Page 84 of Rizzed Up By My Alien Neighbor
She whispers, “Stay.”
I kiss her forehead. “Always.”
When dawn creeps into the window, the first rays catch in her eyelashes. I’m no longer an alien invader. I’m a partner. A companion. A lover. And she… she is my home.
We rise together—slowly, carefully—fingers still intertwined. Our shadows merge on the wall, not as stark opposites, but as something greater than the sum: unity. Outside, the world continues—kids waiting for school buses, crops in fields, property line disputes inching toward fireworks. But here, we have forged a covenant that defies all that.
I tilt her chin up, locking eyes, and offer a grin that’s part relief, part awe. “Ready to start fighting for tomorrow?”
She laughs, soft and open, and nods. “Yeah. But first… coffee.”
I chuckle as she tugs me toward the kitchen. “Coffee it is. Earth style.”
She pulls me close for a final kiss before we step into the morning. And as our lips part, the promise lingers: we chose this. Together.
In that quiet kitchen, wrapped in the smell of brewing beans and summer light, I realize that love is not a matter of timing—it is a matter of truth. And we’ve spoken our truth, loud and clear, to the stars and to each other.
Yes, the war still waits. But tonight, we found something more powerful. And that… that is our victory.
CHAPTER 26
VANESSA
The house is unnaturally quiet, the kind of stillness that pricks at your skin—too private, too raw. I hear my own heartbeat thumping beneath the mattress, each thud loud as a drum in the hush. Rychne’s presence next to me feels alive, palpable; I can scent him—clean metal undertones mixed with the faint warmth of his skin, something earthy beneath his human guise. This night isn’t about custody battles or alien conspiracies or who-knows-what waiting beyond my front yard. It’s just us. Raw. Unfiltered.
I pull the covers up to my chin and swallow, mouth dry. Words bounce in my chest, heavy and half-formed. "I’m not broken," I want to say. "I’m scared." But it comes out quiet. Imperfect.
The silver of moonlight lays across the sheets, striping his body like a living myth. His red scales shimmer in the pale light, each one catching my breath. Rychne lies beside me, chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm with mine. His gaze—those liquid gold eyes—watches me like I’m sacred.
When he touches me again, it’s reverent. His palm slides across my belly, slow, fingers splaying to cradle the curve of mywaist. I shiver. It’s not from cold. It’s from the way he makes every inch of me feel like it’s been waiting for this touch.
“May I?” he asks, voice thick velvet.
I nod, too breathless to speak.
His lips return to mine, and I taste him—warmth, patience, need. His tongue dips between my lips, coaxing, teasing, deepening with every exhale. My fingers tangle in the edges of his short hair, marveling at the heat rising from his body.
He trails kisses along my jaw, down my neck, until I feel the roughness of his breath against my breast. He pulls my nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking with such precision that I arch off the bed.
“Rychne,” I moan, fingers digging into his back. “Oh god.”
He hums in response, vibrating against my nipple, and I swear I see stars.
Then he moves down, kissing a trail across my ribs, my stomach, his large hands gently parting my thighs. He takes a moment—just one, to look at me. Like this is a gift.
And then his mouth is on me.
I cry out as his tongue flicks my clit, slow and steady. He licks with purpose, with worship. It’s not just foreplay. It’s communion. He tastes me like I’m wine he’s been forbidden from drinking. I writhe under his mouth, hips lifting into each pass of his tongue.
“Oh fuck, Rychne, don’t stop—please?—”
His fingers join in, slipping inside my pussy, stroking with the same care he uses in battle—controlled, exact, devastating. He builds me up, teases me close, then backs off. Again. And again.
By the third edge, I’m sobbing into the pillow, shaking. My clit throbs, my walls pulse around his fingers.
“I want you,” I gasp. “Now.”
He pulls back, climbs over me, and for a second, we just stare. His cock is massive, dark red and pulsing. It twitches as he strokes it, eyes locked on me.
