Page 84 of Alien Jeopardy
That has me opening my eyes wider, and I stifle a yawn. “What?”
“The high five.”
I inspect his face for signs that he’s joking around, but he doesn’t so much as blink, which is a bit creepy.
“Does the high five not mean you were pleased with my sexual prowess? Is it not how you show your sexual partner that they brought you pleasure?”
“Ah.” I clear my throat. “Well. It doesn’t mean that all the time.”
How the hell am I supposed to get myself out of this one?
“I can see I misunderstood,” he says, and there’s a hint of coldness that surprises me.
“Hey,” I say, putting my hands on either side of his face. “Don’t be upset, it was a misunderstanding. I will high five you if you really want that, but it doesn’t have some deep meaning.”
He inhales, nostrils flaring, gaze darting between my eyes.
I continue on, since he doesn’t seem to be calming down just yet. “If you want, I can show my appreciation another way.”
A terrible, silly part of me wants to hold up both hands and teach him about a double high five, but I don’t. I just wait.
“How?” He cocks his head.
“May I touch you?” I ask, and it comes out a lot sultrier than I expected.
He swallows, then nods. “My body is yours to do what you will with.”
So instead of giving him a high five, I kiss my way down his body, inspecting every muscle, every scar.
“That one is from an accident with a halvek.”
I kiss the raised edge of the scar, then run a fingertip along it. “What’s a halvek?”
“A large animal. Livestock.” His voice is strained, and I smile, loving that I can make him sound like that.
“Mmm,” I say, continuing my path down his body. Last night was about me, and then we curled up together and slept.
I want to make him feel good.
I want him to know that I care about how he feels, too.
High five or not.
His hand fists in my hair, and I finally get down to the prize—that thick alien cock. It’s already hard, and I watch it move as I run my hand idly up and down it.
Moisture and heat pool between my legs because I already know how damned good Rex feels inside me.
Like this, though, eye-to-eye with it, it’s pretty intimidating.
“This, what your dick is doing… it’s called what?” I ask him, then lick the tip of it, causing him to hiss and groan before I get an answer.
“I’m going to come before you get on top of me if you keep that up,” he says with a groan. His talons tickle my scalp, reminding me of the wonderful way he washed my hair last night, the way he took care of me.
“Maybe that’s what I want.” I give him my most devious grin.
“It’s called skithing,” he manages. It sounds like sky-thing, and it makes no sense to me.
Can’t say I’m surprised there isn’t a translation.
