Page 4
CHAPTER 4
VICKI
T he marble foyer stretches up forever, gleaming under crystal chandeliers. My entire childhood home could fit in this entrance alone. I spin in a slow circle, my battered suitcase and the phone clutched tight.
My legs wobble, still weak from what happened in the limo. Heat floods my cheeks at the memory of those words I said, words I never thought would pass my lips. The freedom of letting go wars with the voice in my head saying good girls don't do such things.
"The Hearth room is down the hall to your left," his voice purrs through the phone.
I roll my suitcase along, wheels clicking against the polished floor. The hallway opens into a vast room with vaulted ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows. A leather armchair faces the stone fireplace, and I freeze at the sight of the arm draped over its side.
Red scales catch the firelight, shifting and gleaming like living jewels. They form intricate patterns, each one perfectly placed. Not a uniform crimson like I expected, but a tapestry of deep garnets and bright rubies, with touches of sunset orange and golden yellow woven throughout.
My breath catches as I realize what he's doing - letting me see him, piece by piece, giving me time to process without pressure. The thoughtfulness of it makes my heart flutter.
"Come around where I can see you, Victoria." His voice fills the room, rich and deep as aged whiskey. The phone falls silent in my hand - hearing him in person is so much more potent.
I take a step forward, then another, my sneakers squeaking on the polished floor. With each step, more of him comes into view. The chair creaks as he shifts, crossing one massive leg over the other. His thighs are like tree trunks, scaled and rippling with barely restrained power.
When I finally make it around to face him, my mouth goes dry. His ridged face looks...right. Not monstrous, not alien. Handsome, in a way that makes my stomach knot. His scales catch the firelight, glowing warm and inviting.
But those eyes. Those inescapable purple eyes. They lock onto mine and I swear I can feel them boring into my soul. They're deep and stormy, swirling with emotions I can't quite name. I could stare into them for hours.
My gaze drifts down, tracing over him. He's so massive, so solid. The muscles in his chest shift as he breathes, each one defined and powerful. My eyes widen as they continue lower, over his hard stomach, past a little trail of scales leading down to...
I gasp. He's naked. Fully, unashamedly naked. And he's...big. Not terrifying, but definitely impressive. The way his cock curves slightly, the heart-shaped tip, that ridge along the top. My body flushes hot just imagining what it would feel like.
"Does my Vakutan body frighten you?" His voice rumbles through me, low and rough. A small device appears in his scaled hand. "I can make myself look human if you prefer."
With a click, his features change. The scales smooth into human skin, the ridges fade from his face. He's still handsome, now sporting bright red hair and those same piercing purple eyes. But it's not right.
"No," I blurt out, my cheeks heating. "Change it back."
His chuckle is warm and rich as he hits the device again. The scales return, his true form restored. But then he frowns, his nose wrinkling in disgust.
"What are you wearing?" His eyes rake over my outfit - a worn t-shirt and jeans with grass stains on the knees.
"Jeans?" My voice cracks, my fingers instinctively fidgeting with the frayed hem. The way he looks at them, you'd think I showed up in a burlap sack. My face burns. "They're... they're just jeans."
"They're not even designer jeans," he grumbles, his deep voice rumbling through the massive room. His scaled arms flex as he leans forward in the armchair, the firelight catching the intricate patterns of crimson and gold across his chest. "Your supple, delectable skin deserves better. Get those off, immediately."
A flash of heat surges through me, pooling low in my belly and spreading like wildfire. My knees feel weak, my heart pounding against my ribs. I try to steady myself, to laugh it off, because I can’t let him see how much this is affecting me. "Aren't you supposed to buy me dinner first?" I quip, forcing a smirk.
His brow ridges arch, and his violet eyes lock onto mine. The intensity in his gaze is paralyzing, like a predator sizing up its prey. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. My pulse skyrockets, my body betraying me as a shiver runs down my spine. I feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, called out in front of the whole class.
"I'm sorry, Sir," I mumble, dropping my gaze to the polished floor. My fingers tremble as I reach for the fly of my jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper. I start to push them down, but his voice stops me cold.
"No," he says, the command rolling through the room like thunder. "Turn around first."
I obey without hesitation, spinning on my heel until my back is to him. The fire crackles in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room. My hands shake as I grip the waistband of my jeans, slowly tugging them down. Inch by inch, my skin is revealed to him, the cool air brushing against my heated flesh.
