When She Belongs: A SciFi Alien Romance (A Risdaverse Tale Book 4)

by Ruby Dixon

  She chuckles, and the sound goes straight to my groin. "So you are." She leans closer, her breath whispering against my ear. "Tell me if I tug too hard."

  I'm about to protest that there's nothing she can do that would bother me when she puts the comb in my hair and it feels like she's jerking my scalp off my head. "Kef me!"

  "Oooo, sorry. You're tender-headed, aren't you? I'll go slower." She rubs her fingers against my shoulder in a small apology. A little giggle escapes her. "You big baby."

  "Not a baby," I say, and I sound as sulky as a child, which just makes her giggle even harder.

  Her laughter eases my bad mood, and I wince as she works through a section of my hair, tsking at the knots. She's relaxed around me, her mood light and airy, and I have to admit it's worth all the jerking and yanking against my scalp. Bonus—my cock's deflated, though it won't take much for it to rise again.

  "So," Sophie says after she finishes one section of my hair and moves to the next. "Did you have a sweetheart when you went off to war? A girlfriend? A mate?" Her tone is casual. "You don't have to tell me, I'm just curious."

  "Because of my piercings?"

  She's silent for a moment. "Maybe? But I'm mostly just curious."

  I wince as she tears through another snarl of my hair—she's vicious with that damn comb—and try to think of what to tell her. When I was growing up, I ran wild with the other station rats. That meant stealing and gambling, doing odd jobs to squeeze a few credits out, and basically avoiding going home whenever possible. There were a few females that ran with us, and I had a quick fumble or two with them. When I was in the military, there was a sex worker I visited from time to time, but I've never had attachments. It was just scratching an itch, taking care of a need.

  It's a need that hasn't been fed in over ten years, except for me jerking my cock to thoughts of her.

  "No one special," I admit. "But I've had sex, if that's what you're asking."

  "Mmm. No girlfriend back home that's going to scream if I steal you away from her?" Her tone is flirty and makes me ache.

  I snort. "No."

  "Good." There's a possessive note to her voice that fills me with warmth. "So the piercings…"

  She really is curious about them. "A lot of mesakkah males get them for decoration or to enhance a female's pleasure. They don't mean anything more than the tattoos or the horn caps." I glance back over my shoulder at her. She's leaning so close that I'm hopeful her breasts will brush against me, but they never do. "Do you not like the piercings? I guess I could take them out." Somehow.

  "Oh, no, you don't have to do that." She giggles again, the sound high pitched and awkward. "I just…probably shouldn't have asked. I don't mind them. It's just not super common where I'm from." She pauses. "Does it really do that? Enhance pleasure?"

  "I haven't had any complaints." I haven't heard any praise, either, come to think of it. Kef me.

  "I'm sorry if my questions seem pushy."

  "They're not pushy."

  "You sound grumpy."

  Do I? "I just…figure I'm not very pleasing for you to look at."

  She pauses, and then her hands move into my hair again. "Because of your scars?"

  "No, because I have big eyebrows," I snap. "Yes, because of my scars. And my prosthetics. It's not like I can hide them. They tell the universe exactly who I am and how important I am in the scheme of things."

  Sophie makes an impatient noise in her throat. "They do not. Those scars say that your people failed you. They say that you got dealt a shitty hand by the very people you nearly lost your life to save. They say you're a survivor and you're tough."

  No one's ever said anything so nice to me. I don't know what to say back. "I think you're blinded by my charm."

  She smacks me on the back of the head with the comb and then giggles. "You're an asshole. And I like you anyhow."

  "I don't see why," I manage. It feels stupidly vulnerable, but she's been up-front with me. The least I can do is be the same for her. "Any of the va Sithai brothers are a better choice for you."

  "Maybe." She goes back to combing my hair. The comb moves smoothly through now, and I have to admit it feels pretty good to have her take care of me like this. "But I don't feel anything for them. They're nice, but…that's all. They're nice."

  Hmph. "I'm not even nice."

  She pauses. Sophie sets the comb down and then gets off the bench. She stands in front of me and then moves forward, and it takes me a moment to realize she's going to sit in my lap. I awkwardly put my arms around her as she settles in, her bottom on my thighs, and puts her arms around my neck.

