“Well of course—I mean, if you really want to. Some guys don’t like the taste of their own, uh, cum.”
“I like the taste of you,” Rafe told her and then began cleaning her belly with long, slow sweeps of his tongue, lapping away the seed he had left there and tasting the sweet, salty flavor of her skin underneath.
“Mmmm…Rafe…” Judging from the way Whitney was moving her hips and running her fingers through his hair, she was thoroughly enjoying the tongue bath. Her eager response made Rafe’s shaft throb even harder and he took his time cleaning her, lapping perhaps, a little closer to the top of her pussy mound than was absolutely necessary since almost all his seed had spilled on her belly.
Whitney seemed to like what he was doing though because after a long time of writhing restlessly, she tugged at his hair to make him look up.
“Rafe,” she said softly, thrusting her hips up a little. “I think maybe you missed a spot. Just a little lower down—you know?”
“Did I?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Where would that be, mon’dalla? Show me.”
Whitney didn’t need any further encouragement than that.
“Here,” she murmured and pushed his head gently but firmly between her thighs.
The way she moved him into position and let him know exactly what she wanted made Rafe’s shaft throb with desire. Gods, he loved a woman who took control sometimes—who showed him what she wanted with no ‘beating around the bush’ as the humans called it. But he decided to tease Whitney, just the same.
“Here?” he asked, looking up as he flicked his tongue over the top of her slit.
“Mmm…even lower.” Her small but surprisingly strong hands pushed his head further down and she spread her thighs wider for him.
“Here, then?” This time when his tongue darted out, he lapped her outer pussy lips—first the right, then the left—before withdrawing. He knew the teasing would drive her crazy and that was exactly what he wanted.
“Almost…” Whitney was nearly panting now. “Do you want me to show you exactly where I need you to lick me—to clean me?” she asked in a low, breathless voice that sent a quiver of desire through his balls.
“Gods, yes, mon’dalla.” His voice was a lustful growl in his own ears. “Show me where you need me—put me where you want me.”
“Here.” Daringly, she used the fingers of one hand to spread her pussy lips wide, revealing the slick inner petals of her sex and the throbbing button of her clit. “Right…here.” And she pushed his head down until his lips met her aching little bud in a hot, open-mouthed kiss.
Rafe bathed her Goddess pearl with his tongue, lapping up her sweet juices, feeling lost in the pleasure of tasting her, which all Kindred warriors loved. As he did, Whitney writhed under his mouth.
“There! Oh God, yes, there, Rafe! Right there!” she moaned and tugged even harder on his hair while she rocked her hips up to meet his seeking tongue, opening herself completely for him to lap up her delicious honey.
It didn’t take Rafe long to reach the edge again, even without any physical stimulation. It was enough that he was tasting her, that he was pleasuring her with his tongue.
Gods, he loved the taste of her—the sweet feminine scent of her pussy—the way her thighs pressed tight against the sides of his face as she drew him in, both begging and demanding more. The way she tugged his hair and called his name, the way her honey gushed for him again and again—he thought he could never get enough of tasting her—never get enough of serving her with his mouth and tongue.
Mon’dalla, he thought deliriously as she came again and again and he lapped away her honey. Oh Gods, how can I ever let you go now? And how can I keep myself from loving you?
Twenty-Four
Whitney woke up feeling amazing the next morning. But then, she supposed with a sleepy smile, having a string of orgasms during the night would do that for a girl. It was even better than a good night’s rest—which she certainly hadn’t had since Rafe hadn’t seemed to want to leave his place between her thighs.
Damn, could that man eat pussy! It was something Whitney enjoyed—but only if the man she was with knew what the hell he was doing. Which sadly, most men did not. They were either too tentative or too changeable—moving to try something else just when whatever they were doing was working. Why “don’t stop—right there!” was so hard to understand was beyond Whitney. But it seemed like when most men heard it, they took it as a sign to try a fancy new technique which derailed the pleasure train every time.
