Chapter 7
Jolene
Dealing with my first native on my own was…
well, the only way to really sum it up was “strange.” Strange, but also hot.
Considering I’d been on the verge of catching a serious case of hypothermia—maybe even losing a few toes and fingers—that was a very odd combination.
Khawla was nothing like what I expected: half gruff, silent warrior, and half eager-to-please and randy.
Maybe he didn’t think I’d seen it, but I knew all he had eyes for were my boobs.
I should have felt threatened; I was alone with an unknown male of an unknown species.
All I felt was flattered, and a little turned on myself.
Now that I’d concluded I was going to be able to keep all my toes, the sense of urgency had also left me.
For now, I could just float here and listen to his low voice as he answered my questions.
He was perhaps a bit gruff and a whole lot about invading my space, but he was telling me what I wanted to know.
Then he dropped that bomb, how there were more humans here than just Nala, and that they had rescued some of us from the shipwreck three months ago.
I was pleasantly warm and floating on the admiration for my body that he obviously could not hide, but that sharpened me back into the present.
“Hang on, wait. Do you know if there was a girl named Jasmine with those they rescued? Please, I have to know!”
I hadn’t even realized I’d stood up and exposed myself to his heated gaze. Water had splashed into my face, along my hot cheeks, and dribbled across my lips. There was a sweet-and-salty taste on my tongue now, like caramelized popcorn.
He was just hovering there, next to me, blatantly staring.
His one amethyst eye glowed with heat, the rest of his handsome face all stark lines beneath the pretty but somehow non-reflective scales.
He did not reflect the light; he did not shimmer from the water droplets clinging to him, either.
Yet, if you looked closely, he was made up of many colors, blue and purple, but even hints of green and pink along the edges of his scales.
“Khawla? Do you know if Jasmine is there? Can you take me to her?” I prodded him, but he still didn’t answer.
He just stared. I lowered my eyes, discovered just how transparent my bra had gone in the water, and raised my arms to cover myself.
He growled then—an honest-to-God growl that rattled through the air and trembled into my body through the section of tail he still had looped around my middle.
A shiver of unease shot down my spine, while heat also sparked between my legs.
Oh boy, I sure knew how to pick them, didn’t I?
First, that kiss, which, admittedly, I wasn’t all that mad about.
Now this obsession with my breasts… Had he never seen a naked lady before?
Or were Naga females completely flat-chested?
He pulled me toward him with that loop of his tail, as if he had every right to do so.
My body tingled even more, my folds slicker than just from the water, my core aching and hot.
He pulled until he could grasp my wrists with his hands and tugged until my breasts were once again exposed.
Cooler air whispered across the wet fabric clinging to my skin, and my nipples hardened to sharp peaks.
That made him hiss again, followed by a deep, low groan that sounded just like a man deep in the throes of passion.
My gaze dropped to the waterline, following the marvelously sculpted planes of his chest. Beautiful pecs, a six-pack to die for, and then—right there below the water—a long, deeply purple cock.
He was hard as stone and so close I could touch him if I reached out.
I couldn’t believe how difficult it was to keep my hands to myself.
I definitely couldn’t believe that this was happening right now.
It was like a weird fever dream, a lusty one.
“Jolene,” he growled, and I wasn’t sure if it was meant as a warning or a seduction.
I just knew that he used his tail and the grip on my wrists to pull me even closer, our bodies gliding together.
His hard cock slipped against my bare belly, sending a thrill through my system.
My breasts were crushed against his chest, and his head lowered.
Then he was kissing me—this was nothing like the kiss back in the snowy forest. That one had been hot; this one was downright volcanic.
I should be asking him questions, finding out about Jasmine, demanding he take me to her.
My focus definitely should be on finding a way to rescue my girls on the ship, and the other humans.
He told me I was not his mate, but he definitely had mating on his mind.
Now it was in my head too. I clung to his shoulders, my left hand tangling in his long black braid.