  "I think you're very nice," Sophie whispers, and presses another light kiss to my cheek. "You've been amazingly kind to me, and patient. It makes me want to kiss you and touch you…but I'm afraid."

  Afraid of what? I want to ask, but I don't. I understand. Sometimes it's fear of nothing at all. Sometimes you're just afraid of wanting too much. So I just rub her back and nod.

  43

  SOPHIE

  I think I'm getting used to the touching again. At least, I hope I'm getting used to the touching. I sit in Jerrok's lap, and even though he shifts and seems a little uncomfortable, I suspect it's more that he wants me to relax than anything else. His expression is attentive, and he rubs his fingers lightly on the small of my back as we talk. I loop an arm around his shoulders and try to be casual, but it's difficult. It's difficult because touches stir all kinds of bad memories in me, and it's only the press of Jerrok's metal parts and the sensation of the wires lurking just under his synthetic skin that remind me that this is him, not…the enemy. This is my friend, Jerrok…who's more than a friend. Who I desperately want to kiss and I'm terrified of kissing at the same time.

  What if we're touching and it feels like…before? What if I hate it? I'll hurt his feelings terribly, and the thought distresses me. He's been hurt enough by the universe, and I don't want to add to that.

  But I'm afraid to take the next leap forward, too. Jerrok has agreed to go slow, but I know that now that we've both acknowledged that there's something between us, I feel like we can't let it sit and fester forever. You can't leave an open wound open. You have to seal it, or cauterize it, or else it gets infected.

  I'm in his lap, and I could just lean over and press my mouth to his. Easy. Just…boom. But I can't bring myself to do it. I want to, but every time I take in a deep breath and try to shore up my courage, bad memories flash back. I imagine myself reaching for him and kissing him, only for the kiss to be awful. I imagine myself pushing him away, but he doesn't listen, because no one ever listens to what a human has to say—

  I leap off his lap. "I'm going to check on Sleipnir."

  "All right." Jerrok's tone is guarded. "I'll get back to work, I think."

  Chicken, I chide myself. Fucking chicken! Look what you're doing! You're ruining things already! I beat myself up mentally as I head into the terrarium, seeking my bloodthirsty pet. Sleipnir's hiding amongst the leafy plants, gnawing on a big, bloody chunk of meat. His jowls are coated with blood and he gives me a disinterested look as I enter.

  "Don't worry," I tell the carinoux. "I know better than to come between you and your meal." I sit down on a bench under an overgrown vine-laden archway and try to think. Maybe I'm moving too fast. Maybe I need to slow things down between Jerrok and myself. We can just hold hands for a couple of months or something, right?

  But…what if the va Sithai brothers return soon? What am I going to do if I run out of time and I haven't even kissed Jerrok—really kissed him—yet? I bite back a whimper. If Jerrok asked me to stay, I would. I actually like the station more the longer I'm here. Sure, everything needs cleaning up, but I actually like cleaning. I love the terrarium, and I like how quiet and private this place is. I like that Jerrok doesn't get a lot of visitors. I like…Jerrok.

  He hasn't asked me to stay, though. I suspect he won't. He's a loner, and no matter how much he might like my kisses, he's going to be glad
to see me go. No one has ever been interested in sticking with me, long-term. Even my dad was out the door before I was ten, leaving my mom to raise me. And Mom reminded me that I was the problem over and over again. I suspect she didn't shed many tears when I didn't come home. She was used to people leaving her behind, too.

  Sometimes I wonder how long it'll take before the va Sithai brothers dump me at the nearest port. I'm not a very good pirate. The thought's a little terrifying and I get up and race to my room, picking up a book. Instead of one of my new ones, I grab Outlander again and head right for the marriage scene and subsequent consummation. I need to remind myself that there are good things that happen when people come together. That no matter how life turns out, sometimes you get just a few sweet moments to carry with you as memories. Maybe I need to focus on that instead of my fear.

