Page 11 of Alien Prince’s Fake Bride (The Tentacle Throne #1)

“You are too,” I coo. “Except not female. You’re male.” I stare at his bulge and swallow hard. “I think you are, anyway.”

‘ What the hell am I doing?!’ the stupid, meddlesome Jezebel in my mind screams. I block her out.

“Thank you,” he rumbles and puts his hand on my thigh. Now that the suit is off, his touch feels much better and closer. “May I touch your head? As you can see, my tendrils are different from yours.”

I straighten and run both hands through my hair in preparation. I must have the worst case of helmet hair in history, but I don’t care about that. “You may.”

He puts his dark blue hand on my head and strokes my hair.

I usually keep it in a sleek bob, which is practical in space.

But it has grown long. Getting a haircut is challenging in space, but one of the few things we can do is dye it.

Mine has a red tinge because I’m always on the Red Team in the Cube.

His hand is warm and gentle, and a shiver goes down my back. When was the last time a guy touched me that wasn’t a part of the job, like playing in the Cube or doing some kind of exercise? I can’t think of it. Romance is in short supply on Earth these days.

“So soft,” Mareliux rumbles. “So smooth. Wonderful.”

I look up at his head and the tentacles. “May I touch?”

He bends his head down. “We call them the ‘tendrils’.”

The tentacles are just as smooth and soft as they look.

They’re dry and warm to the touch, almost like pointed fingers.

When I stroke my fingertip up along one, a faint shimmer of gold seems to ripple beneath the indigo surface.

The tendril subtly curves towards my hand, not in a grasping way, but more like a curious part of a plant reaching for sunlight.

It feels strangely organic, not at all like the rubbery or slimy texture I might have imagined.

As my finger traces the vibrant bands of color, I can almost feel a faint thrumming beneath my touch, a subtle vibration that resonates in my fingertips. “I love these. What are they for?”

“For living,” Mareliux says simply.

“Mmm,” I reply, having no idea what he’s talking about.

An idea flashes through my mind. What if that is a tentacle, too?

I glance down at his bulge again. “Is the same?”

He gives me an alien smirk and leans back. “If you want to know, it will cost you.”

I get a sucking feeling in my stomach. I really want to see. “What?”

“Kiss me here.” He points to his full, blue lips with a fine filigree of golden swirls.

I get up on my knees so I’m only a little lower than him.

Reaching up, I put my hands on the sides of his head and the tentacles so I can pull him to me.

I place a soft kiss right on his mouth while Jezebel screams her head off in my mind, talking about alien diseases and insane risks and Space Force policy about being friendly with the enemy.

I ignore her, which is easy, because Mareliux has some soft, warm lips and he smells divine. It’s exotic and spicy and manly, just the right side of too unfamiliar.

He puts one hand at the back of my head and gradually takes over control. He’s so gentle but also so demanding and so in charge that it sends hard tingles down below, heating up my midsection fast.

His other hand goes down my back until it ends up square on my butt, cupping the middle of it. The whole thing is far too big for only one of his hands.

Leaning back, I look into the red light of his eyes. It’s intense . “Ooh. That was nice.” My voice has gone raspy, and interesting images of what we might get up to now fly through my mind.

“Very nice indeed,” the alien says as he leans back on straight arms. “I would say you’ve made payment. Overpaid, even. I will give you back your change later. Now you can claim what you bought.”

Yep, that bulge definitely twitches. And it’s big.

Jezebel has given up and is just giving me dirty looks. Just as well. This is space exploration. I’m exploring someone who comes from space.

His pants are a dark purple that goes well with his skin. With just a little help from Mareliux, I manage to get it open. It splits open down the front. And out pops his alien cock.

I stare, my breath catching. Mareliux’s cock is a marvel, alien in every way yet undeniably enticing.

It’s thick, with round nodes along it, ridged with subtle, pulsing veins that shimmer faintly under the cabin’s dim light, a deep indigo that matches his skin.

The tip is slightly tapered, glistening with a natural sheen that makes my mouth water and my pussy clench with anticipation.

I’m curious, ravenous to explore, but there’s a flicker of hesitation — how will this work? He’s so... different.

Mareliux’s red eyes soften as he senses my pause.

“Umbra,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me.

“We go only where you want to go.” His tentacles quiver, those lithe, sinuous appendages curling from his head, as if eager but restrained.

