Page 70 of Owned By the Hvrok

She closed her eyes for a breath, overwhelmed.

He thought this calmed her.

And it did.

Itshouldn’t. But it did.

It was bizarre—alien. Yet, somehow, he touched her almost like a human would. Like someone who wanted to soothe, not dominate. She’d expected something cold and mechanical, but this… this was almost tender.

And worse…

The pleasure he gave her… his touchthere—it was better than that of any man she’d ever known. Better than fingers that had been too soft, or too selfish, or too unsure. There was nothing unsure inhistouch. It was strong. Possessive. Deliberate.

Her breath hitched as he traced a path down the slope of her neck to her shoulder.

"You’re really something, aren’t you?" she murmured, her voice a little breathless. She shook her head, her lips twitching in disbelief. “You big, bad fucking metalhead. Asshole. What do you even want with me?”

She laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because it was insane. And because he couldn’t understand a word she was saying. She could say anything right now, and he wouldn’t understand a thing.

In her laughter was tension and release, and awareness of the sheerabsurdityof this moment—of being curled on the lap of a faceless alien warrior in the middle of a storm on a distant, unknown planet where the skies were red like blood.

She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t crying.

She was laughing.

And melting.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Was this a dream? A hallucination?

Was she still on Earth, unconscious on a beach, her brain filling the void with this ridiculous, elaborate fantasy? What did this say about her, about her psyche?

She let the thought hang, then fade, because his hand was still moving.

Downward.

Slow.

Measured.

She stiffened again, but didn’t stop him.

Didn’twantto.

His touch was reverent. Curious. But certain. He knew he was crossing a boundary, but it wasn’t as if he was asking permission. It was more as if he was reading her permission from the rhythm of her breath and the lack of resistance in her body.

His hand reached the edge of her dress—the strange alien garment clinging to her like liquid fabric. His fingers traced the top swell of her breast.

Just like that.

No hesitation.

Did he even know what he was touching?

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