  I read the scenes three times straight before I put the book down and take a calm breath. I'm in a better place now. I just needed to re-center myself. Distantly, I hear Jerrok swearing at something he's scrapping, the clink of metal tools and his irritated voice soothing. I change into my nightgown (an oversized tunic) and run a hand through my hair before I leave my room and head for his. Sleipnir meets me in the hall, butting his head against my legs, his opalescent scales gleaming clean once more. His breath smells like steak, though, and I spend a few minutes rubbing his head and cooing to him about how much I adore him. "I can't keep you either," I murmur. "But I can still love you, right?"

  He licks my hand in response.

  Right. I can be brave and grab at whatever happiness comes my way.

  With Sleipnir at my side, I head into Jerrok's quarters. He's got his goggles on, obscuring his eyes from me, but he straightens the moment I arrive. The goggles whirr as he looks up at me. "Everything all right?"

  "Yep." I can feel myself blushing as I put a hand to my neckline. "I just thought I'd come to bed, if that's all right."

  "Of course." He hesitates and then picks up his tools again. "Is this going to bother you?"

  "Not at all." It's on the tip of my tongue to invite him to join me, but the words don't come out. I just bleat like an idiot, blush, and then scurry over to the bed and slide under the blankets. Chicken, I scold myself again as Sleipnir bounds into bed next to me and settles at my legs, tossing one protective paw over them. You're such a chicken. He'd join you if you asked.

  Jerrok picks up his tool again, prying out a bit of metal from a chassis. It makes a clanging noise as his sharp-edged tool skids and hits the circuit-board and he swears under his breath again. It's clear he's not concentrating, and there's something about the tension in his big body that makes me suck a deep breath and get up the nerves to speak.

  "Why don't you come join me?" I ask, and pat the bed when he turns around to look in my direction.

  He smiles, and some of the tension I've been holding onto disappears. I return his smile and scoot over as he puts his tools away and strips his tunic off, then his boots and goggles. He leaves his pants on, and I know that's for my benefit. I'm not brave enough to ask him to take them off, though. Not yet. When he sits on the side of the bed, everything creaks, and he eyes the carinoux hogging the lower half of the bed warily. "He going to let me join you?"

  "He will." I call Sleipnir and pat the other side of the bed, indicating he should move. The carinoux shoots us both a grumpy look but does as he's told, and Jerrok swings his legs onto the bed and lies down beside me. He's flat on his back, his hands folded on his chest. He looks terribly uncomfortable, and I reach over and take one of his hands in mine.

  Our fingers link and he rubs his thumb against mine. "You want the lights out?"

  "Sure."

  He calls out a command and the lights dim, leaving us in a pleasant darkness. It's never fully dark in the station, with tiny track-lighting set along the walls of the hallways, but it's dark enough. "You want it darker so you don't have to see my face?" he asks suddenly.

  "I like your face."

  Jerrok rolls onto his side, facing me, and then we're nose to nose, obscenely close. Our breath mingles, and my skin prickles with a mixture of fear and excitement. "We don't have to do this, you know."

  The wariness is back in his tone. He sounds distant, even though we've never been closer. I squeeze his hand.

  "We can go back to the way things were," he offers. "Just forget about any of the conversations we had today. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, or pressured, or—"

  I lean forward and kiss him.

  It's just a quick peck on the lips, but it stops him in his tracks and silences him.

  I smile shyly and give him another kiss on the mouth, letting my lips linger just a little bit longer. Tasting him. I lightly press a third onto his lips and then snuggle close because I like sharing breath with him.

  "Can I kiss you back?" he asks hoarsely.

  His request makes me skittish. That fear prickles through me again. "I…I don't know."

  "I'm happy with whatever you're comfortable with, Sophie," he says quietly.

  "I don't know what I want anymore," I admit. I reach a hand up to touch him and then lower it again. "My head's full of worry even though I know it's just you. I know you wouldn't hurt me, but I can't seem to quiet all the stuff in my mind that makes me anxious." I bite my lip and look over at him. His hair is shiny and dry, sliding through the cage of his horns, and I'm itching to touch it. "What do you do when you're anxious?"

  "Jerk one out."

