How Not to Date an Alien (4 page)

“I have time.” He rose to his feet.

“O — okay,” she stuttered. “I won’t run.”

“As if I would let you,” he chuckled. Turning toward her closet, he meandered over and started to dig. “And because you are granting me such a boon —”

“Granting?” She choked on the word.

“I will dress in an appropriate human manner.”

“So no one will notice,” she decided.

“Every hunter has to have the proper camouflage,” he pointed out while riffling through her clothing. “It is a wonderful thing that I can fit into some of your garments.”

And Kilana watched, pouting, as the alien selected a pair of slim black jeans and slid them up his long, muscular legs.

They made his ass look spectacular. The tight Das Boot t-shirt he slid on next enhanced the muscular planes of his chest and the broadness of his shoulders. He looked like a damn gothic model.

“Wonderful,” she said. “You know you’re going commando underneath that, right?”

“Commando? Soldier with violent tendencies and the ability to explode large flying war machines completely alone?”

“Sans underwear.” She was beginning to grow amused despite her current situation. “Did you learn English by watching old movies?”

“Yes. And do you mean I have to wear clothing under these tight garments?

Why so many layers?”

He tilted his head to the side and stared at her like he was a cute little puppy dog with antennas.

“We just do,” she informed him. “Women secrete…”

“Lots of fluids.” He grinned again, and she was beginning to recognize that trait as a way he showed his arousal.

“Yeah, and if we don’t want to slide around all day in them, we wear a barrier.”

“And your men?”

“They don’t like their shit to bounce, I guess. At least, that’s what the ex said.”

“The male who was previously in your bed?”

“Like a year ago, but yeah.”

“His shit bounced?” He had a vaguely disgusted, disbelieving look on his face.

“No, I mean his penis and testes.” She rolled her eyes. “Didn’t you pick up any slang when you were studying us? Geez.”

“I picked up some, but your usage of slang words that do not fit with the acceptable definition is puzzling and strange.”

“Well,” she allowed, “that is true.” But then she quickly changed the subject again. “Does this mean you’re going to let me go now?”

“No, but I will release you from your bindings.”

“Good.”

“Right after I wash you. You do secrete copious fluids, and as pleasant as they feel against your sensitive and soft flesh, it seems that it would be uncomfortable for you if they dried like that.” He was leering at the meeting of her still wide-spread legs and licking his lips.

Her eyes goggled wide as she stared at him. He was seriously going to wash her?

Really? It proved to be true as he made his way into her en suite bathroom. She heard water running. Valan returned shortly with a steaming washcloth and climbed between her sprawled legs.

“This is interesting,” he pointed out as he pressed the warm cloth against her still sensitive skin. “Your flesh seems to react to heat.”

He leaned in to get a closer look, and Kilana was caught between closing her legs in embarrassment and spreading them further. The heat trailing up her spine at his merest touch was delicious. She felt debauched and exposed and was really not minding it all that much. With gentle fingers, he spread apart her labia and peered in closely to examine her clitoris.

“So tiny, yet capable of making you create the most amazing sounds and making your body dance at my finger tips. Observe,” he added, looking up at her as if she was going to watch this new pleasure assault.

Well, of course she was going to watch, she reasoned as he gently stroked one finger over the cowl of her clitoris. She just needed to ensure that he didn’t do anything harmful. And then she ignored the mental snort that her inner woman gave. The alien

looked hot, and her body was still hungry. She knew at this point any excuses that she made about giving in to this were just that — excuses. The alien had obviously studied up on human anatomy and deep inside, her inner kink-ball voyeur wanted to watch.

So she stared at the pale, lithe male between her legs, watched his eyes glowing again as he pawed at her most intimate parts.

“You become so wet for me,” he mused, his fingers tracing the swollen lips of her labia. “Fascinating.”

The cloth was tossed aside as she felt herself moisten and swell. “I assume an acceptable recovery period has elapsed?” he arched one eyebrow and waited for her answer.

