Page 67 of Rogue Starfighter

“I remember.”

“You’re wasting time.”

He caught one nipple between his teeth. I gasped.

“That sound,” he said against my breast. “Again.”

His tongue circled the tight peak. Then he sucked it deep into his mouth and dragged one big hand down my stomach. I made the sound again. Vesh looked pleased with himself.

“Smug alien.”

“Impatient human.”

He stripped the flight suit from my hips, careful of my bruises, and pulled it down my legs. My underlayer followed. Cold air moved over my bare skin. His gaze went everywhere. He did not try to hide what he wanted. I watched his pupils widen and his chest rise on a sharp breath. His cock pressed hard against the front of his uniform.

“Your avatar in the program didn't look like this,” he said.

“The body menu was limited.”

“A serious design failure.”

“You didn’t complain about the breasts I chose.”

He cupped both of them. “I didn't get to see those naked. These are better.”

“Obviously.”

His thumbs rolled over my nipples. My back arched.

“Still think I'm smug?”

“Ask me in five minutes.”

“I will not need that long.” He bent and kissed his way down my stomach. My breath caught when he reached the place between my legs. Vesh settled on his stomach and pushed my thighs apart.

“Look at me,” he said.

I did. His eyes held mine as he pressed his mouth to me. The first stroke of his tongue over my clit stole every sane thought from my head. “Oh, God.”

“We have discussed this. I am not a god.”

“Shut up and do it again.”

He did. His hands locked around my thighs and held me open while his mouth worked me. Slow at first. Deliberate. He watched every reaction, tested pressure and rhythm, and learned quickly. Then one finger pushed inside me. I moaned his name.

“There,” he said. “That sound is mine.”

“Less talking.”

His smile against me was slow and wicked. He dragged his mouth over the inside of my thigh, close enough that the warm brush of his breath made my hips jerk. I could feel how much he enjoyed every response through the bond. Not just hunger. Attention. He was studying me with the same ruthless focus he brought to a flight plan, and the thought of Vesh cataloging every way to make me fall apart sent a fresh pulse of heat through me.

When he shifted his grip, my legs trembled. He held me firmly but never carelessly, as if my pleasure mattered as much to him as the mission waiting outside this little pocket of warmth. I had wanted him for so long that the tenderness beneath his control almost undid me. My fingers tightened in his hair. I did not want gentle. I wanted all of him, including the dangerous, possessive part he kept trying to hide.

“No.”

A second finger joined the first. He curled them, found the spot that made my hips lift off the bedding, and kept them there while his tongue circled my clit. Pleasure tightened low in my belly. I gripped his hair. “Vesh.” The bond carried my response to him. I felt his satisfaction, his hunger, the hard edge of his control. Every stroke went through both of us.

“I feel you,” he said against me. “I know how close you are.”