Page 24 of Invasive Species (Outcasts of Oloria #2)
SEVENTEEN
ARABELLA
Holy fuck, this is the hottest make out sesh I've ever had. Adding art to it? Even better.
I wrap my legs around his hard midsection, fully flexed as he balances his weight above me. Each lap at my left nipple sends sparks shooting through me to my hungry pussy, which definitely wants part of the action.
Needing something to hold on to, I grab his bicep beside my head.
With his free hand, he eases his fingers down my side while not breaking contact with my boob, electric jade gaze studying mine like he’s gauging every single one of my reactions.
Well, I'm about to give him extensive feedback: I am so not quiet during sex, and I’ve certainly never held back with Gara.
I guide his free hand down across my stomach to the top of my sweatpants.
He takes the invitation, thick fingers running along my skin leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before delving underneath.
He finds my panties and picks his way under those as well, and I open my legs to him.
I'm sopping wet already, and as his questing fingers stroke over my mound toward my slit, I'm grinning from ear to ear at the mere idea of him touching me there.
“Am I doing well?” he asks, gaze never wavering.
“You’re doing fabulously. Are you sure I'm your first human?” I say, easing my hips up to meet his hand. One of his fingers slides exactly where I want him, and his eyes dilate as he strokes me in the perfect place, as if he can feel the zing too.
“You are my first everything,” he says in a low, gravelly voice.
I gasp. “I'm your first?”
He blinks slowly. “Was that the wrong thing to say?”
“No, I mean, it's fine, but…” Shit, he's a virgin. Wait, he's a virgin, and he can kiss like that?
His touch sets me ablaze in the best way, and he's only using textual sexual references, if his reading history was any clue. If he's this good from being booksmart, what will he be like when he has a few practical experiences under his belt?
But his first experience should be special and magical.
“I'll take care of you,” I say, sitting up.
He puts a hand over my heart, halting me midrise. “I want to make this art with you.”
Hm, it would be a unique way to record one's first time, and I don't really need telling twice. “Okay, if you're sure.”
He frowns slightly. “I'm always sure.”
I giggle. “Alright then, I'll take you at your word.”
“You should.” The huge alien tugs at my sweatpants with one hand while the other slides between my folds.
“Warm and silky, just as they described,” he declares, voice shaking even though his hands are steady, and he starts to rock his palm back and forth. A rumble starts in his chest, radiating out so he's vibrating ever so slightly.
“Are you purring?” I ask.
It stops immediately. “No,” he says quickly, almost snapping .
“It's okay if you are?—”
“The aliens in the documents don't purr,” he says firmly, like that's it, subject closed.
I put my hand over his. “That's okay, because I want to fuck you, not them.”
And wow, how his eyes light up at that, going a hot Disney villain supernatural green.
He continues rocking, pressing, studying my face like the intense scientist he is, and oh, fuck me, pressing his fingers like that is a surefire way to get me off.
Heat flashes up my body and I'm shaking, shuddering, so suddenly on the edge. I moan, whimper and hiss, babbling, “Oh Gara, oh Gara,” over and over and over like a broken record.
It’s like he’s telepathic, the way he hones in on what makes me feel the best, pulling me up to the peak so quickly, and I’m coming apart underneath him, all from him and his heavy touch.
He watches, calculating, those heated eyes tracking my every twitch and twist. He leans in to capture my left nipple between his firm lips as he presses his fist against my dripping pussy, other hand scooping up my right breast, thumb strumming my nipple. I’ve never had a more coordinated guy.
“Gara… Gara,” I jibber, and it feels so good, pleasure cascading up my spine. My shirt is drenched and pressed against the canvas behind, probably making a good impression as I quiver.
Then the edge comes up and I crest the wave, tipping over the edge.
“Gara!” I cry out, and he’s there, holding me tight, paint and all, cradling me against his chest.
“Have I hurt you? What’s wrong?” he barks.
I can’t speak for a second, stars dancing across my eyes. “Nothing… wrong. Made me come in, like… thirty seconds. ”
He stills, hand still cupping my sex. “Did I do it right? Do I please you?”
I chuckle weakly. “Guy makes me blow up in nanoseconds… yes, I am very pleased with you.”
I wriggle into his lap where alien secrets beg to be uncovered. He doesn’t seem to know what to do next, but I’ve always got a few ideas. “You’ve got paint all over you now, so you’ll have to take your pants off.”
He glances down. “They are not marked… oh,” he says as he gets it. Gara is perfect to banter with, a mix of innocent and eager, yet also wary and sharp.
