by Iris Astres
Raj wasn’t himself. Perhaps he’d died in that garage and been reborn as a new man. Jane’s man. Her flawed but very much devoted man.
“Move on me,” he urged her. “Use my mouth to make it good.”
He liked that she was staring at him. Clearly she could see the hunger on his face. No other woman had ever seen him so nakedly aroused, so stripped of all restraint. It was right that she should see the new man she’d created.
He was painfully hard. As hot for her as he had ever been for anyone, and heaven knew that his capacity for desire had always been great, even among temple lovers.
To satisfy that appetite, Raj lowered his head between her legs and licked. The barest movement up and down beneath the bud that swelled against his upper lip. She was perfect. Plump and slick with moisture for him, his cock, the pleasure he could give. And take.
And take. Again the strange new impulse to let go of his control. Focus, Raj. You know this has to be extremely good. He lifted away slightly and pressed two fingers of his right hand to her opening. She tensed; he turned his head and kissed her thigh. “Relax,” he said. “I may have lost my mind. I still know better than to hurt you.” Her muscles eased, and he slid two fingers into her wet pussy.
She was exquisite. A warm, wet clasp of invitation. He hooked his fingers into the soft flesh behind her clit. A slow, beckoning motion. “How is it?” He glanced over her breasts, her belly, all that lovely skin, and then sought her gaze.
She was flushed, unfocused. Sexy, infinitely sexy.
He licked her thigh with the abandon he’d soon use to lick her cunt. The promise of the gesture wasn’t lost on her. She spread her thighs wider, arching toward him. Raj returned his mouth to her and licked from the base of his fingers all the way up her slit, once, then twice, then many, many times.
He kept it slow, but when he started licking up and down, he felt it. That telltale patch of dead time where she went completely still, her body almost limp. When she came back to life, all her responses intensified. After which he knew that she’d crossed over to that place where every movement brought the pleasure closer, made it fuller. And he was soon astonished by how far she’d go, how much of her true self she’d show.
Her hips rose and fell beneath his mouth; the softness of her thighs cradled his face. He stroked inside her, licked her pulsing flesh. She whimpered, panted, mewled for him. Then she was moving, back and forth and side to side. And it was hot. Extremely hot to feel her pussy brimming over. He teased around her hardened clit and felt her trembling body start to quake. Then Raj began to stroke and lick and moan with her into the climax, which he rode in concert with her body. The sound of her release when it was over echoed through him, hardening his cock and softening his heart.
Chapter Eight
“What happens when you masturbate?” They were resting—after how much time, she didn’t know. Shadows had thickened protectively around them, and she was in his arms, examining the heated curve of muscle in his belly.
“Generally speaking,” Raj said, turning toward her, “masturbation goes something like this.” He lowered his hand from her breast to his erection and stroked his full length, pausing at the end of every movement to twist his fingers underneath the head. “Do you want to see a full performance?”
“Sort of.” With difficulty, Jane looked away to meet his gaze. “But that isn’t what I meant. I mean does jacking off keep you sexually balanced?”
“Ah.” His hand stopped, which was sad. She liked the way his biceps twitched when he pulled on his cockhead. “For sexual balance to be maintained, the jerking off would need to be part of something grander. A connection. A shared truth.”
“It doesn’t work alone?”
“No, love. It’s the energy of sharing that keeps us well. Not the sexual release itself. Although…”
He touched her breast again, stretching his thumb to rub her nipple very gently. Her throat and her pussy tightened at the same time. Jane could feel years of arousal, long denied, bubbling inside her. She wrapped her hand around his cock. It looked big, and it felt even bigger. He hadn’t come yet, although she’d come twice. “Can I kiss you here?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She rolled over his body and slid her feet onto the floor, bending forward. Her chosen posture was instinctive and she liked it—liked the strength of being on her feet, the deference of bowing.
