The Visitor: Alien Hunger Special Edition (3 page)

Barb apparently found something that
appealed to her. The stereo blared to life, drowning out any
response Milly might have made. Barb adjusted the sound slightly
lower. “Sorry! I didn’t realize I had it all the way
up.”

“
I was about to put on a
porn!” Cynthia said indignantly.

Barb rolled her eyes. “Like we need to
listen to the dialogue!”

Cynthia thought it over and shrugged.
Shoving her choices into the machine designed to play multiples,
she grabbed the remotes and headed for the L shaped sectional sofa
where everyone was gathered. Marla poured wine for everyone, set
the bottle down, and focused on grabbing her own snacks. “Oh! This
is one of my favorites!” she exclaimed, settling on the couch with
her plate.

Chelsey wasn’t certain whether she was
talking about the food or the video, but when she followed Marla’s
gaze she did a double take. “Oh my god! Is that …? Is that what it
looks like?”

“
Those can’t be real!”
Milly gasped. “They look like … elephant trunks!”

Barb snorted her wine and then coughed
for ten minutes while Beverly pounded her on the back—until Barb
finally caught her breath and managed to fight her off. “Of course
they’re real! The name of it is ‘Giant Cocks and the Ladies Who
Love Them’,” she said snickering. “Where in the world did you get
this, Marla?”

“
Oh! Now that
can’t
be real!” Beverly
objected a few moments later when one of the guys, who looked like
he had a two foot dong, began pumping it into first one and then
another of the impossibly large breasted women in the video. “It
must be … retractable or something!”

Chelsey was so mesmerized she forgot
about the food on her plate until a piece slid off and landed in
her lap. Cynthia put the player on fast forward and they all
watched the pair fuck in high speed for several moments, then she
put it in reverse, which was even funnier.

As an ice breaker, Chelsey thought
ruefully, it worked great. By the time they’d watched the video
with everyone vying with witty commentary, drinking wine, and
munching on the catered food, everyone was totally relaxed and
completely in a party mood. They got louder and more raunchy in
their comments as the wine sank lower in the bottles. They got up
and danced wildly around the room whenever any of their favorite
songs played, and then collapsed breathlessly on the couch and
complained about not being able to dance like they used
to.

In spite of the rough start to her
night, Chelsey found herself relaxing and having more fun than she
could remember having since she’d been a kid. Ruefully, she
admitted part of it was undoubtedly the wine, but she thought she
would’ve felt like she was in the midst of a wild college sorority
party even without the wine as uninhibited as everyone was
behaving. Of course, the wild college boys were conspicuous by
their absence, but the stallions prancing across the big screen
like randy satyrs gave the party the right ‘atmosphere’.

They’d graduated from the wine to
mixed drinks when Marla announced it was time for the ‘special’
entertainment she’d lined up for them. Everyone began to whoop and
clap enthusiastically. Chelsey had no idea what the entertainment
was, but she laughed and joined the others clamoring for the
show.

Marla and Cynthia pushed the large
coffee table with the remains of their refreshments out of the way
and then Marla headed over to the light switch to dim the lights
while Cynthia turned the TV off and changed the music on the
stereo. Barb moved to the floor lamps around the room and switched
them on, adjusting the lights until they focused on a single spot
in the center of the great room.

The women ranged along the couch began
to clap in sync, chanting, “Diablo! Diablo!”

Laughing, Chelsey clapped and chanted
with them without having the first clue of what they were chanting
about.

Barb, Marla, and Cynthia scurried to
the couch and flopped on to the cushions just as the music Cynthia
had put on to play started. The door that led down the hall to the
bedrooms opened dramatically and smoke billowed out of
it.

Chelsey gasped in momentary alarm as
the smoke poured from the hall. A dark figure seemed to flow
outward with the smoke, emerging from the shadows created by the
lighting almost like a dark shadow among the others. The masked
figure swept to the center of the spotlight, flipped his cloak back
to reveal a bright white dress shirt and black dress pants, and
began to gyrate in time to the music.

