Had he drugged her with that kiss? Because she’d felt outside of herself from the moment he dragged her into his arms and shoved his tongue in her mouth. Like a tsunami had hit and she hadn’t been the same. Her world had tilted on its axis. This was the man of her dreams, physically. No matter the fact that he wasn’t human. She still wanted him. She was incredibly turned on and wasn’t afraid. She just knew. This was a game that must be played.
This was meant to be hard for him. And oh, she could do hard.
Jacole grinned and leapt at him with a swift roundhouse kick to the chest that would have made her self-defense instructor damn proud. Unfortunately the alien was the Rock of Gibraltar and barely moved an inch. He grunted and grabbed her leg, using it to gain leverage, forcing her to the ground. Next thing she knew she was on her back, the wind knocked out of her, Rockstar on top, his hips wedged between her thighs. The tunic was now pushed up, exposing her naked pussy.
She closed her fist tight and threw a punch at his throat. He ducked his chin, and she made contact with his jaw. Jesus Christ, he was made of stone. Her hand throbbed with pain. Fuck, that hurt. She’d used everything she had for the blow, and he barely moved a millimeter. He was a machine, like the Terminator or something. His eyes darkened and his breaths quickened. Oh no, she’s turned him on more, hadn’t she? He grabbed both of her hands with one of his giant paws and had both her arms pinned above her head in a hot second.
She screamed in frustration. He was strong, so damn strong. Back home, she was taller than most men, louder, more powerful, dominating. Hell, she scared most men. There’d been a few who’d been brave enough to date her. She wasn’t a virgin. But it never worked out. They couldn’t deal with all that was her, so she’d always left, or they’d left first, and she never looked back. This alien, this Rockstar…she had to give him credit. He was the first man she’d met who was way more fucking dominating. And hell if it didn’t turn her on. She thought back to the boys she’d dated in high school and college, all of whom paled in comparison to this fierce male on top of her. His erection felt huge pressed against her thigh.
He was naked, naked, naked. Why hadn’t she noticed this before?
“Mine,” he snarled. He’d said that in the hallway on the slave ship, and she had the same reaction as before: Her pussy was drenched.
The rain was still falling, but softer now, and the night was warm, not ice cold. They’d landed on grass on a small rise, a space that was reasonably dry. She was buzzing with energy and lust. He let go of her hands and focused on pushing her thighs open. Two of his fingers drove into her hot, wet core. She threw her head back and gasped. “Oh, my God.”
His claws pumped inside of her, curving up into a perfect position. It felt so shocking, so good—the water on her face wasn’t only from the rain. He finally pulled his fingers out, and she watched in slow motion as he lifted his hand and licked her cream off his claws. A look of joy and wonder flashed across his face.
Holy shit. It was the hottest thing she’d ever seen
But that buzzing was still there, that feeling of restless energy, a need to escape, and she couldn’t make it go away yet. She tried to twist away. He was the hunter, and she was the prey. She needed to play out her role. As Jacole thrashed, the light rain caused the tunic she was wearing to plaster to her body. She started to slip out of his grasp, until hands grabbed her legs and dragged her down and pushed her onto her back again with her thighs spread open. Her struggles were but the work of a butterfly’s wings against rigid glass.
“Enough!” he roared.
She stilled. A growl rumbled in his chest. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, his fangs tracking against her mouth in the best way possible. “I have to taste you,” he told her.
“What? No.”
But he was already there, his head between her legs, his lips and his tongue delving into her pussy. Her fingers dug into his hair. Originally she meant to jerk him away, but he latched on to her clit with his mouth, and she was instead holding him right in place. Holy mother of God. His hands pushed her thighs further apart, giving him greater access. His tongue left her clit for a moment and plunged into her core. Her hips bucked.
