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

by Ruby Dixon

  He shrugs. "We have both had bad things in our past. I do not mind the comparison. You shouldn't, either. Now, tell me that we are done, and I will climb into this bed and hold you until you fall asleep…or tell me that we are not done, and I will finally get to pet that pretty little cunt of yours that gets so very wet for me."

  My breath catches. My lips part. I gaze at him, arousal flooding through my system at his bold words. "We're not done."

  "Good girl."

  I moan, my fingers latching onto him as he gets to his feet. I cling to his body, touching rough circuits and scars, the creak of his joints making heated waves roll through my blood. These things are all Jerrok, and as he gets to his feet next to the bed, I'm suddenly awash in a burst of confidence.

  I can do this, because he has me. He'll make it good for me, because he wants my pleasure, too. I let out a happy little sigh and gaze up at him as he puts a hand on my jaw and lets his thumb trace my lips again. "Where do you want me?"

  "On the bed. On your back. Do you want your clothing on or off? Remember, I've seen it all. There's no reason to be shy."

  It's like he's addressing my worries before I even pause. He's right; he's bathed me all over, so there's no point in being hesitant about anything. I consider for a moment and then pull my sleep tunic off over my head.

  Jerrok gives me a look of approval as I climb into bed then lie down. I'm nervous despite his calm demeanor, because my head is full of all kinds of noise. What if it doesn't feel good? What if I panic? What if—

  He strips off his clothing, stepping out of his trou and then standing at the side of the bed so I can look at him. I know this is just as difficult for him as it is for me, because he's self-conscious about his prosthetics, but I think he's beautiful. I don't see problems, I see a survivor. So I reach up a hand, and when he takes it and sits down at the edge of the bed, I feel better. He kisses my knuckles, rubbing his mouth against my skin. "Is there any place you don't want me to touch you? Anything you consider off limits?"

  I consider this. "I think…I think I need to look at you the entire time. So I know it's you." I lick my lips, surprised at how dry they are as another wave of anxiety rushes through me. "I don't want to turn around or have you cover my eyes or anything—"

  "Of course not." He presses another kiss to my knuckles, then takes a fingertip between his teeth and lightly nips it.

  It sends a little thrill through my body, that tiny bite, and I find myself relaxing. Jerrok knows me and my past. He won't push me into anything uncomfortable.

  "Is it all right if I lie down next to you?" he asks, and I nod. The bed groans as he gets in, his heavier bulk taking up the majority of his narrow bed, but I don't mind pressing up against him. He rests on his side, facing me, instead of looming over me, and I like that. He's giving me space. I reach up and run my fingers through his thick hair. Jerrok leans forward and rubs his nose against mine. "Can I kiss you again?"

  In response, I lean in and press my lips to his. "I like kissing," I admit. "Your mouth feels good."

  He takes my lower lip between his teeth in a love bite, and then licks away the sting. I moan against him, tangling my fingers in his hair as I lean into the kiss. He nuzzles at my mouth, his tongue gliding against mine, and I feel the slick thrum of the ridges on his tongue moving against my smooth one. The sensation is different, but uniquely Jerrok, and I love it. He tastes like warmth and comfort, and when his tongue drags against mine again, it sends a pulse of heat all the way through my body, and I gasp.

  "Does that feel good?" he asks, voice smooth and rich.

  I nod, leaning in for another kiss, and Jerrok devours my mouth again, taking the lead. He's a quick learner, because now I'm no longer in charge of the kiss—he's in full control, licking into my mouth and claiming me with flicks of his tongue. When we kissed before, I only touched the tip of his tongue and didn't realize just how the ridges on his tongue would feel against mine…or that they'd remind me of his cock. When he lightly thrusts into my mouth, I feel the answering pulse between my thighs and moan again.

  Jerrok continues to kiss me, and for a time, I lose myself to the world around me. I love the heated press of his upper body against mine, the way his tail tip lightly strokes against my calf, the way his breathing rasps between each kiss as we come up for air. I'm drowning in his taste and his touch, and I've forgotten how wonderful a nice, senses-drugging kiss can be.

