by H. E. Trent
“CG15,” Courtney said. “What time is it?”
Her wrist com beeped. “In three minutes, the hour will be oh-six hundred.”
“Set alarm for six forty-five.”
“Alarm set.” The device chirped off.
“Trigrian, lie down,” she said. “You’re making me nervous sitting up like that, and I want to get a few more minutes of sleep.”
“I’ll go to the guest room.” He planted one foot on the floor to stand.
“Stay. Plenty of room. I told you I wouldn’t send you away.”
She had said that. He hadn’t believed her. All the same, he looked to the head of the bed, deemed the space beside Murk as too small for anyone except Jerry, and crawled slowly to the other side.
He waited for her to react to him being behind her. To shift a bit more toward Murk to make her space restrictions clear.
She didn’t move. “I hope your feet aren’t cold,” she said.
“I don’t know if they are. I’m sorry if they are.”
“There are few things worse than being in bed with a man with cold feet.”
He settled under the covers, making certain to give her naked ass a wide berth. He wouldn’t touch her at all, in fact. There was plenty of room on his side. He laced his fingers behind his head and closed his eyes.
“No, actually I take that back,” she mumbled. “I can think of a few worse scenarios. I think I know how to avoid most of those now, though. Ew.”
He opened his eyes. He wanted to hear about those scenarios. Wanted to know just what sort of trouble she’d courted back on Earth.
She didn’t volunteer, though.
And he didn’t ask.
He let his eyelids drift closed and tried to think of restful things. The way sunsets used to look from the ridge at his family’s farm. How long soaks in proper baths restored him. Lazy holidays spent lounging outdoors in the shade with good food and loving company.
He didn’t think even a little bit about how close Courtney was.
He didn’t think about how good she smelled—more so now with the scent of sex clinging to her.
He didn’t think about how easily he could have slipped into her ass while she was on top of Murk. He could have reminded her that he was there and worth paying attention to.
And he certainly didn’t think about how hard his dick was beneath those heavy covers.
He didn’t think about a damned thing.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Court opened her eyes to the sound of CG15’s gentle chirps. She silenced the alarm and stretched her arms and legs. Tried to, anyway. She was pinned.
Absolutely pinned.
Granted, her spot wasn’t a bad place to lie, but she did need to get up.
She checked in with her body and tried in her mind to detangle the sensations.
That’s Murk’s chest against mine. His hand on my ass. His legs beneath mine.
There was another hand—one pressed to her belly.
Knees against the back of hers.
A hard cock against her bottom.
Trigrian’s.
She wriggled against him, teasing the uptight Jekhan and smiling against Murk’s chest.
Trigrian probably didn’t even realize he was there.
She wriggled again.
He hissed and rolled onto his back. “Evil woman.” He said the words so low, she was certain he hadn’t meant for her to hear them.
“Evil and available,” she said. “And I do like anal sex, by the way.”
He shifted behind her. “What?”
“You asked if I’d ever been fucked in the ass. I have, to varying degrees of enjoyment. Never with a dick that size, though.”
“What?” he repeated.
“Did you forget you asked?”
“No, I didn’t forget. I’m just wondering why you brought the subject up.”
“Because I woke up with a hard cock poking me.”
“You…want to now?”
Was that a note of anticipation in his voice? His inflections were so damned unemotional; she had a hard time discerning his moods. Her grandfather had taught her as a kid, though, that given time, people would always show off their entire palette of emotions. They just needed the right stimulus, and Court was more than willing to test Trig with some.
“I draw the line at raw anal,” she said quietly. “I like a little pain, but not that kind. There’s no lube in this house. It’s not one of those things I thought to bring with me from Earth, and I haven’t stepped foot into a pharmacy here yet. I need to find one. Preferably not one in this zone. I really don’t want people in my business like that.”
For a few seconds he shifted behind her, making noises that weren’t quite words but that had probably started out as some.
Speechless. A mouthy man like him is speechless?
At some point, she was going to have to figure Trig out, because he was a mystery. In spite of the imagery his name evoked, Murk was much easier to understand.
“Wh-what do Terrans use for lubrication?” Trig stammered.
She rolled onto her back and looked up at him. Smiled at the mix of shock and anticipation in his bright gaze.
“Water- or silicone-based goop. What do Jekhans use?”
“Um, various oils. I’m not certain how easy they would be for you to acquire…if you want them.”
“Nearly impossible, I’m sure.” She ran her hands up Murk’s back, smiled at his answering shudder, and then sat up.
She was sore—in the best kind of way—sticky, and in need of a shower.
Trigrian reached across her body to grab her left arm. “Courtney, what is that?”
“What is what?”
He turned her wrist over and rotated her new bracelet so the wheel symbol sat on top. “Where did you get that?”
“A friend gave it to me. Got it while trading.”
“Something like that wouldn’t be traded so casually.”
She looked down at the cuff again, trying to see what he saw that she didn’t. The bracelet seemed plain enough to her, and not of a particularly precious metal, but perhaps all metal was precious on Jekh.
