The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition (14 page)

Garryk watched her from beneath his
lashes. “You keep playing with that, baby, and it’s gonna go off,”
he drawled lazily.

Her lips curled with a smile of
satisfaction. “I’ve got to make sure it’s clean.”

“
Maybe you could wash it a
little faster?”

Confusion flickered through her until
she caught his meaning. She chuckled. “It might spit at me and then
I wouldn’t get to kiss it to make your back better.”

He grinned at her and pulled away,
turning to rinse off. “I don’t know if I want you kissing it or
not. You got sharp claws, lady. Maybe you got sharp teeth,
too.”

She moved up behind him, reaching
around him to help him rinse the soap off and nibbling kisses over
his back. A shudder went through him when she lathed the welts on
his back with her tongue. “Guess I’ll have to just settle for
kissing these then,” she murmured teasingly.

He twisted his head to look back at
her, but he didn’t comment. Moving away from her he stepped out of
the shower. As soon as he did, she moved under the spray to rinse
off.

He jiggled the toilet handle
again.

“
Garryk!”

Laughing, he moved to the lavatory and
turned on the water instead to brush his teeth. The water in the
shower went from warm to hot in two seconds flat. Leaping back,
Chelsey hastily turned the water off. “You ass!” she said without
heat as she climbed out and grabbed a towel.

He choked in the middle of his
gargle.

“
Serves you right!” she
snapped, flushing the toilet and heading out.

He caught up to her before she managed
to pass the bed, snatching her up and diving sideways onto the
mattress. The bed creaked ominously as they landed. They both
stilled, waiting to see if it would collapse.

“
Wobbly bed,” Garryk
commented after a moment, shifting around and stuffing one of her
pillows beneath his head.

Chelsey sent him a look. “It isn’t
used to having a two hundred pound man leaping on it,” she said
dryly.

He caught his dick in one hand and
pointed it at her. “Now … we were discussing penance. On your knees
woman.”

Chelsey studied him with a half smile
for a moment. “I thought we were talking about kisses?”

“
I’m maimed and weak with
blood loss. I need resuscitation.”

She crawled toward him. “You aren’t
worried about the teeth?”

He cupped his dick protectively
against his belly, his eyes gleaming with suppressed laughter. “Ok,
change of plan.”

Chelsey halted on all fours, one hand
planted on either side of his hips. She curled her lips inward over
her teeth. “Look, no teeth.”

He studied her a long moment and held
it out to her. Smiling, Chelsey settled on one hip, braced herself
with one arm and curled her fingers around his shaft. “Ok. Now …
how do I perform the resuscitation?”

“
Put it in your mouth and
suck.”

She lifted her brows. “You sure I’m
not supposed to blow? I’ve always heard it called
blowing.”

“
Suck.”

Shrugging, she settled closer and
covered the head with her mouth, sucking it and running her tongue
across the slit in the tip and around the rim of the head. “Feeling
any better?” she murmured when she released it.

“
A little more,” he
responded a little hoarsely. “You could stroke it with your hands,
too.”

She curled her hand firmly around it
and stroked it from root to tip and then reversed the motion
several times. “Like that?”

“
Yeah … just like that,”
he said tightly.

Shifting to a more comfortable
position, she abandoned the tease and focused on pleasuring him
with her mouth and her hands. The warmth he’d generated inside her
in the shower built as she felt his rise. He speared his fingers in
her damp hair after a few moments, adjusting her rhythm, and then
released her, expelling a harsh breath. He shifted a little jerkily
a moment later and then stilled for a space of heartbeats, then his
hips lifted in counter to her strokes. Releasing a pent up breath,
he curled his fingers into the bedclothes.

His restless, jerky movements sent
heat spiraling through her, a sense of excitement. She sucked on
him more enthusiastically as the urge rose inside her to bring him
off with her hands and mouth. She knew the very moment he reached
the limit of his endurance. He clamped his hands beneath her arms
and hauled her upward. “Wait!” she gasped in dismay.

He ignored the demand. Dragging her
onto her knees and aligning himself with her body, he shifted his
hands to her hips and pressed her downward as he curled his hips
and thrust upward. For once, he met little resistance. She was so
wet her moisture flowed over his hard flesh as soon as he impaled
her with it. With no more than a couple of jabbing forays, he’d
buried himself to the hilt inside of her.

Chelsey stared down at his face
dizzily, too stunned to find herself in control to think what to do
for several moments. He sat up, curling his arms around her and
dragging her close enough to cover a breast with his mouth. She
rotated her hips experimentally as she felt heat pouring through
her from his mouth on her breast and the responding flutter of
reaction in her sex. The movement stirred harder currents of
pleasure. When he finally fell back against the pillows, she leaned
over him, struggling to find the movement that gave her the most
pleasure. Finding it at last, she began to move more rhythmically,
striving to reach her climax. She’d already begun to feel the first
warning flutters when he pulled her down and captured one nipple
with his mouth. The moment he curled his tongue around it and
sucked, fireworks exploded inside her. She gasped, tensed, and then
rode her climax until her body stopped quaking.

He dragged his legs up as she went
limp on top of him, planting the soles of his feet against the
mattress. Clamping an arm tightly around her hips and one around
her upper back, he lunged upward, landed on his knees and then
tipped her over onto her back, landing above her. The feat of
strength stunned her. The moment he changed positions with her,
however, he positioned himself for better leverage and set a
feverish pace that lit a fresh conflagration inside her. She
climaxed again just as he began to shudder with his own
orgasm.

It wasn’t until she was drifting in
the euphoric aftermath that she remembered he’d stopped her before
she could make him come with her mouth. “Why didn’t you let me
finish the BJ?”

