Page 78 of Sky Song
“Were you?”
Her blush deepened. “Was something done to you?”
“Done to me? My implant? It wasn’t very painful.”
“No, I mean… your male parts.”
“What about them?” He truly didn’t understand.
“They’re gone.”
“They are?” There was a pause, and then he chuckled. “Oh, precious. I you’ve never seen a Rix man.”
Cricket didn’t know how to react. “I shouldn't have asked.”
He kissed her, deep and slow, exploring her mouth. “My parts are still with me,” he said against her lips. “They are on theinside until I’m ready. I will never be ready for you, and for that, I’m sorry.”
He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he slid his hands into the waistband of her garish flowered pajama bottoms - a sale item - to cup her against naked skin, pressing her closer. She arched against him, hardened nipples straining against a thin material of her plain white tank top. He got her drift and sucked one into his mouth, hard, making her gasp and wreathe against his body.
“You like it?” he murmured and pushed the hem of her top up, revealing her breasts for him to do as he pleased. And it pleased him to fondle her lightly, to stroke her nipples and suckle each one in turn until she was melting against him. She’d never before given any thought to how experienced Lyle might be with physical intimacy, if he knew women at all, if Rix aliens’ idea of sex was any different from the humans’, but she didn’t need to worry. Whether by experience or instinct, he got it right.
She began moving against his crotch, now on her own, the sensitized folds rubbing against the material of her panties, slick and almost painful. And he knew that, too. Letting go of her breasts, he tugged her pants down a bit and slid a hand in, cupping her wet and pliant sex, just holding tightly, and it felt so good. She moved inside his hand, the wetness making a slick sound, arousing and distracting her in equal measures. Biting her lip, she tried to hold still, but his hand began to move, making it impossible.
“You’re sensitive there, yes?” A pad of his finger rubbed along her seam with just the right amount of pressure.
She moaned, lost for words, hands clutching and holding on to his shoulders for dear life. Her hips undulated, seeking, mindlessly, to slide onto one of his fingers, but he pulled them away.
“Ah, my hearts, mind the nails.”
“Oh. Oh…” It slipped her mind that his nails were hard and pointy, talon-sharp. She forgot, but he remembered. He always remembered, watching, knowing, in control.
She experienced a tiny moment of reflection where she looked into his face, so close and so dear, and once again saw herself in his eyes. She was high on desire, her lids heavy, wanting him with everything that was female in her. And he was watching her intently, capturing every nuance of her expression, absorbing her response. Alert, focused, and aware.
Before she could weave a logical thread out of her fluttering thoughts to make sense of what it meant, he curled his fingers in a loose fist and ran the knuckles against that place where she was the most sensitive. All six of his knuckles, one by one, in quick succession and with light force.
She jolted, her entire body spasming, the last coherent thought poofing out of existence replaced by a throbbing need. He did it again, strumming in the opposite direction, and each knuckle bump felt like an electric shock.
Pulling her head down with his other hand, Lyle fit his mouth over hers, sealing their lips, sliding his tongue in deep until all she knew was the taste of him, the feel of him, the smell, the beats of his hearts… The rhythmic slide of his hand, her answering thrusts, the wetness of her sensitive, engorged folds pushed her higher - or was it pulling her deeper? The pressure coiled and built, and when she couldn't take it any longer, she cried into him and finally was free.
“Do you feel better now? Or do you want me to stroke you again?” He sounded so darn serious.
Cricket stirred against his chest, unfolding her angular body from a boneless curl. With a sigh, she forced her eyes to open and look at him, at his calm face with gentle, dewy eyes that missed nothing. Her mind wrestled to reconcile this watchfulalien with the most delicious lover she couldn't get enough of just a few moments ago. Lyle? And she?
She cleared her throat. “I… am fine now.”
She straightened up, and felt his attention slip. Looking down, there were her nipples, still erect, poking out from under her bunched up top. She reached to pull it down but he stalled her hand.
“No, let me look.”
Self-conscious, she lowered her hand.
He traced the outline of her breast, and the sharp dark-blue nail made a slight rasping sound against the blue veins that ran under her skin. She felt the gentle scratch and the already jutting nipple practically begged for special attention, but he bypassed it, moving ever so gently down her side, her waist, her hip.
“You’re skinny.” His fingers feathered over her ribcage.
“I’ve filled out now. You should’ve seen me before. A skeleton.” Mama claimed Cricket was willow like a runway model, which, translated from the mama-speak, meant she was too tall with meager curves.
Lyle’s black eyes didn’t seem to find any flaws. He leaned forward and tenderly kissed her nipple.