Chelsey sucked in a breath of surprise
as he flipped the cloak off and twirled it around himself as he
danced, almost like a matador. Around her, the other women began to
squeal with delight and bounce up and down on the couch, calling
out lewd praise and invitations as he tossed the cloak aside and
whipped the mask off, tossing it as he had the cape. A flicker of
recognition swept through Chelsey, but before she could pursue the
errant memory, he grasped his shirt, ‘tearing’ it off so that all
that was left was the collar around his throat and the cuffs at his
wrists.

The motion instantly drew her
attention from his face to his chest. The beautifully sculpted
torso he revealed was either already damp with the sweat of his
efforts or oiled. The light gleamed on his flawless skin,
emphasizing the mesmerizing play of muscles along his belly, chest,
and arms as he danced. Leaping into the air, he came down and did a
split and then up again as if he was on pulleys. When he was on his
feet again, he reached down and grasped the sides of his trousers
and tore them off as he had the shirt, tossing them in the
direction of the screaming ladies on the couch.

Chelsey’s attention was instantly
riveted to the bulge that filled the soft red knit thong he was
wearing beneath. Imagination or not, it seemed that the fabric
molded to his genitals in a way that made it clear it was primarily
a monster cock that created the bulge. He turned, displaying firm,
rounded buttocks and a back that was as beautifully sculpted as his
chest.

Turning to face them again, he glanced
at the women lined up along the couch and then headed directly
toward her. Her eyes rounded the moment she realized he was heading
toward her. She tensed all over in an instinctive urge to retreat.
Before she could surge to her feet, however, he leaned over
her.

For a split second they were nearly to
nose.

Garryk stared into her eyes and
instantly abandoned the well rehearsed routine that had been
guiding him on autopilot from the moment he’d recognized Chelsey
among the women he’d been hired to entertain. He supposed, more
accurately, it abandoned him, leaving him with no guidance at all
beyond his instincts and those were honed entirely upon the hunt.
Lifting his hands to her bare shoulders, he ran them lightly over
the smooth skin and down her arms, clasping her hands. “Come on.
I’m giving you a private lap dance,” he murmured hoarsely, tugging
on her gently as he straightened, coaxing when everything inside
him was screaming to simply haul her to her feet and carry her off
to a place where he’d have her to himself.

He felt a moment of resistance and
then she yielded, coming to her feet. Some of the tension eased
from him, the anxiety that she would refuse, but it merely gave way
to the savage need pounding through him. Mostly oblivious to the
other women now, though he was vaguely aware of the clapping and
the chant they’d begun—‘Go Chelsey! Go Chelsey!’—he turned and
headed across the Great Room toward the hall where he’d emerged,
his mind in too much turmoil to have any clear goal in
mind.

As he reached the hallway, however,
his mind leapt to the room where he’d prepared for his performance
and he strode quickly toward it, pushing the door open and pulling
her inside. Her eyes were wide as he pulled her around in a circle.
She had the kind of eyes a man could drown in, filled with the kind
of uncertainty and vulnerability that gave rise to a rush of
testosterone—the urge to conquer and, at the same time, made a man
want to rescue her, to protect. He felt all of that and more as he
stared into her eyes, but he didn’t think anything short of
screaming terror could’ve turned him from his purpose at that point
and he didn’t see that.

He saw confusion, but also desire and
that fed his own, threatening to send it spinning completely out of
control when he was hanging on by a thread now. He had been since
he’d spotted her and all the things he’d felt for this woman for
what seemed like forever had descended over him like a
thunderclap.

He waltzed her backwards toward the
backless bench that stood at the foot of the bed, not because he
was in any mood to delay and savor the victory he’d been
fantasizing about for years, but because he could see the fear
skating just beneath the surface of her desire. She wanted him and
that was all that really mattered. Finally, she’d looked at him
with the desire he’d longed to see in her eyes.