She was moaning, unable to stop. His tongue was back at her clit now, running along the side in that perfect spot that she needed. Like an automatic push button to instant orgasm. She didn’t have to direct him, he just knew. Normally it took forever for a guy to get her off this way, but Rockstar had her on edge immediately. Her muscles tightened, and she felt it growing, more intense. She was panting now, almost scared of the orgasm looming larger and larger. He changed things up and started sucking her whole clit again, and she exploded, screaming as she came so hard she practically blacked out.
Her hands dropped out of his hair, and her arms fell to her sides as she lay there in the sprinkling rain, unable to speak, recovering from her earth-shattering orgasm. Rain fell on her face, on her chest, and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the visceral trifecta of water, earth, and primal male impulse.
After that, how could she fight him? He was amazing. The man was a magician.
And they weren’t even done.
He pulled up and pushed his hips between her splayed thighs. She felt his hard dick nudging at her entrance and smiled like a Cheshire Cat. Her skin felt alive and her legs restless. Her core practically wept to be plundered. Never, ever had she been this needy to be fucked. “Please,” she actually whimpered. “I need you.”
The moonlight allowed her to see the desire and hunger clearly stamped on his face. The rain tripped down the ridges on his forehead and slicked his hair back. He was a villain and a lover all rolled into one hot, delicious package. One of his arms braced on the ground next to her, and his other was guiding his cock. He paused before entering her and met her gaze, staring at her intently.
She lost her mind and bit at him, snapping her teeth because goddammit, she needed to be fucked and he was taking too long to get there. He covered her mouth with demanding lips and plunged into her, his length stabbing her with all of its glory. She broke off his kiss and screamed with equal amounts of pain and Oh My God Best Sex Ever as she was split wide open.
He filled her in places she didn’t realize had never been filled before. The discomfort was gone by his third stroke and instantly replaced with blinding pleasure. She shifted and wrapped her legs around his hips, digging her heels into his ass, helping him to pound deeper. Not much else in her life had ever felt as good as Rockstar sliding inside of her. He kissed her again, his tongue mimicking the rhythm of his cock. Her arms locked behind his head, holding him so close they were practically one person.
Another orgasm lurked on the edge; its presence flickered across her stomach. She’d never had more than one orgasm with a guy before, and absolutely never without him touching her clit. But Rockstar was doing the impossible—she was about to come without so much as a brush on her clit, simply from the way his monster cock was pumping into her pussy. And they were about to come at the same time—like something straight out of a romance novel.
Tears choked her throat at the beauty of the intense wave of pleasure that crashed through her body. Her pussy fluttered and clenched around his cock. He let go of her mouth and roared as his hips jerked against her. He came, shooting warm come that pulsed inside her core.
Afterwards she licked his beautiful, corded neck and held him close. They were shrouded by the rain and the warm mist of the forest. She smiled faintly with exhaustion as her eyes closed.
4
Joyzal woke up the next morning in his bunk without a care in the universe. As if he didn’t have any responsibilities…like a target in lockdown stasis to deliver to the Bounty Hunter Guild, mission data to complete, or routine maintenance checks to perform.
Fuck work.
Fuck everything.
All that mattered was this moment.
This female. His Bride.
His hand cupped a full, soft breast,
and his hard cock pressed against her perfect ass. He curved closer to the female who meant the most to him in the universe and buried his nose in her hair and inhaled, drugged by her scent.
Last night he’d claimed this human. She’d offered her hand, her touch, initiating mating compatibility. The bolt of pure lust that had assailed his body had been a revelation. He’d claimed her, buried his cock in her hot pussy and released his seed in her womb, creating the start of his line. A faint smile spread across his face, testing unused muscles. Normally, unmated Margols did not smile. There was little reason to. But today was different. Finally, he had found his mate.
He’d waited for his Bride for what seemed an eternity. Most Xylans found their mates in the first quarter of their lifespan, and rarely after the age of forty. As he’d reached that dreaded milestone, Joyzal had grown more and more certain he would never find a Bride, never start his line. Each year he dug deeper into his isolated life. He’d thrown himself into his work, rechanneling energies other warriors used for mating and rearing of offspring. Instead he focused on achieving number one status on the Bounty Hunter Leaderboards. If he had no line, at least he had that.
