Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Zakoar practically growls, as if the thought displeases him. "No."
"Then I'm not sure what you're getting at." I nip at his lip again, and stop when he doesn't respond. "Am I…bothering you?"
Our eyes meet and he gives me a long, thoughtful stare. "Why do you put your mouth on mine?"
"Because I like kissing?"
"My mouth is not pleasant."
"I don't know who told you that, but they lied to you." And I kiss him again. "Because I like your mouth. I bet I'd like your tongue, too." And I tease mine against his parted lips.
He jolts into action, groaning against my mouth. Hauling me against him, he hikes me up into his arms and carries me across the living area, heading for the bedroom.
I lick at his mouth again, feeling bolder. "I missed you today. It was boring without you here." I flick my tongue against his lip. "Did you miss me?"
"I had much to do." He hesitates, and then adds, "I shouldn't have missed you."
"But you did," I add gleefully, kissing him again. He doesn't seem to know how to respond to my hungry kisses—I know he feels awkward with my mouth on his, but I want him to realize that I don't care if half of his mouth is metal. I still want to kiss him, still want to taste him, still want to show him how much he turns me on.
Zakoar lays me gently on the bed, his mouth hovering over mine. "You…want my tongue?"
"Yes," I moan. "Absolutely."
He carefully kisses me back, and the strange dichotomy of his smooth metal lower lip against my mouth feels fascinating and slightly cool. His kisses are hesitant at first, as if he's not sure if he's going to disgust me, and then grow in intensity and confidence. When his tongue slips against mine, I whimper.
It's got ridges too.
Every day, it feels like I'm unpacking a little more of the puzzle that's Zakoar. There are pieces of him that are every inch the badass alien I expected. There are also flashes of vulnerability I didn't expect that make him that much more endearing to me. Like the way he hesitates when I kiss his mouth, as if he expects me to hate it. I suspect it's the same reason that he doesn't want me to look at him when I take him in my mouth, or why we always have sex facing away from one another. He's trying to protect himself with another layer of armor.
Of course, that only makes me want to touch him more.
I need him to see that I don't care about the metal on his face or covering his body. I don't care that he's scarred up and frightening looking to most people. All aliens are “strange” to a human, but there's a kindness to Zakoar that makes me adore him. From the moment he gave me his tunic so I wouldn't have to walk around naked any longer, he's shown me that he's got a kind heart despite the forbidding exterior, and just because he looks different than the average mesakkah, it doesn't mean that I find him repellent. It's the opposite, actually.
So I kiss him frantically, my tongue teasing against his, and as I do, I reach up and caress the metal part of his skull, the side where his eye is framed by nothing but silver. It feels cool, too, just like his lip, and for some reason, I find myself moaning.
Zakoar jerks back, startled at the touch.
"Should I stop?" I ask, panting. His gaze moves to my wet mouth and I deliberately lick my lips. "Do you not like it when I touch you?" I prompt. "Because I like touching you."
"I like it," he tells me slowly. "I just don't want…" And he stops, leaving it unsaid.
"My tongue in your nose?" I ask, keeping my expression as innocent as possible. "Or perhaps a finger in your asshole? Because I can do both, if it gets you off."
He scowls down at me. "Are you ever serious?"
"I'm always somewhat serious. Human men have a gland in the ass that feels good when it's tickled, or so I'm told, and if you have the same, I'd happily go knuckle-deep—"
Zakoar kisses me to shut me up (at least, I'm pretty sure that's why he kisses me) and when his tongue drags against mine, my entire body responds. My nipples tighten deliciously and I whimper. "You are an impossible female," he tells me between kisses.
"You need impossible," I pant. "You'd barrel right over someone sweeter than me."
In the next moment, he's kissing me so deep and hard that I swear he's licking all the way to my core. And dear lord, it feels incredible. It's like he's claiming—and fucking—my mouth with his tongue, which is everything I ever wanted in a kiss from him. When he lifts his mouth from mine, we're both panting. "You think you're not sweet?" he asks.