His dick is straight up pulsing. In an obscene way. An obscene way that somehow still manages to make my mouth water.
Really, this heat is turning me into an absolute horn dog.
“Huh,” I say, aiming for disinterest but somehow managing to convey a completely different world of meaning with the one syllable. I wrench my hand away and glare at him. “All right, that’s enough of that. Now you can wash me.”
I lay back in the chair again, all too aware of the goosebumps that are all over my body, the way the heat is making me feel out of control. Feverish. And that the only thing that can make me feel better is the alien who’s chuckling softly to himself.
“You need to get out of those clothes,” he says. “I can only do so much while those ratty things are still on your body.”
“I’m not taking off my pajam?—”
He cuts off the word by snagging a fingernail—excuse me, talon—on the top of my favorite green spaghetti strap pajama set, ripping it open all the way.
The chilly air hits my sensitive skin immediately, and I suck in a breath, torn between outrage and sheer need.
“Oh, you want me to just be naked on camera now, I guess, for everybody to see, huh? Is that why you tore my clothes off?”
I sit up abruptly, wrapping the cami back around my body.
Zan just stares, that deep purple blush coloring his cheeks again. “Of course not. I want you to be clean. I’m pretty sure you have animal shit all over those." He picks at the hem of the shirt that I used to reverently fold away in my drawer. "They’re rags now,” he says dismissively.
“All the gall and gumption,” I mutter, then cringe, because he’s not wrong now that my hand is also touching the green cami I’ve worn for the last week or so.
What is time anyway when you’re in a reality competition after being abducted from your friend’s house drunk? Non-existent, that’s what time is here. Long enough to feel like an eternity and for your favorite (only) silk pajama set to get completely caked in mud and shit.
And yet, not long enough for you to have died or otherwise been put out of your misery.
Joyous.
I’m not sure where I am on a scale of Maslow’s hierarchy or whatever of need I am, but maybe they should make a new one to account for alien abduction and being thrown into heat on a fucking intergalactic reality show.
Zan’s eyebrows arch, and he stands back, still holding the shower wand, waiting for me to say something.
“Fine,” I grind out. “They are disgusting.”
I make the mistake of looking into his eyes. His pupils are dilated, his breath coming faster than ever, as if he’s just been carrying me through the jungle again or fighting off a giant rooster.
Well, I think to myself smugly, two can play this game.
With that, I make a slow, elaborate show of slowly unveiling my body to him, watching the way his eyes devour my chest.
My boobs are small. They’re nothing to write home about. In fact, I’ve had more than one boyfriend complain. But hey, when you like to work out and your body just decides that burningcalories is way more fun than storing them, tiny tits are what you end up with.
But by the way Zan is looking at them, he doesn’t seem disappointed at all. He looks hungrier than I felt when we were finally eating. He looks like he could devour me, starting at my tits and never stop.
I shiver, and somehow his pupils manage to dilate further. His cock vibrating even harder now.
I’m not wearing underwear, something I’ve been all too aware of this entire time. Because, well, being in heat and being constantly wet down there means thinking a whole lot about the fact that I decided not to wear underwear to sleep when I was wasted on margaritas at Ellison’s.
But now, now I’m grateful for it.
I stand up slowly, and though I’m no dancer, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing even close to elegant about the way I’m moving.
I’m hyper-aware of the way Zan watches me slowly tug the shorts down, revealing my sex to him. I make a show of slowly bending over to pull them the rest of the way off, stepping carefully out of the disgusting, formerly favorite pair of pajama shorts before kicking them off to the side.
He steps closer behind me, his breath ragged. Or maybe it’s mine. His huge hands at my hips as he closes the distance between our bodies and turns me around.
I moan in spite of myself because oh my god, it feels so fucking good to have this huge, vibrating cock against my back.
