by H. E. Trent
She let her hands rest on the top of his head, on either side of his two dense knots, and closed her eyes.
Maybe he didn’t have experience, but his considerate gentleness more than made up for his deficiencies. Her muscles tensed and core tightened with thoughts of the promise he held—the things she could do to him and make him do.
He fluttered his tongue against the sensitive underside of her clit and slipped one finger, then two into her.
“Just like that,” she whispered, and already the budding frissons of electric pleasure radiated up to her heavy breasts and down to her curling toes. The residual sensitivity from her lovemaking with Murk added to the pleasure—a bit of sting that perfectly complemented Trigrian’s gentle strokes.
He increased the speed of his fingers as he pulled harder on her clit.
She gasped.
He pulled back, eyes wide with apparent fear. He couldn’t read her yet—didn’t know her noises and cues. He needed more words.
“I like it,” she said. “Don’t stop.”
Slowly, he got back into place and resumed his former ministrations.
Tipping her head back into the shower spray, she rubbed slow circles around her aching nipples. She clamped around his fingers when they went deep, urging him to continue on in that fashion. “Right there, Trigrian. That spot. Press your fingertips there and rub.”
“Here?” He probed that hypersensitive erogenous zone below her naval and her legs shook beneath her. He chuckled against her. “I guess so.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
He pressed it again, and she rolled her hips, grounding her sensitive flesh against the stubble on his chin. That bit of abrasion made her gasp and cry out.
“Oh fuck.”
He kept pressing. Kept sucking. Kept rolling that violet gaze up to her, watching her hands cup her breasts. Watching her tug her nipples into peaks.
His hard cock pressed against his belly, the pink head inviting a touch. A tease.
That next.
She wanted his cock inside her. Just like Murk’s had been, and just like Trigrian’s fingers were at that moment.
“God!”
Her body bloomed for him, opening and throbbing and robbing her of breath. Making her vision go spotty.
She clamped around him hard to stop his fingers as she screamed out his name.
His fingers departed, and he pulled his mouth away. “That’s okay?”
Her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer, and she didn’t try to force them.
Gripping the bar, she sank onto her knees and caught her breath. Eyes closed, she nodded. That was all she could do. Her words wouldn’t come out.
“I’ve never done that before.”
“I guessed you hadn’t, but you’re certainly a fast learner.” She pushed her wet hair back from her face, rubbed her eyes open, and reached back to shut off the water. “Do…your women not enjoy it? Is that why you haven’t done it before?”
He gripped the handrail and pushed one knee up to stand. “I don’t know if they do. I just wanted to.”
His cock pointed accusingly at her as he stood. She’d had her pleasure, but he hadn’t had his.
She pulled herself up and danced her fingertips across the head of his weeping cock. “I could help you with that.” She wanted to show him all the creative things some Terran women did with their tongues. “Do you want me to suck your cock?”
He spat out something low and fast in Jehkani and grabbed the railing. “I…” She heard his hard swallow and sensed his uncertainty.
She trailed her fingers down to pet the soft fuzz on his sac. “I don’t mind.”
“You’ll be late.”
“Good reason to be late, in my opinion.”
“You have to be responsible, or…they’ll come here.”
She let out a breath and pulled her hand away from his tight balls. “I don’t think me being fifteen minutes late is going to get me in much trouble, but you’re right that I need to mind my P’s and Q’s.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Earth saying that means I need to behave. Sometimes, though…” She pressed a hand to the shower wall at each side of his torso and leaned in to drag her tongue across his rosy nipples.
“Gods.”
She plucked one and smiled at the pre-ejaculate seeping down her belly. Oh, he likes women just fine. He was just impossible to predict. “Maybe later?”
“If Murk can’t.”
“What does Murk have to do with anything?”
At the closing of her fist around his cock head, he drew in a sharp breath and spoke some more of that rapid-fire Jekhani. Then he gently pried her hand off of him. “I’ll… No. I’ll take care of myself right now while you finish your preparations.”
“Are you sure?” He sure as shit didn’t sound sure. That raspy, needy voice hinted that he wanted to be fucked, but if he were wary, she’d back off. Explicit consent was important to her, especially since she was dealing with a man who likely felt that he had no control over his circumstances most of the time.
He nodded sharply and reached around her to tap the water valve.
“All right. Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll do that.” He gulped again, and then dragged his tongue across his lips as his fingers tightened around his cock.
She stepped out of the tub onto the heated floor and wrapped towels around her body and hair. With her electric toothbrush buzzing in her mouth, she leaned against the counter and watched Trigrian’s graceless tugs.
His lips pulled back into a grimace as he squeezed his fist faster and faster up and down his shaft. He could handle rough. Seemed to want a little pain.
She wanted to give it to him.
His eyes met hers as his mouth opened and some words came out she didn’t know, but she could guess the meanings.
His body shuddered violently, and she looked down in time to see the arc of his seed hit the tub bottom.