Now Rafe…there was a man who could take direction, she thought with a sleepy smile. He had even asked her to put him where she needed him—no man had ever done that before. They all seemed to want to prove they were experts on female anatomy when a real expert, like Rafe, knew that no one knew a woman’s body better than she did herself. There was no shame in asking for directions—it only enhanced the experience.
Speaking of Rafe, she felt him stirring beside her and turned to face him.
“Mmm, good morning,” she greeted him, smiling. “Did you sleep well? I know I certainly did.”
“Good morning.” He frowned and shook his head, as though to clear the cobwebs of sleep away. “I had…the strangest dream.”
“Really?” Whitney propped herself on her elbow, facing him. “And what was it about?”
“I dreamed the two of us…that we, er, practiced…” Suddenly his golden eyes widened. “Gods, it was no dream, was it?”
“Of course not.” Whitney grinned at him. “It was better than a dream—it was amazing.”
He frowned and looked away.
“I did things…things I should not have done to you.”
Here they went with his damn vow again, Whitney thought. But she had already prepared for a resurgence of guilt on his part.
“You did what you had to do in order for us to be comfortable with each other’s bodies so we can fool Mama Tusker when she comes to check on us,” she said firmly. “I mean, after last night, there should be no awkwardness left between us, right? We know each other inside and out so we can put on a more convincing show.”
Rafe looked doubtful at this explanation of their late-night activities but before he could voice any more doubt or guilt, they heard the low thud-thud-thud of Tusker footsteps on the metal ramp.
“Quick!” Whitney exclaimed, jumping out of bed. “Here comes Mama—we have to convince her to take us to the show. Hurry!”
Rafe nodded, all business at once, and the two of them ran to the front of the cage where they would be most visible. Whitney dropped to her knees and the big Kindred got into position behind her, his hands on her hips. From the corner of her eye, she saw Yancy and Yarrow were doing the same thing. Even Dood was coming forward, swishing his long, auburn hair as he waited confidently at the front bars of his cage.
Soon enough, Mama Tusker came stumping down the ramp with a tray filled with giant vegetable slices in one hand and peered into their cages one by one.
“Let’s see, my dears,” she rumbled in her crashing-boulders voice. “Who wants breakfast and who’s up for going to the Tweedle Beautiful Show with me today?”
She looked speculatively down the line of cages until she came to the one with the little blonde tweedle, with long, platinum hair and big eyes. Mama Tusker smiled and nodded to herself.
“Yes, you can come, my little Beauty. I’ll bring one of the unmatched males for you to mate with.”
She looked at the two mindless male tweedles for a moment as she pushed some huge orange sticks into their cages and shook her head. “Not you, I don’t think,” she murmured. “You were both of you too rough with poor Beauty the last time I let you breed her.”
Moving on, she looked at Yancy and Yarrow and shook her head sorrowfully.
“Well, not you this time either my dears, I’m afraid,” she said to them. “You’re good little breeders but with only one litter to boast of, how can I offer your babies at the show?” She sighed. “I hate to say it,
but I might have to let the two of you go if you don’t have another litter soon. Maybe some other breeder might try pairing you with different partners and get better results.”
Hearing this, Whitney couldn’t help glancing into the next cage to see what the reaction of Yancy and Yarrow would be to this news. For a moment they looked frozen and she saw shock and fear cross Yancy’s pretty face. Then Yarrow redoubled his efforts and they continued “breeding” until Mama Tusker moved on to Whitney and Rafe’s cage.
“Well, well—so the tweedle weed finally got you in the mood, did it my dears?” she asked, smiling in at them as she pushed some of the long orange sticks—about the size of tree branches—through the bars of their cage. “I’m so glad—for you’re so exotic I was longing to take you to the show. And now that you’re in season, I can!”
She clapped her gigantic hands together loudly, making Whitney wince, though she tried not to show it. Instead, she concentrated on moaning loudly and backing to meet Rafe’s pretend thrusts, just as though the two of them were breeding as hard as they could.
