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“Have you got another book about dinosaurs that I don’t know about?” I cried. “You’re making it sound like I’ve got a T-Rex up my skirt!”
“What’s a dinosaur?” Those maple-lightning eyes were so earnest.
“Uh. Never mind.” I gently stroked my fingers over the bubbled muscles of his chest. God, he felt so good. So good I could almost forgive him for making my clit rhyme with Tyrannosaurus. “Alright. Say it with me now, Fallon. Clitoris.”
“Clitorosaurus.”
“Try again. Clit-or-us.”
“Clito… Clitoroni.”
“What? That’s even further away from the original!”
“Sorry!” His eyes flashed white with a combination of dismay and determination. “Clitorious!”
“You know what? Let’s just stop before one of us has a fucking stroke. Just call it a clit,” I moaned with a mortified shake of my head.
“Clit. Clit. Clit. Yes, I can manage that. Sorry,” he said again, stroking my ass in a half-horny, half-apologetic gesture. “There is no Zabrian equivalent I can say that will translate for you. And I am struggling with the human syllables.”
“It’s alright,” I told him, offering him a smile despite the incredible, soul-destroying awkwardness of this entire exchange.
“But I did read all about it! Several times over!” he asserted. “I know that it’s very sensitive, with many nerves. I studied the diagram extensively. I know where it is located.”
“Well, you’re already ahead of the majority of human men,” I said with a laugh.
The laughter immediately died, my stomach tightening when Fallon’s voice got low and husky.
“Please,” he murmured. “Can I touch it?”
The man was basically begging to touch my clit. Was this even real life?
“OK,” I breathed out before I could change my mind. Fallon gave a choked groan before swiftly inhaling. In a sudden, efficient gesture, he’d used his tail to grasp the hem of my shin-length, flowy skirt and yanked it upwards at the same moment that his hands went to my panties and pulled them down.
“Could you please hold this?” he panted, sounding like he’d just run across his entire massive property to reach me. His tail clenched around the fabric of my skirt before releasing as I took hold of it myself.
I should have felt humiliated, standing like this in the bright-ass daylight, holding up my skirt, panties around my boots, displaying myself so that my alien husband could have a go at petting my Tyrannosaurus-Clit.
But I just… didn’t. All I felt was a tender sort of pleasure at the reverent way Fallon stroked his hard-but-gentle hands up my bare thighs.
“There’s no hair. The book showed hair here,” he said, sounding startled, when his thumbs reached the place where my thighs met my groin.
“Yeah,” I said, trembling with my body’s urgent need for him to drive those thumbs closer to my pulsing core.
I didn’t bother telling him that my mother had dragged my sisters and I to Elora Station as teenagers for permanent body-hair removal. I didn’t want to ruin the moment mentioning or even thinking about her.
“You’ve seen me naked before.”
“Not up close,” he growled, his hot breath skimming across my exposed skin, winding my nerves tight. “Not like this.”
“Alright. Well. Surprise! Lucky you! Here I am!” I blabbered. Like a fool. Completely stupid, lovesick fool.
“I am lucky,” he groaned in response, his tail winding possessively around the ankle of my right boot. “Do not think for a moment that I don’t know it.”
I couldn’t reply to that, because the next moment he was using those warm, rough fingers to spread me open, and it became hard enough to breathe let alone speak.
Fallon’s next inhale sounded oddly jagged and uneven.
“So beautiful,” he choked out. “You’re so pink here. Just like your pretty hair. And you smell so good.”
