by H. E. Trent
He was thick and long, and too much for her to have taken all at once, but she liked that feeling of being overwhelmed by sex.
It didn’t last, because he took it away.
He pulled his cock out of her and placed his hand over her cunt, barring farther entry until he said so, apparently. “I said you bit me,” he whispered against her ear.
“Do you want me to apologize?” She ground against his hand, which earned her a swat to her clit that made her rear back onto her knees.
He had his arm hooked around her neck and sat back with her, his lips still at the side of her face. “If you need rough, that’s what you’ll get.”
She didn’t know if she needed it, but she liked it.
But do I want that from him?
She’d probably cause her own death one day by overthinking.
All she could think to do was nod, and she decided to fret about whatever consequences came of it later.
“You bit me because I touched you,” he growled. He hooked the thumb of his free hand into her mouth, wet the tip, and then unerringly found her right nipple. He mashed and then pulled and plucked. Again, she arched. There was nothing for her to reach, though. His cock was against her back, too high for her to mount, if he’d even let her. He’d already taken it from her once.
“I touched your face,” he said, gathering her breast into his palm and holding it as if it were an egg he feared would break. “I touched your face, and you panicked.”
“I…remember now.”
He traced a slow, meandering line down between her breasts and over her belly before cupping her pussy again. He didn’t just cover, though, but patted her. So, so softly, and she didn’t understand the point of the endeavor until his harder slap of her clit took the wind out of her.
It hurt, but he rubbed her and made her forget. He held her so tightly against his body that she could feel his heartbeat through her back and every twitch of the cock he so rudely withheld.
“We were in tight quarters and the noises from the police in the house made you nervous, and I suppose I was on the tail end of an episode. I reached out to touch you, and you bit me. I wanted you to know I remembered.”
She swallowed hard and closed her eyes as the memories of that night fled back.
She had been panicked. A mild case of claustrophobia combined with being charged with the care of a stranger whose illness she didn’t recognize and the start of rioting in Buinet had her on edge. Already that day, she’d had to calm him more times than she could remember. Her spirit had been low, and her energy as well. She’d just reacted, and he’d gone quiet after that. That had been the first time in the week she’d been minding him that she could see actual pain on his face.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I didn’t ask for an apology, Erin.” He let her back down onto all fours, and she missed the warmth of his body against hers.
So needy.
She missed the possessiveness in his grip—she wanted him to just take.
“I just wanted you to know,” he said, “that I remember.”
“Why?”
“My first two memories of you were of you hurting me. Now, I’d like pleasure from you.”
Again, she nodded, shuddering at the light glide of his calloused fingertips down her spine. “That’s…why I’m here.”
“No, you’re here for your own pleasure, not mine, though I suppose we’ll both enjoy the tryst.”
“I plan to.”
“A Terran response, for sure. Jekhan women wouldn’t be wet and eager like you are, and they tolerate sex in only two positions.”
“Tolerate? But—”
“Shh.”
She zipped her lips.
“That’s what they’ve been taught by their mothers and their mother’s mothers. Those two ways are sanctioned. We’ll get off of them faster, and they can get away from us that much sooner.”
“What are they?” Erin wriggled her backside against his thighs, urging him on.
He has to be some kind of sadist, making me wait the way he is.
“Mostly, they endure on their backs.”
“And…the other way?” she asked in a breathless pant.
“On their sides, facing away so they don’t have to look at us.”
“I don’t believe that.” She didn’t understand how any woman wouldn’t want to gaze upon the splendor that was the Jekhan male, but then again, she was only human.
He pressed his hands to the small of her back at either side of her spine and rubbed upward toward her bra band, and then paused there. “I think I’d like for you to look at me,” he said.
She started to roll over, but he notched one hand at her waist and worked his erection into her, slowly breaching, that familiar hissing sound marking each inch of change.
“But not this time,” he whispered.
She let her shoulders relax against his bed, moaning at the aroma of his sheets. The scent of masculinity pervaded them.
She hadn’t been in a man’s bed in so long. She generally preferred for engagements to take place in her own territory so that she could control the outcomes the way she liked, or else at clubs where there were rules and expectations. In someone else’s space, she was at the mercy of their whims. With a man as unpredictable as Esteben, she didn’t know what that meant.
In as far as he could go and, with both hands at her waist, he let out a breath and so did she. She was stuffed.
“When I was certain I wouldn’t live to see another year,” he said, “what I regretted most was that I’d never be able to do this again.”
He slid his hands around her back and squeezed the tops of her ass cheeks.
“I thought that perhaps I should have been more like Murk, taking my pleasures where I could get them. I thought that I should have been less discriminating.”
“If you’re trying to flatter me, you’re failing hard, Esteben. No lady wants to think she’s some guy’s low-hanging fruit.” Dewey might have called her a brat for that quip, but Esteben slammed into her, pulling her back against him simultaneously, and giving her no time to move or prepare for the invasion.
“Be quiet, woman.”
Fuck.
He didn’t say anything else, but he didn’t withdraw from her, either.
