His Shooting Star: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 2

  Okay, I don’t. But unless he has a telescope or specialty bread in his pants, I’d say the man has as much a tingle inside him as I do right now.

  “Better?” he asks, smiling wider with a sigh of satisfaction, but leaving his hand on my ankle until I feel it growing warm again.

  “How did you—” I try to ask, wondering what the hell just happened, but he artfully changes the subject.

  He announces firmly but casually that I’m in no position to walk home.

  “Is there someone I should call?” he asks, suddenly looking worried I might say yes as he helps me up.

  To my amazement, I can put a little weight on my foot, but it feels more like a sprain than a broken ankle after the initial shock.

  “Uh, no,” I reply. “Just me and… ah crap! Orion. The little dog? He’ll be gone by now,” I whine, almost whimpering by the time his huge arms come around me, making me feel so small against him as he supports me.

  My heavy chest presses into his ribs that are solid rock, his pecs flexing as he helps me take a few steps before he growls with disapproval.

  “This won’t do, not at all,” he says to himself, and before I can think he’s swept me up off my feet, one huge arm under my butt and the other around my back.

  Cradling me like I weigh nothing, but allowing both our bodies to have plenty of contact.

  “I’ll carry you home, just need to pick up some equipment, it will only take a moment,” he murmurs, his body so close to mine I can feel the reverberation of his voice moving through me as he speaks quietly.

  “What about Orion?” I ask, remembering I’m due to leave in two days and his owners...

  Oh god! His owners. The house. What am I gonna do?

  Xander shrugs. “He’ll be back. You do feed him, don’t you?” he asks, looking down his sharp nose into my eyes, letting me know he’s not totally serious.

  “Of course I do,” I reply bashfully, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine. Enjoying my thick nipples scraping against his ripped body even more.

  But most of all, I love his own persistent arousal shamelessly grazing and prodding at my rear end with each of his firm steps as we make our way up the embankment.

  “But my place is miles away, I couldn’t let you—” I start to protest.

  “Oh no,” he says with that same deep, gravelly tone. “You’re coming home with me.”

  Chapter Two

  Xander

  It was all so simple.

  Up until tonight, it was anyway.

  I’d seen her a couple of nights ago, walking her little dog, fighting against my primal urge to go to her, protect her.

  To look over her. To claim her as my own.

  The woods can be a dangerous place, and out here it’s more likely to be some whacko from campus than a black bear or deadly snake.

  But I have to get home soon, my work here is almost done.

  Getting involved with anyone from campus or town now, on any level would be too… awkward. I’d have to explain everything.

  Who I am, what I do.

  Where I’m from. What it is exactly that I do.

  Not to mention how weird it would be if I was completely honest with her. Oh, hi. I’m Xander and I’ve been following you for a couple of days. I’m a professor here at the college, twice your age and it’s time for me to claim you so we can live out our entire lives together from this moment on…

  Apart from how crazy that would be, it’s complicated and not stuff I should be telling other people anyway. The National Space Agency has me on a pretty tight leash, or rather they did until I gave them the research information they wanted.

  I was positioned on campus. No real teaching or grading papers, nothing like that. Purely for research, and as part of my own conditions I had to be sure any equipment I designed and made myself was not part of the deal.

  They got the data, and a couple of pretty pictures of some new stars and a black hole, another dozen ‘earth-like’ planets, and some Astro boffin somewhere can win himself another science prize mentioning the college with thanks.

  Good for them.

  But I’m ready to go home now. Tired of the city life and the monotony of it all. I’m in a position where I could retire for good, and I probably will.

  But then she came along.

  Gillian Parker.

  The first day I saw her not long ago, I told myself I was maybe interested purely in her studies. I thought she was a science major, but no. I snooped on the campus database. It’s Journalism and some art thing.

  Hm. So why am I so drawn to her?

  There’s more than one reason why I’m alone in this life, but I got curious as to why such a raving beauty, a young girl like this with the world at her feet was always alone?

  Then I just happened to notice she walks that little dog twice a day, and instead of referring to my notes and my own interest in the data I kept to myself, I felt something I’ve never felt before.

  Something I never thought a scientist could use as a tool of observation and deduction. Something I’ve been battling not to take hold of me every time I think about her.

  Which is about every single second.

  It’s only been a few days, watching her long blond hair being teased by the breeze, clinging to her thick, nipple studded chest under a T-shirt one day or a thin hoodie the next.

  She was always alone, and the few times I did try to speak to her were disasters. I never even got close. Walking into a trolley of trash cans and then having to help a furious janitor clear it up, followed by mistaking someone else for her entirely and having to explain why I was interrupting a student discussing life after class with her fiancée.

  I’ve never been good around people, but as soon as I saw Gillian, I knew we were just the perfect fit.

  Okay, I’m nudging seven feet and built like something from the labs where they clone giant versions of everything, but I mean we fit in other ways.

  I dunno, it’s hard to explain, but I’m old enough now to just know when I see and meet the right girl.

