Page 57

“I am calculating logistics,” I fire back, though my voice shakes.

Orien laughs, a dark, wicked sound. He grabs my hips and lifts me off the floor. I wrap my legs around his waist on instinct. He crosses the room in three strides, dropping me onto the center of the massive, fur-covered bed.

He follows me down, caging my body beneath his. The heat rolling off his skin is a physical weight.

He doesn’t rush, kissing his way down my jaw, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of my neck. I arch my back, my hands gripping the thick muscles of his shoulders. His mouth moves lower, capturing the peak of my breast through the lace of my bra. He pulls the fabric aside, his hot tongue swirling over my bare nipple.

A sharp gasp rips from my throat, and I drag my nails down his back, chasing the blinding friction.

“Orien,” I demand, my hips bucking upward against his thigh.

“Impatience doesn’t suit you, Commander.” He moves lower, his tongue leaving a wet trail down my stomach.

His fingers hook beneath the lace at my hips, and he draws my underwear down my legs. I lift myself to help him, kicking the scrap of fabric onto the floor.

He grips my thighs, pushing them wide apart. He settles between my legs, and I feel the hot, wet slide of his tongue against my clit.

My spine bows off the mattress, and I scream his name, my fingers tangling in the fur blanket. He is relentless. His tongue flicks as he sucks, devouring me with a terrifying hunger. Every stroke unravels another piece of my armor. The analytical mind that built a kingdom in a bunker short-circuits, completely overwritten by the alien kneeling between my legs.

The pressure builds instantly. I thrash against his hold, but his grip on my thighs is iron.

“Let it go, Maggie,” he rumbles against my slick skin.

I explode, the orgasm ripping a ragged sob from my chest. My core spasms violently against his mouth as he drinks my release, his tongue working the sensitive bundle of nerves until I’m sobbing for him to stop.

Orien crawls back up my body, his chest heaving. His orange eyes glow in the dim light of the bedroom, feral and completely consumed by need.

Finally, he positions himself at my entrance, and the thick, tapered head of his cock presses against my slick opening.

Orien holds himself perfectly still against my entrance.

“My nanites are suppressing conception,” he says, his voice strained. “I will never alter that without your explicit permission.”

Something tight inside my chest loosens. Even now—even like this—he leaves the decision with me.

I grip his hips. “Good. Now.”

Orien pushes forward.

The stretch is immense. He fills me inch by demanding inch, the sheer girth of him forcing my body to adapt. He pauses, every muscle in his body trembling with restraint.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp.

He presses deeper, burying himself to the hilt. My head falls back against the pillows.

The sensation is staggering. The raised ridges lining his shaft drag against my internal walls, creating a mind-altering friction I have never experienced. The heat of him burns inside me, a living, pulsing brand.

He pulls back and thrusts again.

“Yes,” I cry out, my legs locking tighter around his waist.

Orien sets a brutal, driving pace. Every thrust drags those textured ridges across my G-spot. The sound of our bodies slapping together echoes through the quiet room. He leans down, capturing my mouth, kissing me with the same violent, desperate rhythm.

“Mine,” he snarls against my lips, his hips snapping forward. “You are mine.”

“Yours,” I gasp, finally speaking the truth I have fought for too long. “I’m yours, Orien.”

The admission shatters his control. Orien’s thrusts turn frantic. The glowing lines on his skin flare brilliantly, casting golden light over the tangled sheets.