Pounding into Stacey's depths with youthful fire and fury, never letting up a single beat, Tavos grunted, "Yes... shadaal yes, I will do it so much more. Shadaal, I will do it to you so hard, so deep, so long... Uuuhhh... UUUHHH..."
Much as Tavos had resisted his heritage, it was in humping a woman that his warrior spirit showed itself. Stacey was almost terrified at how thrilled she was by the sheer savagery of his passion. Every stroke of his long, hard prong inside her was like the blow of some mighty weapon, struck by a conqueror who took her without mercy. She tossed her head back and forth at the sheer intensity of his beating on top of her. She welcomed the feeling that the pleasure of his animal, carnal thrusts would tear her asunder. Tears poured from the corners of her eyes. She groped his body everywhere: shoulders, arms, back, buttocks, thighs, her hands demanding more of his fearsome thrusting. In the midst of pounding inside her, Tavos roared, "Shadaal! I cannot hold it back!"
Moving like a sexual acrobat, he kept himself sheathed in her channel while rising to his knees. He licked his fingers and lowered them to the place of her greatest sensitivity and began his ultimate assault, strumming at her little love handle while still ramming himself in and out of her. The pleasure was so overwhelming that Stacey grabbed a pillow and covered her mouth with it to muffle her scream, as the greatest ecstasy of all struck thunderously into both of them at once. Where Stacey had felt herself going over a falls, she now felt a wave of ecstasy crash down upon her, even as another wave let itself loose from Tavos's weapon of passion. His own wetness gushed into hers, cascading and flooding into her womb. He made an incoherent yell of conquest—and then, conquered as well, he fell on top of Stacey and was still.
Stacey lay under Tavos, panting, gasping, sobbing, wet and tingling down below where he was still lodged inside her. In the wake of a first time that she would carry with her every day of her life, she was happy beyond all thought, beyond all expression. She caressed Tavos's body up and down, savoring the sheen of perspiration on his hard male flesh. They were quiet for a time and did not move. At some point she heard herself say, almost breathlessly, "It's still light out. How long can you stay?"
His head resting on her bosom as if it were a pillow, Tavos replied, "Until morning. Until you must go for your appointment. I will escort you there."
"How many times can you do it?" she asked.
Tavos kissed her bosom. His erection had already returned and he was ready to use it on her again. He rose up to meet her face, kissed her, and replied, "We will lose count."
And Stacey moaned with renewed delight as he slipped his pulsing prong deep into her again.
Tavos cancelled all of his massage appointments for the rest of the week. He could recover the money in fees for interviews and speaking engagements as a pardoned absconder from the Sarmian wars. He stayed with Stacey for the remainder of her visit, in her bed, lying between her newly slender thighs and making love deep inside her day and night. Stacey Fagan ended up seeing very little of Nirvana Planitia after all. But she did not care, as she did get to see every last centimeter of the body and zazansa of Tavos of Sarma.
THE END
My Alien Alpha
Alien Romance
Another amazing night, I see.
Disappointed, the woman took a sip of her blackberry schnapps while observing the inside of the bar. The place was almost full, mostly occupied by single women and the occasional middle-aged man in search of an easy lay.
Jasmine, old girl, you have officially hit rock bottom, she told herself, unintentionally lifting the glass up to her mouth again a mere moment before she managed to regain control and put it back on the table.
The night is young and I will have to drive home afterward. She only noted what she already knew, a transparent and fairly ineffective attempt to slow the pace of her drinking.
“Fun,” the woman spoke aloud, allowing her voice to be drowned out by the merciless racket given off by the latest popular tune. Reacting to the mention of the word, her lips contracted, bending upwards to form a sarcastic smile. It had been ages since anyone had managed to amuse Jasmine, and by the look of things in this place, the trend wasn’t going to change any time soon.
How do they do it? She asked herself, unable to pry her eyes away from the other patrons, completely and utterly shocked by their sheer banality. Eagerly displaying empty smiles, the various people—both paired and individual—danced and yelled while downing glass after glass of cheap alcoholic beverages, all just to temporarily become mindless enough to enjoy this place.
Is that the point of life? Drink away your boredom every night, only to have to do it all over again tomorrow? In response to that train of thought, Jasmine’s arm moved by itself again, allowing the pleasant aroma of her liquor to take some of the edge off.
Not nearly enough, I’m afraid. Slowly, she placed the glass back onto the table, feeling the draw of its contents the very second it left her mouth.
Maybe I should follow the others’ lead tonight after all, she considered while watching what little was left of the sweet, potent liquid as it swirled around its transparent little container. Get myself wasted, hook up with one of these guys… Let loose for a little bit. Maybe I’ll feel a bit better tomorrow, then.
Now partially willing to check out her options, Jasmine lifted her gaze from the table and started scanning the bar again. The situation hadn’t changed. In fact it had gotten worse, as a rural-looking elderly chap mistook Jasmine’s curiosity for interest and immediately set foot toward her.
Oh, no. Please, God, Satan, anyone who might be listening, make it so that he’s going after someone else. Unmoved by her prayer, the man kept coming toward Jasmine’s seat, treating her with the sight of his own set of sparse, yellow teeth along the way.
