“Was I doing it wrong?” She licked her lips, the taste of him heavy and rich.
“The opposite. I won’t last.” His tail wrapped around her wrist and he pulled her to her feet. “I want to feel you.”
“Yes, please.” They quickly removed their remaining clothes. Grinning like he discovered a treasure, Havik pulled her into his lap. She straddled him, positioning herself for his cock to prod her entrance.
“Warning. Current usage is against the manufacturer's recommended guidelines,” the computer warned in a flat tone.
Havik paused, his tail tightening its grip on her wrist.
“That’s bad, right?”
“I do not want to break the pilot’s chair,” he said, then glanced at the navigator’s seat. He stood and lifted Thalia with ease. “I am willing to break Ren’s chair.”
“I am 100% behind this plan.”
He placed her with her knees on the seat and her hands gripped the back of the chair. His massive form caged her.
“Does this pain you?” He kissed the healing bite on her shoulder.
“A little tender but it’s fine.” She liked the ache. Love it, even.
“And here?” He cupped her pussy, rubbing softly.
She pushed back into him, seeking friction. “I’m a little sore but not in a bad way. I like it.” She looked over her shoulder, taking in his disheveled hair and the wild gleam in his dark eyes. “I want you.”
He growled, pushing two fingers into her core. Slick and throbbing, she rocked into his hand. His tail was everywhere, twining around her arms and then her waist. The barb scraped against her stomach, even piercing but the sensation heightened the heat of him against her. Her fingers gripped into the back of the chair; the poor thing wobbled at the base. They really would owe Ren a new chair after this.
He removed his fingers and she whimpered at the loss, but she only had to wait a moment before he pushed his thick member into her. She gasped at the burn and the stretch as her flesh adjusted. He paused, his breath hot on her neck. Brushing her hair to the side, he planted a kiss on the back of her neck. She felt the twin pricks of his tusks.
She pushed back into him, encouraging him to move.
Long black hair worked free from its braid and enveloped her. The chair squeaked and complained. Sweat made her knees slip on the faux leather fabric. The hand on her hip gripped tight enough to bruise and she wanted it, craving his mark on her.
His hand covered hers on the back of the chair, his fingers entwined with her own.
She burned with her need for him. Last night her desire flared hot and bright, enhanced by the venom in his barb. Perhaps a bit remained in her system, but she knew the fluttering, pulsing sensations were all Havik and her.
He pumped into her, each thrust reaching deeper. Her muscles clenched and pleasure, sharp and brilliant, curled inside. She neared her peak, gasping and moaning.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear. “Love you,” he breathed.
“Yes, so much,” she moaned, reaching climax. Warmth and pleasure broke over her, washing her in sensation.
Havik lost his rhythm, driving into her in uncontrolled jerks. Hot seed spilled deep in her, filling her. His arms wrapped around her, holding her still through the last jerks. He remained motionless above her, his weight pushing down. Her arms wobbled, unable to support both their weight in that position.
In a swift motion, he switched their positions. He collapsed into the chair, dragging Thalia into his lap. The metal joint gave an alarming whine. Without a word, he adjusted her glasses, then immediately knocked them askew again by nuzzling the side of her face.
When she finally caught her breath, she said, “I know you love this ship, but it is alarmingly flimsy. I think the chair is going to collapse.” She grabbed the back of the chair and rocked on his lap. The joints groaned in protest. “That’s no more stress than turbulence while entering the atmosphere.”
Havik pulled her arms down to stop the shaking. “Entering your atmosphere? Is that what you’re calling it? I heard no complaints.”
She rolled her eyes. “You get a point for the attempt. I know you’re new to this business of cracking jokes.”
“I do value this ship. It’s where I keep my treasures.” His long, black hair had worked its way free of the braid and hung about his shoulders like a cloak. “I want you by my side. In my bed. In the navigator’s chair.”
“Well, I haven’t steered you wrong yet.” She paused for a beat. “Come on, that was funny.” Much better than his crass sex joke.
“As you say, I am new to jokes.” His eyes sparkled with mirth and good humor.
She pressed her hand to the inked palm print on his chest. She loved this side of him, the soft, affectionate side that teased and joked. No one else got to see it but her.
“Six days until we reach Rolusdreus?” she asked.
“Correct,” he said.
“Excellent, because there’s a few more chairs we need to wreck.”
Chapter 19
Havik
His mate—he enjoyed the sound of the words—insisted on accompanying him when he delivered Stabs and the kumakre egg to the rescue organization.
“I’m gonna miss his face,” she cooed, crouched on the floor. Stabs partially buried himself in the sand and curled around the egg. The kumakre lifted his head and twitched his mandibles.
“Come. Radiation levels on the planet are detrimental for a Terran. You must wear this.” He opened a locker and found the smallest set of flex armor, an older set belonging to Ren.
Thalia frowned. “I’m gonna look like a kid playing dress-up.”
“The material will adjust.”
She took the suit. “It’s not as heavy as I expected. I just put this on over my clothes?”
“If you like, but that is not strictly necessary.”
Thalia kicked off her shoes and stripped down to her undergarments. She paused, “Ohmigod, I just parsed what you said. You’re going commando, aren’t you? You’re naked