  His hand strokes over my shoulder and down my arm, and then his knuckles graze the tip of one breast.

  I gasp. The touch was unexpected, as unexpected as the zing of arousal that flares through me.

  "Bad?" he asks.

  "Good." I kiss his upper lip, silently asking for more. "So good."

  Jerrok rumbles something that might be pleasure, and then his mouth is on mine again, even as his hand lands fully on my breast. He caresses the mound of it gently, then focuses his attention on the tip, his thumb rubbing over it in a way that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. I whimper and press up against him, urgently licking at his mouth.

  He nips at my lower lip at the same time as he gives my nipple a light pinch, and I whimper, because it sends another flare of heat through my body. "Here you thought you wouldn't like to be touched," he murmurs, rubbing his nose against mine. He looks at me with those hot, proud eyes, as if I'm the most amazing thing possible. "But look at how pretty you are right now. You're perfect, and you should know that."

  I dig my fingers into his skin, lifting my mouth for more kisses.

  "You want me to touch you lower? Or should I keep my hand on these pretty breasts for now?"

  "Will you keep kissing me?"

  He chuckles, and it's like liquid chocolate pouring into my veins. "I don't think I could stop."

  I moan. I love that he enjoys kissing me as much as I like it, too. I love that he likes his mouth on me. I'm so glad he doesn't want to use plas-film to keep us apart. I love how raw our kisses are, how our tastes mingle, how I can feel every rasp of his tongue against my own. A shiver of anticipation courses through me as his hand slides to my belly and then pauses. I suddenly want his hand between my thighs, where I'm aching the most.

  "I'm going to touch you like you touched yourself," he murmurs to me between kisses. "I've watched you so many times, seen what you like. It's good that we're taking things slow, because then I can know just how to touch you right and make you come so hard. Do you want that?"

  I let out another little whimper, nodding. I love his dirty talk, love how he's telling me what he's going to do but somehow still checking in with me to make sure I'm on board. It's the verbal equivalent of him holding my hand through this, and I adore it.

  At this point, I'm more than on board—I'm aching for it.

  I can't seem to stop making little noises of need in my throat as his fingers stroke my belly, edging ever so slowly downward. I need him—need this—so much. It's like the past week has been priming me for his touch, and all of my fear is gone. I'm craving a release, and one that he gives me. When his hand strays to my mound and he strokes the hair there, I sigh. It's like knowing relief is in sight.

  "Part your legs for me, Sophie," he murmurs, then gives me the lightest kiss. I do, the vulnerability of it just adding to my hunger. I trust him, my gaze locked on his handsome, familiar face as he strokes a finger through my slick. To my surprise, Jerrok is the one holding his breath, and it explodes from him when he touches my pussy. "Look at how wet you are. You really liked pleasuring me with your mouth?"

  "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't." My own breath is a little gaspy at this point as his finger glides back and forth through my wetness. I spread my legs wider for him, my gaze locked on his face. "I liked watching you come. I liked tasting you. I liked touching you." I wiggle a little closer to him, wanting to press my face against his chest. "I can't wait to do it again."

  He groans, and drags two fingers through my slippery folds, petting me, before he moves to my clit and focuses there.
He changes movements, switching to small circles around the hood of my clit, and he really has been paying attention as I touched myself. I cry out, burying my face against him as he begins a slow, exquisite pace. Not too hard, not too soft, not too slow, not too fast.

  Then he nudges me with his nose, and when I turn to meet him, his mouth is on mine again, hungry and devouring as he works my pussy with his fingers. He pushes one big finger against the entrance to my core, groaning when he finds out how wet I am. He pushes that finger deep inside—something I've only done to myself once as he watched—and then moves his thumb to my clit and continues to work it.

  I squirm on his hand. His finger feels big and invading, and a hint of alarm edges at my consciousness. His mouth slicks over mine, and then we pause in our kissing and I hear his hand creak as he pumps into me. It's the creak of his prosthetic that helps me relax, because it reminds me that this is my Jerrok, that I'm safe with him. I grab at his hip, at the ridge of scars there, and dig my fingers into the prosthetic thigh. It doesn't feel like human—or alien—flesh here, and I need that in this moment. "Please," I whimper. "Please, Jerrok."

