My Alien’s Baby Read online Stasia Black (Draci Alien #2)

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Draci Alien Series by Stasia Black
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Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 40113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 201(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
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“I’m stuck back here in this compound and you decided to just go wandering? For shits and giggles?”

“No,” I say, confused. “There was no feces involved.”

She waves a hand. “Just get on with it. See anything interesting while you were exploring?”

I brighten. “I did. I brought back one thing in particular I hope you might like.”

The attendants at the shop were very excited when I bought it and gave me strict instructions on how to present it.

So I drop down to one knee.

“Ezo, what—?”

Then her breath catches and a hand flies to her chest as I open the small black box and expose the ring.

It has a single, large sapphire. The color of the deepest blue in her wings.

Her eyes fly from the ring to me down on my knee. “Ezo, does this mean—?”

“Will you marry me?”

Tears squeeze out of her eyes and run down her cheeks. She drops down and flings her arms around me. “Yes,” she cries, squeezing me tight. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

She falls back only long enough to slip the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. Then she peels off the shirt she’s wearing, briefly getting it tangled in her wings. She’s still learning how to manage them. But she gets the shirt off and then she is gloriously topless, huge breasts swinging. And on her chest above them, bright blue scales shine in the morning sunlight.

I yank off my shirt and pants, too, just in time because the next second my mate is dragging me onto the bed. She shoves me roughly down onto my back and climbs over top of me.

I did not think it was possible, but since becoming pregnant she is even more insatiable. She desires me at all times of the day, morning and night.

After a lifetime of celibacy, it’s a little overwhelming. Sometimes I think I have no more thoughts left in my head because my mate has sucked all the life inside me out through my two cocks.

And I have never been happier.

Like right now when she grabs my bottom erection and plunges it into her tight, wet heat. My top erection is stiff and hard and she grabs it, too, jerking it roughly up and down in the way I like best.

Her thumb drags over the top ridge and collects my first cum. My balls tighten as her eyes lock with mine and she lifts her thumb to her mouth, sucking my essence off like it’s the tastiest sweet treat.

My hips buck as I thrust my cock even deeper inside her.

“Ezo,” she cries out, throwing her head back and arching her glorious teats out. Her legs wrap around mine. “Oh shit, Ezo. Hold onto me.”

I sit up and grab onto her waist, then draw her plump, peaked nipple into my mouth.

It sets her off. Her wings begin to flap uncontrollably and we lift up off the bed. She rides me more furiously than ever and I fuck her back.

When I look up at her, she is a goddess, cerulean wings flapping uncontrollably with her pleasure, and I’m flying, we’re flying.

She screams my name as she comes and I pump my life seed into her, clutching her more tightly than I’ve held anything in my whole life.

I will hold tight to her forever.

Epilogue

GISELLE

I’m happy for my best friends. I really am. I really, really am.

But I miss them. Especially on days like today.

“I told you Mrs. Hofstetter could not be seated by Mrs. Martinez under any circumstances,” Patricia hisses at me. “And look what you’ve done!”

“They aren’t seated beside each other,” I defend myself as I look out on the elaborate banquet. They aren’t. I spent about three hours on the seating arrangements. But when there’s infighting and a million other little intrigues going on between all these society women, it’s like trying to plot a map around landmines.

“But they are at the same table.” By Patricia’s tone, you’d think I’d murdered somebody. This is why I miss my friends. My real friends.

“It’s an eight-foot table and they’re about as far from one another as you can get.”

“It’s the principle of the thing. You can bet we’ll be getting complaint cards come Monday. And I’ll be sending all of them directly to you.”

I toss my hands up in the air a little bit. “Okay. That’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” A common refrain around here.

This is supposed to be about raising money for charity. So inner-city school kids can get scholarships for summer programs that have been shown to have a hugely positive impact on keeping them from getting involved in crime and gangs.

But do any of these women care about that?

All they can care about is whether or not Peggy wore the same dress as them and looked better in it. Or who’s having an affair with who.



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