He growled and shifted, the tip of him rubbing against my clit, moving slowly back and forth across my pussy. Fuck me, that was hot. How could I say no? My body didn’t want to. It wanted an alien cock stretching me open and making me come. I owed it to the women of Earth, didn’t I?
Screw that, I owed it to myself. I’d been good my whole dang life, and it had gotten me in a shit-ton of problems. I owed money to a fucking drug dealer because of my dumbass dead brother. I’d been good, but my brother had been a holy terror and I was the one that got the shaft.
Well, I wanted a different kind of shaft now. Hard. Deep. “Yes.”
His entire body shuddered as he settled me over him. He was huge, my pussy spreading slowly to take him in, the stretch bordering on pain.
Someone pounded on the door, and I felt it against my back. It was background noise. Nothing more. My entire being was focused on Wulf. On his heat. His body pressed against mine. The scent of his chest in front of my face. The huge cock filling me to the breaking point.
He was all the way inside me, or at least all of him that I could take. My inner walls rippled, and I wiggled my hips to adjust. Our eyes met. Held. There, I saw heat. Need. This was where he wanted to be. Inside me.
“Weeks. This. Need.” Tendons in his neck were taut, his hands on my ass held me up as his hips rolled and he began to fuck me.
I understood him. He’d needed this, to fuck me, ever since he got here. He’d had to deal with the show and the women, but it seemed they hadn’t appealed to him. He’d craved a connection like this, but he hadn’t found it with any of them.
He found it with me.
“Warlord, open the door!”
“Olivia, are you all right?”
More pounding, more shouting, but Wulf paid them no attention.
“The door’s locked. Someone find a fucking key.”
I didn’t last. This was sex unlike anything I’d ever imagined. Better than any random porn clip I’d seen on the Internet. Only a few inches of metal door separated porn-worthy sex from the rest of the world. I was the star of the show, the hot, sexy woman who was being fucked against the door by the sexiest, most virile alpha male anyone on this planet had ever seen.
Me. Chubby since elementary school, three boyfriends my entire life, me.
He was pumping into me like he couldn’t stop, like he needed me more than he needed air to breathe. Like I was a goddess. A sex goddess.
The feel of his cock rubbing over places deep inside me, the heat moving from his body into mine. The raggedness of his breath. The way he watched me, as if ensuring every shift of his cock was for my benefit.
“Wulf,” I said again, gripping his shoulders.
“Mate,” he countered.
I heard the jiggle of the door handle, the slight push of the door. Wulf only leaned in more, ensuring it wasn’t going to open.
“Mine,” he snarled as he pulled almost out and slammed back in.
I cried out.
“He’s hurting her! Get the police.”
“He’s a beast… what are they going to do?”
Conversations on the other side of the door swirled around me, but it was Wulf and only Wulf I paid attention to. He wasn’t going to hurt me. He was going to make me feel better than I’d ever felt in my entire life. His hand was on the door, holding it closed.
No one was going to get past him. No one. He was mine right now, and I was his. The thought pushed me closer to the edge.
“I’m going to come,” I told him.
“Yes.” He altered the angle of his thrust again, and he pressed against my clit.
Colors danced behind my closed eyelids as I came, milking his cock, wanting him deeper, hoping to feel like this forever. “Wulf,” I cried.
I felt a growl reverberate through his chest as he took me hard, flesh slapping.
“Mine. Mine. Mine,” he said with each deep thrust until he held himself inside, his fingers clenching my ass as he came.
I felt the heat of it fill me. I looked at him, watched him as he found his pleasure in my body. I made him like this. Wild. Feral. Sated.
Not one of the twenty-four gorgeous women had made him this way. No one but me saw him like this. Vulnerable. Lost. Perfect.
“Warlord Wulf. You must open this door now. We have sent for guards to stun you.”
Wulf didn’t even move, so I had to assume the threat—from a guy who sounded like the producer—didn’t bother him.
“Wulf, we have to let them in,” I said, stroking his sweaty hair back from his face. He was still hard inside me, but I felt his cum seep out.
It was over. This was over, whatever it was. One time. One wild, incredible time.
“No.”
I waited until he looked at me again. “We can’t stay in here forever. The show was ruined. We have to face them.”
I was most likely out of a job. Fuck.
Carefully he pulled out and lowered me to my feet and set one hand on the door by my head to keep it closed. He was that strong.
Now his muscles weren’t as tense. His gaze not as fierce. Fucking had soothed him a bit. I couldn’t blame him. Two orgasms and I was ready for a huge nap. But I had alien cum sliding down the insides of my thighs and my employers banging down the door at my back.
I also had one final drop to make for that asshole, Jimmy, before I could go to sleep tonight. “We have to open the door.”
He nodded, then helped me work my skirt down, ensuring I was completely put back together, minus the panties. With one hand he tucked himself back in his tuxedo pants, and I helped him with the zipper and belt buckle. It was an intimate act, and we did it in silence.
Only when we dressed—not that it was going to be hard for anyone to miss what we’d been up to—did he pull me out of the way of the door, then open it.
People surrounded us, shouting. I was tugged away from Wulf as guys with cameras on their shoulders got in my face and as close to Wulf as they dared. Questions were shouted, and I didn’t know where to look. What to say. I was pushed through the doorway and into the hall and caught a glimpse of Wulf as he moved to get closer to me.
This was insanity. I was no one. A quick fuck for an out-of-control alien. When Genevieve and Willow were pushed into the dressing room to stand with Wulf, I knew this little fling was over. The cameras were still rolling. Chet the Magnificent had found a new microphone, of course.
Had this been a big prank? Had they planned this all along? For ratings? For shock value? Had it been real or part of the media circus that followed Wulf around like bees after pollen? Had he been in on it?
Did it matter? I had to get home, get changed and do the only thing I could to keep the people I loved safe. I didn’t have time to figure this out right now. I definitely didn’t want to try to figure it out on live television.
And there, looking flustered but eyes flashing with excitement, went Chet Bosworth, pushing into the room and shoving a microphone in Wulf’s face.
“Warlord Wulf. What just happened here? I think you owe Willow and Genevieve an explanation, not to mention the whole world watching. What do you have to say for yourself? Explain this behavior to your adoring fans.”
Adoring fans? I nearly choked on that one but then realized one of those adoring fans watching from home had been me—up until today. Now I was, what?
“Mate. Mine.” The beast was still glowering at the camera, but the intelligence had returned to Wulf’s gaze. He wasn’t out of control, not anymore.