Garryk tensed, pushing himself away
from her to study her face while he tried to gather his wits. The
woman knew her strategy! By rights her mental processes should’ve
been as sluggish as his was after what they’d just finished doing,
damn it to hell! Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to coax any sort
of mental calisthenics to life. The only thing that was really
clear to him at the moment was that it was a loaded question he
needed to avoid until he’d thought of an answer she would accept,
because he was pretty damned sure she wasn’t going to be especially
delighted with the truth!

He’d given her fair
warning, though, damn it! Granted, he’d
counted
on her dismissing it, just
like she clearly had, but the fact remained that he’d covered his
ass when the shit went down,
told
her his plan to make her the mother of his
children! She couldn’t accuse him of being underhanded … or
careless.

Well, he supposed she could. She was a
woman, after all. They didn’t worry too much about being reasonable
when they were thoroughly pissed off.

It sure as hell hadn’t
been any part of the plan to give her a chance to confront him
about it, though—the number one reason being that he didn’t want to
give her a chance to run him off before
he’d
had the chance entrench
himself! Number two being a serious confrontation too early in the
game might lead to failure or retreat or worse and he wasn’t about
to let that happen.

He finally decided to simply pitch the
ball back into her court when nothing came to mind. “Did you want
to?”

“
If I hadn’t I wouldn’t
have done it.”

Fuck! He hadn’t expected
her to volley it right back. He looked away from her, scanning the
room until he located the clock. “Shit! I’ve gotta go.” Capturing
her face with his hand, he kissed her lingeringly. “Be thinking
about where you want to go while I’m gone. I’ll be back … I
should
be back around
nine.”

Chelsey pushed herself upright. “You
haven’t even eaten!” she exclaimed in dismay.

He sent her a smoldering look. “Maybe
later?”

She watched him as he strode across
the room to the bag he’d dropped by the door the night before,
crouched down and unzipped it, rifling through the
contents.

“
I meant food,” she said a
little testily.

“
I’ll grab something on
the way,” he said absently. “Did I leave a pair of jeans
here?”

Chelsey sighed. “I washed them.
They’re in the bottom, middle drawer of the dresser.

Garryk threw her a speculative look as
he straightened with a knit shirt and a pair of knit boxers, trying
to digest that, wondering if he could place any significance in it
or not. He couldn’t tell anything about her expression, though. She
might’ve done it for no other reason than the fact that he’d left
them—and be annoyed at being put to the trouble. Pulling his shirt
and shorts on, he moved to the dresser and pulled the drawer out,
dug through the other clothes she’d cleaned for him and unearthed
the jeans he was looking for. “You washed them,” he commented
neutrally, struggling with the pleasure it gave him that she’d
washed them, carefully folded them, and put them away. She was
neat. Don’t be stupid, Garryk! Flicking them to unfold them, he
focused on stepping into them and adjusting them.

Chelsey frowned. “I didn’t mess them
up.”

He flicked another glance at her when
he’d fastened the waist and zipped them, frowning as a vague memory
surfaced. “I thought I broke the zipper.”

“
You did. I put another
in.”

He studied her curiously a moment and
strode toward her. Capturing her face between his palms, he kissed
her soundly on the mouth. “You’re an angel. Thanks!” he said,
smiling.

She smiled back at him tentatively,
feeling curiously relieved. He left her. Grabbing a pair of
sneakers out of the bag and shoving his feet into them, he glanced
at the clock again. “Shit! I really do need to get a move on. Pick
a nice restaurant, baby. I’ll see you in a bit.”

She heard him pause in the living room
and the jingle of coins. He’d collected his wallet, change, and
watch by time she reached the door to the living room and was
heading out the front door. Frowning as it slammed behind him,
feeling oddly ambiguous, she stared at the door for a few moments
and finally looked down at the semen snaking down her thigh.
Uttering an irritated huff, she headed into the bathroom to clean
up.

She didn’t know what to
think of the man! He’d acted so …
strange
when he found out she’d
washed his clothes and repaired his jeans. He’d seemed both pleased
and sincerely grateful when he’d thanked her, but she wasn’t
altogether certain he had been. She’d almost felt like she’d …
encroached. If he hadn’t expected, or at least hoped, she would
wash his clothes, though, why leave them in her hamper?

And why had he evaded her
question if it came to that? He’d deliberately avoided answering,
tried to distract her—succeeded, for that matter. She would’ve
thought he’d
want
a BJ. It had always pissed Lawrence off royally if she
stopped short of bringing him off and he sure as hell didn’t mind
asking for one! In fact, he’d pestered her constantly until she’d
reached the point where she hated giving him blow jobs.

Maybe Lawrence was just kinky like
that, though, rather than typical?

She considered it while she dressed
and finally dismissed it.

Garryk had wanted it and he’d
thoroughly enjoyed it. The only reason she could think of that he
might not want her to finish was because he’d been worried he
wouldn’t be able to satisfy her afterward. That pleased her until
she’d gone over it in her head again. He’d stopped her the first
time, too, she remembered abruptly, and she was almost certain he’d
reached the point where the only thing that mattered in that moment
was finding release. He’d been so frantic to get inside her that
time that he’d almost left her behind. That seemed to eliminate
anxiety about her getting her cookie.

Ok, so he wasn’t
that
selfless! She was
sure he was smart enough to know that a woman was a lot more likely
to put out if a man pleased her, but there were still a lot of them
that didn’t worry about that—because they didn’t actually have to.
A man like Garryk could change women as often as he changed his
socks, which meant he didn’t actually have to worry about getting a
good report card.