Page 28 of Saved By the Alien Hybrid (Hybrids of Yulaira #1)

Rentir’s cock was already hard again, digging into one of the little divots in Cordelia’s lower back. She wiggled in his lap, trapping it between them as she got comfortable.

“Well,” she said in a musing tone, leaning her head on his shoulder. “The first thing is that being touched basically anywhere as a human feels good. My skin is sensitive all over, especially to light touches.”

She dragged their linked fingertips over her collarbone in demonstration, and he felt her contented sigh at the touch.

“But some places are more sensitive than others,” she continued. “Like here.”

She circled the dark bud of her nipple with his fingers, gasping softly and arching against him. His free hand came up to tease the other, exploring the difference in texture between her soft breast and her tightened nipple.

“Oh, that’s good, Rentir.” She praised him, nuzzling beneath his chin as he explored her.

His cock twitched at the sound of his name in that tone. He loved when she praised him. Suddenly, all he wanted in life was to give her more reasons to do so.

“Where else?” His voice was pleading.

She laughed softly at his eagerness, but he was too engrossed in her to be embarrassed about it. Her hand dragged his over the soft curve of her stomach, down to a patch of coarse fur. His fingers sifted through it to the soft skin beneath and slid into what felt like a wet slit.

“This is… hmm.” She loosed another husky laugh. “I don’t know if I should be giving you the scientific names or the slang.”

“Which do you prefer?” His fingers teased through the slippery substance that coated her, making her breath hitch.

“Mm, in bed? Definitely the slang.” She subtly rocked her hips into his touch. “Sounds dirtier. But I should probably—oh—teach you both. As an emissary for humanity, and all.”

“Of course, you’re right,” he said eagerly.

“Well, then.” Her fingers led his along the plump tissue that framed her slit. “These are my major labia.” His fingers dipped back within, where the skin was slick and hot. “These are my minor labia.” Her hand guided his to cup her. “And all of this is my vulva.”

She craned her neck to look up at him. Her pupils were blown so wide that her eyes looked black.

“But you can call it my pussy,” she purred.

He moved so quickly that she shrieked in surprise, bracing her hands on his shoulders as he picked her up by her waist and turned.

“Rentir!”

“I want to look at you.”

“Oh,” she said on a sigh, subsiding as he carried her over to a pile of pillows beneath the awning where the tables sat.

He kicked them until they made a nest worthy of her and lowered her to the ground. Her knees fell wide without any prompting from him, and he saw why there was no hesitation in her. She was beautiful.

He knelt between her splayed thighs. His hands skimmed up her soft flesh as he ducked his head, wanting to study her more closely.

“Major labia,” he murmured, tracing over them. His fingers dipped between those plush lips, spreading them wide to reveal the glistening, pink flesh beneath. He brushed over the delicate petals there. “Minor labia.” He palmed her roughly, watching her face contort at the touch. “Vulva.”

She made a wordless sound that he took for confirmation, gazing down at him with heavy-lidded eyes as she panted.

He eased his hand away, lowering himself until he was close enough to taste her. Every breath filled his lungs with her heady arousal, stoking the same mindless frenzy he’d been battling since he’d first found her.

“Pussy,” he purred, and then his tongue swept over her. His eyes rolled back as her flavor burst across his tongue, indescribable and distinctly her own. He forgot what he was supposed to be doing—seeking her guidance—in favor of ravenously devouring her.

“Yesss,” she breathed, her back arching off the pillows. Her hands caught at his horns, using them for leverage, pressing her pussy more insistently against his tongue.

He dragged his tongue in a meandering path between the lips of her sex, seeking every drop of her essence. When he trailed over the little nub at her apex, she made a breathless sound of pleasure, thighs squeezing around his head. He pried them apart, looking up at her.

“What is this?” He ducked his head and teased it with the tip of his tongue.

“Clit!” she cried, twitching. “It’s my clitoris, and it’s too much!”

He eased off, watching her catch her breath.

“It feels good, but not—not when you touch it directly like that.” She dipped a hand between her legs to demonstrate, using three fingers to distribute the pressure more evenly as she stroked tight circles over the area.

Her hips bucked toward his mouth, and he left her to her strumming, licking at the fresh dew that gathered as she took her pleasure.

His questing tongue found a little divot between her lips, and he pressed inside, discovering the source of her slick arousal. She cried out as he stuffed his tongue inside as deep as it would go.

“Fuck, your tongue is long,” she cried, thighs trembling.

Yes, it was, and used it to explore the texture of her inner walls as they clenched around him.

She was so tight. This had to be where his cock was meant to go, but…

he would never fit. Human males must have been much smaller than he was.

Despair crept in, but he smothered it. He would not be ungrateful.

However he could be intimate with her, any way he could bring her pleasure, was a blessing. He did not intend to squander it.

Sucking at her, he withdrew his tongue with a wet sound.

“What is this channel called?” he asked her, stroking it gently with his fingertip.

She twitched her hips away, wincing. “Claws,” she barked, trying to press her thighs together.

He frowned, sitting back. “Claws? Truly?”

