Savor Me Slowly (Alien Huntress 3)

“Yes. Okay.”

He gripped the back of her neck and drew her forward. Her mouth opened instantly, her tongue rolling around his, desperate, eager. An eternity passed as they kissed, lost in each other.

“More?” he asked, panting.

“Yes.” The word was little more than a groan. “I’m hot. I ache.”

The words were as potent as a fist on his cock. “That’s good, but I want you hotter, achier.”

“Make me come. Please.”

The last was uttered so hesitantly, he doubted she’d ever said it before. “It will be my pleasure.”

Their lips met again. Softly, gently. His tongue stroked inside, her heady flavor filling him as before, yet somehow it was a whole new experience. She opened for him completely, feeding from him.

Her head tilted, silently asking him to go deeper, to take more. He obeyed without question, cupping her cheeks and rolling his tongue over hers. A groan escaped her, and her hands slid up to grip his scalp.

Motions jerky, as if she couldn’t control herself, she rocked against his erection. The actions nearly undid him, but he didn’t stop her. He tried her breast again, kneading, the nipple stabbing into his palm.

When he pinched, she gasped.

“Too painful?”

“Good. I liked.” Her head fell back, exposing her neck and the wildly thumping pulse at the base. “More.”

He licked at the pulse while pinching both ni**les. Mishka was soon shaking, nails drawing blood.

“Are you wet for me?”

“I think so.”

He thought so, too. The sultry fragrance of her arousal was wafting around them. Slowly, he trailed his fingertips downward. Her stomach quivered, and he stopped to pay homage to her navel, dipping inside with his thumb. Then, he was moving again. Finally he reached the hem of her panties.

Black lace, just as he’d imagined the first time he’d seen her. They molded her breathtaking curves to perfection. Her waist was perfectly spanned, her legs long and lean as they tapered down, and the fine little triangle of hair between them was the same multihued color as the hair on her head.

“So pretty,” he praised.

“Jaxon,” she beseeched.

He circled her clitoris over the panties, and she gasped. The material was damp, just as he’d suspected. Sweat trickled down his temples as he found the edge and worked his fingers under. Christ! He touched her, skin to moist desire, and every muscle in his body clenched as if he’d just hooked himself to an electric generator.

“Oh, God.”

He spread her, and Mishka cried his name. He sank one finger inside her. God, she was tight, hot. “Okay?” he asked, strained.

“More. Please more.”

He pumped that finger in and out, then worked in a second. “Ride my hand, baby. Up and down. You decide the pace. All right?”

Immediately her hips arched forward, sliding him deeper. She pulled back a moment later, then arched forward again. Holy lord, she was so wet she had already drenched his hand. The knowledge filled him with possessive male pride. I did this. She desires me. Craves my touch.

Soon she was rocking against him in a steadily increasing rhythm, panting his name, tugging at his hair, pinching his back.

“That’s it. That’s the way.” His c**k ached to replace his fingers. His skin was on fire, his blood like lava. Any moment, he expected to explode. Worth it, he thought, looking at her enraptured expression. So worth it.

Her eyes were closed, the long lashes casting decadent shadows on her cheeks. Her teeth were biting at her lower lip, so sharp they were drawing blood. Every few seconds, little moans escaped her.

“Next time, I’m going to lick you where I’m touching you. I’m going to f**k you with my c**k rather than my fingers.” As he spoke, he worked her clit with his thumb.

Her movements became all the more frantic, all the more uncoordinated. Finally she stilled, calm before the storm. Shocked. Then she screamed and her inner walls clamped down on his fingers, holding them captive.

In that moment, pleasure bombarded him. She was too hot, too wet, too sensual and erotic. She was a fantasy come to sizzling life. Hot seed jetted from him, the most intense orgasm of his life ripping through him though he’d never penetrated her. Sweet Christ. Good, so good. Too good. He was panting, releasing groans of his own. Lost.

He only snapped out of the blissful daze when she collapsed against him, her shoulders sagging and her head falling onto his shoulder. She stayed like that for a long while, on his lap, legs spread, his fingers still inside her. He couldn’t have moved if someone had placed a gun to his head. Satisfaction had never been so complete. Which was odd and wrong. So very wrong. He’d actually come in his jeans.

“That was so good—” she whispered in his ear. “I want to do it again and again. I want—”

A phone suddenly beeped.

Mishka stiffened and glanced at the nightstand. Dread curling through him, but not overshadowing his total sense of satisfaction, damn it, he followed the direction of her gaze and saw the standard cell unit every agent carried.

“I have to go,” she said, voice broken.

“No. You’re staying here.” With me.

She pushed away from him, forcing his fingers out of her. He fisted them, her arousal glistening. He wanted to lap it up, but didn’t allow himself the luxury.

“You don’t understand,” she said, gathering her bra. Her legs were so shaky she almost toppled.

He pounded the fist into the mattress. “Then explain it to me.”

The phone beeped again. She stalked to it as she dressed. “I’m a puppet, and my strings are being pulled. Okay? Get it now?”

Before he could respond, she swiped up the phone and barked, “I’m on my way.” She paused, listening. “Yes.” Pause. “I know, damn it. I said I’m on my way.” She hung up.

She braced herself, as if expecting a punishing blow.

Jaxon watched her, confused. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you’re not.” She stomped to the closet and flipped through the clothes, finally settling on a tight black dress.

His jaw clenched. “What did you mean, you’re a puppet?”

“I do what I’m told or I suffer, all right? Happy now?” After she shimmied into the dress and strapped several blades to her thighs, she tugged on knee-high boots. She stuffed those with a gun and three throwing stars.

He didn’t know why, but seeing her armed aroused him. Anything would, nowadays. “Leave this house, and I’m coming after you. I swear it.”