Page 23 of Invasive Species (Outcasts of Oloria #2)
Or can I? There’s no denying I’m intoxicated by her.
She somehow invaded when I wasn’t looking, got past my defenses and under my scales.
Now she’s in deep, everything pulling me to grab her and kiss her senseless.
She’s stripped me bare and shocked me to my core, but that’s where Selthiastocks perform best.
Scenes from stories leap out at me because I have a Selthiastock memory, and we forget nothing that we've studied.
I've read all about how human females expect to be held, stroked, teased and made to come apart, and I can react without needing to think. I know what human females want and expect now, and I won’t fail.
Jerking towards her, I wrap my hands around her upper arms. With my voice a growl I say, “You are my prize.”
Her eyes widen briefly. “Pardon?”
“My conquest,” I amend. Did I say it wrong?
She blinks once. Twice. “Uh… okay.”
Drok na , she's not impressed. I open my mouth to backtrack when her gaze heats once more.
“Oooh. Book three of… I get it.” She bites her lip, a smile spreading across her rosy cheeks, and the sight makes my cocks ache with need.
“I will claim what's mine… now.” I swallow hard. “If that's… what you want, too.”
In answer, she grins and goes on tiptoes to press those satin lips to mine.
My grip on sanity weakens, thoughts both spiraling and silent, a rush of noise blocking out my internal screams of jubilation. I cannot think and yet kissing her opens a new level of reaction, my nerves alight like nothing I've ever experienced before.
Searching for more, I press my lips against hers, stroking and gliding, each movement setting off a torrent of sensation within me. My muscles twitch and tremble as my universe rearranges with her in the center.
She breaks it off first. “So, to make it clear, do you want to know if I'd like to fuck?”
My cocks twitch in disappointment. Just fuck? I've studied for this, but I want more. I want her to be my mate, something I never thought I'd ever contemplate.
But in the prose I read, the fucking comes first before further relationship development. I have to impress her enough to want to keep coming back, and I need to make her melt in my arms more and more over time.
I will win her over, and it all starts here.
“I want to fuck,” I say, voice pitched low. “Do you?”
Her grin widens. “Hell yeah.”
My Selthiastock mind separates out the vital tasks, creating priorities even under extreme duress. First, I should undress her, peel her clothing from her and reveal the tight, hot body that has tantalized me for cycles.
Taking her buttons, I undo them one by one in a row down her chest, fingers brushing her hot skin, and I flick my gaze up to hers to gauge her reaction.
Her pupils are dilated, a sign of excitement, and she puts more of her weight into my arms, trusting me to hold her.
“Nice,” she breathes, voice low. “What next?”
“Next is this.” I lay my palms over the fabric encasing her heaving breasts.
“You going to rip it off?” She arches back a little, pressing herself into my hands.
“Would you like that?” I haven't studied the construction, but it's mere fabric. I can rip it .
“Fuck yes.” She doesn't hesitate.
A quick flex of my fingers and the strap snaps.
Arra-bellah's mouth falls open. “You actually did it. Holy shit that's hot.”
‘Hot’ was good in the novels. “Now you're mine,” I try and, oh All-Mother, how her skin flushes as she rubs her thighs together.
“Fuck, you're scorching hot,” she murmurs, two keywords, the highest of praise. And they’re about me. She finds me desirable. My cocks strain against my confining pants, driving me wild with every pulse of desire.
Her breasts are behind the small scraps of containment. I release them, dropping the fabric to finally run my sensitive palms over her. The stars of her freckles spread like a new galaxy across her chest and the delicious curves of her naked breasts.
She shivers in a delightful way, especially as my thick thumbs roll over her darker stubby nipples. I cannot contain myself any longer and dive into the depths of her mouth, my tongue probing and mapping her, easing her into my arms to hold her close.
The delicious, maddening human gets heavier as she lets me take more of her weight and I heft her up, eliciting a little happy shriek from her, which I swallow.
“Oh, Gara,” she murmurs, and my skin is electrically sensitive, my cocks begging to be freed and sheathed inside her, her skin pressing against mine as if we will merge into one. It's like I'm falling, and then I realize: we are.
I put one arm out to arrest our fall, tucking her close to my chest as canvases clatter around us. Pain flares up my forearm as we land, Arra-bellah giving a little “oof,” breaking the seal of our lips.
“Oh, shit.” She wriggles a little. “Why’s my back wet? ”
“Uh…” Over her shoulder is an explosion of greens all up the previously white rectangles. “We landed on some paint.”
Instead of being angry, her lips sweep up. “Awesome. This will make for a really interesting project.”
She scoops a handful from over her shoulder, rubbing her fingertips together. “What do you think of using me like a paint sponge?”
Whatever she wants, I’ll give it to her, but my needs are clamoring. “I think it's been long enough. I want to taste you.”
“Oh, man.” She arches against me. “Yes please.”
I move her up, laying her over a blank canvas, and her smile widens. “It'll be an amazing record of our?—”
She cuts off as I latch my lips over her nipple.