I can feel his eyes on me, scalding and unrelenting. My cheeks flush with embarrassment, but beneath that, there’s a strange, intoxicating relief. I’ve spent my whole life taking care of others, always in control, always calling the shots. But here, with him I get to be taken care of. I don’t have to be in charge. I can let go. And it feels... good.
"Good girl," he purrs, his voice low and approving. "You have a fantastic ass, Victoria."
A moan escapes me before I can stop it, my body responding to his words like they’re a physical touch. My hands freeze mid-motion, my jeans pooled around my thighs. My breath comes in shallow gasps, my heart pounding so hard I’m sure he can hear it.
"Keep going," he says, the command soft but firm. His voice reverberates through me, setting every nerve alight.
I obey, sliding the jeans the rest of the way down my legs until they’re bunched around my ankles. I step out of them, kicking them aside. The firelight dances across my bare skin, and I can feel his gaze lingering on every curve, every inch of me.
"Come here," he says, and I turn to face him again, my body already moving before my mind can catch up. My legs feel like jelly, but I force myself to walk toward him, step by trembling step. His eyes never leave me, his gaze a weight I can feel pressing against my skin.
When I’m close enough, he reaches out, his massive, scaled hand brushing against my hip. The warmth of his touch sends another shiver through me, and I gasp softly. "You’re beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough and full of promise.
I swallow hard, my body trembling under his touch. "Thank you, Sir," I whisper, my voice barely audible. My heart is racing, my mind a whirlwind of desire and uncertainty.
He leans back in the chair, his eyes never leaving mine. "Now, let’s see what else you’re hiding, Victoria." His tone is teasing, but the command is clear.
I nod, my hands moving to the hem of my t-shirt. I pull it up slowly, revealing the plain cotton bra beneath. My skin tingles under his gaze, the heat spreading through me, making my breath come faster. I throw the shirt aside, standing before him in nothing but my bra and panties. Confidence floods me. Nobody has ever made me feel like this before, and it feels nothing short of incredible.
"Good girl," he says.
“You like it when I call you my good girl, don’t you, Victoria?” he purrs, his voice curling around me like smoke. The words slide under my skin, heating me from the inside out. I can’t keep the shiver from running down my spine, and I don’t even try to deny it.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice trembling. The admission feels like handing over a piece of myself, something private and raw.
He smirks, his purple eyes glinting with something predatory and possessive. “Good. Now grab the waistband of your panties and tug them upward.”
I blink, confused for a moment. Up? Not down? My fingers hover over the soft silk, hesitating. But I don’t question him out loud. I never would. Instead, I obey, hooking my thumbs into the waistband and pulling.
The sensation is immediate and intense. The silk crotch of my panties is drawn up between my pussy lips, rubbing against my clit in a way that makes my knees buckle. A whimper slips out, and I feel my cheeks burn.
“That’s it,” he says, approving. His hand moves lazily, stroking his cock in rhythm with my shallow breaths. “Keep going, Victoria. Use your panties to touch yourself while I watch.”
My breath hitches, but I don’t stop. My fingers tremble as I keep the pressure on, the friction sending sparks up my spine. I’m hyper-aware of every sound in the room—the crackle of the fire, the soft slick sound of his hand moving, the way my own breathing comes in shallow gasps.
He’s watching me. Really watching. His eyes don’t leave me for a second, and it’s like I can feel them tracing every curve, every movement. The heat in his gaze is almost as intense as the one building between my legs.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he growls, his voice rough. “All flushed and desperate for me.”
I whimper again, my hips rocking involuntarily against the silk. It’s too much and not enough, all at once. The sight of him pleasuring himself while commanding me is overwhelming. My body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve alight with need.
“I’m gonna cum,” I blurt out, the words spilling out before I can stop them. My voice is high and shaky, and I’m equal parts embarrassed and exhilarated by how much I’ve already given in.
“Not yet,” he says, his tone sharp and commanding. His hand stops moving, and he leans forward in the chair, his massive frame looming. “Not without my permission.”
Before I can protest, his hands are on my wrists, his scaled fingers wrapping around them with a grip that’s firm but not painful. He pulls my hands away from my panties, cutting off the stimulation.
I let out a frustrated gasp, my body tense with the urge to keep going. My eyes meet his, and I’m sure I look petulant, but I don’t care. I’m so close, and he’s teasing me, and it’s maddening.
But then I realize—this is the first time he’s actually touching me. Warmth spreads through me, and my breath catches. His scaled hands are so much bigger than mine, and the heat of them seeps into my skin.
