Chapter 7 #2
His copper-ringed eyes tracked over my naked skin and narrowed to slits, stopping at my erect cock drooling pre-cum over my abs. “I would like to taste…other things.” He tongued his fangs again with that long purple muscle, and I shuddered.
When he circled my ankle with one deep-brown finger, his touch sent a bolt of heat to my jerking cock. My head spun, dizzy with desire, and I pushed up on my elbows, wanting to get closer, to watch, to beg for more of his touch.
But he stopped me, clamping his hand around my ankle. “Lay back down. I’m in charge. I’ll give you what you need.”
The door swooshed open, and I jolted awake.
D’alton stood frozen in the arched doorway, eyes questioning. His strong, smoky scent hit me like a power surge, and I groaned as my cock twitched.
“Hi.” D’alton’s low voice and shy smile made my stomach swim.
Despite clearing my throat, my voice came out scratchy and sleep-rough. “Hi.”
“Did you miss me?” D’alton’s gaze darted away from my hands, where I was absently stroking his blanket.
He slung his bow and quiver, still full of arrows, over a hook in a hidden cabinet.
It seemed to open at his touch from what had appeared to be a solid wall a second ago.
Under the folds of his black uniform, now frosted in pink sand, his muscles bent and flowed like liquid.
But the shy smile and the way he fiddled with his gear, avoiding my gaze, were a sharp contrast to the bossy D’alton who’d occupied my fantasies a moment ago.
I shook my head, dislodging the image of his fangs about to graze my skin.
“Shit, sorry. I fell asleep waiting for you to get back.” Though I wanted to pick up the conversation still whispering in my ears with something dirty—I missed your mouth on my cock—I stopped myself.
Pursuing a minor was a hard limit for me. “How old are you?”
He spun away from the cabinet so fast that he clipped his hip on the door, slamming it into the wall. No longer concealing his fangs from me, his tongue tapped one sharp point. Instead of the lust that had consumed me before, I stiffened at his obvious anger.
“Old enough.” His eyes flared as he closed the cabinet harder than necessary.
I wanted his shy smile back, so he’d flirt and tease again, but I was useless at sweet talking. A certain type had always sought me out; a type I’d never had to work for.
But even having no game, I took the hint—age was off limits. “How was the hunt?”
His face lit up, and my toes curled. Guessed I hadn’t fucked up too bad. I smiled back, happy to know he didn’t hold a grudge, then shoved the heel of my palm into my erection under the blanket.
“I found a plateau. The sandstorm made it impossible to see to the end, but I believe it goes a long way.” He raked his fingers through his hair, littering the ground with pink grains.
“Blant, I need a shower,” he mumbled, then looked up.
“There were signs of life, fresh grazing. Mantu, if I’m not mistaken.
” D’alton slid his zipper down, and its soft, metallic rasp filled the air.
“But I couldn’t get close enough to take a shot. ”
“Mantu would be nice.”
My mouth watered when his coat opened to reveal a sleeveless black shirt.
Though loose-fitting, it gaped open at the sides, exposing the sleek muscles of his deep-brown arms. I groaned at the tantalizing view of his rib cage and the glimpse of a darker nipple as he shook the sand off his coat and neatly hung it in the cabinet.
He seemed pleased with my response, though clueless about my desire. I needed to be nicer, up my likability factor a bit.
“Good job, D’alton. I’m impressed.”
He straightened at my praise. “I’m returning tomorrow after I gather more supplies.
” He looked at the ceiling and counted on his fingers.
“If I get a kill shot, I’ll need something to haul the meat back.
It should stay cold enough outside.” He shivered and rubbed his hands together, shedding more sand on the carpet.
He smiled so brightly, and I shifted closer to him, soaking in the glow despite the pang of nerves pressing at my temples at the thought of having him leave again. The points of his fangs were entirely visible, and the copper rings around his eyes pulsed when they met mine.
On red alert, every muscle in my body tightened.
My chest squeezed the same way it had when I’d narrowly escaped being drafted to Earth’s special forces and gotten away with a sperm donation.
And not because of his dangerous grin or the copper flare of his eyes.
Because it felt good, like I was getting away with something.
And nothing that good ever came without a price.
“Sola’s fire. The temperature’s perfect in here. You fixed the air cycler.” His eyes seemed fixated on my hair. “You have a lot of hair. It looks nice unbound like that.”
“It wasn’t much.” Who had time to sit around and be praised for dick-all when someone else was risking their life?
I would die a happy man if I were paid for each time someone complimented my hair.
Mood ruined, I threw off the blanket and gathered my tool belt from the floor.
Slipping on my boots, I convinced myself to ignore D’alton stripping.
He was just another guy in the locker room. C must have something for me to do.
“Well then, you must be used to sleeping in a sauna.” His eyes caressed me the way his words had in my dreams before he spun to rummage through a crate and pulled out a jumpsuit like mine, only cleaner.
Guess he didn’t need me to do his laundry. I hated compliments as much as praise. Ninety percent of the time, they had to do with someone’s ulterior motives. You’re so strong. How did you get so handsome? We’d make perfect babies together. Barf. “No big deal.”
“Sterling Peoples, the Tig dome requires your attention. The sala leaves are ready for harvest.”
I’d never been so happy to have C assign me a useless task. I had three boxes of those already and no damn clue what to do with them, but they seemed to store well and didn’t add to the growing pile of rotting food going to waste.
“Sala leaves?” D’alton licked his lips. “You have sala leaves? Give me a moment and I’ll come help.” He skipped to the washroom with his clean suit in hand.
“Sterling Peoples, will you be attending to the matter?”
“Yeah, C. And it looks like I’ll have help.”
“Wonderful news.”
Yeah, wonderful. Or torture, more like it. I’d have to play nice—let all his praise bounce off me—when all I wanted to do was get him naked against the damn sala tree.