Page 12 of Chosen By the Alien
I nod, shakily. “By you.”
The glow of his eyes softens. His fingers curl around mine. “Then stay. Just stay.”
So I do.
Chapter 5
Jesus Christ. I’m kissing a fucking alien.
And I don’t want to stop.
His other hand finds my hip. He grips it like he’s steadying me, pulling me in, and my hips shift of their own accord, bringing our bodies flush. I feel it, him. Hard. Pressed against me. Not just an echo of my arousal, he'sright there, ridged and hot even through the layers of fabric. My breath catches.
Tahl breaks the kiss, just enough to whisper against my lips. “You feel it too.”
I swallow hard. My heart is a jackhammer in my throat. “I... don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You do,” he says, brushing his nose along my cheek. “You are doing it.”
His hand slides from my hip to the front of my jeans. My breath hitches when his fingers trail over the outline of my cock, teasing it like he already knows every way I like to be touched. He palms me slowly, carefully, and I gasp, hips bucking forward into his hand.
“I shouldn’t want this. I’m not…
His lips press to the corner of my mouth. “But youdowant it. I can feel it.”
He’s not wrong. My cock is rock-hard, throbbing against the denim, and the second his thumb brushes the head through the fabric, I make a sound. Low, broken, needy. My knees feel weak. Tahl presses closer, letting me feel every inch of him. His cock grinds against mine through his suit. The fabric is thinner than mine, warmer, almost damp.
No. Not damp.Slick.
He’sleakingthrough his clothes. A natural reaction, probably. Fuck. The thought makes my stomach flip. My cock throbs even harder, straining against the zipper. Every rub of his hips coats me in that warm, slick fluid, making it easier to move, more obscene. My hands fly to his waist. I grab him, gripping tight as I roll my hips in sync with his.
We’re grinding on each other like desperate teenagers.
I should be ashamed. I should be freaking the fuck out.
But all I feel is heat.
Tahl’s mouth returns to mine, messier now, hungrier. Our teeth click. Our tongues slide. I moan into him when his hand squeezes me just right, then unbuttons my jeans with careful, precise fingers. When he unzips me and slides his hand inside, I jolt.
“Can I?” he breathes. His voice is rough. Strained.
I nod. I don’t trust myself to speak.
He pulls me free. My cock springs out, hard and aching. His fingers wrap around me and he makes a sound. Something between a growl and a sigh, reverent, like he’s unwrapped a gift he’s wanted for a long time.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
I laugh, short, nervous. “I’m a mess.”
He kisses the hollow of my throat. “You arereal.”
Then he sinks to his knees.
I stare down at him, stunned, breath catching in my throat. He’s looking at me like I’m something holy. Like he’s about to pray.
“Tahl…”
He rests his cheek against my hip for a second, breathing me in. His hands hold my thighs, steadying me, and then he looks up. His eyes are glowing faintly in the low light. “I want to taste you,” he says. “May I?”