Closemouthed, she brushed her lips back and forth along his silky skin, enjoying both the texture and the heat. Jane stuck out her tongue and mapped the roads that led up to his head. She moved her lips into the shape of words and spoke to him.
When all there seemed left was to suck him into her, she gathered his testicles into one hand and fondled the cool, soft, mobile sac, taking him as deeply as she could. She licked with a flat tongue and sucked with vulgar slurping sounds. No self-consciousness; the opposite in fact. She was in her own world, as immersed in this as she’d ever been in anything. His hips jerked upward; his hands hovered near her head. What did he want? The truth. That’s what he always said.
Jane thought of what was true for her. The word good came into her mind, and she toyed with that simple idea, letting it warm the inside of her mouth. She thought about his tongue, the way he’d made her come. The first time she’d been writhing underneath him. The second time he’d held her thighs apart and licked her till she’d sobbed with pleasure. Jane let those feelings fill her thoughts and sucked him with a purr of gratitude that vibrated along her jaw and palate. A gentle press against her shoulders made her stop. Slowly, and with care, she pulled away to look at him.
His features had gone soft and serious. Almost grim.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“You.” A simple answer, not a glib one.
He hadn’t been inside her yet. Suddenly Jane’s heart was beating fast and she was nervous. Really nervous. She crawled back on the bed and reached for him.
She wanted him on top of her, to see his face, his chest, the muscles in his shoulders. She wanted his weight and a chance to run her hands down his strong back.
He rose beside her on one elbow, reached a hand between her legs. She felt a chill from all the lingering moisture meeting air. It made her lift her head and look. She was soaked and sensitive, and he was touching her with just the tips of two long fingers. “Will I fit?”
She smiled. He was teasing her, but it was sweet like all of it, the action and the words. He moved his body over hers, his legs between her legs, his weight held on his arms. “Reach down,” he said. She did. She took his cock and stroked herself with the plump tip. When she had it placed against her opening, she lifted up.
“Wait,” he said.
“What is it?” She looked at his face. There was a sort of blur to his expression. He looked sexy, powerful. And so turned on it made her shake. Inside herself she felt the sharpness of excitement like a separate being, spreading out and pulling in. A great, thunderous tide.
“Look at me.” With their gazes locked, his hips pressed forward and he breached her steadily. His cock filled more of her than she believed there was to fill. The stretch gave life to every pleasurable nerve. She curled one arm over his shoulder; the other she slipped around his waist. The way she had before. The way she wanted to forever. And it was so good that she heard a shaky, trilling sound in her own throat. Jane tilted her hips to get a little more of him inside her.
He rocked himself into her, watching her the way she watched herself for signs leading her into pleasure.
“What else can you do?” she asked. “What else?”
“A hundred different things. The same idea with different shapes. Or this.” He pushed inside her deep, withdrew, and pushed inside again. “I can fuck you just like this for day after tireless day. Would you like that?”
She would. Before she’d only thought of ways she could avoid sex. Now she’d make a life of this slow, perfect rocking. Pleasure was like ink bleeding through her pulpy inner
flesh, and there was something prickly too, an unexpected jolt that stirred it up and made it so good. Better than anything. Now she understood the madness of it. The obsession.
“I want to suck your cock again.”
“Then I suppose I must oblige you.”
Was that a joke? She couldn’t tell. His lips were always curved that way. He always looked so beautiful and strong.
“Yes.” She pushed at him. “Yes, let me do it. I want to try doing it again.” He left her body, and she scrambled to her knees beside the bed.
“Stand up, “she said. He hesitated.
“What?” She didn’t understand.
He got onto his feet in front of her. His legs were so long that even when she stretched, his cock was at the level of her forehead.
“Oh,” said Jane. It didn’t work.
“Sit here.” Raj patted the side of the bed. She pulled herself up, feeling just a tiny bit defeated. “Get on your knees.” Something in his voice, a rawness and a strength, made her pussy tighten and more blood rush to her clit. Jane knelt on the bed, and he pulled her head down to him. The position with her legs spread and her ass lifted was nasty and delicious. Jane held on to him and sucked. He was so big. So hot and hard.