“I — I guess…”

“Good.” His grin threatened to split his face as he began to pet her in earnest. “I don’t want you uncomfortable. That affects your flavor.”

Then, before she could comment, he was stroking her, gripping the cowl of her clit between two fingers and pumping it like he was jacking her dick.

“It is almost like a small penis,” he pointed out, moving faster as her hips came up off the bed and her loud gasps filled the room. “Does this not feel pleasurable?”

Kilana could only stare wide-eyed as the sensations running through her caused her to throw her hips up, to get more of the fire that was beginning to burn brightly once more.

“I like this reaction,” he mused, his voice almost a whimper as he leaned over her, as his hair wrapped around her thighs and lifted. “It is very stimulating to my senses.”

Kilana was gasping and moaning now, her eyes fluttering like a virgin in a bodice ripper. Her hands were fisted in her bindings, and her breath came in harsh pants.

Did he expect her to answer? How could she when the growing feelings were stealing her ability to think?

She forced her eyes open to stare up at him as he loomed over her. His eyes were fierce, his breath becoming labored, that amazing forked tongue lapping at his lips.

Her eyes traveled lazily down his body, noting that his cock was still flaccid and resting against his thigh, but he seemed to be really involved in what was going on.

Before she could comment, though, his fingers slipped lower and a vibrating thumb traced her slick opening before nudging in, just a little.

Her breath fled her body as her head slammed back into the pillows. She arched up, her breasts bobbing, her nipples swelling and protruding once more. And he was moving with her, playing her body again to perfection. For every twist and turn, he had a move that kept his vibrating finger not exactly on her clit, but close enough to it to drive her insane with want.

And then his hair was rubbing at her thighs, enfolding her breasts and tugging at her nipples. He leaned over her, licking at her neck with that forked tongue and filling her senses with his vanilla lemon musk.

It was so fucking hot! She could hardly breathe.

“Valan,” she whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes as she bucked uncontrollably against his hands. “More!”

“Not ready yet,” he muttered, pulling back a little, flinging his hair back over his shoulders to stare into her eyes.

And naturally her eyes traveled down to his cock, still flaccid despite all of the sex action that was taking place.

Did he not find her at least a little attractive, a small voice in the back of her mind whined. Was she too… too alien?

Then he chuckled, as if reading her thoughts. “It will remain flaccid until I have need of it,” he informed her, reaching up to free one of her hands. “That is the way of my people.”

Then he placed her hand on the softest flesh that she had ever felt. It was softer than cotton, softer than silk, so soft it seemed unreal. Her eyes widened as her fist clenched around him, and she felt the firm yet soft give of his added features.

“When I take you,” he informed her, his fingers still teasing at the mouth of her pussy, “I will use all that I am to wring every drop of pleasure from your body.”

And then he shifted forward, pressing his uniquely featured dick against her clit, and thrust once.

“Co — comi — Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh oh oh!” Kilana began to lose it. The feelings welling up from where he throbbed and pressed and vibrated against her were too much.

Her mind was spinning. She was screaming, and her muscles were locked, and all she could do was ride out wave after wave of the ecstasy he visited upon her with his hands and his voice and his hair and his cock.

“Perfect,” he said as she sort of melted back into the sheets, exhausted and quivering, still quaking as small shafts of fire shot through her. “We are almost there.”

He disappeared again but returned with another warm cloth, this time just cleaning her up as her body began to return to something resembling normalcy.

“Wow,” she breathed as he finally removed the cloth.

“Yes, you get closer and closer to proper preparation and the time of your devouring.”

“Way to kill the buzz,” she muttered, but only shrugged and smiled as he folded the cloth inside out and began to sponge off her chest.

“I wonder if your other sexual organs can be stimulated by heat.”

Her nipples pebbled, her stomach tightened, and Kilana realized that it would be some time before she got to eat.

When it comes to human technology, your alien life form probably already knows everything. Any species that can conquer space/time travel will surely understand a combustion engine.

|||

Fifteen restaurants.