Mama Tusker moved on to Dood’s cage and stared at him thoughtfully as she gave him his breakfast. Dood came right up to the bars and swished his hair at her, clearly reminding her what a prime specimen of tweedle-hood he was. Mama frowned…but then nodded.
“Yes, Silky—you’ll do. I’ll bring you for Beauty to breed with. And that’s all, I think,” she added, speaking to herself as she stepped back and looked at all of them. “Four is enough for any show and I don’t want to overload the cages. Let me just go get them.”
She stumped off up the ramp again and Whitney and Rafe disengaged.
“Whew—we made it,” she whispered to him.
He nodded. “Yes, but others were not so lucky.”
Both of them looked into Yarrow and Yancy’s cage, where Yancy was crying and Yarrow was trying to comfort her.
Poor things, Whitney thought with a surge of sympathy. After all this time together, to be torn apart and sold. It’s awful!
She wanted to say something to comfort Yancy—though she didn’t know quite what—but just then Mama Tusker came thumping down the ramp again, this time carrying two traveling cages in her hands.
“Now then,” she remarked, opening Dood’s door with her trunk and depositing the tweedle inside the cage in her left hand. “Boys in one cage and girls in another. I think that will work best.”
Next she scooped up the blonde-haired girl named Beauty and popped her into the right hand cage.
“I don’t like this—she’s going to separate us,” Rafe murmured in Whitney’s ear. “We could make a run for it when she opens the cage.”
“And go where?” Whitney objected. “It’s a two-story fall from these cages to the floor. Mama would have plenty of time to snatch us up while we tried to find a way down. And then she’d never take us to the show!”
He sighed unhappily. “I suppose you’re right but it still doesn’t sit well with me to let her put us into two different cages again.”
“It’s okay,” Whitney murmured reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. That Beauty doesn’t look like much of a fighter. You just mind your manners and promise not to beat up on Dood. Mama Tusker won’t like that.”
“I cannot promise that.” Rafe got a mulish expression on his face—he hadn’t liked the other male since Dood had attacked her in the matching pen.
“You have to promise,” Whitney said earnestly. “What if she gets angry that you hurt her prize tweedle and sells you away from me?” She looked into his golden eyes. “Please, Rafe—promise me you won’t hurt him!”
With a reluctant frown, he nodded at last.
“All right. I won’t lay a finger on him—as much as I might want to.”
And then Mama Tusker’s huge blue trunk was curling around his waist and pulling him gently but firmly away from Whitney to place him in the left-hand cage.
Whitney watched anxiously as Rafe was placed right beside Dood. The other male gave him a wary glance and moved away, putting distance between them. But to her relief, Rafe didn’t even look at him. He stared stoically out of the bars at the front of his new cage, watching her as she was watching him.
In short order, the trunk coiled like a massive blue snake around Whitney’s waist as well and she was put into the cage with Beauty, who was sitting quietly in the corner, looking at her with big purple-blue eyes.
The traveling cage swayed as Mama Tusker stumped up the ramp and Whitney swayed with it until she landed with a thump on her ass.
“Ouch!” she exclaimed and rubbed her sore rump ruefully. “That hurt. You were smart, sitting down right away,” she added, hoping to start a conversation with Beauty.
But the little blonde tweedle simply looked at her silently and after a moment Whitney decided she must be one of the Mindless Ones, like the two males Mama Tusker had left behind.
“Well, I guess I’m not going to get much conversation on this trip unless I talk to myself,” she muttered and sighed.
It was going to be a long journey to the Tweedle Beautiful show and she couldn’t help wondering when she would get to see Rafe again. Would Mama Tusker keep them separated for the entire show? If so, how were they going to get a chance to escape together? And how would they ever get back to their ship if they got loose in the vast Tusker city, which they had flown over on the way here?
