Page 30 of Alien Healer’s Mate

She closed her eyes, biting her lip as he soaped her slowly. Deliberately. He worked the gel over her skin, down her arms, and across the curve of her back. When he reached the small of her back, his thumbs pressed into the muscle there, and she gave up and leaned back against his chest.

This is just a wash. A very, very thorough, incredibly hot alien wash.

She reached behind herself, her fingers finding the hard plane of his stomach, and traced the line of a scar that ran diagonally across his ribs. He made a low, rough sound, not quite a groan, and his grip on her shoulders tightened.

“You’re very soft, Delilah,” he murmured.

“It’s the lack of muscle tone.” Her voice came out less steady than she’d planned. “I’m basically a human marshmallow.”

“I like marshmallows.”

She giggled at the idea of this big, mean alien warrior-doctor liking soft squishy treats and turned in his arms. The water sheeted down between them as she looked up, and she instantly caught her breath. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and the playfulness was still there, but something heavier was crowding it out.

He didn’t say anything. Just lifted a hand and cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple.

She gasped, her back arching as the peak tightened under his touch. Heat surged between her legs hard enough to loosen her knees.

Oh my god, this wasn’t a wash. It had never been a wash. She’d been stalked, and damn, she liked it.

Turning her around again, he pulled her flush against him so that she could feel every inch of him, hot and hard against her ass. One big hand slid down her belly, strong fingers parting her pussy lips to find her clit, rubbing in a slow, steady circle.

“Kellat,” she breathed, her hips rocking back against him.

“Stay still.”

He didn’t let her move. He just kept up the slow, relentless pressure, building her second by second. The climax rushed at her, her breath coming in short, jagged gasps. She arched against him… she was right there, trembling on the very edge⁠—

He stopped, pulling his hand away.

“What? No!” She turned to look up at him, eyes wide. “What are you doing? You can’t just stop!”

His expression was perfectly calm as he looked down at her, darkness in the depths of his eyes. “I can.”

“You asshole,” she whispered, and there was no heat in it at all, just desperate, aching need. “You absolute, handsome asshole.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he herded her to the bench, a big hand behind her thigh until she put one foot up on the metal ledge. Then he was behind her, a warm wall of solid muscle against her back as he eased into her.

The moan that escaped her was soft and shuddering. He was so big that for one heartbeat she thought she might break, split apart on the thickness of his cock. But then her body gave, stretching around the thick, hard length of him. He pushed forward in an unstoppable thrust until his hips were against her ass and it was in her all the way to the hilt. Until she was so full of him and stretched that she could barely breathe.

His hand gripped her hip to hold her exactly where he wanted her while the other reached around to find her clit again. His rhythm was slow and torturous. Grinding. Hitting everything at once, and he didn’t rush. His breath was rough at her ear as he worked her with his fingers and his cock. The pleasure built again, faster and harder this time, fueled by the first denial.

She gripped the edge of the bench, knuckles white, head dropping forward. Tension hummed low in her belly, her inner muscles clamping down on him in desperation.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Kellat, please.”

He growled, thrusting harder, pushing her right up to the brink… and pulled out.

“Fuck you!” She twisted around to glare at him. Her pussy throbbed around the sudden emptiness, and she had to press her legs together to try and ease her aching clit. “I actually fucking hate you right now!”

Something dangerously close to a smirk touched his mouth. “You’re very loud when you’re frustrated.”

“I’m not frustrated, I’m dying! I am literally dying of blue-balls… or whatever the female version is!”

He gripped her waist and sat her on the edge of the bench. Lying her back against the warm metal, he draped her legs over his broad shoulders, then leaned forward and put his mouth on her.

His tongue was warm and relentless, flicking against her clit while two fingers slid deep and curled, pressing up into the spot that made her vision blur. She came apart. Completely. The orgasm hit in tight contractions that had her sobbing his name, her fingers buried in his wet silver hair and pulling him closer as wave after wave rolled through her.

She was still shaking when he moved.