Page 145 of Alien War Daddy's Got Rizz
He doesn’t hesitate. He spreads his legs a little, giving me access. I pull his trousers and underwear down together, my eyes drinking in the sight of him—length and girth pulsing with readiness, dark and thick and strange and glorious.
I close my eyes as I take him in my hands. My palms slide up and down his cock, slow and reverent, feeling the heat, the alien texture, the way every ridge seems carved for sensation. My tongue darts out to lick the tip, tasting him, and he groans—deep, guttural, unfiltered.
“Yara…” he breathes, voice ragged.
I take more of him—slow, deliberate—love how he throbs in my mouth, how he fills me, how his scent and taste wrap around every nerve.
His hands thread through my hair, guiding me, but not forcing. Just presence. Just shared wanting.
I lift my head, kiss him once—slow, wet, deep—and whisper, “Your body. My mouth. Your pleasure.”
His breath catches.
I take him again.
And again.
Each stroke of my tongue, each roll of my lips, draws another guttural sound from him—pleasure and praise and surrender all tangled into one.
Then I rise from his cock to look up at him, eyes dark with want.
He lifts me onto the bed, positioning us so I’m flat beneath him, and spreads my legs with deliberate care.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs—and yes, his voice is throaty, but it’s filled with awe.
I arch, pressing into him, feeling the heat of his cock at my entrance—thick, swollen, ready.
His palm cups my pussy, slow and precise, teasing my clit first, and I gasp, hips lifting instinctively.
His cock slides in—slow, deep, perfect, and I swear Ifeel his strengthin every inch. Not just physical—emotional, spiritual, visceral.
My hands claw into his back, adrenaline and pleasure all merging into one fierce hunger.
“Grau—fuck—harder,” I pant.
He doesn’t hesitate.
He thrusts—slow and deep at first, eyes locked on mine, like he’s memorizing every flutter of expression.
Then harder.
Then deeper.
My breath catches, my body arching into him, pussy clenching around his cock like flame around steel.
“I want you,” I whisper between breaths. “Not like it’s a need… but like it’s my truth.”
His answer is in his thrusts—slow, deliberate, then building with purpose—deep enough that I feel him in places I never knew could feel pleasure and connection all at once.
I reach up, fingers brushing his hair, down his neck, over the broad leathered planes of his shoulders—feeling him everywhere.
His voice, low and rough and electric:
“You take me like you weremadefor this.”
And I do.
Because this isn’t just sex.
