"Beautiful," he breathed as he cupped her breast, stroking his thumb across a stiff peak.
She gasped and arched into his touch as he continued to explore, happy to show him what she wanted. She met him with equal hunger, her hands exploring, her mouth demanding. She tugged impatiently at his shirt, her eyes widening as he yanked it away.
"You're—" she started, then stopped, fingers tracing the scars scattered across his chest.
"Damaged?"
"Beautiful." She said it simply, like it was obvious. Like scarred green skin and oversized muscles and a face designed for intimidation could possibly qualify as beautiful.
He laid her back on the table, his mouth covering her breasts before trailing down her stomach. She writhed beneath him, her fingers twisting in his hair when he teased the edge of her shorts.
"Tarmek, please."
He stripped the shorts away, leaving her completely bare except for a tiny scrap of fabric.
"So pretty," he murmured, trailing a finger along the lace edge. "Is this for me?"
"Just for you." She propped herself up on her elbows, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Are you going to do something about it?"
He hooked a finger in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down slowly, baring her to his gaze inch by inch. When he reached her feet, she kicked them away impatiently, and he took a moment just to look at her. She glowed in the kitchen's soft lighting, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He could see the evidence of her arousal glistening between her thighs, and the sight made his control slip another notch.
"Tell me what you want."
"You." Her voice was husky. "I want you. Everything."
He groaned and leaned down to kiss her again, spreading her thighs wider. She was hot and wet and when he brushed his fingers against her, the sound she made was pure sin.
"Inside," she demanded against his mouth. "Now, Tarmek."
He straightened, fumbling with his belt, his hands shaking with a need that bordered on pain. She watched him undress with undisguised hunger, her tongue darting out to wet her lips when his erection sprang free.
"Tattooed and pierced?" Her eyes widened appreciatively. "We're definitely going to need to do this more than once to get everything to fit."
The sound that left his throat was closer to a growl than human speech. He grabbed her hips, pulling her to the edge of the table, and positioned himself at her entrance.
"Tell me if?—"
"If it's too much, I'll tell you. I promise." She reached up and traced the curve of his tusk with gentle fingers. "Now stop talking and fuck me, Captain."
He drove forward, entering her in one long, slow thrust that had them both gasping. She was impossibly tight, gripping him like a vise, and so wet that he slid easily to the hilt. The sensation was overwhelming—heat and pressure and the feeling of coming home to a place he never knew existed.
"Move," she demanded. "Please, Tarmek?—"
He did. He set a rhythm that made the table creak, her breasts bouncing with every powerful stroke. She met him eagerly, her hips rising to meet his, her hands clinging to his shoulders. The sounds she made were driving him to the edge—soft cries and sharp gasps and his name whispered over and over.
"Harder," she moaned, and he obeyed, driving into her with the single-minded focus that he brought to every important task. The table beneath them shuddered with each thrust.
"Look at me," he demanded, his voice rough. "I want to see you when you come."
Her eyes locked with his, wide and dark and so honest they made his chest ache. He reached between them to circle her clit with his thumb, and her back arched off the table.
"Tarmek—"
"That's it," he coaxed, feeling the orgasm build at the base of his spine. "Come for me, Edie."
She shattered beautifully, her body clenching around him as she cried out his name. The rhythmic tightening pushed him over the edge, his own release hitting him with the force of a checked hit, leaving him gasping and braced above her as pleasure crashed through him in waves.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the refrigerator. He rested his forehead against hers, still buried deep inside her, not wanting to break the connection.
