Page 26 of Tamed by the Alien Himbo

CHAPTER 26

VANESSA

T he sunset here bleeds bronze across the waves. Jack's fingertips graze my jaw, the alien texture of his palms catching on my windblown hair. His true form still makes my pulse stutter—crimson ridges along his temples, eyes like twin voids ringed with silver. But when his lips brush mine, taste like stardust and the salted caramel lattes he’d chug at The Love Roast, familiar wins over foreign.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs against my mouth, claws tangled in the hem of my sweater. His teeth catch my lower lip—sharp, not quite human.

I bite back. Harder. "Never."

Our kiss ignites from ember to wildfire. His tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him, letting the universe dissolve into the heat of our shared breath. Sand grinds against my knees as I push him back, following the momentum until he's sprawled beneath me. Three claw marks split the front of his shirt when I yank at the fabric.

"Careful," he growls, fangs glinting. "This isn't negotiable currency."

I press my thumbs into the hollow of his throat, feel his pulse rabbit under alien skin. "Less talking. More proving you're not a hallucination."

His laugh reverberates through my ribs as he flips us. The sudden inversion leaves me gasping, torn between the ache between my thighs and the stupid bubble of laughter in my chest. His claws skate up my side, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"Humans are so fragile," he muses, dragging his mouth along the cord of my neck.

"Keep underestimating me." I twist my fingers around his horns, tugging until his hips snap against mine. The groan that punches out of him echoes the crash of the waves.

A hiss escapes his fangs when my teeth find the crimson slope of his shoulder. "Duplicitous little thing. All those months playing barista when you were this?—"

My nails carve half-moons into his back. "You talked me into galaxy-hopping. Don't pretend I'm the unpredictable variable here."

His mouth silences me again, rough and claiming. Our joined laughter dies against bruised lips. The way his true form slots against mine like we're solving some equation older than stars.

Jack's claw traces the welt his teeth left on my collarbone. "Still want to stay?"

I arch into his touch, the last coherent syllable dying as his mouth descends again. The answer's in the sand beneath us—the galaxy's worst etch-a-sketch, all tangled limbs and broken grammar.

The sand’s still gritty against my calves when his claws catch the lace hem of my panties. I buck against him on instinct, the dress from that damn auction riding up and pooling around my hips. His fanged grin flashes in the bronze half-light. "This fabric chafes," he lies, voice all gravel and galaxy dust.

I dig my heel into the small of his back. "Says the guy who still wears tactical gear to bed."

"Observation." His thumb strokes the inside of my thigh, claws retracted to blunt crescents. "Human undergarments seem designed to frustrate."

My laugh fractures as his fingers skate higher. The dress is half-unzipped, auction stench replaced by salt from the sea.

The lace tears clean. I don’t remember him moving, just the sudden bite of alien air between my legs and his low, approving rumble.

His finger traces idle circles over my slit, the pad rougher than human skin. "Pulse points. Moisture variance. The way you stop breathing when I?—"

My hips jerk. "Jack."

"Jorun." His correction’s a hot slide against my neck while his finger slips inside my opening, curling in a way that steals syllables. The stretch burns—he’s wider than human, ridges along his knuckles catching sensitive flesh.

I choke on a curse. “Warn a girl.”

He stills. “Stop?”

“Never.” I claw at his horns, dragging his mouth to mine. His tongue mimics the rhythm below, relentless and clever. The sand shifts under us, waves hushing against the shore like they’re leaning in.

His free hand paws at my crumpled dress. His claw snags the neckline. Fabric splits like perforated lies.

The chill hits first, then his mouth. He laps at the hollow of my throat, fingers pumping slowly as I unravel.

I arch, salt spray mingling with sweat as his thumb finds that perfect spot. Distantly, I register his belt clinking open, the growl in his chest when I palm his cock through his pants.

The sand shifts under me as he braces one clawed hand beside my head. His other palm skims up my thigh, scales catching on bare skin. When his hips slot between mine, the heat of him—foreign and familiar at once—steals my breath. Moonlight glints off crimson shoulders as he drags his pants down. Alien anatomy shouldn’t make sense here, but the thick length straining against my inner thigh feels purpose-built to ruin me.

“Still think this is a hallucination?” His claws flex against my hips.

The words die when he drags himself through my slick. My moan tangles with the crash of waves. “Need... comparative analysis?”

His fangs graze my earlobe. “Yes.” The blunt head of his cock teases my entrance. “Humans evolved for this?”

“Not... for the agony of blue balls you’re inflict— oh fuck .” My back arches as he sheathes himself inch by excruciating inch into my pussy, ridges catching in ways that punch ragged noises from my throat.

He stills, chest heaving. “Too much?”

“Too slow.” My nails dig into the cords of his neck.

His snarl sends heat pooling low as his hips snap forward. The stretch burns—humanity was not designed for Vakutan proportions. Every drag of those alien ridges sparks white behind my eyelids.

“Earth males lack endurance,” he growls against my collarbone, tongue lapping sweat. His thrusts turn brutal. “Subpar genetic stock.”

I bite the curve between neck and shoulder—salty, alien, perfect. “Better... study... harder.”

His claws carve unintentional hieroglyphics into the sand as my legs lock around his waist. It feels like he's been fucking me for several glorious, aching hours when his thumb finds my clit. My scream scatters seabirds from the alien mangroves.

“Human vocal cords,” he pants into the hollow of my throat as I pulse around him. “Underrated evolutionary marvel.”

The tremors haven’t stopped when his rhythm fractures. I feel his release—hotter than blood—as he buries himself deep.

He collapses beside me, sand clinging to alien sweat, chest rising like tide-swollen waves. It's so strange, so wrong, and yet…

I can't think of anything I could possibly want more than this alien man laying at my side.