But wait there's more

When they reached engineering, Susan had him braced against the reactor casing, his sweat sizzling on the warm metal. She rode him with the ship's pulse, each thrust timed to the auxiliary engines cycling up. The smell of ozone and sex clung to the ventilation shafts as Vorax's spine arched, his roar drowning out the coolant pumps.

Susan's breath hitched as Vorax's claws dug into her hips, lifting her effortlessly before slamming her back down onto his cock. The stretch burned—not just from his size, but from the ridges along his shaft that scraped deliciously against her inner walls with every thrust. Her nails raked down his armored chestplate, leaving faint white scratches in the matte finish.

There was no finesse here, just brutal, animalistic claiming. Vorax's tusks grazed her collarbone as he growled something guttural in his native tongue, his breath hot against her sweat-slicked skin. His hands were rough, calloused from centuries of warfare, and they gripped her like she was a weapon to be wielded—hard enough to bruise, hard enough to remind her she was alive.

The pain blurred into pleasure as he angled her hips just right, hitting that spot deep inside her with unerring precision. Susan's back arched, her thighs trembling as the first waves of her orgasm crashed over her. Vorax didn't slow—if anything, he fucked her through it harder, his pace relentless as her walls clenched around him.