15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

M isty

I'm drenched. This sexy game we're playing has made me desperately aroused. He knows it too. If the cock jerking against his pants didn't give it away, the way his nostrils flared and he acted as though he could taste me on the air was a sure tell.

He breaches the distance between us, reaches under the curtain of my hair to capture me—as if I have any intention of running away—and bends to kiss my lips.

He bestows one sweet brush of lip on lip, perhaps to ensure I'm a completely willing partner, then he switches gears and attacks me. Before I know it, he's on the couch and I'm on his lap, straddling him as his tongue plunders my mouth, demanding ownership of my body, inside and out.

I'm dripping wet and imagine I've soaked through not only my pants, but his. It doesn't matter. This feels so divine. The soft grunting noises from the back of my throat are met by his own answering growls of desire.

He's not shy as he grips one of my ass cheeks in each hand and lifts me up and down, grinding me against the hard ridge of his cock .

Little Vortex interrupts my thoughts for a moment with a plaintive whine. When I glance over, I see him circle in his little bed, then lie down with his head pointing away. Good. I won't have to worry about scandalizing the little critter.

I slide my nipples against Zylus's naked, green chest, jacking up my own arousal as I happily bounce on the rocklike, thick shaft riding between my lower lips.

He releases a stream of filth into my ear as he slides his palms under my shirt and up my midriff. Yanking my bra up to expose my breasts, he plucks my hardened nipples as he moans his excitement.

"You're so fucking hot, Misty. Hot and beautiful and oh—"

I was grinding myself on him so hard it must have short-circuited his brain.

"I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop. I'm going to vigorously ram."

He slides against me, making certain to drag that long cock against my eager clit.

"And pound."

He slips his thumbs in my waistband and somehow has me fully naked below the waist before I know what's happening.

"And provide deep, deep penetration to clean your pipes."

With that, instead of pulling off his own pants and following the very detailed instructions he just graphically described, he positions me on my back on the living room rug, spreads me wide, and lunges between my legs, face first.

Although I wasn't expecting this deviation from the blueprint, I do not protest.

"Zylus." Is all I can eke out through lips already parched from panting .

His species' tongues are longer than humans. I don't need a ruler. There are other ways to measure these things.

His first plan of attack is to penetrate me. No half-measures for Zylus. He goes all the way to the hilt. Leaving me no time to wonder whether he likes it, his groan—long and deep and low as if he just took a trip to heaven—tells me all I need to know about how he feels about cleaning my pipe.

Once he's gotten his fill of my taste, his facile tongue slides out, then takes a leisurely trip through my slick folds on a seek-and-destroy mission of my clit.

Flicks intersperse with sucks and somehow he manages to wrap his tongue around it to pluck it.

"Fuck!" I sputter when I find myself on the edge of release.

Good man, he doesn't make me wait, doesn't torture me. He simply goes for the gold, flicking, plucking, sucking the clit and surrounding area into his mouth, and then driving home with one, then two, then three long, thick fingers delving into me in quick succession.

I briefly wonder if his claws will prick me, but when I feel the glorious stretch at my entrance and the way he found my special spot with no need for instruction, the thought flies out of my mind like the cry from my lips.

Light bursts behind my eyes as every muscle in my body spasms in an explosion of pleasure. My channel grips his fingers, pulsing around him. His moan of enjoyment vibrates into my flesh as he doesn't deviate from his rhythm until he has milked every ounce of bliss from my release and I'm lying here, muscles limp as noodles, legs splayed open to him.

"Plumbers do it better," I mumble, lips numb, brain having difficulty creating even that stupid sentence.

He chuckles and eases to lie by my side. His expression is soft and affectionate as he says, "Just wait until I show you my tunneling equipment."