Page 4 of His Little Cryptolite

I’ve also learned that the primary color people wear to clubs is black. Some have on silver or gold accents. A few have other bold colors. No one is wearing pastel pink.

My phone buzzes again in my pocket. I glance at it to make sure it’s not Kate or Mary. They have checked in several times, too. They seem relieved every time I answer. I’m sure as the night wears on, the chances of me being selected wane.

Three Eleadian men have made appearances. They really are as tall and broad as the rumors suggest. What’s odd isn’t just their height. All of them are over seven feet tall. I’ve seen the occasional tall man in my life. The difference is these men are proportionately larger all over. It’s like they’re giants and the rest of us are tiny.

Every time one of them steps onto the dance floor, my breath hitches. Partly from wondering if each new arrival might select me, and partly because they are so incredibly daunting.

I’ve stopped wondering if I’ll be chosen. Of course not. I must look ridiculous to these sophisticated men in suits. I’m childlike. In this dress, it’s obvious I don’t even have voluptuous boobs.

A door opens across the room, and another Eleadian man enters. He has blond hair and tanned skin. His hair isn’t as blond as mine, but it’s lighter than any other man’s I’ve seen so far. And none of them have been as pale-skinned as me.

I take another sip of my drink before deciding to fish out the cherry. It’s my favorite part. I’m not leaving it in the bottom of the glass. I’m in the middle of trying to stab it with my straw when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

Stopping my endeavor, I slowly lift my head. I don’t turn to look in either direction, though. I’m afraid to. The air in the room has shifted. Something has changed.

I sit taller, spine rigid. My toes are on the rung of the stool, and I press down to ground myself.

The bartender looks at me and then lifts his gaze above me, over my head. He glances back at me and then up again before he smirks.

Shit.

My heart races. Goosebumps rise on my skin. Is one of the Eleadians behind me?

I don’t care if I’m chosen. I don’t care what happens to me. I’ve come here with the hope that I’ll be selected and whisked away from my stupid life.

Maybe I’m out of my head for wishing such a thing. After all, I don’t have a single clue what sort of existence I’d be trading my current one for. These Eleadians could be plucking human women off this planet so they can experiment on us or breed us or even eat us. No one knows what happens after a woman disappears.

I feel the heat behind me a second before warm palms land on my bare shoulders.

My breath hitches. A strange calm settles over me.

The enormous palms slide down my arms until they reach my hands.

My gaze is fixed on the size of this man’s fingers as he gently takes the glass and straw out of my hands. He sets both items out of my reach before clasping both of my hands in one of his and holding them hostage against the bar.

I stare at our connection, fixated, mostly on the fact that his skin is very dark. It appears even darker in contrast to my own nearly white skin.

The man crowds me from behind, his abs against my back, his chest firm against my head.

He points toward the dish of cherries on the other side of the bar. “Roger, could you put a few of those in a dish for me?” His voice is deep and smooth. It seems to reach into me and claim me.

The bartender nods and quickly scoops out four cherries. He sets them on a small plate and slides it in front of us.

I stare at the cherries. Stunned and confused, I’m unable to do anything else. It seems like my heart is going to beat out of my chest.

The man leans over me, picks up one of the cherries with his free hand, and brings it to my lips.

I’m going to faint. I’m not sure what to do. How will I chew?

He rubs my lips with the treat. “Open, Baby girl.”

My entire body shudders at his choice of words. His voice is filled with promise. It’s dripping with sex, and I immediately grip my knees together to squeeze around the sudden pulsing between my legs.

I’ve never had this sensation before. My breasts feel heavy, and my nipples are hard against my bra. I’m panting as I finally find the brain cells to open my mouth and accept the cherry.

The pad of his pointer strokes my lip as he releases the sweet orb. “Good girl.”

Holy fuck. I’m going to self-combust. What’s happening here?