“This,” he said, tapping the wagon wheel icon, “is a sign of the Jehkan Alliance—an underground movement.”
Murk sat up, too. Scowling, he held out his hand.
She put her wrist into his palm and tried to make sense of his dour expression. She couldn’t fathom why a bracelet had them both on high alert.
He tried to remove it, but Court had tightened the screws.
“What is the alliance for?” she asked. “It’s an underground movement organized for what purpose?”
“I don’t know that,” Trigrian said. “Nothing is ever what it seems with them, though. I don’t think they mean you any harm, but I’m curious about why such an item would be handed to you.”
“Like I said, my friend gave me the bracelet.”
“Was the friend who gave it to you the same as the one who gave you the fruit?” Trigrian asked.
At the note of accusation in his tone, Court rolled her eyes and climbed over Murk to get off the bed. “No, the friend happened to be a woman.”
“A human woman?”
“Yes, a human woman. She’s a shuttle attendant. Hangs out in Zone Seven a lot on the rare occasion she’s in Buinet. People there seem to like her and trust her.”
“What’s her name?”
“Why?”
“Humor me.” He nudged down his covers and left the bed from the far side. “Murk and I were pretty well attuned to the happenings when we were still moving around from one hiding place to the next. We got news when we wanted to.”
“Her name is—” Court started at Murk’s cool hand on her naked ass and moved a couple of feet away from the bedside. “Behave yourself.”
He rolled his eyes just as good as Court, and Court glared at him. Unfortunately, he appeared entirely unaffected by her heated stare.
Maybe Trigrian’s right abo
ut that guy.
She raked her fingers through the knotted hair at her crown and let out a breath. “Amy. Her name is Amy.”
Trigrian stood in front of her, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “Amy what?”
“I have no idea. We’re not really on a last-name kind of relationship level.”
Court headed toward the bathroom, stopping halfway to look back at Murk. “You can stay in here today. No need to get up.”
He rolled his eyes again and fluffed his pillow—an obvious don’t worry, I wasn’t going to, anyway sort of gesture.
“I’m starting to learn your language,” she muttered. Continuing her trek, she said to Trigrian, “Certainly, she knows my last name but I didn’t have a reason to ask hers. I keep track of way too much minutiae already. I don’t need more.”
He followed her into the bathroom. “Is her full name noted in your communicator? When you add a contact, does the machine add all basic information?”
“Not without some effort, but why do you need to know the name so badly?” She wriggled out of her shirt and tapped on the hot water. Modesty was pointless. He’d already seen everything she had to offer and in lurid detail.
She stepped over the tub side, and without asking, Trigrian joined her a moment later.
Fortunately—or unfortunately, she wasn’t sure—he didn’t seem interested in anything below her neck. His furrowed brow and take-no-prisoners stare suggested that he was only interested in getting answers.
“People go by many names.” He reached past her for the soap and rubbed it into a lather. “Maybe I’ve heard of hers. Jekhan names are usually unique enough.”
“But she’s not Jekhan.” Court grabbed the shampoo concentrate. She hated the stuff. The concentrate was great for the environment because of its lightweight, biodegradable pouch, but the formulation wasn’t especially kind to her hair type. Her wiry curls tended to be dry, even when her scalp was oily. The shampoo made her hair even more brittle. There were products available for her hair type, but they weren’t often stocked except in huge specialty stores. She didn’t think Buinet had one.
Trigrian stared contemplatively at the ceiling as he rubbed down his arms and chest. “She doesn’t have to be Jekhan. Maybe she’s connected to one. Think about it. There’s a shortage of women here for both Terrans and Jekhans. If she’s caught the interest of a Jekhan male, as you apparently have, who knows what sort of network she’s tied into?”
“Are you referring to my fruit-giving baker?”
Trigrian didn’t respond, except to grind his teeth.
Yeah, I’m getting to him.
She ducked beneath the spray to rinse the suds from her hair, then—holding her hair back—leaned outside of the shower. She gave CG15 a double-tap, then straightened up.
Trigrian was working the soap over his navel and waist. And…lower.
He was flaccid at the moment, but she couldn’t help but to stare at what was between his legs. Like Murk, his endowment was impressive by human standards. She didn’t know if she’d happened upon a couple of special snowflakes, or if big cocks were typical for Tyneali hybrids. If the latter, she’d certainly have something interesting to share with Erin the next time they chatted.
“Go ahead with your inquiry,” CG15 said on a delay.
“Thing must be on the fritz already. Not sure where to go for repairs. You wouldn’t happen to know any...”
Trigrian standing in front of her with a faraway look to his eyes, lathering up his balls.
Suddenly, the state of her personal com device seemed unimportant.
His moves were efficient, and he seemed to have a lack of awareness—a complete deficit of self-consciousness—that made her wonder if he’d spent much time around women at all. Or maybe he was just more attracted to men than women.
She didn’t know why that chipped away at her ego, only that it did.