Just a little longer, another taste, what was the harm in that?
Our bodies dipped and turned in the water until we were both floating.
He kept me pressed close to him, so tightly that I felt every ridge and bump of his thick length pressing into my soft belly.
Then it writhed, the tip did. I gasped, not expecting that weird, undulating motion.
It was almost as if the head had split in two.
“I’m sorry,” he husked against my lips. “My lack of control is shameful. You are just so pretty…” Well, what was I going to say to that?
Pretty? I couldn’t recall the last time any man had called me pretty.
Competent, bossy, opinionated, definitely sassy, but not pretty.
He made me feel like that, though, beautiful.
There was nothing but honesty in that single, piercing eye.
“Oh,” I managed, my body tingling in all the right places.
Surely those in stasis could wait another hour before I mounted their rescue.
They were asleep anyway; they wouldn’t know the difference.
“I’m not feeling very in control either.
I guess that makes us even?” Then I tipped my chin up and kissed him again, ready to forget all about the chaos my life was in for a minute.
Ready to throw caution to the wind and have crazy, hot sex with a complete stranger—and an alien to boot.
My body was so hot now that the icy cold from before felt like a distant memory.
My pulse pounded between my legs, reminding me that I was alive and that I had needs, too.
The slickness of his precum clung to my belly, reaching high up to the underslopes of my breasts.
He was that big—dauntingly so—but I hardly cared.
“Khawla,” I found myself moaning shamelessly, as the scent of salt and sweetness swirled in the air between us.
It was on my lips too, as if it had permeated the water we were in, stoking the flames and then some.
His hands glided along my arms, cupped my shoulders, then slid down my spine to cup my ass.
Big, rough fingers stroked soft skin with boldness.
It felt good; it also felt far too much like I had no control at all.
The water lapped all around us, a warm embrace, and as he’d shifted us so we were floating, it heated my neck and lapped at my chin as we kissed.
I didn’t just taste him, I tasted the minerals in the water too, sweet and salt: a heady combination that bubbled through my bloodstream.
All caution was forgotten now; there was only passion and a deep ache between my thighs I needed to ease.
He was it. I threw my leg over his hip, opening myself to him, and shamelessly undulated against his hard cock, seeking friction—anything to ease the ache.
“Khawla,” I heard myself moan, and it was almost like I was watching from afar.
I didn’t sound like that normally. I was acting crazy, fevered.
Like I was in heat. Humans didn’t do heat, though, so something had to have triggered this. Him.
“Jolene,” he responded, and to my ears he sounded as lost to the passion as I was.
In hindsight, maybe I’d wonder if he wasn’t a little confused, too.
I was suddenly all over him, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t started this.
It was his hard cock tempting me beyond all reason, and his delicious scent spinning through my brain.
Clinging to his shoulders in the water, I arched against him and felt his cock slip through my folds, stroking my clit.
“Yes!” I hissed in ecstasy and that was all the encouragement he needed.
Taking charge, he gripped me with his big hands and thrust his cock with long, firm strokes through my folds.
The edge of the pool bumped into my back, and then he was hauling me onto the ledge.
My legs splayed wide for his gaze, his piercing purple eye fixed on my still-panty-covered folds.
Then the fabric was dragged down my legs, and cool air kissed sensitive skin.
I moaned because that almost felt like pain, my head thrashing back and forth against the slick floor tiles.
“Ah, pretty human,” Khawla drawled, “you need, don’t you?
Are you in heat for me? Do you want me to seed you?
” It was that deep, husky voice—all stern and demanding—that made me pant this time.
Nobody had ever talked to me like that; nobody had dared.
Khawla said seed as if it were an act he would bestow on me, and I wanted it. Badly.
“Please,” I begged him, and that made me pause for just a moment, but it was only a moment.
I never begged for anything; it should have rung all kinds of alarms inside my head.