  "I've got you," he murmurs between peppered kisses. "You're all mine, Sophie. This is all for you." His finger slicks into me again, making wet sounds as it spears into my body, and his thumb never, never stops on my clit. The pleasure takes over again, and I'm rubbing myself against him, biting at his mouth as he works my pussy, sucking on his lower lip as if it'll somehow help me handle everything that's building up.

  When I come, it takes me entirely by surprise. The orgasm explodes through me in a gush of response, soaking his hand. I cry out against his mouth and he murmurs sweet things to me, about how much he liked that and how proud he is of me, and it's exactly what I need to hear as I float through the waves of sheer relief.

  "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Jerrok tells me, and when our eyes meet, I know just how sincere he is.

  52

  JERROK

  I wake up the next morning with Sophie rubbing her fingers lightly over one of my jumping circuits. It twitches in my arm, and she gives me a little smile as she massages it back into place. "Did I wake you up?"

  "It's the best way to wake up," I tell her, and lean in to give her a kiss. She freezes for a moment, and I worry that I've keffed things up, but then she flings her arms around my neck, her mouth hot on mine.

  "My breath isn't too bad?" she whispers between flicks of her tongue.

  As if I've even noticed? All I know is that Sophie's mouth is on me, her hands roaming my body, and I haven't felt so keffing good in ages.

  We fool around in bed for a little while, and I make Sophie come on my hand again, just because I want to smell her release all day long. Sophie insists that we both shower afterward, though, so we shower together and I wash her hair for her as she soaps my chest. It's nice, this being together in the morning, talking about the upcoming day.

  Actually it's more than nice. It's perfect.

  After we dress, we snack on a breakfast of dry noodles while Sophie lavishes love and attention on the carinoux, who seems to be sulking that he wasn't allowed in the bedroom last night. I imagine the bites taken out of my ass every time Sophie sucked in a breath, though, and suspect he's going to be sleeping in the hall a lot in the future.

  I'll have to make him a nice bed.

  As we enter the hangar, Sophie touches my hand in a tiny goodbye and heads to the back work bench, where she can scrap the engine of the other ship for all the valuable parts. We'll be in the same chamber, of course, but not close enough to talk, and I'm a little disappointed that I've got so much to do on my cousin Bethiah's ship. I'd rather spend time with Sophie, watching her blush…making her blush…

  "UGH."

  The disgusted noise is courtesy of my cousin, who's hanging out on the cargo ramp of her ship. She gives me a revolted look as I approach, shaking her head slowly.

  "Do I detect humming?" Bethiah asks, her lip curled slightly. "Oh, you are such a fool, aren't you?"

  "Shut up." I move past her, not even caring that my circuits are a little strained this morning from sleeping curled around Sophie, and I probably need to do some stretches to work on my mobility so I don't pay the price later. I ignore it all, because my mood is too good. "So what color are we painting this monstrosity? I'm thinking a nice, unpleasant ooli green."

  The bounty hunter gets to her feet, still wearing her disgruntled expression. "Do we need to talk, Jerrok?"

  "About what?" Hoping I'm not too obvious, I glance over at Sophie. She's set up at my normal table, and as I watch, she puts on my goggles and then gets to work with my blowtorch. I smile with pride. She's a fast learner. I haven't had to show her much, but she's seen me do it so many times that she's picked it up already. Clever thing. She—

  Bethiah punches me in the shoulder. "Wake up, shit-for-brains."

  I rub my shoulder, scowling at her. "Do you mind?"

  "Yes," she hisses, an angry look on her face. "You're going to get your heart broken, you keffing moron. I'm worried about you."

  It isn't like Bethiah to be so affected by…anything. My cousin prefers to keep her cool, and right now she is definitely bristling. "Why are you worried? You like Sophie."