  I let out a horrified giggle. "That was not the answer I was expecting."

  "It's true, though." His eyes narrow and he props up, resting on an elbow. "That gives me an idea."

  I'm a little wary of the turns this conversation is taking. Wary…and breathless. "You're going to jerk one out?"

  He chuckles. "No. I mean, yes. The moment we're done here," And he gestures at the bed. "I'm probably going to get up and jerk one out in the shower just because I don't want to stab you with my cock all night long." Jerrok watches me with such an intense gaze. "But I wasn't talking about me. I was talking about you."

  "Me?" I squeak.

  "Yeah." Jerrok's voice takes on a husky note that makes my body respond. "I think you should touch yourself. Give yourself pleasure. Ease some of those worries in your mind and reclaim your body for yourself."

  It's…not the worst idea. In fact, I kind of like it. When was the last time I masturbated at all? It's been so long I can't even remember. "Right now?"

  "Now's a good time."

  I lick my lips, gazing at him. "What about you?"

  "Do you…want me to watch?" His gaze is shuttered, impossible to read. He's not going to show me what he thinks of that idea, because he doesn't want to pressure me.

  I suck in a breath.

  It's too much…or is it?

  And is it bad that I want to do this?

  44

  SOPHIE

  "You want to watch me touch myself?" I ask shyly. The thought sends a hot little flutter through my body, as well as a pang of distress. I'm all mixed up, but he's watching me with such an intent expression. It entrances me, the way he looks at me, like he's going to die if he turns his head away. I feel like the most important thing in the universe when he looks at me like that, and it's addicting.

  It makes me want to touch myself, mostly so I can please him. I take another deep breath, breathing in his scent. I can do this.

  He nods, his gaze moving over me with hunger. "You need to show yourself that you can. I think you can. I think you're brave."

  My breath catches at his words. Brave. "You'll stay?"

  "I'll be right here, watching." His eyes seem even more heated than before.

  Part of me wants to tell him to get up and leave, because masturbating is a private thing. You don't just start touching yourself in front of people. It's an intimate sort of touch…but at the same time, I want Jerrok right here. I want to do this to show him I can, and maybe to show myself, too. I want to be brave, and I feel bravest whe
n he's watching me with that look that's both aroused and proud…like it is right now.

  I really, really want him to watch. I'm not sure why I find the thought so appealing. In the past, when I was raped by my owner, he did it in the bed in front of others. Praxiians all sleep together, after all, and sex is not private to them like it is to humans. I hated that others watched. It was a double whammy of violation and shame.

  I should hate the thought of voyeurism now that I'm free, but…it's not the same with Jerrok. It won't be like that with him. With him right here next to me, it's kind of like we're doing this together. I'm just the only one doing the touching. So I hike up my nightgown, and in the process, move my legs.

  Sleipnir grumbles, groaning, then hops off the bed, tail twitching. Maybe he suspects what we're about to do and doesn't want to see it. That's fine with me. I wriggle on the bed, bunching my gown up to my hips. The panties I'm wearing are about as unsexy as you can get, so I quickly slide them off and toss them away so Jerrok can't comment on them.

  I glance over at him but he's saying nothing at all. He's propped up on one arm, watching me with that hot gaze of approval. I love that he looks at me like that, and it makes me feel all achy and ever so slightly agitated in the best kind of way. Like I'm going to come out of my skin if he keeps gazing at me like that.

  Ever so slowly, I slide one hand between my thighs.

  I cup my pussy first. I've cleaned myself, of course. I've trimmed things. But I've ignored myself sexually for a very, very long time. It feels a little strange to carefully slide one finger over the seam of my sex, testing for wetness, and I'm not entirely surprised that I'm dry.

  "How does it feel?" Jerrok asks.

  I open my eyes—I didn't even realize I'd closed them—and look over at him. I try to think of what to say, even as I glide my finger over my folds again. "I'm not sure."

  "You're such a good girl, Sophie," he murmurs. "Such a good girl for even trying."

  Oh fuck. Just like that, my toes curl and heat pulses between my thighs. I gasp, using my fingers to push my folds apart and seeking my clit. "Am I?"