"Next position!" Ken bellows. "The Tragic Ballroom Dip!"
"Okay, this one requires serious coordination," I tell Vael, grabbing his shoulders. "Put your right arm around my lower back. When I lean back, you support my entire weight. Do not drop me into the acid, or you’ll never have to worry about my skeleton again."
Vael nods grimly. He steps forward, plants his heavy boots, and throws his arm around my spine. But he doesn't understand the concept of a gradual dip. The moment I begin to tilt my shoulders, he drops his center of gravity instantly, plunging mytorso downward like he's throwing a wrestling opponent to the mat.
I let out a breathless shriek as my head drops toward the bubbling green acid. My hands fly up, searching for purchase, and my fingers lock hard around the curve of his horns.
His physical reaction is instantaneous. He lets out a choked groan, his entire body focusing on mine. He forgets to hold me up, his hand slipping from my back as the pleasure hits him.
His cock begins skithing. Not sure if that’s part of a clinch cover on alien planets, but it should be.
"Vael!" I yell, my core muscles screaming as I try to keep myself from sliding into the pit.
He recovers a millisecond later, bicep flexing he snatches my waist, hoisting me back up so fast our foreheads crack together with a painfulthud.
"Ow!" I yell, rubbing my brow.
"Forgive me," Vael rasps, his throat smoking with a faint purple heat.
That’s not a good sign. I stare at him, my heart hammering. I’ve heard of people getting oiled up for photo shoot or whatever, but I’m covered in sweat.
"Your grip on my horns... it is a direct line to my cock, Poppy. You cannot engage the horns unless you want to ride my cock."
"I was trying not to die in the acid pool!" I roll my eyes. "And you dropped me like a sack of potatoes."
"I was executing the dip with maximum velocity to beat the countdown timer," he barks back. He rubs his own forehead, his tail twitching erratically. "This human courtship is highly strange. Why must we simulate a structural failure of your spine?"
"Because Ken is a psycho," I scream over the wind machine. "Now get back in position. We have ten seconds!"
Vael lets out a long-suffering sigh that I definitely feel deep down in my bones.
Or my skeleton, as Vael would say.
He steps back in, his posture stiff. This time, he moves with extreme caution. He slides his arm under my lower back, his rough scales scraping my skin, and slowly, millimeter by millimeter, lowers my upper body over the edge of the catwalk.
I hang there, my hair in danger of acid burns, completely supported by the strength of his grip. He looms over me, his dark red wings flared out wide like sails to catch the artificial gale. He glares down into my face, his canines bared, looking exactly like a predatory alien warlord who has just claimed his prize from the wreckage of a civilization.
"Do not touch the horns," he warns in a dark, breathless rasp.
"I won't," I whisper back. "Just look at the camera, sexy."
I’m not gonna lie. This pose is doing it for me.
He doesn't look at the drone. He keeps his eyes locked entirely on mine, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against my hip, melting the last of my annoyance.
Click.
"Ninety-seven percent passion!" Ken screams over the speakers. "The dramatic tension of the domestic dispute right before the shot was sublime. Marketing is weeping tears of joy. Next!"
The second laser grid disintegrates.
Vael hoists my body back up and onto my feet. We’re both breathing heavily, completely lost in the bizarre, high-heat energy of this challenge. I look at his proud, handsome face, and a wild laugh rips out of my throat.
"One more to go," I pant, sliding my fingers back into his palm.
Vael closes his hand around mine, locking our fingers tight.
CHAPTER 23
