Page 41 of Alien Desire
There’s no going back now. We’ve opened Pandora’s box and unleashed a storm of chaotic desire and passion.
Chapter sixteen - Tor
The sleep I tumble into after plundering the Omega is the deepest, most content and restful I have ever known. I don’t dream, I don’t stir, I am too exhausted, too utterly spent, and my body and mind still soaked in ecstasy.
I think I would sleep for days if it wasn’t for the little Omega nudging me, pawing at me and begging for more. I’m hard in an instant, the mere thought of sinking into her a second time enough to have me completely aroused.
I flip her over on to her stomach and drag her up onto her hand and knees, pulling her sex towards my hard cock. I’m all instinct now, the animal inside me unleashed and freed. My usual busy mind, so logical and so reasonable, is completely lost to lust.
Running my hands over her luscious curves, I stare down into her opening, dripping wet for me, and I can’t resist the urge to bury my face there again, no matter how desperately she pleads for my cock and no matter how keen I am to give it to her.
She smells most intense here, so fertile and peaked. I can hardly believe what she’s told me, that the medication they’ve given her will prevent pregnancy. My nose tells me otherwise, tells me pumping this Omega full of my seed will fill her belly with children.
The smell is simply irresistible, the most fragrant and delicious dish laid out before me, and I drag my tongue through her folds, allowing her juice to smother my tongue and sink into my bloodstream. It’s like a narcotic. It makes my head dance and my skin hum.
It reminds me of when I snuck into the pantry of our chambers as a child. On the top shelf sat the honeypot, only removed and taken down on special occasions such as my birthday. I’d lay awake dreaming of that honeypot and now, as the chef sprawled napping, was my chance. I’d climbed the shelves and perched on the top one, dipping my small head inside the wide brim of the pot and immersing my tongue in the sticky amber.
The Omega wriggles against my mouth and I remember how much she liked this from before, how I could make her lose her mind with the movement of my tongue. I seek out that tiny button of hers and play with it, tease at it like a predator might its prey. I dance with it, flicking this way then that, changing up the rhythm, building up the pace and then slowing it right down, taking my time as I linger and hover over it with long graceful sweeps of my tongue.
She is a mess, hardly able to remain on her knees, moaning and groaning, begging and pleading, losing the ability to speak. I slip a finger inside her, massaging her from the inside as I work from the outside and her body begins to tense as it did the last time and her legs shake. The little nub quivers against my tongue and then that explosion of pleasure rips through her. Her spine arches, her nub pulsates and her cunt sucks at my finger hungrily.
It’s filthy, obscene, squalid. And I love it. I know now that the only place I want to be in the whole of this universe is between her legs.
She’s still coming when I pull my finger from her and grip her hips, yanking her backwards onto my cock. I don’t give her an opportunity to adjust, I’m too far gone, too insane with lust for this woman and I pound into her, my hips hitting her backside with a wet thwack each time.
Fucking, that’s what she’d called it.
Not procreating, or mating or copulating. No; this is fucking. This is doing it just for the pure sake of it. Just because she needs it and I need it. Just because it feels so insanely, fucking amazing.
Yes, this is fucking. And I fuck her hard, showing her no mercy, the sensation of her soft cunt gripping me, holding me, the feel of our bodies creating a combined friction. The sounds she makes as she begins to climb again are too glorious for words.
My own body chases after her, racing up and up, the tension building from my core to every muscle of my body. Then it breaks with her and we crash together into an ocean of pleasure. I cling to her, as if this blast of feeling will blow us apart. Then my knot expands, locking us together as I fill her with my seed.
Afterwards as I cradle her to my chest, I worry it was too much for her, that I unleashed the power and strength of my body on her — far too violent for the little human thing that she is. I nuzzle into her neck, peppering her with kisses and lapping at the soft skin of her gland.
She freezes when I do this and her body stiffens.
“Are you ok, honeypot?” I ask her.
“Honeypot?” she says, with a hint of confusion and amusement in her tone.
“Yes,” I grind into her, “my honeypot.”
“You can’t call me that,” she giggles.
“Yes, I can. You taste as sweet as honey. It is a term of endearment.”
“OK,” she says slowly, “then what should I call you. Beefcakes?”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“Never mind,” she says, jiggling her backside against me. “Do what you were doing to my neck again please? It felt …”
I lap at her gland and once more she stills. “You like that?” I whisper.
“Yes,” she pants, “I want you to … can you bite me there?”
“It’s your mating gland,” I say against the tissue, knowing the vibration of my lips will send her wild. “If I bite you here, then we will truly be mated for life.”
