His Little Ametrine (Eleadian Mates #9)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Sara

I’m in the middle of my last set when I draw in a deep breath between lyrics and momentarily freeze. Something shifts in the air. A breeze wafts by me and enters my nostrils, tempting me.

I swallow and continue my song, but my gaze scans the room. What am I looking for? Why is my heart racing?

Three Eleadian men are dancing with women on the dance floor. When they first arrived in the main room about fifteen minutes ago, I was truly startled. Everything I’ve ever heard is true. They are massive. Taller than any man I’ve ever met on Earth. And broader. Other than that, they look like any other human man.

I’m aware some professional basketball players could rival these men in height, but none are as proportionately built. They tower over the women on the dance floor, and most of said women are vying for their attention. None of the men are paying attention to me.

I’m seeing permanent spots in my vision from all the flash pictures that have been taken on the dance floor for the past fifteen minutes. Every woman out there is swooning and trying to squeeze up closer to the Eleadian men to get a selfie. It’s comical and kind of pitiful.

As I continue to sing, I find that I must also breathe. It’s a requirement to stay alive, but I draw in deeper breaths than normal to sing. Goosebumps rise on my neck and spread all over my body. The air in the room has definitely shifted. Is it cooler? Maybe that’s it. Maybe someone turned down the AC.

As I continue my song, I casually scan the room. Suddenly, I see him. A fourth Eleadian man. He’s not dancing. He’s standing off to the side of the stage. His fingertips are in the front pockets of his dress pants.

He’s watching me. He’s not even blinking. Every ounce of his attention is on me. I can feel it in my bones. It’s the oddest sensation. I’m drawn to him as if I must get closer.

I somehow manage to continue singing, but I’m swaying closer to his side of the stage, my gaze on his, locked now. We’re staring at each other as if we’re the only two people in the room.

I can’t look away. I don’t want to. On some level, I realize what’s happening. He’s going to claim me. Zack feared this would happen, and he was right. I belong to this man. I want to know everything about him. I wish he had the power to convey every detail about his life with a look.

This isn’t a paranormal romance novel, though. This is real life. But…what is real anymore? Life is different on Earth since the arrival of these alien men. I’ve heard the rumors. They have odd powers. They have the power to claim a woman against her will—or convince her it is her will.

I would not describe what I’m feeling as against my will. I’m very much in favor of whatever this man wants from me. I want to leap off the side of the stage into his arms, wrap my legs around him, and feel his hands grip my ass to hold me.

I want his hands under my skirt. I want him to grope me. I want his tongue in my mouth. I want his mouth on my nipples. My want is real and growing. It’s powerful and surreal. Nonsensical.

I’m singing for him. To him. He can’t hear anything in the room except my voice. I know this as though it’s a fact. He doesn’t care about anyone else but me.

He steps closer as I close the gap between us. He’s smiling, and he sets his hands on the edge of the stage.

Even though the stage is about three feet off the main floor, he’s so damn tall that I barely have to lower my head to meet his gaze. Finally the song ends. I’m not sure how I managed to continue. It’s all a blur.

As I step to the very edge of the stage between his hands, he slides his palms up to my legs and gently wraps his fingers around my shins.

I shudder and nearly drop the mic, but someone takes it from me. I’m marginally aware of Zack at my side. He speaks into the microphone, letting the audience know my set is over, and then the DJ takes over, playing a well-known upbeat rock song.

I lick my lips, but they are so dry. Does this man ever blink?

His hands trail slowly up to behind my knees and then my thighs and back down almost to my ankles which are covered by my boots. Time stands still while we stare at each other. How long? It seems like hours.

Finally, his lips part, and he shares his voice with me for the first time. “Sara, that was beautiful. You’re an amazing singer.” His voice is like warm hot fudge. It drizzles down my body, enveloping me in a lusty fog.

How does he know my name, especially my real name? I’ve hated that name for years, but he makes it sound sensual. Somehow I don’t mind it coming from him. Still, I correct him. “I go by Simone.”

“Mmm.” He slides his enormous hands up my legs again, reaching higher this time. His fingers tease the skin along the backs of my thighs and between them. His hands are so huge, and my legs are so skinny that he can circle my thighs with them.

I feel tiny next to him. I’m not scared, though. He would never hurt me. He won’t let anyone else hurt me either. I know these truths instinctively.