Eventually he pulled away. “Stay on your knees and turn this way so I can fuck you.” Jane let herself be guided by him until he had her head pointed toward the closet and her ass toward his cock. Raj slid back in with that same unbelievable stretch that made her insides flutter. The space between her legs felt tighter, the position deeper. Her breasts brushed back and forth against the cotton sheets, her nipples drawing into knots.
He worked his hand over her mound. His pelvis thumped against her ass, and Jane knew she would come. Sensation streamed into her clit like water filling up a bowl. More and more and it was full, then overflowing. Orgasm hit her like a wall of water. Jane was moaning, writhing with a thrilling climax. She strained toward him, filthy and indecent.
“Come.” That choked word meant at least three different things: I’m coming. My cunt’s dripping cum. Come with me, please. I want you to.
She stretched her arms out on the bed, descending from the peak of pleasure. Raj pulled his cock out of her pussy, the gesture rough and unexpected. She turned her head and saw her lover tall and strong, his body arched and his head back. Cum splattered on her lower back. His wet cock bumped against her ass. He slumped and fell and pulled her close against him on the bed.
Chapter Nine
Jane looked out of the kitchen window into almost perfect darkness. The clock above the stove said ten, which meant they’d spent as many hours in the bedroom. Now the desert all around was velvet stillness—a few lights far off in the hills, a sprinkling of stars and planets far away. It seemed a shame to turn the lights on and start banging pots around. But she was ravenous, and even he must be a little hungry now.
Not he. His name was Raj. One swiftly purring sound that tilted through her like a loss of gravity. Throughout her life, she’d use it as a secret incantation. An enticement. A protection. Raj. Raj. Raj.
And he appeared. A figure in the doorway. Four light, even steps and he was by her side.
Jane wondered for the hundredth time if he could read her mind. He’d sworn he couldn’t. She still felt him in her head.
“Are you hungry?” He stepped behind her, dipped his head into her neck. “Should we eat something?”
“I was thinking I’d heat up some soup.”
He released her, arms spread in agreement. She started foraging through her supplies.
“How about a beer?” She looked at him over the door of the refrigerator. On his signal, she got two cold bottles out and twisted off the caps. “To life,” she said, handing him one.
“To life.” They raised their bottles in salute and drank.
Jane motioned him to sit and went back to the fridge. She assembled what she had at the ready: olives, soft cheese, marinated artichokes. She took some crackers from the pantry and grabbed a tube of Nature’s Garden Vegetable. “No meat,” she said, showing her guest the wholesome picture on the package.
Jane downed another swig of beer and made quick work of heating up the soup. She set out the bowls and spoons. All the while she could feel his eyes on her, tracking her like she was part of some display.
“Is something wrong?” she said, pouring the soup into the bowls.
“Not one thing.”
Why was he so sexy? The stillness? Or those eyes that conveyed just a taste of what he thought? His gaze was like a shimmer in the distance. A draw. Warmth and contentment pooled behind his smile.
She loved all his expressions. When he was curious or interested, he looked like a great prince of ancient myth. When he was looming over her in bed, he looked like sin made flesh. Now his features were at some intriguing midpoint. Somewhere between pasha and satyr.
Jane sat down at the table and began to eat. By the second spoonful, she could feel a jumpiness inside her stomach. Being with him made her giddy, like listening to the loud music her parents played for her when she was just a kid. Why was eating soup the thing that made her nervous when they’d spent all afternoon discovering which sexual position she liked best? Standing, sitting, on her back, her belly, on her knees. She still couldn’t decide.
Jane glanced up and caught Raj staring at her with his mind-reader expression.
“What am I thinking about?” she challenged.
“Sex.”
