My Alien's Baby (Draci Alien 2)

But Ezo just puffs his chest out. “I told him he would not take me from my mate. Then he asked if I was currently with my mate. And if we had performed the mating. Then he asked if you were pregnant and ordered us to present ourselves to him tomorrow morning.”

I blink. “He never asked who your mate was?”

He frowns. “Is there some division between you and he?”

I shake my head quickly. “No. He’s a friend. He and his wife, his mate, Juliet. She’s been my friend for a long time.” I don’t know how to explain why I’m nervous about them knowing. But I’m afraid they won’t think I’m…well, frankly that I’m good enough for the job.

I know Juliet trusted me enough to give me the task of finding open-minded women, but it was her and Shak who ran the background checks on the names I gave them. Juliet mentioned being impressed by how one of the girls had gone to Stanford.

Me? I quit college after the first semester and have had a series of dead-end jobs in retail and coffee shops. I’m hardly the ideal genetic material to help kickstart building a new hybrid race of beings.

But Ezo doesn’t know any of that, so he smiles, his fierce stance relaxing. “Then there is no need to be anxious. Tomorrow, we will present ourselves to the King and Queen.”

He licks his lips, scenting the air. “As for now…” His eyes brighten and he begins to stalk towards me, a hunter seeking its prey.

Goosebumps rise all over my arms and my stomach swoops.

Holy shit. I didn’t think it was possible for him to get any sexier but then he goes and pulls this move.

“I want to taste every inch of you, my mate.”

I gulp, because I think he actually means it.

I stay still.

I’ve never wanted to be caught so much in my whole life.

Chapter Six

Ana

I scream Ezo’s name as the fourth orgasm in a row shatters my body.

Didn’t— Oh God, I didn’t know— I gasp for breath. Didn’t know that was possible. My head drops languidly back against my pillow. I’m sweaty and probably look like a mess but I can’t move.

No man has ever, ever even gotten me close to making me feel this damn good even once, much less so many times.

The few times guys have gone down on me, they never stayed there long enough to actually get me off. I could always tell it was done with half a grimace and only so I’d give them a blowjob in return. And it was never equal, timewise, either. A guy might go down on me for maybe 60 seconds and then I was expected to spend the next 20 minutes on my knees.

It always felt kind of ugly and contractual.

But Ezo?

He licks me like I’m the finest dessert he’s ever tasted. There isn’t a single millimeter of my pussy he didn’t explore and explore thoroughly with that fiendish tongue of his.

And unless he’s the best actor I’ve ever met, it wasn’t a chore to him. By the noises he was making while he was at it, every time I came, the more turned on he got.

I gotta say, I am down with his whole tongue-as-the-main-sensory-organ deal. So, so down with it. My legs shake with another aftershock as his licks turn gentle and lazy, like he’s stroking a cat. Or a pussy. Ha, I crack myself up.

I laze back against the pillow, looking down at his gorgeous head. Apparently he’s decided to go exploring again because now he’s licking along the seam between my sex and my leg. Then he crawls down the bed, slowly working down my inner thigh.

Another shudder wracks my body, and I’m not sure if it’s from the teasing sensation of his tongue or from just looking at the picture he makes, all six and a half feet of completely naked, muscled, exquisite man, totally focused on my pleasure and getting to know my body better.

What the hell could be sexier than that?

Nothing. The answer is nothing.

But as he shifts to lick down to my ankles, I see his heavy erections swinging between his legs.

He’s spent maybe an hour of focused energy on pleasing me without a thought for himself.

Oh Ezo.

I shift, drawing my legs away from his grasp. He makes a disgruntled noise, like I’ve just taken away his favorite new toy.

He looks up at me and it might be the first time in my life that I don’t rush to cover myself with a sheet. My body is far from perfect. I’m what people politely call Rubenesque. And cruelly call a fat bitch.

I’ve stared at myself in the mirror and frankly have never been able to decide. Some days I’m happy with my body and its gentle rolls and hills, and other days I’m sure no one could ever be attracted to me.