He stares at me, his violet eyes dark and intense, and I can see the moment he loses the battle with his own restraint. His grip on my wrists tightens, and then he’s pulling me closer, his lips crashing against mine in a kiss that feels like a claim.
His hands slide down my arms and grip my hips, effortlessly lifting me. I gasp as he pulls me onto his lap, my body twisting instinctively to face him. His chest is a solid wall of scaled muscle, and his purple eyes burn into mine—a mix of primal intensity and something sharper, more controlled. I whimper, squirming against him. I’ve never been this close to the edge without being allowed to fall over it. It’s maddening. It’s delicious.
“Now for your punishment,” he rumbles, his voice deep enough to vibrate through my entire body. He leans back slightly, his gaze dropping to my waist. “But these are in the way.”
His scaled fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, teasing the sensitive skin just below my belly button. I groan, arching into his touch. No one’s ever touched me like this—so deliberate, so possessive. His fingertips are textured but smooth, and they radiate warmth that seeps into my skin. My body reacts instantly, a shiver running through me as his thumb brushes over my hipbone.
“Should we be doing this?” I say, my voice trembling. My mind is a whirlwind of need and doubt. We’ve barely met, and yet here I am, straddling him, barely able to think straight. “We just met.”
He pauses, his hand stilling against my skin. I whimper again, this time in frustration. The lack of contact feels like a betrayal, like he’s pulled the oxygen out of the room. My body is screaming for him to keep going, to touch me again, to push me over that edge.
He tilts his head, his violet eyes narrowing as he studies me. “Do you want to stop?”
I blink, caught off guard by the question. My gaze drops to his broad chest, the intricate patterns of crimson and gold scales gleaming in the firelight. He’s massive, powerful, and I know he could take whatever he wants from me right now. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop him. But he’s holding back. Barely. I can feel the tension in his muscles, the way he trembles like a coiled spring ready to snap. And then there’s the thick length of him pressing against my belly, hot and hard, making it impossible to think clearly.
“Please…” I whisper, my voice breaking.
“Please what?” His tone is firm, demanding, but there’s a softness underneath, something that feels almost like concern.
My breath comes in shallow gasps, my body trembling with need. “Please don’t… stop.”
He growls, low and deep, like a predator savoring its prey. His hands tighten on my hips, I think he’s going to pull me closer, to finally give me what I’m begging for. But instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against my ear. His breath is warm, and the heat of it sends another shiver down my spine. “Very well. We have only met just now, Victoria, but I do not think I can deny you anything you ask of me.”
Before I can process the words, I’m twisting in his lap, my hands clutching at his shoulders as I try to kiss him. I need to feel him, to taste him, to lose myself in him completely. But he doesn’t let me. Instead, his hand comes down sharply on my ass, the impact echoing through the room. I cry out, more from surprise than pain, and for a split second, I think he’s going to stop. But then he does it again, firm and deliberate, and I feel my body responding, arching into his touch, craving more.
“I don’t hear you thanking me for disciplining you, Victoria,” he rumbles, his voice low and thick with authority. His scaled hand hovers over my ass, the heat radiating from it making my skin prickle.
I barely have time to process the words before his palm comes down again, firm and deliberate. The sharp sting sends a jolt through me, and I gasp, my body arching instinctively. “Thank you, Sir,” I manage to say, my voice trembling with need. The words feel foreign but right, like a puzzle piece sliding into place. I’ve spent my whole life in charge—of my siblings, of my parents, of myself. Not now, though. Not with him. And it’s… freeing.
He spanks me again, and I thank him again, my voice a little louder this time. Each smack sends a wave of pleasure through me, mixing with the sting in a way that makes my head spin. Slowly, his hand shifts from punishing to caressing, his fingers kneading the flesh he just disciplined. The contrast is electric, and I let out a shuddering breath, my body melting into his touch.
“How is that so interesting?” I gasp. My clit throbs with every press of his fingers, and I’m teetering on the edge of an orgasm.
“What was that?” he demands, his tone sharp and commanding. The sound of it makes me bite my lower lip, a moan escaping despite my best efforts.
“How is playing with my bottom so interesting, Sir?” I ask, forcing the words out. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there’s a thrill in it too, in giving him what he wants.
“Your ass, you mean,” he corrects, his voice firm and unyielding. There’s no room for argument, and I wouldn’t dare try. The way he commands me, it’s like he’s reaching into my very soul, pulling out things I never knew were there.
