Page 46 of Xara and the Xenobeast

She shifted, moving to straddle him, her knees bracketing his hips. The position brought them flush against each other, and she felt the unmistakable evidence of his desire pressing against her core. The contact drew a low growl from his throat that vibrated through her entire body.

His hands settled on her thighs, claws carefully retracted as they kneaded the soft flesh. The sensation made her rock against him, seeking friction, seeking more.

She broke the kiss, gasping for air. “I want you,” she breathed against his mouth.

His eyes searched hers, and she saw the conflict there—desire warring with something deeper. Fear? Uncertainty?

She cupped his face between her palms. “You won’t hurt me,” she assured him. “I trust you.”

Something shifted in his expression at her words. His tendrils wrapped more firmly around her, drawing her down until their foreheads touched. The gesture felt reverent, intimate in a way that transcended the physical desire between them.

When he kissed her again, it was with devastating tenderness. His hands moved to the hem of her sleep shirt, questioning. She nodded, lifting her arms as he drew the garment over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up.

The cool cave air pebbled her skin, but she felt no chill—not with the heat of his gaze warming her. He looked at her with such raw hunger that she felt herself flush from head to toe.

“Your turn,” she whispered, tugging at the simple garment he wore.

He complied, sitting up with her still in his lap to remove it. The movement pressed them together, skin to skin, and she couldn’t suppress a moan at the contact. His chest was a marvel of sculpted muscle and smooth skin, interrupted only by the occasional scar. She traced one with her fingertip, feeling him shudder beneath her touch.

“Every mark tells a story,” she murmured, leaning down to press her lips to a particularly vicious scar that crossed his collarbone. “Someday, I want to know them all.”

His hands skimmed up her sides, hesitating just below the curve of her breasts. She arched into his touch, encouraging him. When his thumbs finally brushed across her nipples, she gasped, her head falling back at the jolt of pleasure.

He took advantage of her exposed throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin. His tendrils wrapped around her waist, her arms, her thighs—holding her, supporting her, caressing her everywhere at once.

She rocked against him, the friction of their bodies stoking the fire building between her legs. She could feel herself growing wet, aching for more than just these teasing touches.

“Please,” she whispered.

In one fluid motion, he flipped their positions, laying her gently on her back among the soft bedding. He hovered above her, silver eyes burning with need as he looked down at her.

She reached for him, pulling him down for another kiss. His weight settled partially on top of her, one muscular thigh pressing between her legs. She ground against it shamelessly, seeking relief for the ache building there.

His hands wandered lower, tugging at the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips, helping him remove them so she lay completely bare beneath him.

For a moment, he simply looked at her, his expression one of awe and hunger. Then he lowered his head to her breast, taking a nipple into his mouth. The sensation of his tongue, slightlyrougher than a human’s, sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her body.

“Yes,” she gasped, arching into his touch. Her hands found his shoulders, his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moved.

He trailed kisses down her stomach, pausing at the scar on her thigh from her first night on the planet. The night he’d saved her. He pressed his lips to it reverently before continuing lower.

When his mouth found the heat between her thighs, she nearly came off the bed. Her hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his sensory tendrils. They curled around her wrists in response, holding her gently as his tongue explored the sensitive folds.

The dual sensation—his mouth working between her legs, his tendrils wrapped around her wrists and arms—was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. Pleasure built rapidly, coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she might shatter from it.

“Wait,” she gasped, tugging at him. “I want—I need?—”

He understood, moving back up her body to claim her mouth once more. She tasted herself on his lips, wild and primal. She fumbled at the strip of leather around his hips, desperate to feel all of him.

Together they removed the last barrier between them. She wrapped her hand around his length, feeling the ridges pulse against her palm. He positioned himself between her thighs, the broad flat head of his cock pressing against her entrance. But he hesitated, searching her face one last time.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

“I want this,” she assured him. “I want you.”

He pushed forward slowly, giving her time to adjust to his size, his shape. The stretch was intense but not painful, her body welcoming him with a slick heat that made them both groan.

When he was fully seated inside her, he stilled, his forehead pressed against hers. His tendrils wrapped around her, cradling her head, her shoulders, her waist—holding her as if she were something precious.

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