“Well, well, ‘twas about time for you to give me the eye, pur’ty thing,” the intruder bellowed out, the rough, gravelly tone of his voice somehow cutting through the omnipresent racket with little effort.
Seems like nobody’s listening after all, Jasmine concluded, donning the least friendly expression she could instead of replying to the older man’s greeting.
“Always knew ya had a thing for meh, little miss Paulson.” He kept on talking despite the complete lack of reaction on Jasmine’s part. Taking his unpleasantness to another level, he pulled out a chair before sitting down directly opposite the obviously uninterested woman.
“All’a you’s the same, y’know? Yo’ time comes, you ain’t so pretty no more, them young’uns don’t chase you around th’ way they used to.” He practically spat the words out. It was remarkable how repugnant he was.
Does he really approach girls with that attitude? Or is this his special routine, prepared just for me? Involuntarily, the woman chuckled. She regretted it immediately afterward.
“Ah’m right, aren’t I?” The intruder seemed pleased with himself, not giving Jasmine the chance to respond before continuing with his act. Visibly swaying due to intoxication, he bent his torso over the table, now barely more than a foot away from her face. “Don’t take much to figure out. When it comes down to it, all’a ya want th’ same thing.”
“If there is in fact one need common to all women, I’m sure that it’s to be as far away from you possible,” said another voice, interrupting whatever the older man was about to do, its origin obscured from Jasmine’s view by the interposing body. It was a deep baritone that by all means should have been drowned out by the bass of the music, but somehow managed to remain clear and understandable.
Like a spring, the old intruder jerked himself back into a standing position, immediately turning around to face this stranger. There was strength in those old bones yet; that much was apparent from the motion, but it all evaporated completely once the older man got a sight of whom he was facing.
Easily over six-foot-one and built like an athlete, the deep-voiced man towered over most of the bar’s patrons. The crimson shirt he wore over his black pants was slightly unbuttoned at the to
p, letting everyone know just how well chiseled the upper parts of his pectoral muscles were. His hair was dark and wavy, closely cropped at the back of his head but significantly longer at the top. Adding a curious vibe to this generous display of resplendent masculinity was a pair of sunglasses he wore over his eyes. They were red, and far more reflective than was the norm for shades of that color.
For several seconds the woman and her unwanted company stared at the new arrival, both surprised for different reasons. Not willing to let the silence go on for much longer, the handsome stranger took a deep breath and spoke again, the tone of his voice still astoundingly clear.
“The lady does not enjoy your company, sir. It would be best for you to step away right now.” The tone was strangely threatening, but the mysterious man’s posture was anything but—relaxed, slightly bent to the right, his hands resting within the pockets in the side of his pants.
“She didn’t say a word ‘bout dat!” the older man argued, his left hand dramatically extended toward Jasmine’s part of the table. Noting her lack of confirmation, he sighed, the frustration quickly turning into anger. Now having formed fists with both of his hands, the unwelcome man started yelling at the stranger, the gravelly tone of his voice becoming even less pleasant.
“You think you’re the shiyet, don’t you? Young, rich an’ good-looking as you are, ya waltz up ‘ere an’ take what’s not yours. Dangnabbit, I was ‘ere first, ya no-good scum-sucking son of a-“
“It doesn’t matter that she didn’t say it, sir. What matters is that I said it, if you catch my drift.” The mysterious individual interrupted the older one’s ranting with no effort whatsoever, all while raising his right hand toward the upper rim of his glasses. In but a single motion, he lowered them ever so slightly, enough for the standing local to see what lay behind, but insufficient for Jasmine to catch a glimpse.
Now rendered completely speechless, the unwelcome older man relaxed his body completely, allowing his hands to drop to his sides. Defeated by something Jasmine could not comprehend, he turned toward his right and left their company, avoiding touching or even looking upon the stranger again.
“That coot won’t bother you again,” the dark-haired man said as he placed his sunglasses. “At least, not anytime soon,” he continued, dazzling Jasmine with a smile full of porcelain-white teeth.
“Mind if I sit down?” The stranger appeared to have asked only as a formality, having occupied the seat before Jasmine had a chance to respond in any way. Not that she’d have refused such a breath of fresh air.
“Not at all,” Jasmine replied, a smile unexpectedly creeping across her expression. “Although I find it amusing that you’ve taken the liberty to do so before I even gave you my approval, mister…?”
“James,” the dark-haired stranger finally introduced himself, still smiling. “James Ackerman, at your service. And if you are not interested in my company, miss, all you need to do is ask and I will be gone as fast as I came.”
“There’ll be no need for that, thank you.” Surprised by the mysterious man’s skill at grabbing her attention, Jasmine could not help but keep grinning. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you’re a cut above the rest, at least as far as first impressions go,” she proceeded. “Though we’ll see how things go from there.”
“We could start with you introducing yourself,” James retorted, giving off the impression of an intense stare even through those non-transparent shades. “I’d hate to have to call you “miss” or “lady” all through the night.”
