Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He has an ass to die for, two great muscular globes that flex and shift in shape as he charges toward his enemy’s doom. His thighs are thick and powerful, scaled on the outside and up from the backs of his knees right toward the part where his thigh meets his powerful ass.
Lust is a powerful thing. It’s so powerful I no longer fear death. Left on the brink of orgasm, everything that is happening right now, terrible and terrifying as it should be, seems hot. Even with bolts of deadly energy flying all around me, one zipping directly over my head so close I can smell my hair singe, I don’t want to hide.
At least, not until the killing starts.
The enemy aliens die quickly. Even watching, it is hard to see what happens exactly. His big, broad back is to me and whatever he is doing with his hands and the ripping, tearing motions of his arms and shoulders is enough to make blood arc skyward and then fall in a vicious rain across the ship’s floor.
That should be warning to them to retreat, but they have either been ordered not to, or it does not occur to them because they keep coming through the relatively narrow choke point of the door which means he is able to take them one or two at a time.
The more he kills, the more frenzied they become. Anybody with any sense would run, but they fire over one another, and indeed, through one another. Here and there they make some glancing impression on him, but Zain is undeterred.
He kills the way any imprisoned animal made brutal by cruel captivity kills: swiftly and with wild efficiency. He takes their weapons and uses them against them. One stabs him with a knife, sinking it into the flesh between the scales on his left arm. I am certain then that he has been bested, but he does not flinch or blink before simply pulling it free as if it matters nothing to him to be cut. He spins the blade in his hand, lifts his elbow, and slashes in a horizontal arc that spills the contents of his enemy’s throat in a hot cascade.
I will never be able to unsee any of this, but I cannot look away. Not until he flashes the quickest of glances over at me. His eyes in this moment are lizard, reptilian, base, and intense. They make a flash of connection with mine.
“Hide,” he snarls the order at me.
I dip back down below the crates, hiding my eyes, but I can still hear the sounds of death being dealt in snaps and cries cut off and choked out.
It might be thirty seconds or thirty minutes before he allows me to emerge. Time is warping and shifting in strange ways as I sink down below the crates, one hand over my mouth in a sort of ancient gesture of quiet horror, the other down between my thighs performing an equally ancient motion, or rather motions.
I am so absolutely drenched with arousal. Touching myself between my thighs, I feel that sexual need spinning up again, spirals of energy winding around my spine. I am no longer a virgin. I am no longer innocent, or pure, or chaste. I am probably an abomination in the eyes of the pastor, but I know he is now as dead as any of the aliens who attempted to capture me.
Protected in a way I have never been protected before, fucked in a way I have never been fucked before, and lusting in a way I have never lusted before, I explore my alien-ravaged sex with my fingers. I am wet and I am soft and I am open. When I touch my clit, zips of excited sensation run right up through me. I don’t want to come without him, but I don’t know if I can stop myself from playing with myself.
There is a CLANG above my head as my alien mate comes back for me. When I look up, I see that he has taken armor from the fallen, or pieces of it. He has taken a helmet and a chest plate, and he has clad his lower body in tactical leggings with tools and presumably small weaponry. Boots rise to his knees, hitting at a level that should make his legs look short, but instead only emphasizes the true length and power of his limbs.
He is a monster, the embodiment of death. And I really need him to finish fucking me, because that was the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life.
He sees what I have been doing, practically catching me with my hand between my legs. I pull it away, hastily, but it is too late. He knows everything. He knows what a wet, wanting thing I am, how much I need for him to keep using me.