Page 57 of Exiles on Earth
She arches up, hands fumbling at her back. My thick fingers find the strap tying her breasts down behind her and tear it, relishing her shocked gasp. Peeling the fabric free, my palms rove over her pink pale skin, smooth and as delectable as the finest fruits in Oloria, glorious even in the flicker of light from the lamp.
She pants, lips red as my scales when I pull on Gerverstock strength. She makes no move to cover herself, watching my face with wonder, and then guides my hand to them. My rough callouses scrape her soft naked body, thumbs and forefinger stroking to the apex where a stubby nipple crownseach mound.
She moans, gaze locked with mine, and my cocks vibrate with need.
“El-len.” Her name vibrates on my lips, and I dive to lick her all over at last. Her taste explodes on my tongue, sweeter than any fruit and laced with salt. I want her to run with sweat, to be slick with it, to slide against me in frictionless harmony.
I take a nipple into my mouth, tongue probing the hard stubby flesh. She mewls, the sound spearing straight to my cocks.
“Touch me,” she says, arching her hips up as if offering them. I need no second invitation, tearing the small scrap of black fabric as easily as I did the one caging her breasts. Beneath lies her sex, her nether lips glistening in the dim light from the single window. She’s soaked here, too, but somehow, I know it’s because of what I’m doing to her. I excelled at the vid training, but here and now, with her heat and gasps wrapping around me, I have to hold myself back. I groan, longing to plunge in and map her contours like the diligent explorer I am.
She takes my hand, guiding it to the apex of her legs. “This is what women on Earth have. A vagina.”
My fingers glide over tight curls of hair and discover a deep valley with silken depths. Far more impressive than the paltry simulations, and utterly different to Olorian female erogenous zones.
An entirely new discovery.
“It is marvelous. You are marvelous.” I pant, chest stuttering with the effort of keeping my excitement and overwhelm in check. I’m built to learn, to excel at any task. Shoving back my eagerness, I let my hands roam her body, watching the lamplight play over her skin, how she responds, her slight movements, her color changes, the hitch to her breathing, her scent. Every instinct screams that she desires this. Me, touching her.
“I long to kiss you everywhere, but especially… here.” I set my hand gently on the curves hiding her luscious nether lips, her soft curls the same color as her hair. “Would you like that?”
She lifts her hips, delivering her sex up into my hands, my huge fingers slipping into her velvet soft folds. They’re rich with juice, warm and inviting, and I bite off another moan.
“Yes,” she whispers, a plea. “Oh, yes, please.” Her gaze finds mine. “As long as that’s okay?”
“‘Okay’?” I echo, a word that means so much here. “It is more than just okay, El-len.”
I slide onto my knees, a supplicant before his mistress, swirling my tongue down her ribs, across her stomach and down to her hips. My muscles tremble with the effort of holding back, but she deserves careful handling, gentle treatment. I long to bring her to the peak of physical and emotional satisfaction as an excellent mate should, but I have to go slow and savor my first taste of a woman. And a human woman at that!
El-len’s hand on my shoulder stops me. “Wait.”
SEVENTEEN
ELLEN
This guy.This alien, brushing all my nerves and playing me like he’s a maestro, every touch gentle but confident, stoking me higher even though he hasn’t even properly touched me yet.
But I have to rein him in. “It’s your first time, right?”
He nods curtly, as if unable to speak. Or maybe ashamed.
“I want to make this special for you. There has to be… I don’t know, rose petals, or the alien equivalent.”
He frowns. “Plants? Are they part of human pleasure?”
I flap my hands in frustration. “No, I just mean… This should be memorable for you. You care so much for everyone else. Who looks after you?”
His eyes flood with emotion, burning and intense. “I don’t need looking after, El-len. I… I want…”
I wait for him to find the way to express himself, and his hands rove upwards, speaking with actions rather than words. As he traces up my stomach to my breasts, waves of heat wash over my skin. The shivers from the cold are gone to be replaced by shakes whenever he brushes a nerve, and my nipples tense, quivering in anticipation as his fingers get closer. I have never, ever felt so safe being so naked and exposed with a partner.
His huge hands cup my breasts, covering me almost entirely, and yet he’s careful and slow, protective and considerate. His fingers brush my nipples, which tighten in his palms. My breath catches. Will he play with them? I’d be helpless in his hands.
I get my wish as his thumbs strum across my nipples, sending shooting pleasure-pain across my core. Is he psychic or something? His eyes narrow slightly as he gently pinches my right nipple, and I gasp. My clothes pegs have never felt this intense, this unyielding. He increases the pressure as I writhe but he doesn’t let up, watching my face with interest.
“Ellen.” Even the way he says my name, reverent and full of wonder, sends delight searing over my bare skin. He rolls my hard nubs in the tips of his fingers and I arch my back to push my breasts into his hands. He engulfs me, surrounding my chest as he raises me to his lips with ease, like a morsel to be eaten, and there’s a flash of fang as his tongue circles my right nipple.
“Oh, yes,” I murmur, and his eyes brighten. “Good, that’s excellent,” I praise, and his breathing quickens. So, he likes praise? That makes two of us.