Not a single brain cell was ready to ring that bell, though—not when Khawla stroked his cock through bare folds this time.
Then his strange, split tip writhed against my clit, and pleasure, hot and fierce, burst through me.
I’d never come that fast, but it was only the start.
He sank into me slowly—first an inch—his strange cock pulling deeper as it wriggled against my flesh, inciting nerves and sending pleasure spiraling like champagne through my bloodstream.
He was big—far too big—and I didn’t even care.
I needed more of him; even if it burned as he stretched me, it still felt good.
“More,” I’d demand, and he’d feed me another inch, his body raised over me from inside the pool.
Part of his tail draped around to cradle my head and protect it from the hard stone tiles.
Sliding deeper, he was around me, in me, holding me.
He was everywhere. Gray scales that shimmered with hints of purple or blue; one amethyst eye locked on my face, the other hidden behind a sleek patch of darkened purple leather.
Then there was his braid—half-undone, black, silky hair in clinging wet locks.
My fingers were tempted to hold them, tangle with them, so I did.
Then I was distracted by the planes of his chest, and with utter fascination and a growing fire between my legs, I stroked pecs and abdominal muscles to die for.
He was a work of art; I might have even said that out loud.
“More?” Khawla asked, and I scratched at his scales, trying to pull him closer, deeper.
He growled, deep and primal; the sound vibrated from his chest, through his cock, straight into my core.
I came apart around him, muscles tightening and spasming as I milked his intrusion.
His growl became a roar, and then he was giving me “more”—a lot more.
Sinking deep with a rough, harsh thrust of his hips, then in and out in a pounding rhythm.
I was flying, crashing through one orgasm, climbing to the next, and then he came.
“Take my seed, Jolene. This is what you want, yes?”
It was a lot, filling me, hot and warm and perfect.
His cock grew harder, bigger, as he pumped wave after wave of it deep into me.
And even when he pulled out and it gushed from between my legs in a wave, it didn’t feel like enough.
My eyes felt wet—perhaps from tears—my hand touching my folds to test the sticky seed he’d coated me with.
It smelled just like the water had tasted: like salt and sweetness, like caramelized popcorn.
“More,” I demanded, and he laughed, his head thrown back, his throat working, and all his marvelously muscled body on display.
I leaned up on my elbows to peer at his cock, it was still hard, still beautiful, and now coated with his seed.
I very badly wanted to reach out and taste it—it smelled so good—but a final, alert part of my brain warned me not to.
He looked startled for only a short moment, then his expression turned heated, passion asserting itself.
“You ask, and I shall oblige, female. You want my cock; you shall have it.” The tip of his tail rose between us, wagging back and forth to make sure I was watching it, and then he lowered it and sank it into my core.
Seed spread, gushing out again when he withdrew.
His tail was slick with my juices and his seed.
His grin was wicked as he pressed his cock back in.
I came, shuddering around him. I knew it wasn’t quite normal—this—but damn if it wasn’t the most pleasure I’d known in a long while.
Perhaps it was a good thing I’d lost all sense of inhibition; it was a release—to be free to take what I wanted from him while he took for himself in return.
A sharing that was beautiful and mutual, and one that did not seem to end.
I lost count of how many times I begged him to take me, and when he needed to recover, he filled me with his tail and pleasured me with his tongue.
He did not let me slide back into the water, not even when I was exhausted, spent, and barely able to lift a finger, yet still wanting to get clean.
The flames of passion were dying by then, but only to a gentle, sweet smolder—like they could never completely vanish between us.
“A different pool, bold one,” Khawla eventually agreed, and though this water was far too cool for my heated flesh, it did feel good to wash seed and sweat from my skin.
Afterward, exhausted, he piled furs into a nest and drew me into his arms for sleep.
I’d never done that before, slept in the arms of a man just for sleep.
After the marathon of sex we’d just had, it was bliss.
I was out like a light, soothed by his steady heartbeat and the slow, even movement of his breathing.