Page 9 of Chosen By the Alien (Halloween Temptation #11)

I never imagined this version of my life.

Not a week ago, I was straight. Or at least living like I was. Now? I open the door to find him standing there, and my body goes warm all over.

Tahl.

He comes in looking like a man, tall and effortlessly beautiful. Dressed down—sweats, hoodie, hood low, sunglasses even though it’s late. But as soon as the door clicks shut behind him, he lets the disguise fade.

And fuck.

He changes for me.

It always starts subtle, his skin catching light that isn’t there, gold simmering underneath.

Then he moves, and the shimmer rolls across his neck, collarbone, chest. Like sunlight on oil.

I reach out and run my fingers over it, feeling warmth under his skin, like he stores the sun just beneath the surface.

“You like me this way,” he says. Voice thicker in this form. Resonant. It rumbles into my sternum and settles somewhere deep in my gut.

I nod, swallowing. “You know I do.”

We don’t fall into bed right away. Tonight, we’re playing house. Or trying to.

We cook together in my cramped kitchen. He insists on doing things “human style,” but he’s terrible at it. Somehow, he sets off the smoke alarm three times trying to flip a quesadilla.

“I thought you learned from observation?” I tease, fanning the air with a dish towel while he opens the window.

“I observe. I do not memorize failures.”

I laugh. “That is not how cooking works, genius.”

He comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. His chin rests on my shoulder. “Then teach me.”

His lips are right there. I kiss him.

We eat at the couch, knees bumping. I’m in shorts. He’s still glowing faintly. Every time his thigh brushes mine, I forget how to chew.

We don’t make it to dessert.

He kisses me while I’m laughing, while I’ve still got tortilla crumbs on my shirt. It starts slow, lips sliding together, easy, familiar. But there’s heat under it. There always is with him.

“Bedroom,” I whisper against his mouth.

“No,” he says, and his voice curls down my spine. “Here.”

God help me, I’m already hard.

But not tonight.

Tonight’s mine.

I push him back onto the couch and straddle him, knees on either side of his hips. He groans when I grind down, and I kiss him harder, deeper. He always kisses like he’s starving. Tongue slick, possessive, coaxing me open even as I take the lead.

I roll my hips, slow and steady, pressing our cocks together through fabric. His breath catches. His hands grip my waist, then move under my shirt, splaying across my lower back.

“Take it off,” I whisper.

He does, peels my shirt up and off, then leans back to stare at me. His eyes aren’t normal anymore. They’re shot through with heat. Hunger.

“You glow too,” he says. “Right before you come.”

I blush. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

So I do.

I kiss him again, rougher this time. Biting. Pulling his hoodie off, then the shirt beneath. I shove my hand down the front of his sweats and wrap it around his cock, already hard and slick. Always slick.

“You’re ready for me,” I whisper.

“I am always ready for you.”

It shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does. That he’s some alien being, made of light and power and heat, and yet he wants me like this. He lets me ride him, again and again. Gives me everything. Lets me lead.

I get up only long enough to drag him into the bedroom. We’re both breathless, drunk on it.

He lies back, eyes locked on me, hands behind his head like he’s offering himself. His chest glows brighter. His cock’s flushed deep gold, glistening already. Too big, but I’ve taken it before. I want it again.

I straddle him and grind down, slow. Torturous.

He growls.

I take my time slicking myself up, rubbing the lube over my entrance, then guiding his cock to where I want it. Need it.

“Do not tease,” he groans, hands twitching like he wants to grab my hips but won’t unless I ask.

“I’m not,” I say, breath shaky. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

I lower myself slowly, inch by inch, stretching open. It burns, in the best fucking way. Full. So full.

He watches with reverence and restraint, glowing brighter, trembling underneath me.

Once I’m all the way down, I just breathe. Let it pulse through me. Let him feel how tight I am around him. Let me feel how deep he is.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

“You are divine,” he says, almost like prayer.

I move.

Slow at first, rocking back and forth. Then faster. Rising up, slamming down. My thighs burn, but I don’t care. I want to ride him until I break.

He moans my name, voice cracking. His hands grip the sheets, not me, letting me stay in control, but it’s killing him.

“You can touch,” I gasp.

The second I say it, his hands are on me. One on my cock, stroking in time with my rhythm. The other grips my hip, grounding me, holding me open for every thrust down.

I cry out when he hits that spot inside me just right. My whole body clenches.

“Right there,” I pant. “There. Fuck… don’t stop.”

He doesn’t.

I ride him hard, desperate, my body trembling. The slap of skin fills the room, hot and wet and raw.

“Close,” I choke out.

“Yes,” he growls. “Come for me. Show me.”

I do.

With a cry, I come all over his chest, his stomach, my own, shaking as he throbs inside me and finally lets go. His release is hot and deep, flooding me, endless.

He glows when he comes. Not figuratively, literally. Light pulses from his skin, rolling over me like heat lightning.

I collapse onto him, sweaty, panting, sticky with everything.

He holds me. Doesn’t say anything. Just runs his fingers down my spine.

Minutes pass.

Eventually, I murmur, “I’m not ready for the word love.”

He tenses for a second. Then kisses the top of my head.

“But I’m not letting you go,” I add.

He exhales. “I would never leave. Unless you asked me to.” He’s quiet for a long moment. Then: “This planet is louder than I expected. Colder, in some ways. But when I’m with you, I understand why your kind stays. Why you fight to love in chaos.”

That stirs something in my chest. Something warm. Familiar. Dangerous.

I don’t say anything else. I don’t have to.

I shift until I’m lying against him, one leg thrown over his. We’re still connected, softening, glowing together.

He’s warm. Solid. So real.

I haven’t told anyone. Not my friends. Not my ex. Not even my mirror.

But I’m happier.

Hornier.

More myself.

We fall asleep tangled like that. Me curled around him, his breath steady against my neck.

Satisfied. Hopeful.

His light against my skin. My heart is racing against his chest.

Whatever this is… I’m not letting go.

The End

I hope you enjoyed the story.

Ratings and reviews are greatly appreciated, and don't forget to follow me!

Love,

Adrian.

P.S.

Think that was the end?

Not even close.

One year later, on their anniversary, things get hotter, dirtier, and far more intense in a brand-new home Tahl bought just for them. It’s the kind of night you don’t come back from unchanged.