Page 17 of Wrecked By My Alien Mentor

Orion doesn’t give me a moment to recover. His hands grip my hips, spreading me open, and then his tongue is on me, licking and probing with a precision that leaves me gasping. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt—hot, wet, and ridged, tracing every inch of me. My back arches involuntarily, my hands clenching behind me as I’m pushed over the edge again.

I lose count of how many times he makes me come. My body jerks and shakes, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Every touch, every lick, every stroke pushes me higher, until I’m floating in a haze of pleasure.

When he finally releases me, I collapse against the bench, my body spent. His hands are gentle as he unfastens the cuffs and removes the gag, the sudden freedom making me shiver.

He pulls me up, his mouth crashing into mine in a kiss that’s equal parts claiming and tender. His tongue flicks against mine, and I melt into him, my hands finding his scales as I kiss him back with everything I have.

This is where I belong. With him. His.

CHAPTER 8

ORIYN

The numbers on the screen blur together, a sea of digits and decimals that refuse to make sense. I rub my temples, the weight of overseas holdings pressing down on my skull. My hand reaches for the coffee mug out of habit, but it’s empty. Again.

“Ms. Daniels,” I bark, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Where is my coffee?”

“Coming, Sir!” Her voice carries from the kitchen, light and teasing, like she’s been waiting for this moment.

I lean back in my chair, fingers drumming on the desk. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor grows louder, and then she’s there, standing in front of me with the coffee carafe in hand. Or rather,tryingto hold it. Her arms are bound in the secretary yoke, the metal bar forcing her wrists up and away from her body. The leather cuffs hug her skin, the sheepskin lining soft against her wrists. She’s wearing that pencil skirt again, the one that hugs her curves like it was made for her.

“You’re late,” I say, my tone flat, but my eyes rake over her.

“Apologies, Sir.” She bends at the waist, her ass brushing against the edge of my desk as she pours the coffee. The scent of her arousal hits me like a punch to the gut, sharp andintoxicating. My cock twitches, straining against the fabric of my trousers.

She straightens up, her smile smug. “There you go, Mr. Weller. Fresh and hot, just like you like it.”

“Good girl,” I murmur, and her eyes flutter shut, a soft sigh escaping her lips. My hand moves on its own, sliding up her leg, the fabric of her skirt bunching under my fingers. When I reach her inner thigh, she gasps, her body jerking. A single drop of coffee spills onto my hand.

“I spoke too soon,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. “I suppose you must be disciplined.”

She chuckles, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Whatever you say, Mr. Weller, Sir. Though we’re not getting much work done like this.”

I silence her with a kiss, my hand gripping the back of her neck to pull her closer. Her lips part for me, and I taste the sweetness of her, the heat of her breath mingling with mine. The yoke keeps her arms pinned, but her body presses against me, her hips grinding into my lap.

“Work,” I mutter against her lips, “can wait.”

I hike Cora’s skirt up with one hand, the fabric bunching around her waist. Her breath hitches as my other hand finds the waistband of her panties. I rip them off in one swift motion, and she moans into my mouth, the sound muffled but desperate. Her hips buck against my leg, seeking friction she’s not going to find there.

“Eager,” I mutter against her lips, my hands moving to her shirt. I pinch her nipples through the fabric, and she gasps, her body arching into the touch. “Stand up.”

She obeys, her movements shaky as she rises from the desk. Her arms are still bound by the yoke, her wrists held high and away from her body. The position leaves her vulnerable, exposed, and I take full advantage. My fingers unzip my fly, and Ifree my cock, the thick, scaled length already hard and ready for her.

“Get on me,” I command, my voice low and rough. My hands grip her hips, guiding her as she straddles my lap. Her pussy brushes against the tip of my cock, and she shivers, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Now.”

She sinks down onto me, her body taking me in inch by inch. The feel of her around me is electric, her warmth, her tightness, her wetness—I groan, my head falling back as she settles fully onto my lap. My hands move to her nipples again, pinching and rolling them between my fingers. She whimpers, her body trembling, but she doesn’t stop.

Her eyes meet mine, and there’s a challenge there, a spark of defiance that shouldn’t be there. Not now. Not with her arms bound, her body completely at my mercy. But Cora’s never been one to back down, and I can see it in the way she grinds against me, her hips moving in slow, deliberate circles.

“Someone’s feeling bold,” I growl, my grip on her nipples tightening just enough to make her gasp. “You think you’re in charge here, Ms. Daniels?”

She doesn’t answer, not with words, but her hips don’t stop. She’s testing me, pushing me, and I’ll be damned if I let her win. My hands tighten on her hips, pulling her down harder onto my cock. She cries out, her pussy clenching around me, but she doesn’t stop moving.

“You want to play, Cora?” I ask, my voice rough with need. “Then let’s play.”

I thrust up into her, hard and deep, and she moans, her body arching as she takes me. Her movements become more erratic, her hips grinding against mine with a desperation that only fuels my own. The sound of her moans, the feel of her around me, the way her body responds to my every touch—it’s too much, and I can feel myself getting close.

“Come for me,” I command, my voice harsh, broken. “Now.”

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