For a moment, he paused there with her on her knees. He dragged one hand up from her hip and pressed it against her throat. His lips felt like branding irons against the side of her face. He wasn’t kissing, more like just feeling her with his mouth, and drawing in her essence along with each inhalation.
Then he began thrusting. Slow. Meticulous. Deep.
So, so deep, but she wanted more.
He could get her into that headspace where she didn’t think a damn thing except how her body felt and how it could handle so much more if he wanted to give it to her. He was rough enough, and could probably learn her cues, but she didn’t want to wait.
She reached between her legs and started rubbing her clit hard and fast.
He pulled her hand away and said into her ear, “Keep your hand away from that sinful little switch unless you want it pinched.”
She gulped and, somehow, pulled in a breath. “Maybe I do.”
“I see.” He set his teeth into the flesh of her shoulder and bit hard, and her brain told her to spread her legs farther, so she did, her weight falling over, braced by his one, stubborn arm. He pulled her up higher, and thrust his cock up into her, hard but slowly, and then harder but faster and faster until her sex was clamping down tightly around him and her eyes were running like taps.
“Such a beautiful woman,” he said, “likes her sex so inelegant, does she?”
He let go of her, and she couldn’t catch herself in time. Her face and shoulders hit the bed, but he didn’t lose a beat. With his hands braced at either side of her shoulders, he kept thrusting, even as he snarled, “Arch your ass up to me.”
And she did, because she would have anyway to ease the path of his plu
nging cock, and so she could feel that devastating press against her G-spot.
“There. There,” she whispered, and that made him take it away. “No!”
His fingers curled against her scalp and she felt the tug of her hair, him moving her face.
And as he fucked her so mercilessly, she felt the sting of his teeth against her jaw, her cheek. She moaned because she liked it and because she worried he’d stop.
He did stop, of course, but he was hitting that electric spot inside her again, and her legs had started to quake.
“Esteben—”
“I’m. Not. Done.”
But she was, and she didn’t have time to ask for permission.
Her orgasm was an animalistic shout, violent spasming that had him shoving her shoulders down again, and her repeated whisper of, “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.”
He must have had his own release at some point during her recovery, because suddenly she was empty, and he was standing beside the bed, peeling the condom off his deflating erection.
She couldn’t even begin to guess how to read his face. He had one eyebrow up, and his lips were set in a tense line.
He’d had his orgasm. The evidence was in that length of latex he held, so his dissatisfaction had to have some other cause.
She dragged her tongue across her dry lips and, after making sure that her legs could hold weight, she pushed onto all fours. “All right, then.”
“That was what you wanted, yes?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” It was what she’d asked for, anyway, but maybe not what she needed. She needed things she couldn’t ask for from him, even if he were able to give them. Those things suggested attachment, and attachment was out of the question.
She cleared her throat, put her feet on the floor, and grabbed her discarded clothes.
Silently, he watched her dress.
Silently, he watched her shove her feet into her shoes.
Silently, he watched her yank the door open and walk out.
Never before had silence seemed so loud.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Headron lifted the corner of the pillow Erin held over her head and whispered beneath, “Erin, I brought you breakfast. Tell me if it’s enough.”
“Hmm?”
“You missed the breakfast bell. I had to, as you might say, throw my elbows around to make sure there was something left for you.”
“Breakfast?” she asked on a breathy whisper.
“Yes. It’s nearly time for work.”
“Why’d you let me sleep so long?” She may have been talking, but she made no motion to get up.
He set the tray down on the table to the left of the bed, and rubbed her back through the covers. Such a chaste touch, but one she allowed all the same. A Jekhan woman might have scolded him for taking the liberty. He liked exploring Erin’s limits.
“I think most of us thought you were already up and outside working,” he said. “If I’d known you were still in bed, I would have come to wake you. I have news.”
“You do?” She lifted the pillow a little so he could see her hooded gray eyes and the terrible shadows beneath them.
“What were you doing all night? Did you not rest?”
She let the pillow fall. “Yeah, I did. I just… What’s your news?”
“Eat first. I believe your brother will become anxious soon. He requires your assistance installing sensors today.”
She nudged the pillow aside and sat up, sighing deeply.
He wanted to tell her to go back to bed and that he would lie with her. They could have a lazy day with the breeze from the open window dancing over them, and they could read or watch more of the films the McGarrys had downloaded from their “mimi’s” last big transmission from Earth. He didn’t understand all the films, but he was getting more familiar with the cadences of their speech and their various forms of humor.
“What’d you bring me?” she asked.
“Well, Trigrian and I traded with some neighbors from over the ridge last night and—”
“Terran?”
“Yes and no. A Terran woman. One of the deserters’ daughters. She lives with a Jekhan family now.”
“Two husbands?”
“No, just one. He’s still looking for a suitable partner.”
She grimaced. “I guess unlike me, she has no particular worries about incompatibility as a trio.”
He shrugged. “I believe she may be somewhat more…optimistic than you.”