  Bethiah grabs my neck, marching me away like I'm some fussy youth back on the station. "You don't get it, Jerrok. She's human. Humans don't think like we do. They don't stay. They just…look around for a stronger master. Someone that can provide them more safety. Sophie's very sweet, but you do know that you're not going to be able to keep her, right?"

  Just like that, my good mood vanishes. I can tell from the look on Bethiah's face that she's earnest, and I vaguely remember her hinting about an issue with a human in the past. Bethiah obviously has something she's not sharing. "Has Sophie said anything to you?"

  "No, of course not. She's busy giving you sappy looks." Bethiah steers me away before I can check. "It's just that…I've got experience with humans, okay? You can't trust them. They're very sweet on the surface and they kef like beasts, but you can't expect much out of them. They'll just break your heart in the end." She pats my back. "I just feel like I need to warn you because you're family. I'm looking out for you."

  "Thanks," I say flatly. I do know that I can't keep Sophie. She's made it very clear that she's leaving with the va Sithai brothers when they return, and a junk heap of a space station in the midst of an asteroid field isn't exactly any female's dream. I know I'm certainly not. Sophie and I are just…enjoying each other right now. Exploring. We both know it means nothing.

  I ignore the ache in my chest. "Ooli green, right?"

  Bethiah tilts her head back, staring affectionately at the stolen ship, her braids tink-ing as the beads clack against each other. "I think so. Make it good and ugly." She rubs her hands together. "Jamef's going to hate it."

  "Thanks for bringing him to my station, by the way," I tell her sarcastically as I move to the control panel and start opening all the bays so I can begin the exterior paint. "You're going to kill him and dispose of his body somewhere, I hope? Because now he knows where I am."

  "No, he doesn't," Bethiah says easily. "I haven't told him shit." At my furious glance, she continues. "I know the route is in the nav computer, but I assure you, he's not going to be able to access it."

  "Because you're going to dispose of him," I emphasize again. "Right?"

  She shrugs. "So…what are you going to spend this money on? That dark-matter drive will bring you a pretty pile of credits anywhere you take it."

  "Dunno. I'll think of something." Actually, I already know.

  "New limbs?"

  "Dunno," I repeat, keeping my voice deliberately unwelcoming.

  "You're going to buy something for Softie, aren't you?" she asks, leaning against the wall next to me. "It's written all over your face. You're such a sucker, Jerrok."

  "Maybe so." I scowl over at her. "Are you going to talk this entire day, or can I get to work?"
>
  Bethiah pushes off of the wall with a dramatic sigh. "Fine. I guess I'll go bug Jamef. Yell at me if you need anything."

  I just grunt a response. I'm glad when she disappears farther into the ship, because our conversation has made me irritated. No, more than irritated…angry.

  No matter what she thinks of Sophie, I know her better than anyone. I do. She's not looking to use me. She's not going to try to break my heart and keep me interested until she finds a new master. Sophie doesn't want any master. She wants to be her own creature. She wants her independence…and if I buy the carinoux for her, that'll help keep her safer than I ever could on my own.

  Sucker, I hear Bethiah's voice in my head again.

  Maybe I am. I might not be able to keep Sophie, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy every single moment I have with her in the meantime. I flip a few more switches, and as the rest of the panels on the ship slide open with a hiss, I lumber down the ramp again, looking over at Sophie. She's hard at work, my favorite pliers in her hand, her pink tongue between her lips as she concentrates on the task before her.

  She looks so charming and determined that my heart keffing stutters again.

  I really am a sucker.

  53

  JERROK

  Bethiah makes little comments and jibes all day. Not much, just enough to needle me and to remind me that Sophie's not mine. That this is temporary. That she's just “looking for a good time, not a long time” in my cousin's words.

  All of this makes my mesakkah possessiveness flare, and by the time I've got a (deliberately) bad paint job slapped onto The Pleasure Spot, I'm in a foul mood and feeling particularly…jealous. I don't want another male on the receiving end of Sophie's smiles, or hearing her bright laughter. I don't want another male to wake up with Sophie touching him. I think about how she looked last night as she licked the head of my cock, my hand tangled in her hair, and that possessiveness surges to levels I've never experienced before.