Excerpt from Prologue:
Manx knew she was watching him. The gentle breeze that blew across the deck and sent her erotic scent wafting down toward the lake confirmed it. He stretched upward with his head thrown back, inhaling deeply as he felt his body respond. Within moments, her scent intensified; she was not only aroused, but, judging from the strength of her enticing aroma, she was also naked; there was nothing between them but the cool night air. His mind took that image and savored it—her soft breasts, her hard nipples—and even across the distance that separated them, he could sense the wet heat between her thighs, could almost hear her body calling out to him, and his cock turned to stone.
He closed his eyes and imagined her coming to him, her touch gentle on his skin, her fingers teasing him to a feverish pitch. She was the most intoxicating female he had ever encountered, and he knew that soon, he would mate with her. But for now, he held back, sensing her shyness and knowing just how tenuous his own existence was. He might be captured at any moment and taken from her, though it was easy to ignore that fact when his body was demanding release.
Reaching down, he touched his rigid penis, the orgasm-inducing fluid already beginning to ooze from the star-like coronal points of the head. Pleasuring oneself was almost unheard of among his kind—few Zetithian males were even capable—and though he knew that males of other species engaged in such practices regularly, he'd seldom felt the need for it until encountering her. This woman's scent was particularly potent, and she did things to him no other woman had ever done;made him reckless when he'd been so cautious in the past, made him want to risk everything for the chance to sheathe himself with her and give her joy.
For now, he could only imagine holding her in his arms. As his eyes closed again, he dreamed of her soft lips kissing his stiff shaft, her hot mouth sucking the snard from his testicles, and her entire body crashing into orgasm just from tasting it. He could almost see her deep, auburn hair shimmering in the moonlight, light that was even now caressing her skin as he longed to do himself. He didn't know the color of her eyes—hadn't been close enough yet to discover that secret—but he knew how they would gaze up at him, heavy-lidded with desire, but soft with the expression of her love.
And she would love him; he was certain of that. He'd watched her down by the lake while she created her stunning works of art. She imparted the love she felt for those creatures onto the canvas, just as she had with the image she'd painted of him. He'd felt that when he first viewed the portrait; something in the gentle brushstrokes made him feel that she had actually swept her hands over his back, down to his waist and thighs. She had somehow captured not only his image, but her feelings toward him—furtive, tentative, and definitely intrigued. His cock was slick with his fluid—fluid that he hoped would affect her just as it had affected the women of his world—and his hands tightened around his cock, pumping faster, seeming to pull him forward as though seeking her out. Turning his profile toward her, he let her see what she was doing to him, and he felt a sudden gush of his fluids at the thought of her eyes on him. In his mind, these were no longer his hands, but hers, wrapping him in a firm tunnel, squeezing him hard, tightening so that he had to push even harder to slide through them.
He felt his balls tighten and his breathing grew coarse and ragged as he began purring—whether she could hear him or not. Widening his stance, he let his head fall back, his long, black curls tickling his backside the way hers would as she passed behind him. He wanted to know the feel of her, the taste of her. He knew her eyes were on him, their heated gaze exploring his body—and, knowing that he didn't need to be secretive any longer, he was no longer silent, letting his grunts of effort be as loud as they needed to be, letting her know what she was doing to him.
At last he felt it: the unmistakable signal of impending climax. With an accompanying roar that echoed across the still lake, his balls repeatedly squeezed out his snard in long, powerful arcs. He imagined it hitting her succulent breasts, her beautiful face, and her softly parted lips, and as she tasted it, he could almost see her expression of joy.
As he took in a deep, cleansing breath, he smiled. She had seen him, and he could smell her climax even from where he stood—could even hear her soft sighs of ecstasy. She would be his mate. It was only a matter of time.