My Big Alien Bodyguard Read Online Loki Renard

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
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“You mean he’s going to try to pimp me out?”

“It has happened with past starlets, though the term “pimp” was not used. You are here to be bought and sold in every way profitable for your contracted owner.”

I pause for a long moment. “I feel as though I should have read the contract, huh?”

“Would have been a good idea. Yes.”

I know I should be worried, afraid, stressed, panicked even, but I can’t get the goofy just-fucked grin off my face. I am absolutely ravaged, and it feels amazing. My pussy might never be the same, but that’s fine with me. I have no intention of doing anything I don’t want to do. I imagine Simon is used to more impressionable starlets who are obedient out of fear. I am here to take this opportunity for all it is worth, but I am not here to sell every inch of myself. Simon is going to find me more of a handful than he imagines.

Zayne

This is a bad idea, but it is a bad idea whose time has come, and there is no undoing what has already been done. Our mutual orgasm sealed this human as my mate. I have spilled my seed inside her bare, fertile sex, and I have marked her as my own. If we were on my home planet, I would carry her off to our roost-den to produce our offspring, living happily ever after among the ashen volcanic plains.

I can almost smell the sulphur when I imagine being home, bathing in the bubbling hot springs that melt all filth from the skin, roaming the wilds and consuming the bountiful fruits of the world from which I come. There is nowhere in all the universe that compares to my home world.

I am homesick almost constantly, though I would never admit that to anybody. It has been nine years since I journeyed home, and there is every chance I may never set foot on the scorched plains again. A long time ago I made a deal with a devil, and this is the first time I have deviated from my contract. The first time I have put my deal at risk, and it feels like perfect madness. It is selfish, and it is stupid, and I cannot stop myself, because I found home in a human.

She’s a very sensitive little thing. She keeps looking at me in concern, and I know she is worried that I do not want her. Let me dispel that illusion immediately.

I pick her up and hold her aloft so that we are eye to eye.

“Lyric Walker,” I say. “You are my mate. We have bonded intensely and sexually. The fluid we have shared, the flesh we have joined, that is more important than anything else. No matter what happens from here on out, know you belong to me fundamentally, as I belong to you.”

She blushes and a certain emotional wetness glimmers in her eyes. “But I’m… we… that’s a lot of commitment after one time.”

“Are you afraid of commitment?”

“Absolutely not. I mean, how can I be afraid of something I’ve never experienced before? No human man has ever wanted to be one with me, or you know, be mine. Whatever.”

She’s embarrassed by that confession, I think.

“They did not know what they had when they had you, but I do.”

Lyric

Held aloft by my big alien mate, I try not to start sobbing from relief at being wanted. You don’t become a starlet because you feel good about yourself. You become a starlet because you have a void inside you that no normal human interaction can fill, a need to be approved of and adored that aches and grows and demands fresh attention constantly. Performers are sick puppies as a general rule, and I am sick as hell.

Zayne pulls me close, holding me tight.

“Don’t worry,” he rumbles in my ear. “We will make this work.”

He’s so big, so strong, and so reassuring. I melt against him, wrap my arms as far around his shoulders as they will go, and close my eyes. I am going to be okay. Zayne is going to keep me safe from everything. Maybe including myself.

4

Lyric

“LYRIC! LYRIC! LYRIC!”

The crowd is screaming my name, the bass is pumping so hard I can feel it throbbing through my soul. Out in front of me, tens of thousands of people are surging to my beats and singing along with my lyrics.

When I perform, I am free. I dance, I twirl, I thrust my hips and I make the occasional obscene gesture followed by a one-legged knee lift and peace sign over my eye. I’m cute. I’m nasty. I’m sexy. I’m innocent. I’m a fucking superstar, and there is not a person in this alien arena that isn’t locked onto my frequency.

This is the third show of the tour, and every show is going better than the one before it. I have established the perfect pre-show routine in which I fuck my bodyguard, go out and rock the crowd, and then pass out on the transport ship, waking up in time for the next show. We’re getting into a groove and it feels amazing. I’ve been doing one show every twenty-four hours or so. I thought I’d find that schedule grueling, but it’s actually invigorating. Hard work is not only fulfilling my contract, it’s making me feel more alive than ever.



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