Erin cringed. “Optimism is all I need, huh?”
He danced his fingertips over the soft hair over her ears and chuckled. “Optimism would be a good start. Anyhow, they’ve got pigs and loads more chickens than we have here.”
“Terran pigs and chickens?”
“Yes. Apparently, the Tyneali brought them and helped domesticate them here around the same time they brought the last group from Earth. A few farms in the area have them, and they’re all trying to grow the stock, but the labor shortage makes fast expansion unsustainable.”
“What other Terran animals did the Tyneali domesticate around here? I assumed that much of the meat that’s familiar to us was all dried and imported.”
“I believe there is a small herd of…” He rubbed his temples, trying to remember the name of the beast. There was no close native equivalent on Jekh. “What animals make beef, Erin?”
“Cows. There are cows here?”
“Yes.”
“And thus fresh milk and cheese?”
“Yes.
She cut her tired gaze toward the plate, with its bacon and eggs and triangles of toast. “Is that…butter?” She snatched the tray from the table and set it on her lap.
“Yes. I wasn’t so certain why such a condiment would excite Courtney so much, but Brenna had a similar response.”
“Butter is life, Headron. Also bacon, but mostly butter.”
“Perhaps I’m still learning your manner of speech, but I’m not certain you’re in jest.”
“You don’t understand. You can do amazing things with this stuff. You can make the gooiest cookies and the absolute best mashed potatoes.” Her eyes rolled back into her head. “And you can use it to brown things. A little butter makes pretty much everything better. If anyone ever tells you otherwise, they’re lying. And you can use it to add body and richness to certain soups and chowders. Ooh.” She gave his arm an excited little pluck. “You can put it in pastries. To die for.”
“Tell me more. I’ll make them for you.”
She smiled and finally picked up her fork. “I know you will, but don’t break your routine for me. I’m certain that we McGarrys and probably Brenna would be super stoked to see that stuff coming out of the oven, but you should stick with the things you can sell.”
“Is my free time not mine to do with as I see fit?” He could think of few things he could do with his clothes on that were more pleasurable than watching Erin eat.
“You have free time?” she asked around a mouthful of toast. “If so, please share.”
“I’m certain I could carve a few hours out of my day to try something new. So, tell me about these pastries you were wanting.”
“Danishes are really time-consuming. Let’s not worry about those for the time being. If you really want to earn my everlasting affections, you’ll find a good Southern biscuit recipe. Ugh.” She slumped a bit against the headboard and set down her fork. “With some really salty ham or even with a pot of beans. Heaven.”
“Beans?”
She narrowed her eyes briefly and started forking up food again. “I just now realized we haven’t had any, but I know I saw some at the meet-shop. Dried beans. They used to be a staple in our household growing up because they’re really cheap and they store well for long periods of time. They’re filling, especially if you cook them in a pot with onions and root vegetables like carrots. Maybe a little pork for seasoning.” She held up a bacon slice. “My grandmother preferred ham hocks, but I don’t know if that’s a cut of oink we can get arou
nd here.”
“I’ll get a pad and write that down.”
He started to ease off the bed, but she grabbed his wrist and pulled him down.
“Sit. Really, it’s not urgent.”
“But I want to look. I can find out what’s available. If having familiar foods on the table would make you happy, I don’t see why we shouldn’t try. Especially if the items are as cheap as you say.”
“Cheap is relative. We’re on Jekh. Pork is a luxury here. The rest of the stuff…” She shrugged. “Not so much. I think seeing what qualifies as rustic and ‘poor’ foods here compared to what passes for the same on Earth is interesting. My grandmother grew up on a farm.”
“The grandmother you look like?”
He loved the way her cheeks scrunched when she smiled.
“You don’t miss a single thing, do you?” she asked.
Nothing concerning you.
He crawled up next to her at the head of the bed and pinched off a corner of her toast. “I confess I may become somewhat more attentive when your name is broached in a conversation.”
He wanted to know everything about her, and he was at something of a disadvantage. Many of his Jekhan peers had been trained in specific aspects of Earth culture before their first diplomatic convoys made the trip to Earth. Headron hadn’t been—he hadn’t had the right breeding. He was just a baker from a long line of poor folks picking up whatever hustles they could to get by. He hadn’t had the childhood language training that some rich Jekhans had, but he still managed to pick up bits and pieces of a few Terran languages through programs offered through the cultural center in Buinet. He figured that if the human women ever agreed to come to Jekh that he’d do well to be able to speak to them. Those classroom hours had turned out to be one of the smartest investments he’d ever made.
One of the hopes for the diplomatic discussions with Earth was that Jekhans who wanted to could be allowed to resettle on Earth. Instead, what they’d gotten was an invasion force full of men who devastated the planet’s already-fragile population balance. His ability to speak to Erin in her native tongue would have been a huge asset in Buinet. In Little Gitano, everyone could speak English.
“Hey, don’t eat that,” Erin said, pointing to the toast he was angling toward his mouth. “That’s wheat, isn’t it?”