Wrage (Galaxy Gladiators #11) - Alana Khan Page 0,23

what? It feels warm and caring and overwhelming.

I drink. What just happened? How long did that last?

“Want to talk?” he asks. He hasn’t moved since this began.

“What? What just happened?”

“A technique I learned before I was kidnapped. I perfected it during my captivity to escape the bounds of the absolute hell that was my life. Although I never believed I’d be free, I never stopped hoping for it. I promised myself it would be the first thing I did with my mate after our ceremony. Before we consummated.”

Wow! Really? Hardass Wrage from planet Wryth’N decided, while enslaved, to delay carnal pleasures with his mate in order to dance among the stars with her. Tears prick my eyes. I’m overwhelmed with emotion.

“On Earth the bride and groom—the mates—give each other gifts on their mating night. That was . . . unspeakably beautiful, Wrage. I have nothing for you.” I bestow him an apology with my eyes.

A feral smile lights his face. “Oh yes you do. That’s coming next. You promised me ‘anything’.”

I’m fully back in my body now—my nipples harden as if on verbal command at the same moment I feel my panties dampen in anticipation.

His hands surround my waist, and he pulls me onto his lap. He tugs me closer, so my core rides his erect cock through our clothes. He’s starting with a bang, no soft, slow kisses tonight. I dig my knees into the mattress so I can have more control and immediately start riding him.

He grips my hips with his palms, his fingers on my ass cheeks, and pushes me back an inch.

“I’m in charge,” he croons to take the bite out of his order, perhaps not knowing that his sexy, authoritative command sends shivers slicing up my spine.

Bending his head slowly, he brushes my lips with his, once, twice, then slips his tongue between them and tastes me again for the first time.

Everything is similar to our first kiss, and yet completely different. He’s different. I’m different. We’re different. Dancing in the stars irrevocably changed something. We’ll never be the same again. Although we’re not connected like we were for that one brief, shining moment, we’re not completely disconnected.

My hands slide up his muscled back, enjoying the hard feel of him even through his shirt, then lodge at the back of his neck. My touch is gentler than it has been in the past. Reminding us both of our new emotional connection.

He confirms it by the sexy, gentle way his tongue coaxes mine, urging me to dance with him in this way, just as we did in the vastness of the universe.

Breaking away, I nibble along his jaw to his ear and breathe in until I feel him shiver underneath me, then breathe out into the sensitive channel until he moans in pleasure. The deep timbre of his voice skips along my synapses, making me shiver with yearning.

His hands splay across my back and press me closer, returning me to my original position. When I ride him now, he bucks against me, pressing on just the right spot. With every thrust, he exhales. The soft noises are so masculine, so sexy they make me impatient to hear what he sounds like when he comes.

He pulls off his t-shirt and then my own, then stuffs them into the little cubby and looks at me. Who am I kidding? The only way to describe how he’s looking at me is ‘feasts his eyes’. He’s eating me up, his irises that amazing golden-green again.

Then he pulls my sports bra over my head. And . . . more feasting.

“I’ve undressed you in my mind a thousand times since I met you. My imagination didn’t do you justice, Elyse,” he breathes.

Because he considers me saying his name a token of affection, I decide to appreciate it when he calls my name. Just a little private gift from him to me. My little clit is quivering in response.

He slowly slides his hands from my waist to my ribcage and then holds the weight of my breasts in his palms.

I reward him with a little moan as I wait for . . . ah, yes, the pads of his thumbs strum my hardened nubs. I’ve been waiting for this for years. Wait. Has it only been days? It’s felt like years. The flames of yearning spark hotter, burn brighter as he touches those two hard points in ways they’ve never felt before. I press toward him, wanting more.

In one swift movement, he bends