I’m breathing heavily, partly from the set I just did but mostly because this interaction is so intense. He’s sucking me into his soul. Claiming me with his eyes, his hands, even his scent. It’s potent, powerful, and overwhelming.

I should be scared out of my mind. Part of me is. A fraction of me is shouting inside my head to turn and run. This man will consume me. I will never be an individual again. I’m his now, and I’m powerless to stop it. I don’t even want to.

His fingers graze my inner thighs, inches from my pussy. Casually. I’m trembling with need. My panties are soaked. I want him to push my skirt up, tug my panties to the side, and press his face against my pussy.

I don’t even care that hundreds of people are watching us. I feel them without looking. After all, I’m on the stage above them. Anyone close enough can probably see up my skirt. The only person who can’t is this giant Eleadian man who is claiming me because he’s too tall to see up my skirt.

Releasing my thighs, he grabs my waist and lifts me off the stage as though I weigh only a few pounds. I suppose to him I do. Instead of standing me on my feet, he plasters me against him, chest to chest, anchoring me so we’re face to face.

My feet are dangling, and he tucks a hand under my butt to support me. Our lips are an inch apart. We stare at each other, neither saying a word.

His other hand slides up to the back of my neck. “You’re mine, Sara.” His words are soft and forceful at the same time.

I shudder in his arms. I’m his. I know this. I’m struggling to process it. My brain is currently scrambled.

I set my hands on his shoulders and absorb his strength. The man is rock solid. Even his neck is hard muscle as I slide my fingers up into the back of his hair with a familiarity I’ve never shared with anyone.

I don’t even know his name. He hasn’t offered it yet.

I feel incredibly small. I am small, but he’s making me seem significantly smaller.

My heart is racing, and I lower my gaze to his lips. I want to kiss him. No, I want him to kiss me . I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. I’m not sure I’ve ever really truly wanted a man to kiss me before.

The guys I’ve dated never made me feel like I feel right now. None of them. I’ve never felt drawn to them, consumed, needy. I kissed them because it seemed like the thing to do. Sometimes I slept with them for the same reason. Nothing special ever happened. Stars didn’t sparkle in the corners of my vision.

All of that is happening with this man, and I don’t even know him.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I boldly ask in a voice I hardly recognize.

“I’m going to do a lot more than kiss you, Little one, upstairs, though. Not in front of everyone.” He glances over my shoulder and reaches out with the hand on my neck.

When I twist my head around, I see Zack squatted down on the edge of the stage. He has my bag, and he’s handing it to my nameless man. His brow is furrowed, but he’s also smirking. I told you so fills the air between us, unspoken.

I shrug. “Oops.”

Zack chuckles. “A lot of people are going to be disappointed when they find out they won’t ever get to hear you sing live again. You truly are spectacular.”

My face heats. “Thank you, Zack. That means a lot to me.” I’m clinging to my alien man, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. I want him to take me out of here.

“Have a wonderful life,” Zack says as he rises and backs away.

I turn my attention back to my alien as he shoulders my bag, plants his hand between my shoulder blades, and carries me toward a side door across the dance floor.

People part for us. I hear them whispering, but I don’t pay any attention to them. All of my attention is focused on my man. “You’re so big.”

He chuckles as he opens a door and steps out of the noisy club. As soon as we’re in a silent white hallway, he says, “You’re so small.”

I giggle. I’m not a giggler. It sounds odd.

Moments later he steps into an elevator.

My legs are still dangling. “You could set me down.”

“Never,” he says with conviction as if he means he never intends to let go of me ever. He might mean exactly that. I don’t question him.

When the elevator opens again, he steps out. It’s quiet. The only sound is the beating of our hearts, which seem to be in sync. Is that a thing?

“Will you kiss me now?” A desperation consumes me. I need him.

His lips descend on mine, and he doesn’t just kiss me. He devours me. Holding me firmly against him, he slants his head to the side, drags his tongue along my lips to demand entrance, and dips inside.

He’s an amazing kisser. The best ever. I wonder how many women he’s practiced on, feeling an odd sense of misplaced jealousy for everyone who came before me.

I realize he’s still walking as we kiss, but I don’t pay attention until he bends over and deposits me on what must be a giant bed. He comes down on top with me, still kissing me as he slides me to the center and hovers over me. He supports his weight off me, which is probably a good thing.