She shook her head and drank more beer. “Too easy,” she complained. She liked sex, as it happened. She liked it a lot. She liked the physicality, the dampness, and the achy muscles. She liked the versatility, the subtle shift in feeling when he bent her over, spread her open, helped her to her knees. She liked everything, in fact. He seemed to like it too. And it liked him.
She risked another, longer glance in his direction. What she saw lent some weight to the idea sex was his best medicine. His handsome face was perfectly restored. She couldn’t see a trace of what he’d been through just the day before.
“Are you completely better?”
“I am,” he said.
Amazing. It shouldn’t be possible.
“What else is different about you?”
“Different?”
“What else besides miraculous, sex-activated healing and the kind of/sort of mind-reading trick?”
“I don’t read minds. Not even kind of/sort of.”
“Breaths,” Jane conceded.
“And heat.” He looked at her. She blushed. “Eat up,” he said.
She frowned tilting her bottle to her lips. “Are you in a hurry to go back to all your friends?”
“No.” Truthful, but she’d seen the hesitation.
“They’ll be worried about you.”
“Yes.”
“When it’s safe, I’ll find someplace to go and message them.”
“I’ll go,” he said.
“For you it won’t ever be safe. You look exactly like the alien you are. I’ll do it. In a day or two.”
He was suddenly huge again, massive, displeased, and sizing her up as an opponent. It was so abrupt, Jane almost found it funny. She was, however, careful not to laugh.
“Doesn’t it bother you that they all think you’re dead?”
He ignored the implicit reproach. “You gave me your word you wouldn’t risk your life for mine. Do you remember?”
“I remember.” Jane thought about explaining how inconspicuous she’d be compared to him, but if she did, they’d argue, and she didn’t feel like crossing swords with him.
She blew into her spoon and took a bite of soup. “You never answered me.”
“I didn’t?” He was munching on a cracker in a way that she found intimate and dear.
“I asked you what was different about you.”
“Ah.” He swallowed. Took a swig of beer. “I’m told I’m about forty percent stronger than most men on Earth. Twenty percent faster in a sprint.” He paused.
A smile curved around the lip of his beer bottle. His dark gaze shifted toward her. Devastating.
“So. Do you just win hands down? Backus everything, Earth zero?”
Raj shook his head. “Earth men have distinct advantages. They’re better sports for one thing.”
“Meaning what?” Jane hadn’t seen much glowing sportsmanship in her years at Rick’s Body Shop.
“It means your fellow Earthlings know enough to cut their losses. Which means they live to fight another day. Backusians are more bloody-minded. When we fight, we win or don’t get up again.”
“In the past, you mean.”
“The past?” Raj blinked at her no doubt concerned expression.
“You don’t fight now.” Somehow she’d convinced herself Backusians had evolved past violence. Raj’s slight discomfort told her she was wrong.
“We fight less often now, perhaps. But there are still battles, all of which end badly for one side.”
“I’d have thought there’d be no time for fighting after all that sex.”
Raj leaned back in his chair, his body open and magnetic. “The focus we bring to the bedroom can be used equally well in battle, I’m afraid.”
“What do you fight about?”
“The usual things: principles, territory, a threat to our security. And women, obviously.”
Women?
“Have you ever fought?”
“No, dear.” He smiled at her. “Not in earnest anyway. I’m trained as a warrior, of course.”
Of course. So there was no way out of conflict and aggression. Even in the stars. Too bad. Jane finished the soup in her bowl and looked around for ways to change the subject. A question she’d been meaning to ask for a while sprang to mind. She pushed her empty bowl away and looked at him. “Is there some reason you don’t ever come inside my body?”
THE QUESTION WAS completely unexpected, and that fact more than anything made Raj sit up straight in his chair. How was it he was missing all these cues from her? He who’d honed his skill at observation with the greatest teachers on his planet. Had his brain really been injured in that pathetic beating he’d received? He didn’t think so. At least he didn’t feel diminished.