  The one.

  Not the one thing I came here for at all either mind you, romance isn’t something I’d think about for a second. Takes up too much time and energy.

  But seeing her, then following her through the woods. Watching her. Feeling just how painfully hard I get when I see her body move.

  I know she’s the one I’ve been waiting all this time for, and not just the five year contract for the research.

  I mean, my whole life on this Earth makes sense now. So all I have to do is go say hi when she’s walking her dog one night and the rest will just fall into place, right?

  But tonight of all nights, I lost control. I dunno if it’s just the stars in alignment or what, but as soon as I caught sight of her, I packed up my observatory equipment and stowed it behind some bushes and followed her, my aching hard on like a beacon knowing just where it wanted to go.

  I know too that she’s aware of something or someone watching her now and for the past few nights, but she makes a few cute little moans of her own that tell my instincts she’s more than receptive to what I have to give her.

  That little darn dog though, damn near ruins it, almost runs straight towards me when I can’t hold it a second longer.

  Watching her, hearing her own little sounds and the conversation with her little dog.

  The delicate scent of her hair in the breeze.

  I make a low groaning sound, and in no time my hot, twitching length is in both my hands, I’m frantically working the tip, the shaft. I can’t get enough stimulation while watching her.

  I want to come so bad, willing her to catch me so I can show her just what she’s doing to me already.

  I can already feel it, the load I have inside for her. Boiling like white-hot lava and desperate for her.

  But seeing her so close, alone and with the chilly wind stiffening those perfect nipples to full attention, I’m done.

  Done.

&nbs
p; I couldn’t care if the whole world sees me about to shoot rope after rope of come, as long as she sees too.

  As long as she knows that all I have is for her, and I’ll treat her like a woman’s never been treated before. Watch over her and make sure she has her fill of pleasure every single day and night too.

  But I’m watching her move further away, almost out of sight.

  My pants are around my ankles, my twitching cock already running dangerously close with milky precome as I urge myself to slow down.

  Save it. Save your seed for her. If she’s why you’re really here, wasting it on the ground isn’t helping anything.

  I clumsily catch up, closer now so I can still see her, edging myself so close to climax I sound like some wild beast caught in a snare.

  One hand is gripping my cock tight, the other pulling my balls so low, hoping simple mechanics and gravity can delay the inevitable.

  But her body starts to shudder, looking like she might even faint.

  The moan she lets out is like a hook to the lines of my own desire.

  I gasp and groan again, calling out her name with my mind, needing her so bad… Until I see how close she is to something else.

  The edge of the path, and the twenty-foot drop beyond it.

  Struggling not to climax, pulling my pants up and trying to reach her in time as I call out to her, shouting her name. It felt like it might work, but I kick myself as I watch her tumble over the edge.

  The little dog whining for a moment before I growl down at him.

  I’m her Alpha now. She’s mine.

  I can see at a glance she’s not dangerously hurt, but one foot is looking at a sickening angle to its ankle and swelling fast.

  I call her by name again, skidding down the embankment until I can reach her.

  “I got you,” I inform her, deciding now’s as good a time as any to introduce myself and take care of her like I should have instead of beating around the bush, literally.

  I’m not nervous now I have a reason to be near her, and an even better reason to touch her. Although it’s not how I’d choose to feel her skin against mine first, the charge between us is undeniable.

  I feel a current from me to her that’s so strong even I shiver as it completes us as a single circuit.

  Her ankle is hurt, but the power. This thing between us that we both feel needs only a few seconds to heal even the most painful experience.

  I want to kiss her, to guide her hand to my still aching cock, to have her right here in the dark of the woods with only our bodies to keep us warm.

  But first things first. We don’t live in the stone age anymore. Society has rules that elevate it above the animal kingdom.

  But I can’t help wondering, no. It’s not even a guess. I can read her mind like a book.

  She’d much rather my hand was someplace else too.

  Introducing myself, I scoop her up and even though she has a place to go, there’s no way I’m letting her go after just meeting her.

  She says she’s alone, lives alone. But also seems more worried about that tiny dog.

  I joke about it, telling her the dog will come back because she feeds it but I’d rather show her who her new alpha is. Rather feed her the bone I still have, so stiff in my pants it prods her sweet ass with almost every step.

  She doesn’t seem to mind me being so close, and for the first time in my life, I’ve never felt like I have more of a purpose until now.

  I circle back to pick up my research equipment, just a few cases but I feel a heat in my chest when she huddles closer, remarking on how strong I am.

  My free arm flexes as I lift my equipment, the other holding her without effort. And the thing I’d like to share with her most grows harder and hotter too, making her gasp a little as I know she feels it pressing right into her own warm place for a second.

  “Is your place far?” she asks, her breath shivering suddenly and her body trembling against me.

  “Not far,” I tell her, squeezing her closer, asking if she’s warm enough and letting out a low growl of satisfaction as I feel her body shifting back, reacting only when it finds the stiff heat of my cock pressing into her again as I walk.