“You want me to… unleash the beast, my prize?” he purrs in my ear.
Hearing some of my favorite phrases from Planet of the Pirate Prince makes me smile, but these aren’t his own words. What would he tell me if he hadn’t read alien porn?
I’ll find out later. Right now, I’ll ride this wave, and him.
“Your prize definitely wants to be filled with your cock,” I reassure him, and his scales all strobe into a paroxysm of color: lime green, ocean blue, royal red, lavender purple, all flashing from his jaw down his bulky shoulders and across his huge chest.
But first, a girl's gotta be prepared. “I’ve got a condom in my pants pocket.”
“Con…Dom.” His face blanks for a second, probably as the unfamiliar word gets put through a million filters by the mini bots in his brain.
“It goes over your equipment and prevents pregnancy,” I supply.
“How?”
“By, uh, intercepting any emissions.”
His face brightens. “I have see-nulg. That does the same thing.”
“Oh yeah, the see-nulg stuff.” Sounds like a sea slug.
Gara pulls the sensor he uses to diagnose things out from his pocket and taps the side. A gummy sweet dispenses into his hand.
I don't see how the boiled sweet which turns into putty can capture anything. “I'd, uh, prefer to use Earth tech. I've seen what your laser does.”
Grabbing my pants, I fish out the condom packets I scooped up last time I was at the supermarket, and fan them out like a deck of cards. “Extra-large, scented, ribbed for her pleasure?—”
“For your pleasure?” He eyes the bright packet. “Then we'll use that.”
What a sweetie.
I trace an invisible line from his cheek, along his rapidly working throat and into the dip between his collarbones. His scales change color in the wake of my finger, a ripple spreading outward, blush pink and pale peach matching the color of my hands, and his hand twitches in my panties.
“I want my conquest naked,” he growls. Another line, this one from book eight, I think. Damn he’s a fast reader.
“...If that’s what you want too,” he adds softly.
The fact that I’d be comfortable if he fucked me against the ceiling by this point is moot. It’s super sweet how much he’s concerned for me.
“I do want,” I purr, and in seconds he’s rolled my pants and panties down, staring like he’s revealing untold riches instead of my recently shaved fun zone.
“See something you like?” I wink at him.
The scales on his cheeks and chest shimmer into russet red. “Yes. Everything.”
I peel off my paint-stained shirt as he watches, but his nostrils flare when I lay back with a slight squelching sound behind me. The paint is warm now, a little slippery and a little sticky, and mingles with a rising musk from us both .
This painting is going to be fantastic.
He unbuckles his pants and peels them off, still watching my face. From his huge bulge he’s packing some serious ordnance, and I can't wait to see it. As he rolls down the fabric, I'm greeted by a thick, straining rod with a ridged head weeping shiny precum, and then…
“Holy shit, you have two dicks?” I sit up, hands reaching.
At the base of his erect penis where a guy's balls would be is a long penis as thick as my wrist. The tip comes to a pyramid, and halfway down is a bulge like it swallowed a rugby ball.
I trace my fingertips over the sparkles stretching over the area, feeling tiny bumps and nodules pulsing, and tracing ridges like a map of a river around the rugby ball. It can’t be. “Is this… a knot?”
His breathing turns ragged as I wrap my fingers around the top dick, and I swipe some of the precum off the lower one to bring it to my mouth.
He grabs my wrist. “Don't ingest that. That is indeed my knotting cock, it and its contents should only go inside your female parts.”
“Okay, fine.” I can ask ethnographic questions later. Right now I have engineering questions: “How will that fit inside me?”
“I’ll prepare you, if you truly want to be knotted.”
“I truly do. I love to read about knots and stuff, they’re really—” Romantic, I nearly say, but guys don’t want too much romance, do they? Instead, I jump back to him. “How does yours work?”
He flushes a dark green. “I don’t know for certain.”
Ah, right. Virgin. “Well, I'm here with you, and we both want this to go well, so it will, okay?”
He nods tightly, like his head might fall off if he waves it around too much. He's stiffening up in the wrong places, and while his cocks are clearly up for it, if I don't get him to relax, he might freeze up.
I rip the condom packet and pop the rubber in front of my teeth, then dip my head and engulf his top cock, rolling it down the flared ridges as I go.
Yeah, I have mad skills.
A groan floods out of him, and his fingers tangle in my hair as he automatically tries to hold on for dear life. This condom just barely strains over the head of his cock. If I try to roll it down, I'm scared it'll strangle his dick off.
“Arra-bellah,” he whispers, and that sends a flare right to my core. I love how he says my name, like he’s stroking it.