And then he met this human, his Bride.
He tightened his arms around her. Their legs were entwined. She was softer than he imagined a Xylan female would be, no ridges or claws, not even scales or feathers, just plush skin. Her royal pigment was glorious. His lust inflamed just gazing at the dark tones of her rounded curves and muscular long legs. He growled in his chest, his shaft hardening painfully against her back. Her breasts, her ass, her pink pussy—all were made for him. He couldn’t believe he’d been blessed by the gods with such a female. And last night, when he’d touched her, his human had awakened for him. His Hunter suit had charted her physical reactions, letting him know she’d been as physically attracted, as enthralled with mating lust as he was.
He already knew humans were capable of procreating and mating with Xylan. Rayzor of Twelve, his main competitor on the Bounty Hunter Leaderboards, had recently taken a human as his Bride and retired to the agrarian planet Zamarian Prime. Rayzor of Thirteen was born only one planet rotation ago, confirming human and Xylan were mating compatible.
Rayzor’s Bride was colorless, but this human looked much like a Xylan female of royal pigment, but without the ridges on her forehead. And her hands. He admitted they were strange with the additional appendage and the lack of true claws. Humans were odd in their multitude of pigment ranges. Rayzor’s Bride was sadly devoid of pigment, and yet here was another human female shrouded in glorious royal pigment. How could they be so different? It was a puzzle. Although, his Bride’s royal pigment could prove to be a curse instead of a blessing. On Chronos, Margol and Xylans with royal pigment rarely mated. Dilution of pigment was avoided in Xylan culture. She might be human, but her royal pigment marked her as a Xylan of the highest order.
This was why he and his Bride would never return to Chronos.
She snored, and her breath caught; her body stiffened in his grasp. His Bride was awake. Unlike Xylan females who kept their hair long, his Bride had shorn her hair. It was a strange human custom, but it did expose more of her skin to his touch, which he enjoyed. He slid his hand along the slender column of her neck and spine. Her back was perfection. The curve that dipped and rose to form her ample buttocks was something he could examine for the rest of his life. He knew she was awake because she wiggled her ass against his throbbing cock. He growled, finding it difficult to not spend all over her back, marking her with his seed.
She turned in the bed, catching him with her hazel eyes—so Xylan and yet not. She moved to face him, the sheet covering only her breasts and leaving bare the curve of her hip and the length of her strong legs. She stared at him intently. Her breath quickened, her eyes lingered on his lips and lowered to his chest and widened at the sight of his swelling cock. He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. She bit her lip and exhaled through her nose. He knew she was reliving the night before. His chest warmed at the knowledge that his Bride ached for him, too.
She caught his gaze. “Who are you?” she asked huskily. “What is your name? What happened?”
He reached out and cupped her face, sliding a claw along her smooth cheek as he answered her question. “I am Joyzal of Six. When I took you off the slave ship I brought you to the medical bay and had a diagnostic check performed to rid you of any ill effects of your kidnapping. At that time I had a universal translator implanted in your brain so you can understand Xylan and many other major languages spoken in the four sectors.”
“Oh, thank you. That’s perfect.” She leaned into his touch. “Of six? What does that mean? Is the number six your last name?”
“It means I am the sixth Joyzal of my line,” he answered with pride. He dropped his claw, reached for her small human hand and engulfed it with his own.
“Like a junior?” she responded, her smallest appendage absently stroking his hand. “So your father’s name is also Joyzal?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I don’t understand this term junior, but my father’s name was also Joyzal.” He felt the familiar stab of sadness at the reminder that his father, Joyzal of Five, was no longer alive. “I am an orphan. My line died with honor, fighting until their last breath, ensuring for eternity their place among the gods.” As a youth, he’d been the sole survivor of the Outpost Eighteen attack on Aytion in Sector Three. He had been taken back to Chronos and raised with respect and care as the offspring of a fearless and honorable line. But on Chronos he was also constantly reminded of his low pigment. He was Margol and nothing would change that. He chose to leave Chronos when he came of age and earned his license and joined the Bounty Hunter Union, working among other species on the edges of the four sectors, where the issue of his pigment rarely came up. As a Bounty Hunter, his worth came by his work and his accomplishments, not by the color of his skin.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jacole responded, squeezing his hand. “I’m sorry your family is gone.” She knew exactly what it felt like to have no one. It wasn’t easy.
