so frantic to get up the mountain. There are others like her.
Or . . . there were.
PART FOUR
GEORGIE
Vektal’s out checking traps and getting me some Not-Hoth breakfast. Since I’m stuck at the cave, I decide that today I’m going to leave with the blankets instead of abandoning them here at the cave like we did last time. Vektal has already indicated that he wants me to be ultra-bundled when we leave, and since we’re heading up the mountain, I want blankets for the other girls. The only way that’s going to work is if I can wear them.
So I’m busy slicing makeshift ties out of the lining of my jacket and poking holes through the edge of one of the furs with my knife to make it a cloak. I’m not much for sewing, especially with these terrible supplies, but it’s something to do while I wait on Vektal to return. I’m testing my second “cloak” when Vektal rushes back to the cave, his glowy-eyes frantic.
I get up, alarmed. “What is it?”
He grabs me and pulls me against his chest, stroking my hair. He’s breathing hard, and this might be the first time I’ve heard him winded. Normally nothing fazes him.
But right now? He’s rattled. And that makes me scared. “Vektal?”