They drove by fifteen restaurants before Valan found one that he deemed proper enough for her.

But before that, it was the matter of who was driving the car.

“I can pilot a craft capable of deep space travel,” he had moaned. “Yet I find it difficult to operate a manual transmission on a car.”

Kilana tried not to laugh as her alien pouted and read through the manual.

“It’s all about stick control.” She couldn’t help but put it out there.

He glared in return.

“Look, it’s simple,” she tried to explain. “If you want to go from zero to ten, first gear.” She pointed to the appropriate number next to her gear stick. “Twenty or more, shift to two. Thirty or more, three. Get it?”

He frowned at her. “The theory, yes. Practical application is another thing.”

“Need more experience?” She couldn’t help but laugh. Take that, she thought. For an insignificant and confused race, we got your ass beat on this one.

“I pilot a ship with an antimatter rocket that can alter and control time dilation, equipped with a light sail particle accelerator that can function without being dependent on any outside fuels because of its use of the prevailing plasma winds found

in the solar system. Allow me a few moments to familiarize myself with this primitive, environmentally dangerous engine, and then we shall depart.”

She almost choked on her guffaws as he stuck his nose into the manual again with a sniff and began muttering at what he was reading.

But her laughter was short-lived as he gave a pleased sound and placed the manual back in the glove box.

“I do believe it is time for you to exchange the refined fossil fuels used to lubricate the moving parts of your engine for fresh.”

“Been meaning to get an oil change,” she muttered, wiping her eyes of the tears that had fallen with her laughing jag.

“Buckle your seat belt,” he ordered, and Kilana decided she’d better because she was sure they were going to hit something before the advanced alien life form figured out the mechanics of driving a car.

He grinned at her, showing all his teeth, and a nervous feeling took root in the bottom of her stomach. He turned the key slowly, jumping a bit at the growling sound coming from the engine of her brand new gray and silver Dodge Challenger.

“I believe I am going to like this.” A manic light came into his black eyes.

The next thing to emerge from her mouth was a loud scream as he slammed the car into gear and peeled out of the driveway. He had figured out the relatively simple mechanics of her stick shift, and they took off, almost literally flying down the street.

Yes, she was screaming.

The man was slamming her car into fifth gear, driving about seventy-five around the winding roads of her town. How he got it to accelerate into that high a gear was beyond her. But she was too busy holding onto the “oh, shit” bar and praying he would pay close attention to his technique. And what really worried her was that there was one gear left to go up before he topped out.

With one hand on the wheel now, he flicked on her radio, flipping channels and barely missing an economy hybrid full of cell phone talking yuppies and a landscaper driving a big SUV.

She was sure she lost a few years off of her life when he screamed around a funeral procession, nodding politely at the hearse in the lead before he hit the accelerator once more and sped through no less than three speed traps.

The cops didn’t even blink.

“How,” she stuttered, trying to do her best to hide underneath the dashboard and swallow her heart back down into its rightful place, “how do you do that?”

He just turned to her and smiled, showing all his sharply pointed teeth.

“I think I like this.” He settled on a radio station that was pounding out a funky techno beat.

“I like life —” she shouted before pointing out of the windshield. “Watch the road!”

He slammed on the brakes, the car laying rubber for a good fifteen feet before he skidded to a halt at a red light.

“Your ground vehicle rules are inane,” he complained.

“They are there to save lives!” she panted, one hand on her chest, one on her neck to see if her pulse was still working.

“They need to make new rules for experienced drivers,” he groused, tapping his fingers absently on the steering wheel.

A cop pulled up beside them and did a double take as he took in the driver’s appearance.

That might be some help, she decided, or at least a delay. “Officer,” she called, smiling as the cop in question tore his eyes away from the alien driving to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “He’s an alien.”

“German, from the looks of things.” He nodded. “Nice car.”

“Wonderful primitive technology,” Valan replied.