“Oh, all through the night, you say?” Jasmine reached for her drink, downing it in a single motion before gazing into her reflection within the stranger’s shades. “Kind of presumptuous of you to assume that we will keep each other company for that long, don’t you think?” She smiled again, the better to take some edge off her words.
“Not at all,” the man kept smiling back. “I’m that good.”
A bit of an ego on this one, Jasmine concluded, scanning the man’s features once again, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll bite.
“Jasmine Paulson, pleased to meet you.” Gracefully, she extended her hand over the table and the stranger responded in kind.
“A pretty name for a pretty woman,” he commented, the firm yet gentle touch of his palm inviting her to learn more, while not indicating a violent or predatory disposition.
“Tell me, Jasmine,” James inquired as he released her palm, “What is a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
"Well, James, I’d ask you the same thing, but I’m afraid you don’t completely fit the question.” She grinned, lowering her view toward where his nether region would be.
“I am serious,” he replied, the smile disappearing from his face. “You are beautiful, obviously highly educated, and it’s pretty apparent that you’re not quite happy. Why are you here, Jasmine?”
Initially, Jasmine wanted to keep playing the flirting game. Tell him that she was here waiting for the perfect man. Do a witty word-twister. What little of her rational mind was left by the schnapps wanted to keep this stranger at a distance for at least a little while longer. But the way the man looked, acted and talked, combined with the change of tone in his voice, somehow compelled her to say the truth instead.
“What else is there to do?” Jasmine finally replied after several long seconds of silence. “When you’ve been in this backwater for as long as I have, you’ve met everyone you’re ever going to meet. Nights like this are the height of my day. To be frank, you’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me in years.”
Now deprived of her own smile, Jasmine lifted her empty glass for James to see. “It all goes downhill after this.”
“So I see.” It was amazing how intense a gaze the man could pull off while revealing absolutely no part of his eyes. “That still doesn’t answer my question. This town is not for you. Why live here?”
“It started out as a sense of obligation, I guess.” Jasmine lowered her glass onto the table, staring into it for a little bit before meeting her reflection again. “My folks were poor, and they didn’t have any children other than me. I was a good student, graduated with a degree in biology fairly quickly; drained my parents’ wallets even quicker, though.”
Feeling something tighten around her heart, she stopped talking for a moment. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed by the time she was ready to speak again, but if the stranger felt anything akin to annoyance, he most certainly didn’t show it.
“I needed to get a job. We needed me to get a job. There was an opening in the local high school, and I grabbed it immediately. It isn’t too bad. Working with children is fun for the most part.”
“Was it worth it?” James inquired as if he was questioning the woman rather than merely getting to know her.
“Of course not,” Jasmine replied, the grief apparent in her eyes. “My folks died pretty soon anyway, and I’m still here, a decade older, doors rapidly closing around me. But that’s life, I guess.”
“But enough about me, I think,” her expression brightened on the prospect of changing the subject. “I’d like to know more about you, James. Who are you? Why are you here?”
“Well, normally I’d open up by saying that I’m not from around here.” James lifted his brow as a grin crept back onto his face. “But you already know that, so I’ll just skip to the next part.
“I am a geneticist, actually,” he continued, still fixated on Jasmine while gesturing for the barmaid to come and take his order. “So you see, we have even more in common than you thought. Genetics and biology go hand in hand. You think the two of us might get to that level in the future?”
Oh, he’s a charmer, this one. Jasmine felt herself grin unintentionally again.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she retorted as she gauged his reaction. There was no chink in that impenetrable mantle of self-confidence. “But I do know that you are right about one thing, Mr. Ackerman.”
“And what would that be
?” James smiled, visibly amused.
“You are most definitely good at whatever it is that you do. Not everyone can drag a smile out of me when I’m down in the dumps like that, and I mean it. This is a touchy subject for me… one that causes me a lot of pain, and for some reason I can open up to you about it without trouble. Best of all, with your help, I can snap back from that state of mind pretty fast. That’s a gift.”
“I’m flattered that you think so,” James replied, apparently still waiting for her to continue. “You’re not the first person to do so. But on the other hand, you are the most beautiful.”
God, he is so skilled with words. Jasmine felt herself getting lost in the display that the dark-haired man put before her, wondering what else he was skilled at. Everything about him radiated power: the posture, the facial gestures, the muscles… even the verbosity. It was all spot on. The perfect man sat right next to her, and for some reason was showing interest in her.
Something is wrong here, though. Her instincts suddenly turned vocal, but she immediately drowned them out. What’s the worst that can happen? She argued with her inner voice, intent on not missing the opportunity to better know this fascinating individual. Even if the stranger turned out to be some sort of homicidal maniac, at least that’d be a change from the slow death she had to face while holed up in this place.
Alright, let’s give this a shot, she concluded, so lost in thought she didn’t even register the serving girl.
“Miss Paulson,” James’ voice pierced through her hazy awareness as well as it did through the racket. “This lovely little barmaid is here to take our orders. Another blackberry schnapps, am I right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Jasmine replied, snapping back into awareness as the bar employee jotted it down on a piece of paper and retreated back to the counter. “I lost myself a little back there, sorry.”
Married To The Cowboy (Love In Collin's Ranch 3) Page 17