Page 13 of Topping Off the Alien

“I’m not certain. But I’ll have to try.”

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. “Do you think we should charge you up some more? You know, to be sure.”

Sudden relief floods through me. I hadn’t realized how tightly I’d been holding on to the fear that he would decide this was enough and leave. That his curiosity was satisfied, and he could walk away.

Instead of answering with words, I reach for him and pull him into a kiss.

His mouth is warm and yielding, and he makes a small sound against my lips that goes straight through me. I slide my hand into his hair, gripping the strands. He kisses me back with the same hunger as before but without the hesitation. His tongue pushes into my mouth, and I meet it with mine. The current between us climbs from a hum back to a steady pulse.

This time, Wes is more confident. His hand finds my waist, then my hip, and he pushes, rolling me onto my back and following me down. He settles his weight across my thighs, his knees on either side of my hips, and looks down at me with his hair falling into his eyes.

“Is this okay, Your Highness?”

The corner of my mouth lifts. “I’ll allow it.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, and he leans down and kisses me again, harder, his mouth open, his tongue sweeping against mine. I grip his hips and pull him closer.

The marks on my pec flare with light, so bright that I can see the glow reflected in Wes’ eyes when he pulls back.

He looks down, his fingers hovering above the constellation. “Can I?”

I nod.

He traces the pattern with one fingertip, his touch feather-light. Each point brightens as he touches it, the light pulsing stronger, and heat follows his finger across my chest. I suck in a breath.

“They’re so responsive,” he murmurs. “Are they always like this?”

“Not always.”

Not ever.

He comes back down to kiss me, hungry and demanding, his tongue insistent against mine. I grip the back of his neck and hold him there, answering with equal force, and the kiss turns into a battle for dominance that neither of us is willing to lose.

He’s getting hard against my hip, his cock thickening and pressing into me with each shift of his weight. My own cock responds in kind, filling against his thigh, and the friction of skin on skin sends heat coiling low in my belly.

Wes breaks the kiss and moves to my jaw, then to the hollow beneath my ear. He licks a stripe down the side of my neck, and I curse, my control slipping by degrees. His teeth graze my pulse point, and the marks on my chest flare brighter.

He’s learning what makes them respond. I can feel him testing, his mouth moving over my heated skin. Each time the light jumps, he lingers, working the spot with his tongue until the heat builds and my breathing goes ragged.

His mouth trails down my chest, over one pectoral, and his tongue drags across my nipple. I hiss through my teeth, my back arching off the bed. He does it again, slower, sucking the peak between his lips, and my hand flies to his hair.

“Wes,” I manage.

He keeps going, his tongue tracing the line down the center of my torso, following the ridge of muscle. Each lick sends heat pulsing through the marks and down into my cock, which is fully hard now and leaking. He reaches my navel and circles it, and my abs clench hard.

His hands slide under my thighs, gripping, and he looks up the length of my body, his mouth hovering above my hipbone. His eyes are black with want, his lower lip wet and swollen from kissing.

“Sol,” he says.

I reach for him, meaning to pull him back up and kiss him, then take his cock in my hand and stroke him until he comes apart. Before I can, a knock sounds at the door, three precise raps, and we both freeze.

7

Weston

“Come in.”

I stare up at Sol from where I’m sprawled across his chest and hiss, “What are you doing?”