All he had to do was control the need
ravaging him, gentle her, and she was his. Her eyes widened with a
touch of panic when she felt the bench behind her knees. He slipped
his hands upward to her upper arms and guided her onto it,
following her, maintaining the illusion that he intended nothing
more than the lap dance he’d promised. Once he’d climbed onto the
bench astride her lap, however, could feel the heat radiating from
her and hear her rapid, panting breaths, he discovered he was as
near a total loss of control as he’d ever been in his life. He
caught one of her hands as he undulated over her, lifting it.
“Touch me,” he demanded hoarsely, guiding the hand he held to his
chest and clasping it to one pec, just above his pounding
heart.

He thought for a moment that she would
snatch her hand back the moment he released it. Instead, after
hesitating for an endless moment while he held his breath, she
curled her fingers. A dizzying rush went through him as she
hesitantly explored his upper chest, and then her gaze drifted
downward. His heart slammed against his chest wall in triumph. He
felt his cock, semi-erect already, fill to aching
fullness.

Her head snapped up, her eyes
widening. He swallowed convulsively, cupped her hand and guided it
downward to cup his erection, guiding it along his length. Her gaze
drifted down again, but once more when he tentatively released her
hand it stayed, poised, and then gripped him. His eyes slammed shut
at the excruciating sensations that poured through him.

When he opened them again, he saw that
she was looking up at him as she had before. He stared back at her
indecisively for a moment and then threw caution to the wind.
Threading his fingers through her hair, he curled them around her
skull to prevent her retreat and lowered his head to cover her soft
mouth with his own, capturing her faint gasp of surprise and then
surrender as he breached the barrier and lay claim to the tender
inner recesses with his tongue.

As if she’d lost all will, become
enchanted, Chelsey allowed him to guide her, yielding to each
demand he made of her with a sense of being swept away by a force
too powerful to resist, feeling her body react with heated wonder
as if that, too, was his to command. The tremors she felt racing
through his big, muscular body were almost as unnerving as they
were enthralling, however, and she wavered moment to moment between
her sense of self-preservation and complete
capitulation.

Self-preservation lost the battle the
moment she felt his mouth close over hers, though, crumbling in the
face of determined conquest. Drunk already from his scent that had
enveloped her in a cloud of euphoric abandon, the moment she felt
his tongue stroke along hers, felt his taste fill her mouth and
awaken seemingly every nerve ending in her body, she completely
lost her moorings. Her hand curled more tightly along his cock,
more a mindless reaction of the abrupt increase of tension than
deliberation.

She felt the jolt that ran through
him. His kiss became wilder, more abandoned. He reached between
them, capturing her hand and guiding it back and forth along his
length as he had before and yet, when she caught the rhythm and
tried to stroke him as he seemed to want her to, he caught her hand
and stilled it. Breaking the kiss, he stared at her for a long
moment, panting hoarsely. Abruptly, he shifted his hold on her.
Encircling her with one arm, he lifted her, dragging her backwards
onto the mattress. She’d barely registered the fact that he’d
carried her onto the bed when she felt his hand settle on her belly
and skate upward beneath her top.

He captured her gasp of surprise with
his mouth when he cupped one breast and kneaded it, distracting her
with the rhythmic stroke of his tongue along hers while he massaged
her breasts and plucked at her nipples with his fingers until they
were tautly erect. When he abruptly broke from her lips again and
shifted downward, shoving her top up to expose her breasts,
discomfort wafted through her despite the dizzying disorientation
that gripped her. She caught his hands anxiously, trying to protect
herself from his perusal.

He met her gaze. Something flickered
through the wildfire in his eyes. He swallowed convulsively and
transferred his attention to her hands as if willing her to release
her frantic grip. As if his gaze alone was enough to control her,
she found her fingers uncurling almost with a will of their own. He
curled his hands around her wrists, manacling them as he pushed her
top up. For several, long moments, he merely stared at her breasts.
Finally, swallowing convulsively, he flicked a look at her face.
“Chelsey—baby—you’re so beautiful,” he murmured hoarsely, leaning
down to pluck at first one and then the other with no more than his
lips.