He remained silent, not answering, continuing to stare at her with every ounce of his being, as if his life depended upon monitoring her every movement. And he was naked. And aroused.
Holy fuck, this guy was hot.
“My name is Jacole,” she said, breaking the silence and changing the subject, trying to throw something out there to get the conversation going again. He obviously didn’t want to say more about his family.
He placed one hand possessively on her hip. She found herself basking in his heated gaze. She’d woken with his hard cock against her ass, and he’d fucked her senseless the night before, so she supposed there was no need to act like they were strangers.
She was doing her best to not fully stare at his penis, but she was finding it difficult. He was on his side, facing her, and his beautiful cock was stiff and right there, uncovered. When she’d first turned over, she’d only caught a glimpse of it before forcing herself to look away, but now her mind was consumed with penis, and all she wanted to do was climb on top of him and lick and touch him all over, discover all his corners and edges and feel that cock pounding inside of her again.
But on the other hand, she didn’t know a thing about this guy. She had to be smart and think with her mind instead of her pussy. But Christ, it was tough. This man had the physique of a sports phenom, combined with the edgy roughness of a Navy SEAL. And that gray hair at his temples… The testosterone was making her lightheaded.
She couldn’t believe this had happened. First, she’d been kidnapped by aliens and living in a cage on their slave ship. She’d been seconds away from starting a mutiny when this guy had stormed the ship and taken out the guards. And then he’d touched her and decided he wanted to chase her and fuck her in the forest. It was all too weird. Well, good weird, if she thought about the last part. Having a one-night stand with this guy was one thing she’d never forget. She’d take the memory of last ni
ght out and pet it for the rest of her life. That had been pretty darn spectacular. Her pussy was still deliciously sore from last night’s activities. Maybe they could have sex again, at least once more before their time was up.
He nodded. “I know your name.”
She crooked an eyebrow. Focus, girl. Focus. How did he know her name? She had to figure this guy out. Was this a one-night stand she’d regret for the rest of her life, or a night that would go down in history as the best sex ever? “You do? What, did you check up on me?”
“Yes, I did,” he answered without guile. “I am a Bounty Hunter. It is what I do.”
A Bounty Hunter? Well, that explained a lot. She would’ve done the same thing if she were in his shoes. It was smart thinking. She decided to let it go.
“What are you?” she asked. “I know you just said you’re a Bounty Hunter, but, um, what species are you? Like, for instance, I’m a human from Earth, and you are…?”
“I am Xylan,” he answered absently, because his hand on her hip had now migrated to her waist and was dangerously close to tugging off her sheet and then they’d be fucking again and she’d get no answers.
Focus, girl. Focus. Answers first, sex later.
“Xylan?”
“Yes. I come from a warrior race based on honor and loyalty.”
Okay, still not much to go on, but since he appeared to be a man of few words at the moment, she’d have to take what she could get.
His hand stilled, and he met her gaze, looking almost bashful, which was hard for a man to do when he had ridges on his forehead and two fangs peeking out from under his lip. “I know on Earth you were called Jacole Walker,” he said with a rumbly, deep voice. “As my Bride, it is my duty to offer you a nickname that only I will use, but…”
“But…what?”
“I want to call you Jacole.”
“Yeah, that’s my name. Why would that be wrong?” Bride? Had she heard right, had he called her his Bride like they were married or something? No… Why would he say that?
The Alien Bounty Hunters Complete Series: Books 1-8 Page 17