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“Sorry,” she said, her eyes widening. “I’ve just been sitting too long. And I’ve always had kind of weak ankles.”
She went to remove her hands from my shoulders, which I did not want to happen. Instead of letting her release me and hop down on her own, I tightened my hold on her waist and lifted her easily to the ground.
I put her down directly in front of me, much closer to my own body than I strictly needed to. Much like Silar had done with Cherry’s jaw, I found my thumbs involuntarily sliding up and down, exploring the shape of her waist through the thin white fabric of her dress. I could not seem to stop myself. Could not seem to help it. This slow, subtle, roaming touch.
First my cock. Now my stupid thumbs. What other parts of my body was I going to lose control of around my wife?
Darcy remained still, looking up at me, the blackest parts of her eyes nearly swallowing the green as I slowly slid my hands down to her hips. My thumbs brushed what had to be her hipbones, and my breath hitched, my cock giving a hot throb.
Darcy’s hands were sliding downwards, too, easing from their place at my shoulders until they came to rest on the skin of my bare chest. I’d stripped out of my wedding jacket and shirt halfway through the journey home, unable to stand the late-spring sun beating down on the dark fabric. Unlike the females, I had not been shaded on the ride. Which normally was not a problem, assuming I had a hat and was not wearing multiple layers of clothing to overheat me.
“I should get my bag,” Darcy murmured.
“I will get it.”
Neither of us moved.
The roaming thumb sickness seemed to be catching. Darcy’s thumbs now made slow strokes across my skin, her fingers splayed on the thickest muscles of my chest. Each shifting touch echoed tenfold in my groin. It took every scrap of will I had left not to close the last little bit of distance between us and start rubbing my cock chaotically against her abdomen.
Instead, I just stood there, barely breathing, and suffering.
9
DARCY
It had been obvious, even when he’d been fully dressed, that Fallon was pretty big and buff. But I’d had no idea he was packing all this under there. The man’s titties were bigger than mine!
I was practically fucking hypnotized by the man’s pecs. I couldn’t stop staring at how tiny my not-so-small hands looked stretched across the bulging curves of him.
And it wasn’t just his chest that was impressive. Below that was an eye-popping array of corded muscle arranged in ridges that honestly made it look like his abs had abs. The shoulders that I’d been gripping a moment before led down into whopping biceps and a set of thick forearms lined with the most enticing set of ropy veins I’d ever seen.
Forget porn. Jesus Christ, I was certain that I could make myself a million credits just by selling photos of Fallon’s forearms. Maybe videos, too. Of him flexing. Or gripping stuff. Snap a pic of the man making a fist and panties across the cosmos would disappear. Poof.
How the heck could anyone actually look like that? How did he maintain that much muscle with what looked to be precisely 0.0001% body fat? What the hell did he do all day? What the hell did he eat?
And what the hell was I doing, petting the man’s pecs like they were my new favourite baby animals? Oh, God, I was even naming them inside my head. Beefy and Brawny contracted under my touch as Fallon’s breath hitched.
I never should have touched him. Never should have let him help me down. Because now I was apparently hypnotized by Fallon’s shirtless hotness at such close proximity.
My mind? Nowhere to be fucking found. I cursed my weak ankles and doubly cursed my mother who didn’t believe in strength training or weight lifting or letting me participate in sports because she deemed it all far too masculine.
I was weak and I was trapped. Stuck. Bamboozled by Fallon’s boobs, Terra help me.
And, for fuck’s sake, his face was also just as nice to look at. The sky behind him was a breathtaking combination of Terratribe II tangerine and bruising indigo, perfectly complimenting that sunset-orange shade of his skin.
“Dar-”
A barking yip of sound shattered the spell that held me. I wrenched myself out of Fallon’s hold, turning just in time to see a massive dark streak of something approaching at top speed. I had no time to react before the creature collided with me, sending me flailing backwards so hard I was certain I was about to crack my tailbone right up the middle.
But I never hit the ground. A hard arm fastened around my waist, pulling me roughly up at the same moment that the thing that had toppled me was yanked away.
“Sora! Down, girl!”
Breathing rapidly and attempting to get my bearings, I put my weight onto shaky legs. Fallon was holding me tightly to his side, while his tail was wrapped like a rope around the collar of a…
Dog?
Holy hills of Terra. The man had a dog. An alien one, to be sure. But we had dogs on Terratribe II, and there was no mistaking the bright, intelligent, curious gleam in those winter-blue eyes and the happy flop of the long red tongue in front of me.