He’s giving me control, and that makes the heat gathering between my thighs burn hotter.

I nod, and my hands tremble as I reach down to split my jumpsuit in the middle and take hold of the hem of the upper part.

His gaze follows, intense but patient, as I peel the fabric over my head, exposing my breasts.

The air feels cool against my skin, but his eyes are red fire, drinking me in.

I shimmy out of the lower part of the suit, kicking it and the boots aside until I’m bare before him, vulnerable yet powerful in my nakedness.

His breath hitches, a soft, alien sound that sends a thrill through me.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and there’s no poetry in it — just raw, honest hunger.

He shifts closer, his large hands hovering over my skin, waiting for permission. I take one, guiding it to my breast. His touch is warm, firm yet careful, his thumb brushing over my nipple until it pebbles under his care. A moan escapes me, and I arch into him, craving more.

He lowers himself, his lips trailing down my neck, my collarbone, until he’s kissing the curve of my breast. His tentacles move, tentative at first, brushing against my skin like silk.

One curls around my other nipple, teasing it with a gentle, rhythmic squeeze that makes my head tip back.

Another slides down my stomach, exploring, learning the contours of my human body.

It’s strange, exhilarating, the way they move with such precision, like extensions of his desire.

“Mareh- liux!” I gasp, my hands tangling in the sheets of the alien bed as he kisses lower, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh.

His tentacles follow, one wrapping lightly around my ankle, holding me open, another tracing the crease where my thigh meets my pussy. The sensation is electric, a mix of soft and firm, alien and intimate. I’m dripping now, my body aching for more.

He looks up locking eyes with me. “May I?” His voice is a growl, thick with need but laced with care.

I nod, unable to form words. My hips lift toward him instinctively.

His mouth finds me, and oh, it’s divine.

His lips are warm, his tongue a velvet stroke against my clit, slow and deliberate.

But it’s the tentacles that undo me. One slips along my folds, slick and dexterous, teasing my entrance with featherlight touches.

Another curls around my clit, pulsing gently, mimicking the suction of his mouth but with an otherworldly finesse that makes my toes curl.

My hands grip his head, fingers brushing the base of his tentacles, and they quiver in response, as if my touch fuels his own arousal.

“Fuck,” I whimper, my hips bucking as he works me, his tongue lapping in perfect rhythm with the tentacles’ dance.

A third tentacle joins, sliding inside me, thick and flexible, stretching me just enough to make me gasp.

It moves with a slow, undulating rhythm, stroking places I didn’t know could feel so good.

His fingers join the fray, one circling my clit while his mouth sucks gently, the combined sensations building a pressure so intense I can barely breathe.

I’m lost in it, in him — this powerful alien who’s unraveling me with such care, such precision.

The curiosity in his touch, the way he studies my reactions, makes it hotter.

He’s learning me, mapping every shudder, every moan, and using it to drive me higher.

My body tenses, the pleasure coiling tight, and I grab at his shoulders, my nails digging into his smooth, indigo skin.

“Mareliux, I’m?—”

The words choke off as the orgasm hits, a white-hot wave that crashes through me.

My pussy clenches around his tentacle, my hips jerking as I cry out, the sound raw and unrestrained.

He doesn’t stop, his tongue and tentacles working me through it, prolonging the bliss until I’m trembling, oversensitive and spent.

He eases back, his tentacles retreating slowly, leaving soft, lingering caresses in their wake.

His lips press a final kiss to my thigh before he crawls up beside me, his exotic cock still hard, untouched, but he makes no move to push for more.

Instead, he pulls me into his arms, his large frame enveloping me.

His tentacles drape lightly over my shoulder, a strange but comforting weight.

“I think that was good,” he states with satisfaction.

I laugh, breathless, my body still humming. “Good? I’m pretty sure you just redefined pleasure for me.”

I nestle closer, my curiosity sated for now but already sparking for what might come next. His cock twitches against my hip, a reminder of what we haven’t done, but there’s no rush. I mean, if he wanted to, I wouldn’t object. Not at all.

Exhaustion tugs at me, the warmth of his body lulling me. His scent, that spicy, alien musk, wraps around me like a blanket. As my eyes drift shut, his arms tighten, and I feel one tentacle brush gently against my cheek.