There were, of course, no answers for any of her questions. There was only boredom and anxiety as the cages were loaded into some kind of vehicle and Mama Tusker drove them to the show.
Twenty-Five
“Well, May-Bell, it’s so good to see you here this year!” a rumbling Tusker voice exclaimed outside the cage. “I wasn’t sure if you would make it this time. I thought you said you wouldn’t come again unless you had something new to show.”
“And so I do! A couple of new exotic tweedles.” There was a note of pride and suppressed excitement in the mother alien’s voice. “But I can’t show them to you just now—they’re a surprise.”
Which was doubtless why she had their wire cages draped with thick blue cloths, much to Rafe’s disgust and irritation. He had hoped to get a good view of the Tusker city as they were carried through its streets—an idea of where to go when they escaped. Instead, he could only catch glimpses here and there through the small tear in the cloth he had found but failed to widen, since the fabric was incredibly tough.
There were snatches of giant walking feet, sidewalks as broad as entire highways back on Earth, and buildings so tall and vast even one of them would have encompassed several city blocks back home. But he couldn’t see enough to mark a way through the giant city or find a safe way to get back to the forest.
“Don’t bother,” Dood said, as Rafe stood swaying at the bars, trying to catch glimpses of the outside world as the cage jolted alarmingly with every one of Mama Tusker’s rolling steps.
Rafe turned to face him.
“Don’t bother to try and escape, you mean?” he sneered at the other male. “Just because you are too cowardly to make the attempt—”
“Hey, I made an attempt—I tried, all right?” Dood snapped, glowering at him from his seat in the corner. “But I’m telling you, trying to escape in the middle of the Tusker city is suicide, plain and simple. You’d never even find your way out of the building they hold the show in. And even if you did, it’s so far back to the forest where you say you parked your ship, you could spend a lifetime getting back to it.”
Rafe glared at him stubbornly.
“If I see a chance, I’m going to take it.”
Dood shrugged and flipped his hair over one shoulder.
“Hey man—if that’s your thing, go for it. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Rafe could have done without his warning—it only served to remind him that he didn’t know where they were and Whitney was separated from him. His first order of business if he could get out of this cage was to find her, of course. But then what? Maybe they cou
ld stow away in one of the Tusker’s luggage and in so doing, find a vehicle going somewhere near the forest where they had left the ship.
But even if they were so lucky as to be deposited in the immediate vicinity of the ship, Rafe still didn’t know how to get them home. He knew that Whitney wanted to try using the rogue worm hole that had brought them here, but he also knew the odds of it leading back to where they had come from were slim to none. They might live out their lives, wandering lost through the vast emptiness of space, and never get back to the Mother Ship and Earth again.
Not that he would mind spending the rest of his life wandering with Whitney, but he knew her well enough to know that she would mind—dreadfully. She was a gregarious female with friends and family she loved and she would miss them all sadly.
Somehow he had to get her home—to get both of them home.
But how?
As he considered the problem, he watched through the tear in the blue cage covering and saw the scene shifting outside the bars. He caught glimpses of a fine marble floor and then a high, frescoed ceiling. There were pieces of enormous red and black velvet furniture scattered around with Tuskers lounging on them and talking or drinking some kind of fizzy blue drink with green bubbles floating on top.
The whole scene reminded him of an expensive hotel lobby—was that where the tweedle show was being held?
They stepped into a kind of box with mirrored glass walls and he was able to see—to his relief—that Mama was still holding the cage containing Whitney in her other hand. He couldn’t see into the cage, which was covered with a blue cloth like his own, but he hoped that Whitney was all right and just biding her time as he was.
Surely these cages will be easier to get out of than the ones back at the Tusker’s dome, he thought hopefully. If only the mother alien would place them close together so he and Whitney could get away without a problem…
The mirrored glass box shifted and began to move—first up and then sideways and then up again and then down for a few feet until it came to a stop. The doors slid open and Mama Tusker stepped out, murmuring to herself.
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