Read Online Chosen by the Alien Above Part 5: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance Serial by Nora Lane - Free Book Online
Book: Chosen by the Alien Above Part 5: A Sci-Fi Alien Romance Serial by Nora Lane
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Authors: Nora Lane
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Excerpt
* * * * *
Noah towered above me. His gray skin suit noticeably absent. His body a stone carving of muscle overflowing muscle. The broad planes of his chest like tectonic plates that shifted with his breath.
I looked lower, below the etched ridges and valleys of his stomach.
He was huge. Everywhere. His manhood extended stiffly, like a flagpole on its side. The head throbbed as I watched. Despite my confusion, my growing apprehension, wetness flared between my legs. My pink parts tingled with anticipation. I wanted him inside me. I needed his massive weight bearing into me. Goosebumps prickled my inner thighs and the back of my neck. My nipples stood hard at attention.
Invisible hands caressed me. I didn't know any other way to explain it. This was still the dream.
It had to be.
In what reality was Noah Sinclair naked and hard and about to take me?
As much as I wanted him, something wasn't right.
What?
My already spread legs opened wider. The muscles in my thighs didn't contract to cause the motion. It just happened. Like it would in a dream. You think of something and then it happens. All the usual stuff in the middle was unnecessary.
If it was just a dream, I could let go. I could open myself in ways that I never felt confident enough to do in waking life. When my critical brain held sway. I needed to let go. To let go of the lonely inexperience that marked my history with men.
Noah floated closer. He didn't crawl or creep. He didn't move. He floated without concern for the mechanics of physical forms. He moved how dreams move.
He filled the empty space between my legs. Shivers rattled through me as his cock touched my wet, parted lips. Aching need shuddered through my limbs. A bodyquake with the epicenter at the light touch of our tender, sensitive parts.
All the signals were right but the transmission couldn't have been more wrong.
Why?
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, hoping something would resolve this uneasy limbo. The not knowing the dream from the reality. The discomfort of being so charged and yet knowing the energy was deadly wrong.
GRREAARRRAAHHH.
I glanced over and saw glowing red eyes by the door. That mangy dog bot hated me from the minute I arrived. She wished she could be a mangy dog. She was nothing more than a disturbing assemblage of metal, tubes, and circuit boards. She froze on all fours, aimed right at me. A low metallic growl scratched from whatever she used for a throat.
She wanted to kill me. The jealous bitch. She wanted no one near her master. And in this dream, Noah and I were about to be closer than ever before.
“Noah?” I said.
Noah turned back and fixed his gaze on me.
That's when it hit me.
The wrongness.
The terrible undercurrent that poisoned the fantasy.
His eyes.
* * * * *
CHAPTER ONE
The soothing warmth of the restoration pod fought the chill worming deeper into my belly. Was I still dreaming? The context was the same, but the tone shifted. Shifted much darker.
My tongue was fat and thick in my mouth. Useless, not ready to speak and confirm the change. He smelled the same. The alluring sent of a body an hour out of the shower. That brief span of time when the scented soap melts away and the pheromones take over. For most people that fresh pheromone scent soon turned musky and then degraded quickly to downright stinky.
Noah Sinclair somehow never went beyond a hint of musk. It was like his body had perfected the smell of attraction. I could smell him for a hundred years and never tire of it.
The room was bathed in a soothing blue glow. My brain vaguely noted the normally black veins in the walls luminesced just enough to throw light into every smooth corner of the room. The window stretching along the far wall framed a view of glittering diamonds in velvet night. The terrible beauty was unsettling. The vastness of space that simultaneously caused such longing melancholy while also promising nothing more than cold death.
It was
* * * * *
Noah towered above me. His gray skin suit noticeably absent. His body a stone carving of muscle overflowing muscle. The broad planes of his chest like tectonic plates that shifted with his breath.
I looked lower, below the etched ridges and valleys of his stomach.
He was huge. Everywhere. His manhood extended stiffly, like a flagpole on its side. The head throbbed as I watched. Despite my confusion, my growing apprehension, wetness flared between my legs. My pink parts tingled with anticipation. I wanted him inside me. I needed his massive weight bearing into me. Goosebumps prickled my inner thighs and the back of my neck. My nipples stood hard at attention.
Invisible hands caressed me. I didn't know any other way to explain it. This was still the dream.
It had to be.
In what reality was Noah Sinclair naked and hard and about to take me?
As much as I wanted him, something wasn't right.
What?
My already spread legs opened wider. The muscles in my thighs didn't contract to cause the motion. It just happened. Like it would in a dream. You think of something and then it happens. All the usual stuff in the middle was unnecessary.
If it was just a dream, I could let go. I could open myself in ways that I never felt confident enough to do in waking life. When my critical brain held sway. I needed to let go. To let go of the lonely inexperience that marked my history with men.
Noah floated closer. He didn't crawl or creep. He didn't move. He floated without concern for the mechanics of physical forms. He moved how dreams move.
He filled the empty space between my legs. Shivers rattled through me as his cock touched my wet, parted lips. Aching need shuddered through my limbs. A bodyquake with the epicenter at the light touch of our tender, sensitive parts.
All the signals were right but the transmission couldn't have been more wrong.
Why?
I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, hoping something would resolve this uneasy limbo. The not knowing the dream from the reality. The discomfort of being so charged and yet knowing the energy was deadly wrong.
GRREAARRRAAHHH.
I glanced over and saw glowing red eyes by the door. That mangy dog bot hated me from the minute I arrived. She wished she could be a mangy dog. She was nothing more than a disturbing assemblage of metal, tubes, and circuit boards. She froze on all fours, aimed right at me. A low metallic growl scratched from whatever she used for a throat.
She wanted to kill me. The jealous bitch. She wanted no one near her master. And in this dream, Noah and I were about to be closer than ever before.
“Noah?” I said.
Noah turned back and fixed his gaze on me.
That's when it hit me.
The wrongness.
The terrible undercurrent that poisoned the fantasy.
His eyes.
* * * * *
CHAPTER ONE
The soothing warmth of the restoration pod fought the chill worming deeper into my belly. Was I still dreaming? The context was the same, but the tone shifted. Shifted much darker.
My tongue was fat and thick in my mouth. Useless, not ready to speak and confirm the change. He smelled the same. The alluring sent of a body an hour out of the shower. That brief span of time when the scented soap melts away and the pheromones take over. For most people that fresh pheromone scent soon turned musky and then degraded quickly to downright stinky.
Noah Sinclair somehow never went beyond a hint of musk. It was like his body had perfected the smell of attraction. I could smell him for a hundred years and never tire of it.
The room was bathed in a soothing blue glow. My brain vaguely noted the normally black veins in the walls luminesced just enough to throw light into every smooth corner of the room. The window stretching along the far wall framed a view of glittering diamonds in velvet night. The terrible beauty was unsettling. The vastness of space that simultaneously caused such longing melancholy while also promising nothing more than cold death.
It was
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