I run my hands up and down his muscular back before tugging at his shirt, wanting to pull it out of his dress pants. I want to touch his skin. All of it. His entire body.

How large will his cock be?

I shudder at the thought. Won’t he be far too large to get inside me?

Surely it will fit. It seems like I’m going to feel like this for the rest of my life. Sixty years of driving need that will cause me to want to climb all over him ten times a day.

He releases my lips and rises over me, his knees planted on either side of my hips. His intense gaze holds mine as he tugs off his tie and unbuttons his shirt. “I need to feel your skin against mine,” he says in a low growl. “I promise I won’t take my pants off. I just want your chest against mine.”

I shake my head, and he pauses a moment, making me realize he’s misunderstanding my denial. I clear my throat. “I want all of you. Now. Maybe it’s crazy, but you said I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, Little one. Every inch of you. And I am yours.”

I swallow, needing to clarify a few things. “Only mine?”

“Forever and always.”

I narrow my gaze. “For sixty years?”

He gives me a slow smile. “More like three hundred, but yes.”

My eye goes wide. “Three hundred? I hate to tell you this, but I will only live about sixty more years if I’m super lucky.”

He finishes unbuttoning the front of his shirt and tackles the cuffs. Frustration wafts from him. He would like to poof the shirt out of existence. I’d like that, too.

“Sara, you will live centuries with me on Eleadia.”

I think my eyes are going to bug right out of my skull. “How is that possible?”

“We live cleaner. Better food and air. Your body will age at a much slower rate. No one knows exactly why.”

“How old are you?”

“One hundred and twenty-eight.”

I gasp. He’s serious. Holy shit.

His hands come to the bottom of my tank top, and he pushes both it and my cut-up T-shirt up my body. “May I see all of you, Little one?”

My heart tightens. It means a lot to me that he pauses to ask. I lick my dry lips again. “Yes.”

He shoves my shirts over my head, leaving me bare from the waist up.

I watch his expression as his gaze lowers to my chest. I’m not much to look at, but I’ve never felt sexier in my life. He stares at me with such reverence. Small boobs and tattoos.

His hands are trembling slightly as he brings them to my chest and dances the tips over my skin. He traces the edges of one of my tattoos and grazes over my breasts.

When his fingertips flick my nipples, I arch my chest and moan. I’m more aroused than I’ve ever been. No human man has made me feel like this, but I also haven’t managed to feel anywhere near this fantastic on my own with my vibrator either. My orgasms have never been anything to get too excited about.

My heart races as he palms my breasts before gripping my nipples with his thumbs and pointers. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe he’s never seen boobs before. That’s not possible. Maybe he just finds me particularly attractive for some odd reason. Maybe the man likes small tits and tattoos.

“You haven’t told me your name,” I murmur. It’s hard to keep from squirming with him toying with my nipples.

“You’ll call me Papi, Baby girl.”

“Papi… Is that a nickname?”

“No. It’s what Little girls on Eleadia call their mates.”

“So it’s not your name?” My brows furrow.

“Nope. My name is Raevion.”

“Raevion…” I try it out. It’s unusual. I like it.

He pinches my nipples, drawing my full attention back to his touch. “Papi.” His voice is filled with warning.

For some reason, I can’t help myself. I decide to torment him. “What happens if I call you Raevion?”

He releases my nipples, drops his hands down alongside my head, and lowers his face until it’s a few inches from mine. “Sassy girl.”

I giggle. It bubbles out of me. I’m half in love with this man after knowing him fifteen minutes.

“Naughty Little girls who taunt their Papis get their bottoms spanked. Did you want me to flip you over and spank your naughty bottom before I suck on your pretty nipples?”

I gasp. My face heats. I think he’s serious, and for some reason, the thought of him spanking me makes me clench my thighs together. I think I might like it.

Is he kinky? I’ve never dated anyone who was into anything so kinky.

He draws in a slow deep breath, his nostrils flaring. I think he’s sniffing me. And then he groans. “Naughty Little girl…”

Can he smell my arousal? I start panting, my chest rising and falling.

He scoots down the mattress, his knees still straddling my legs. His hands come to the front of my tiny skirt. “I need to see the rest of you.”