Chapter 7 #2
He stepped into the spray, the water slicking his silver hair back from his face, and her brain performed its now-familiar trick of going completely offline.
Without the leather uniform, he was somehow more intimidating, not less…
a wall of muscle and scarred skin, his chest broad enough to block out the rest of the room from her view.
But why would she want to look at the room when she could look at him?
Pale lines cut across the tan of his skin, old scars that made her wince to look at.
“You’re still in here,” he said, his voice so deep and low it should be illegal. What it did to her definitely should be illegal.
“The water’s great.” She smiled up at him, her heart doing a frantic little dance at the sight of him she hoped he didn’t notice. “I think I might live here now. Can I get a mailbox delivered to the shower?”
His lips quirked, his expression amused, and he stepped closer. God, he was so much bigger than her. She barely came up to his chest.
“I think the captain might have an issue with that,” he said.
He reached past her for the soap, a thick gel that smelled of crushed herbs and was faintly metallic. Moving behind her, he settled his warm palms on her shoulders.
She closed her eyes, biting her lip as he soaped her slowly. Deliberately. He worked the gel over her skin, down her arms, and across the curve of her back. When he reached the small of her back, his thumbs pressed into the muscle there, and she gave up and leaned back against his chest.
This is just a wash. A very, very thorough, incredibly hot alien wash.
She reached behind herself, her fingers finding the hard plane of his stomach, and traced the line of a scar that ran diagonally across his ribs. He made a low, rough sound, not quite a groan, and his grip on her shoulders tightened.
“You’re very soft, Delilah,” he murmured.
“It’s the lack of muscle tone.” Her voice came out less steady than she’d planned. “I’m basically a human marshmallow.”
“I like marshmallows.”
She giggled at the idea of this big, mean alien warrior-doctor liking soft squishy treats and turned in his arms. The water sheeted down between them as she looked up, and she instantly caught her breath.
His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and the playfulness was still there, but something heavier was crowding it out.
He didn’t say anything. Just lifted a hand and cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple.
She gasped, her back arching as the peak tightened under his touch. Heat surged between her legs hard enough to loosen her knees.
Oh my god, this wasn’t a wash. It had never been a wash. She’d been stalked, and damn, she liked it.
Turning her around again, he pulled her flush against him so that she could feel every inch of him, hot and hard against her ass. One big hand slid down her belly, strong fingers parting her pussy lips to find her clit, rubbing in a slow, steady circle.
“Kellat,” she breathed, her hips rocking back against him.
“Stay still.”
He didn’t let her move. He just kept up the slow, relentless pressure, building her second by second. The climax rushed at her, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. She arched against him… she was right there, trembling on the very edge—
He stopped, pulling his hand away.
“What? No!” She turned to look up at him, eyes wide. “What are you doing? You can’t just stop!”
His expression was perfectly calm as he looked down at her, darkness in the depths of his eyes. “I can.”
“You asshole,” she whispered, and there was no heat in it at all, just desperate, aching need. “You absolute, handsome asshole.”
He didn’t argue. Instead, he herded her to the bench, a big hand behind her thigh until she put one foot up on the metal ledge. Then he was behind her, a warm wall of solid muscle against her back as he eased into her.
The moan that escaped her was soft and shuddering.
He was so big that for one heartbeat she thought she might break, split apart on the thickness of his cock.
But then her body gave, stretching around the thick, hard length of him.
He pushed forward in an unstoppable thrust until his hips were against her ass and it was in her all the way to the hilt.
Until she was so full of him and stretched that she could barely breathe.
His hand gripped her hip to hold her exactly where he wanted her while the other reached around to find her clit again.
His rhythm was slow and torturous. Grinding.
Hitting everything at once, and he didn’t rush.
His breath was rough at her ear as he worked her with his fingers and his cock.
The pleasure built again, faster and harder this time, fueled by the first denial.
She gripped the edge of the bench, knuckles white, head dropping forward. Tension hummed low in her belly, her inner muscles clamping down on him in desperation.
“Please,” she whimpered. “Kellat, please.”
He growled, thrusting harder, pushing her right up to the brink… and pulled out.
“Fuck you!” She twisted around to glare at him. Her pussy throbbed around the sudden emptiness, and she had to press her legs together to try and ease her aching clit. “I actually fucking hate you right now!”
Something dangerously close to a smirk touched his mouth. “You’re very loud when you’re frustrated.”
“I’m not frustrated, I’m dying! I am literally dying of blue-balls… or whatever the female version is!”
He gripped her waist and sat her on the edge of the bench. Lying her back against the warm metal, he draped her legs over his broad shoulders, then leaned forward and put his mouth on her.
His tongue was warm and relentless, flicking against her clit while two fingers slid deep and curled, pressing up into the spot that made her vision blur.
She came apart. Completely. The orgasm hit in tight contractions that had her sobbing his name, her fingers buried in his wet silver hair and pulling him closer as wave after wave rolled through her.
She was still shaking when he moved.
Sitting back on the bench, he pulled her into his lap, guiding her around so her back was against his chest and her thighs straddling his.
He held her in place as he thrust back into her again, slow and deep.
He surged up, filling her all the way, and she gasped again as she took him easily, slick from her climax.
He gripped her waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles into her skin, and took her with a lazy, possessive roll of his hips, his breath hot against the nape of her neck.
“Mine,” he rasped.
His hand slid around, and his fingers found her clit, working her in rhythm with the roll of his hips. She clung to his arm, the friction inside and the pressure outside driving her up and up until there was nowhere left to go.
The second climax hit harder than the first. Her back arched, her head fell against his shoulder, her voice broke on a cry as she came.
At the exact moment she shattered, he roared against her neck, his whole body rigid as he buried himself to the hilt. He spent himself inside her. Rope after rope of his thick, hot seed bathed her inner walls, his cock jerking with each pulse as she shuddered around him.
She blinked, trying to bring the steamy shower stall around them into focus, and then went still.
She loved him. She was completely, head over heels for her handsome, bossy alien doctor.