Page 14 of Alien Jeopardy
Oh god, his breath feels good against my forehead. Is that a fang?
I squeeze my eyes shut, worried that if I look into his gorgeous eyes again, I’m going to embarrass myself by coming from that alone.
What the hell is going on with me?
Shit. I’ll never look at pivot tables the same way.
Okay, focus, Ellison! This is not the time to get horny. Absolutely not. Sure, he’s jacked, but he’s an alien, and what’s more, you are being flipping filmed.
Embarrassment takes the place of some of my cuckoobird bananapants lust, and I latch onto that for dear life.
How much second-hand embarrassment did I feel when those twoWorld’s Most Eligiblecontestants hooked up on camera and the damn producers provided subtitles of their moaning?
I do not want that.
Nope, I do not want any of my moans to be subtitled.
Besides, I don’t just hook up with people.
Or aliens.
Subtitles. Dubbed moaning.
Me, writhing in his arms, using his alien dick to get myself off over our pants.
No! Bad brain.
I inhale, my lady parts absolutely aching.
Excel formulas. Having to tell people to turn their mics on during video calls. Telling people to turn their mics off. The Microsoft paperclip help icon.
I squirm, trying to lessen the sensation… and only succeed in moaning again as his fang scrapes against my temple.
Shit. What the hell is going on with my body?
Think, Ellison, think.
Sweat stings my eyes as my alien ride shifts in the air, and a glance down tells me we’re descending.
I swallow, tracking the way the ground simply seems to rise up to meet us, too fast. I whimper, and this time, it has nothing to do with the blazing mystery lust trying to make me bone the jolly green giant alien and everything to do with the fact we’re coming in too fast.
We have to be coming in too fast.
Our angle changes as the alien starts to dive, and I screech, self-preservation taking the reins and my arms scrabbling at him, attempting to climb to his back.
A tiny rational voice in my head tells me this is a bad idea, that trying to ride him like a rodeo clown won’t help, seeing as how his freaking wings are on the same damned back I’ve suddenly attempted to scale?—
His tail clamps around my hips, the tip of it between my legs, making my mind go blank with need as it stops just short of where I want it. He rumbles something sharp, the vibration of his voice starting in the lowest part of his chest.
The part my legs are currently spread over.
Sweat beads on my forehead, and my body decides it doesn’t give a flying alien fuck about anything but getting off.
I grind against him, whipping my hips up and digging my heels into his back, trying to get him to dip that tail just a liiiiittle bit lower.
Darkness falls, and I squeak in surprise as we accelerate.
Not darkness, no—his wings, the tips of which are now digging into my butt.