“Go ahead with your inquiry,” CG15 repeated.
Get it together, McGarry. She closed her eyes to shut off the delicious visual stimulus in front of her. “Please relay all stored information associated with the unique user ID attached to Amy.”
Trigrian gave her a turn and started lathering up her back with a gentle efficiency.
She wouldn’t let herself think anything of his behavior. He’d grown up on a farm. Maybe he found her no more interesting than the animals he’d tended.
“Amy Smith,” CG15 chirped. “Sector Two. Occupation—shuttle attendant. Age twenty-nine. End of information.”
Court chuckled.
“Why is that funny?” Trigrian skimmed the soap bar so gently over the top of her ass that she turned to take the little brick from him.
He wouldn’t let go. In fact, the asshole held it high over his head.
She sighed and didn’t bother scrambling to get it. He had at least thirty centimeters over her in height. She would have been wasting energy, and she didn’t have enough to spare.
“I offended you?” he asked, one brow high.
“No. You tickled me.”
“I can be less…” He furrowed his forehead. “Less gentle?”
“Only if you want to be. You don’t have to do this. I’ve been soaping myself up since I was three. I’m pretty sure I can manage.”
“I want to.”
“Okay.” She turned once again to the spray of shower and washed her face.
He started rubbing again, this time more firmly, actually managing to make bubbles.
“It’s funny,” she said, “because Smith is one of those names that has become so common in English-speaking Earth countries that it’s practically a stand-in for Doe.”
“Doe?”
“Yeah. When we say Jane Doe or John Doe, we’re referring to a person whose name we don’t know. Smith is basically one step up from that. It’s an anonymous kind of name.”
He knelt and lathered the tops of her thighs. When his fingertips skimmed over her sore sex, she tensed.
He drew his hand back. “I hurt you?”
“No, I’m just a bit tender there and you surprised me.”
“So delicate.” He moved down to the backs of her knees.
“I’m not, usually. I just haven’t been active in a while.”
He lifted each of her feet, cleaned the soles, and lathered between her toes.
Even she didn’t spend that much attention on her feet. Her shower attention tended to be sixty-five percent hair, five percent face, and thirty percent body.
“Turn, please.”
She did.
He started up her shins. “Do you believe her name is false?”
“The cynic in me says yes, but false doesn’t necessarily mean illegal. A couple of my brothers changed their last names just to make getting work easier.”
“Why would your name make getting a job difficult?” He nudged her legs farther apart and worked up the insides of her knees. Her thighs.
If he tickled her in that place, she might very well grab him by his man-bun and concuss him.
“Because my grandfather was a pretty prominent rabble-rouser and the reputation trickled down to the rest of us. His reputation was deserved in some regards, I admit, but unfair in a lot of ways.”
“Ah. Why didn’t you change yours?” He paused at the tops of her thighs, and rolled his gaze up to her. On his knees like that, he looked like some spoil of war she’d won and dragged into her personal service. She should have felt more generous and had him stand, but no. She liked him down there.
And that makes me an asshole.
She sighed.
“I didn’t change mine because I’m proud of my grandfather,” she said. “Having his name makes some things in my life more difficult, but those experiences have made me who I am. I don’t take anything for granted.”
“Nor do I.” He lifted her foot into the niche in the wall meant to store soap. His gaze remained on her eyes, but his fingers were at her sex. He skimmed the soap along her outer folds and then let the bar fall onto t
he tub floor.
With the water streaming over her shoulders and down her body, the suds didn’t last long. When they’d been washed away, he spread her with his thumbs and leaned in. He flicked his tongue down her slit before she could nudge him back.
The shudder that rolled through her compromised her already tenuous balance and made her grip the safety bar.
“Too sore?” he asked.
“Not for that. You don’t have to—”
The movement of a certain appendage in her lower periphery made her look down.
As if on cue, he let one of his hands fall to it. He gripped his very hard cock and squeezed from base to head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”
“I’m not exactly seeking apology. You’re just incredibly hard to read, Trigrian. You keep surprising me.”
“I don’t try to be difficult. I—”
She put a hand to the back of his head and pulled his face and the tongue within back toward her. “Your breath is tickling me. Do a little more than tickle, okay?”
He slid his hands up her thighs and turned his chin up, covering her mound with his lips and drawing a searing line from back to front.
And again.
Most men she’d been with seemed to have their own unique systems for a pleasuring a woman in that way—there was an orderliness about each action that made them seem prescribed. A this worked before, so I’ll do it again sort of thing. Trigrian, however, seemed hesitant. Curious. Long licks and looks. Gentle touches. Tentative sucks.
He has no idea what he’s doing. Perhaps unlike Murk, he’d been more reserved in allowing people to see him naked or do naked things with him.
Such an odd pair.
She guided his mouth over her clit and helped him find her cleft with his fingertips.
“I don’t mind a little nip, but an outright bite throws me out of the pleasure zone.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, drawing her between his lips and teeth and using the tip of his tongue to probe around her hood.