I stared at him as he moved fervently to my inner elbow. His features were strange, absolutely, but there was a feral beauty to them. Not to mention the god-like physique – the broad frame, the tight ripple of muscles. Sure, his ears and claws and tail and tongues may have been weird as hell, but somehow it all worked, creating a brutal, strong, entirely-too-enticing image. Heat sparked beneath my skin everywhere he licked, travelling up my arm, pooling in my abdomen before moving deep into my pelvis. Something deep and primal was responding to his touch. Something terrifying and new that I wasn’t so sure I could control.

Oh, God, I was getting horny for an alien.

I always knew my crush on the fox in Robin Hood would come back to bite me in the ass.

I clenched my newly healed thighs together, and Buroudei reared back, snarling something before whipping the blanket up and away from my legs.

“Excuse me,” I cried, frantically pulling the blanket back to cover my naked crotch. But Buroudei wasn’t looking there. He was examining my bandaged legs closely. He reached one clawed finger towards the edge of a bandage, then pulled back, his face clenching in what looked like dark pain. His voice, when he spoke, was like shattering steel.

“If you’re asking how I am, well, Rika fixed me right up.”

I tugged at the edge of the bandages, revealing a strip of the shiny pink skin.

“See?”

Buroudei did see. He was seeing a little too much, perhaps. Because he was frozen in place, every muscle tight with tension as his pulsing gaze travelled up my thighs to their junction, barely covered with my crumpled blanket. My breath caught in my throat as I watched him watching me.

And then he descended with a guttural sound, his tongue working at the pink skin I’d just shown him. At the same time, his huge hands reached up, gripping my hips as I gasped. His fangs brushed my skin and I cried out, sparks zinging up to my pussy.

Is this fucked up? Is this wrong?

It probably was. But in that moment, I didn’t give two flying fucks. For the first time since I’d lost Grammy, I didn’t feel alone. And, frankly, the past few weeks had been all kinds of messed up. Could anyone blame me for going a little nuts right now? For letting this happen? For wanting this?

I let my legs fall open.

Hunger radiated off of Buroudei in massive waves, slamming through me, twanging deep in my core. He skimmed over the bandaged surface of my inner thighs, his face settling between my legs. He breathed in, deeply, then nosed my curls, groaning. He dragged his nose up and down my folds, folds grown slick with totally messed up and totally inescapable desire. I felt like I’d descended into some kind of fever dream.

And as his tongue found its way to my aching entrance, I knew that I did not want to wake up.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER TEN Buroudei

If I’d thought Zeezee’s blood was sweet, it was nothing, nothing, compared to this. This was nectar, ambrosia, more fulfilling and sustaining than sacred Lavrika’s blood. I fervently thanked my long-dead parents for giving me three strong tongues, and simultaneously wished that I had more. More tongues, more mouths, more hands. I wanted every part of myself against every part of my strange new mate.

This was a hunger unlike any I’d ever felt before. Laying with Zanixia paled in comparison to this, this clawing desire, this desperate need. This addiction.

The centre part of my tongue circled Zeezee’s slick entrance while the outer parts tracked through incredibly soft folds of skin. Folds that were, strangely and beautifully, surrounded by dark hair. It was shocking, and erotic beyond measure, to find hair there. I groaned as I breathed deep of her musk, the scent and taste of her rocking through my body, sending my cock into painful hardness.

I moved up slightly, the centre tongue encountering a taut nub of flesh that, when tasted, made Zeezee cry out. Her back arched, her hips almost coming right off the bedding. I growled, watching her, continuing to explore that small nub, her wetness coating my lips and chin. This seemed to give her great pleasure, her voice tremulous as she made little moaning sounds. For women of the Sea Sands, all their pleasure points were inside their cunts. To have this exposed bit of flesh that was so sensitive, so vulnerable to my tongue, inflamed me. I liked how easily it made her come undone. I slicked back and forth over it, the outer segments of my tongue coming up to stroke along the sides. Zeezee still clutched the dakrival hide blanket to her chest, and I bit back a growl of irritation at the sight, redoubling my tongues’ efforts. I will bring her so much pleasure that she is incapable of hiding her body from me. She will bare every naked morsel of perfect flesh in ecstasy by the time I am finished, and she will beg me to mate her.

She was saying something now, panting, the words like nonsense in my ears, but beautiful nonsense, because they were hers. Her face was flushed with a surprising shade of red, her pink lips parted, her bright eyes wide as she looked down at me. My cock throbbed as my grip shifted, my thumbs coming to rest on her inner thighs, right at her groin, forcing her legs wider apart. I kept the centre part of my tongue locked against that little nub of pleasure, while the outer parts moved back down, probing at her soaked entrance. The thought of my cock pressing against that wet heat almost made me lose control, almost had me lose my seed without a single stroke against my hardness. I fought back the waves of need building inside me, focusing only on my tongue, and Zeezee’s delicious heat.

Zeezee was saying something that sounded a lot like ahfak, our word for morning sun. I knew that wasn’t what she meant, but the image was a good one – the cresting of heat and light, the bursting of brightness in darkness. Zeezee was cresting, now, her hips rolling, her odd, lovely eyes scrunched shut, her head thrown back. I watched her in hungry fascination, taking in each moan, each toss of her head, each quiver of her thighs. My pride (alongside my cock) swelled when my prediction came true: as she reached the height of her pleasure, arching her hips right up off the ground and screaming, she forgot all about the dakrival hide clutched to her chest and let it fall, revealing a smooth, soft abdomen and rounded white breasts with taut pink tips. I eyed those pink, soft nipples, pulled to tight points, feverishly. That is the next place my mouth will explore.

Zeezee let loose another string of nonsense sounds, then, but there was no mistaking the one word that came at the very end. Because it was my name. My name was what left her lips as she reached the peak of her pleasure.

Everything inside me raged. Not being inside her was unadulterated agony.

So this is the power of the sacred mate bond.

It felt like it was destroying me and making me whole, all at once.

I moved up to my knees with a choked-back snarl, one of my hands remaining possessively on Zeezee’s hip while my other deftly pulled off my loincloth, letting my hardness spring free. Though I knew she would not understand, I spoke anyway.

“I have waited years for you, my Zeezee. Years upon years of aching for someone I did not know existed. And now that you are here you are everything and more. You are strange. And you are perfect. And you are mine.”

Zeezee opened her eyes as I spoke, looking at me, dazed. But when her gaze fell to my cock, her small mouth dropped open and her eyes seemed to focus instantly. And then she started shaking her head back and forth, the way she had earlier, the way she had when she was unhappy.