She made a sound of frustration and then laughed, shaking her head. “No, your claws. They can’t go inside of me, Rentir.”

He frowned down at his claws in annoyance for a long moment before bringing them to his mouth. Her brows climbed as he bit off the sharpened tips of his first two fingers. He settled back down between her thighs, stroking her entrance again.

“What is it called?” he asked again, this time penetrating her with his finger.

Her channel, wet and hotter than he’d imagined, squeezed tight around him. She tensed at the intrusion, but the broken sound she made was one of pleasure.

“Vagina.” The word was strangled. Her fingers were still strumming over her clit, her body ratcheting tighter with tension. “Move your finger, Rentir. Pump it into me.”

“It is too small.” He informed her as he obeyed her command, sliding his finger out before pressing it back in.

A muscle ticced in her jaw, her body strung tight as he mated her with one long finger. He could feel the spongy tissue at the top of her channel as he bottomed out to his knuckles with every stroke.

“It—ohhh, God—it stretches!” she gritted. “Another finger, Ren. Please.”

He obliged, skeptical as he was. With fascination, he watched her stretch to accommodate his second finger, her walls twitching around him as he pressed them deep and dragged them back out. Some of his dismay dissipated as he realized she was right—her body was changing to fit him.

She groaned, rocking her hips hard to drive them into her, impatient with his lazy pace. Her wetness spread over him, her muscles stretched, and hope bloomed within him. They would fit, surely. Of course, it couldn’t hurt to further test his theory first…

His tail twitched in his peripheral vision, the metallic black scales glinting in a flash of lightning. He pulled his fingers free, inciting an angry mewl from Cordelia.

“I was almost there, why did you—oh!” Her eyes went wide as the tip of his tail pressed against her entrance, sliding to collect her slick before it began to test the limits of her muscles.

He met eyes with Cordelia, looking askance at her as her muscles strained against his tail.

She bit her bottom lip, nodding emphatically, and he increased the pressure, sliding into her.

He pushed until he felt the end of her channel, bumping gently against it.

She seemed to like that, if the guttural sound she made was any indication.

He did it again, withdrawing and driving home slowly, fascinated by her pleasure.

She was so beautiful. Her brows were pinched, her eyes wild and desperate. She bit her bottom lip so hard he feared it would bleed. He skimmed his hands along her inner thighs, holding them wide as they trembled, not wanting this view taken from him.

“I’m about to—”

Her eyes rolled back as a bolt of lightning struck, and her cry was so loud that it drowned out the following roll of thunder.

Her channel spasmed around him, milking rhythmically, and all he could think about was what it would feel like to have her wringing the seed from his cock.

Her thighs clenched beneath his palms as she shuddered, but he wouldn’t let her close her legs. He wanted to see all of it.

Her hand finally fell away from her clit, latching onto his wrist as her inner muscles continued twitching around him. She tugged at him, and he allowed her to drag him down beside her, though he refused to remove his tail. He wanted to feel every tiny flutter to the very end.

“Ren,” she breathed, turning her face into his chest.

No one had ever called him that. They’d been reprimanded for impropriety as youths if they gave one another shortened names. Now, warmed by the way she said it, he wondered if they were really being punished for attempting to find camaraderie in one another.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as he pushed wet tendrils of hair off her cheek.

“That was…” She shook her head and laughed.

“Good?”

“Very good.”

She sighed against him, her breath tickling the damp skin of his collarbone. Her fingers trailed over his shoulder and down his pectoral, tracing the edge of the black tattoo that took up most of one side of his chest.

“I didn’t notice this before. What is it?” Her finger traced the whorl that was the Aurillon’s symbol, now bisected by a thick, raised scar.

“It’s the mark of the Aurillon. This whorl”—he caught her fingers and traced them over it again—“is the symbol of the empire. These hashmarks are my batch number. This symbol at the bottom is the purpose I was bred for.” He dragged her finger to the other side of the loop that split the circle. “And this is the role I was assigned.”

She traced that symbol, a circle with a dot at its center and four more at its cardinal points. “So, this says ‘security’ in their language?”

“Yes.” A lie. The word they’d inked into his skin translated more accurately to “leashed garral”, a type of creature domesticated on Auretia to protect its master’s interests.

“And the scar?” she asked, running her finger over it.

“A declaration of my freedom. We have each carved through our own marks.”

She petted that warped skin appreciatively as she hummed her approval.

Her lashes glittered as her eyes moved, dappled with tiny drops of water.

In that moment, basking in the afterglow of what they’d done together, he was sure there was nothing more glorious in all of the universe than the alien woman in his arms.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured into her ear, kneading the tense muscles of her neck.

“I feel like every moment of my life has led me to you. Every moment of struggle was worth it to have you here in my arms now. I do not know what to call the feeling. It is pain and it is pleasure all at once. It suffocates me, and I never want it to stop.”

To his surprise, she stiffened at his confession. The molten look in her eyes cooled as she drew back, reaching between her legs to pull his tail free. She shivered as the tip dragged out of her, and she closed her legs.

“Cordelia?” His heart dropped.