  “Never better,” she purrs, muting a whimper as I watch her bite down on her lip.

  Chapter Three

  Gillian

  I should be a lot of things, and smart enough not to go off with a stranger in the woods should be top of that list.

  I’ve never heard of a Professor Sexton and I’ve never even seen Xander on or off campus, and it’s a pretty small town really.

  I would probably remember if I had seen him, I mean he is pretty hard to miss.

  But this feeling he gives me, the way he’s so strong but so delicate when he picks me up. And most of all, whatever it is he has in his pants, gently stabbing me so close to the spot I needed a man not so very long ago.

  His clothes are so fresh and clean, at first, I think the heady odor of the forest might be from his sliding down to save me, but no.

  Every man has a smell and Professor Sextons. Xander’s is as fresh, wild, and earthy as the woods we are in.

  After he’s collected his research gear, which is a couple of heavy looking silver cases, he carries me for about a mile without even building a sweat up or pausing for breath.

  Yes, he is strong, that’s obvious. But I can feel his heart right against my chest the whole way, beating a slow steady rhythm.

  Mine on the other hand…

  I use every chance I can on the trip back to his house to move myself this way and that. Shifting slightly and adjusting myself in his arms so I can feel as much of his incredible body as I can.

  After about half a mile of silence, I feel his body shaking with laughter.

  “You fall in poison ivy or just got ants in your pants?” he asks, looking down at me with what I can only describe as affection. Real affection.

  The soft but intense, piercing dark eyes of a man who looks as though he’s found a prize and is happy to carry it forever.

  I tense up, embarrassed that he’s caught on to my obvious attempts to feel him up but he only squeezes me a little tighter without another word.

  I don’t mind at all. And if it’s okay with you, we can do a whole lot of touching when you’re ready.

  I look up, gasping. It’s as though he’s spoken the words aloud but his face is set firmly forward, concentrating on the terrain in front and finding his way confidently in the total darkness, like a cat.

  The words are hypnotic and I feel myself relax for what feels like the first time in my life.

  I feel safe, secure. I feel warm and I feel like someone (even though it’s almost as if he’s just dropped from the sky), really does actually care about me for once.

  Drifting into a half-sleep, I close my eyes and feel like I’m bobbing down a perfectly warm river. Somewhere where nothing and no one can hurt me or upset me, bother or annoy me ever again.

  The feeling of his hand brushing against my stiff chest once he lays me on his couch makes me jump with a start.

  His arm moves back naturally and he stands over me, considering me again from head to toe as I lay flat on what feels like patent leather under me.

  “You lay right here and I’ll get a pillow for your ankle,” he says with clinical detachment.

  Straight away all I want is his arm right where it was. I want him holding me again. Forever this time.

  It might sound childish, but it’s the only way I can describe being held by Xander.

  It’s like everything you love and have been loved by is magnified and is giving you the best hug, right when you need it. Only times like a million.

  I sigh, annoyed I can’t put my finger on what it is about the man that’s so… so Xander.

  His house is an old colonial cottage, restored by the looks.

  Spotless, but filled with ancient looking books and rows of heavy wooden bookcases and charts strewn on equally heavy tables.

 
; The only pictures on the walls are of space, the kind of stuff NASA puts out every now and then. Only these look like they were taken—

  “Here we are,” he says softly, wincing for me as he lifts my foot a little before lowering it again, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.

  Nothing Xander does hurts. I doubt he’s even capable of it despite his enormous size.

  In the warm lighting of his home, he looks less ethereal than he did in the woods.

  He’s quite tanned, with a day of unshaved stubble on his rugged jaw that’s begging to be scratched.

  He has a thick shock of jet black hair, unkempt from our adventure and matching the tuft of the same peeking from his shirtfront.

  He cocks his head a little, blinking as he studies my face in the light.

  Looking me up and down again, I get that from people all the time. Usually, before they smile in apology or comment about how much weight I’ve lost/gained since they saw me last.

  Strangers usually just make a face if they’re kind, comment if they’re not.

  But Xander’s not looking at my size, shape, or my height. He’s looking at me. It feels like he’s looking right inside me, which is unnerving at first until he adjusts his eyes and is the same man again.

  “I thought professors were old,” I hear myself croak, surprised at how frail I sound.

  He looks thoughtfully at one of the pictures on the wall. “Maybe I just age well. I’m quite old, I can assure you, Gillian,” he says, finally smiling before he confesses in a quieter tone that he’s forty-two.

  “How’d you know my name?” I rasp, trying not to sound suspicious but dying to know, but he casually ignores my question for now.

  “Or two hundred ninety-four in dog years,” he adds, widening his eyes, pretending to look astonished but only reminding me about Orion.

  About the house sitting, the owners, about having to go home… My entire future.

  I groan aloud, but Xander thinks it’s because of his dog year joke.

  “If we were on Mars, I’d be twenty-two!” he exclaims, winking with a youthful grin.