“How is playing with my… ass so interesting, Sir?” I say, swallowing hard. The word feels dirty coming out of my mouth, but it’s also exhilarating. My clit pulses with the admission, and I squirm in his lap, desperate for more.
“It’s a work of nature’s art, evidence of the Precursor’s blessing,” he replies, his voice softening slightly. His hand continues to stroke and knead, his touch reverent. “Why would I not find such a thing interesting?”
I pause, the question catching me off guard. My mind flashes back to all the times I’ve been told I’d be prettier if I lost weight, all the snide comments and backhanded compliments. “Because you’re the first man to touch me who hasn’t told me I’d be prettier if I lost weight,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
The moment the words leave my mouth, I want to pull them back, to stuff them back into the dark corner of my mind where they belong. My face burns with humiliation, and I can’t bring myself to look at him.
But then his hand stops moving, and he tilts my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet his gaze. His violet eyes are fierce, and there’s no trace of pity in them—only certainty. “Victoria, you are perfect the way you are,” he says, his voice steady and unyielding. “Any who would suggest otherwise are fools.”
I gasp, the words washing over me like a balm. I believe it. This man—this massive, scaled alien warrior—wants me. And he’s not afraid to show it. My relief is palpable, and it mingles with the mounting desire threatening to consume me. My body trembles, caught between the two emotions, and I feel like I’m about to shatter.
“I must taste you,” he growls, the urgency in his voice sending a jolt through me. His hands grip my hips, and for a split second, I think he’s going to devour me like some fairytale monster. My heart skips a beat, and I barely have time to process the thought before he flips me upside down like I weigh nothing. I gasp, my hands instinctively reaching out to steady myself, but he’s already got me—one arm wrapped tightly around my waist, my legs draping over his shoulders. My pussy is right in his face, and I feel his hot breath against my inner thighs.
“T-taste me?” I manage to stammer, my voice trembling. His sharp teeth graze my skin, and I freeze, the sensation both terrifying and electrifying. But then he bites down—not on me, but on my panties. With a single, deliberate tug, he tears them off with his teeth. The sound of fabric ripping sends a shiver through me, and my core tightens in response.
His lips find me next, and I feel his tongue—long, ridged, and impossibly skilled—slide through my folds. I gasp, my hands gripping his shoulders for dear life. He is going to eat me, but not in the way I feared. This is something else entirely. His tongue is relentless, exploring every inch of me, and I can feel myself unraveling under his touch. My hips buck instinctively, and he lets out a low, approving growl that vibrates through me.
But then I notice something else—his cock, thick and throbbing, is pressed against my cheek. I can feel the heat radiating from it, and the sheer size of him makes my breath hitch. Without thinking, I squirm, adjusting my position until my lips can reach him. My tongue darts out, tasting the salty bead of precum that’s already gathered at the tip. He groans, his grip on me tightening, and I take that as permission to continue.
I lick and suck at him, my mouth working in rhythm with his tongue. It’s messy and uncoordinated, but he doesn’t seem to care. His cock fills my mouth, the ridged texture of it sending a thrill through me. I’ve never done this before, but the way he’s reacting tells me I’m doing something right. His growls grow louder, his tongue pressing deeper into me, and I can feel myself teetering on the edge of orgasm.
But then he pulls back, his tongue stilling. “Not yet,” he commands, his voice rough with need. “You don’t cum unless I say so.”
I let out a frustrated whine, my body trembling with the effort of holding back. It’s maddening, but it’s also the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. I’ve spent my whole life being the one in charge, the caretaker, the decision-maker. But here,. he’s in control, and it’s the most freeing feeling in the world.
I focus on him instead, my mouth and tongue working him until he groans, his body tensing. “Good girl,” he breathes, his grip on me tightening. Then he’s cumming, his release filling my mouth. The taste is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced—sweet, almost like strawberry cream, but more intense. It’s as if the rush of testosterone from his alien sperm is flooding my system, making my head spin and my body tingle with warmth.
He pulls me upright then, settling me onto his lap like I’m something precious. His arms wrap around me, holding me close as we catch our breath. His lips find mine in a slow, deep kiss, and I melt into him, my body still trembling from the intensity of it all.
It’s not that I have to sleep with him, I think hazily as we cuddle and kiss in the chair. It’s that I get to. Tomorrow, I might regret this—the contract, the money, everything. But right now, in this moment, it’s heaven. I’m not thinking about tomorrow.