Page 47 of Xara and the Xenobeast

She rolled her hips experimentally, and his control visibly frayed. His eyes flashed silver, a growl rumbling from deep in his chest.

“Move,” she urged, digging her heels into the small of his back. “Please.”

He did, withdrawing almost completely before driving back in with a controlled thrust that hit something perfect inside her, and she cried out, her nails scoring lines down his back.

He set a rhythm then—deep, measured strokes that had her gasping with each thrust. She met him move for move, her body arching to take him deeper.

The pleasure built relentlessly, her nerve endings singing with each drag of his textured length against her inner walls. His tendrils caressed her everywhere, finding sensitive spots she hadn’t known existed. One wrapped around her throat, not squeezing but simply resting there, the weight of it making her pulse race with aroused vulnerability.

“I’m close,” she warned, feeling the tension coiling tighter at the base of her spine. “So close.”

He shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts to hit that perfect spot inside her with each stroke. One of his hands slidbetween their bodies, finding the sensitive bud at the apex of her thighs and circling it with gentle pressure.

The dual stimulation pushed her over the edge. She came with a cry that echoed off the cave walls, her body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. The intensity of it stole her breath, her vision narrowing to pinpricks of light before expanding again.

He continued to move through her climax, drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling and oversensitive. Only then did his rhythm falter, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release.

She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. “Let go,” she whispered against his ear. “I’ve got you.”

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and shuddered against her. She felt the pulse of his release, hot and intense, as his tendrils tightened around her almost to the point of pain before gradually relaxing.

For several moments, they remained locked together, breathing heavily. His weight pressed her into the bedding, but she welcomed it, savoring the closeness.

Eventually, he shifted to the side, taking his weight off her but keeping her tucked against him. His tendrils remained wrapped around her, as if he couldn’t bear to let her go completely.

She traced idle patterns on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm. The fire had burned even lower, casting the cave in near darkness save for the faint glow of his bioluminescent markings and the silver shine of his eyes.

At the foot of the bed, the pups had formed a tight pile, all three curled together in sleep, undisturbed by the activities of their guardians.

“I’ve wanted that for so long,” she confessed quietly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Wanted you.”

His arms tightened around her in response. One of his tendrils brushed her cheek, a tender caress that said more than words could.

She yawned, the combination of physical exertion and emotional release finally catching up to her. Sleep tugged at the edges of her consciousness, but she fought it, wanting to savor this moment a little longer.

“Sleep,” he rumbled, the word so unexpected that she shook her head. “Now you talk.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in what might have been a smile. His tendril stroked her cheek again, a silent acknowledgment., and she settled back against his chest, more at peace than she had since arriving on this strange planet.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Xenobeast trembled beneath her touch. Every muscle in his body coiled tight, fighting the primal urges that clawed at his mind. Her fingertips traced fire across his forearm, a gentle exploration that felt like lightning against his skin.

He should pull away. Should retreat to the safety of distance. Every time she got close like this, every time she touched him with those soft hands, the beast inside him—the one they’d created in those sterile labs—strained against its chains.

The fire crackled, painting her skin in amber light. The Graxlin pups slept soundly, piled together at the foot of their shared bed, their tiny bodies rising and falling with each breath. In the quiet of the cave, all he could hear was her breathing and the thunder of his own heart.

She shifted closer. The subtle movement released more of her scent—warm, intoxicating, uniquely hers. His sensory tendrils reached for her without conscious command, drawn to her like seekers to a beacon.

He was terrified—not of her, never of her—but of himself. Of what lived inside him. Of losing control and hurting her with hands designed to break and kill.

His body responded to her proximity with a fierce ache that bordered on pain. He started to pull away, to retreat to the cold safety of solitude.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice soft in the darkness. “Don’t go.”

The word froze him in place. Her hand slid up his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. His tendrils curled around her wrist, not restraining, but connecting.

“I know you feel it too,” she continued, her voice gaining strength. “This thing between us.”

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