As if he’d just then realized she’d been watching, he grabbed the shower door and slid it closed. “I…should wash my hair.”
Through the frosted glass, she could see him loosening the two knots and the dark mass falling over his shoulders.
He’d show me everything else, but not that?
Her body expelled an involuntary scoff.
Need to stop trying to understand him.
She already had too much to try to make sense of with the two men, and Trigrian’s hang-up about his hair had to go to the bottom of her worry list.
The more pressing thing at the moment was figuring out what the hell she was doing with them, because it sure as hell didn’t feel casual.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“McGarry!”
Court adjusted her uniform’s plain black baseball cap as she turned toward the sound of Brenna’s voice.
The department’s admin leaned out of the bullpen’s door into the hallway and canted her head toward the inside. “Got a minute?”
Court shrugged. “Sure. I’m supposed to meet with Festus in fifteen, but I can give you one.”
“What I want to talk to you about is kind of pertinent to what he probably wants to meet with you about. I figured you’d want a heads-up.”
“I’d certainly never say no to that.” Court followed her through the mostly-empty maze of cubicles to the back of the room. The leering gaggle of detectives was away from their desks at the moment, so Brenna and Court wouldn’t be overheard.
Court knelt next to Brenna’s rolling chair. “What’s up?”
Brenna brought up a viewscreen on her cubicle wall and keyed some commands into her input tablet. “I had a bad feeling, and living here in this swamp of testosterone, I never ignore those.”
“Smart.”
“Paranoid, maybe.”
“Sounds like you’d be a perfect initiate into Club McGarry.”
Brenna took off her glasses and cleaned the lenses on the hem of her shirt. “I’ll t
ake that as a compliment. Listen, I’ve been watching your personnel file for changes just like I watch mine. I take a peek a couple of times per day. There’s only a few people authorized to update them, and those updates are supposed to be very infrequent once you’ve gotten through all the initial human resources stuff. Something’s wrong.”
The hairs at the back of Court’s neck prickled, and she knew the response had more to do with the McGarry cynicism activating than the fact her hair was a little wet and her neck damp beneath the cold air vent.
“What are you seeing that unsettles you?” she asked.
“Some of the tests you’re being flagged to repeat don’t make sense for this job. I think you’re being given the runaround treatment. They’re trying to tie you up to keep you from doing any actual work. But, more than that, there’s a delete log. Someone’s been removing bits and pieces of your data, but not being discreet enough.”
“What? Wait a minute.” Court gave her head a shake and put up a hand. That was too much conspiracy theory being thrown at her all at once. “Start with the first thing. Tie me up to what end? Certainly not just because they expect me to be knocked up and unfit for duty as soon as my match arrives on the planet.”
“I don’t know, but I have my suspicions.”
“Do share.”
Brenna made a waffling hand gesture. “You’re a McGarry. That means something to some people.”
“That I can’t do this job, you mean? Because I’m dirty?” Court should have been used to being looked on with suspicion, but she wasn’t. The insinuations still hurt.
Brenna nodded. “I know you’re a good cop. I saw your record from Boston, and it was as spotless or more spotless than any other recruit brought here. Your commanding officers all said they hated that you had to go because you made citizens comfortable. Folks don’t usually trust cops.”
“Can you blame them?”
Brenna sighed. “No.” At the sound of the automated door sliding open, she hit a few buttons on her keyboard and brought up a log that listed the door’s badge scans. Apparently, Lieutenant Salehi had just entered the room.
“Listen,” Brenna said in a whisper, “with a little time, I can track who input the test orders if you want.”
“I’m curious, but don’t do anything that’ll get you in trouble.”
Brenda nudged her glasses on and killed the badge log. “Don’t worry about that. I happen to be the sister of the guy who coded this system. He’ll tell me the hacks and won’t ask why I need them.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. We girls have to stick together, right?”
Court managed to smile. “Yeah, we do. So, I imagine Festus is going to feed me some line about corrupted test results and will question my fitness for duty.”
“Probably. But hey, as long as you’re getting paid, right?”
“I didn’t come all the way to Jekh to be a lab rat. I’d like to get outside every now and then.”
“There are lots of beautiful parks on the outskirts of Buinet.”
“I saw them as the shuttle flew over, but I want to see what’s beyond that. I want to see what wild Jekh looks like.”
Wild Jekh had made the farm boy Trigrian, so naturally, she was curious. And thinking of the sad, violet-eyed man reminded her of something he’d said—something she’d vowed to look into.
She stood to check Salehi’s position. He was at his desk with his back turned and headphones on.
Court sank onto her heels and whispered, “This isn’t related to anything I’ve said, but I hear there’s a way to claim some land if you wanted some.”
Brenna’s look of unvarnished skepticism nearly made Court regret having asked. She folded her fingers atop her desk’s narrow ledge and raised her chin. “What kind of racket are you pulling? Why would you be interested in land?”
“I’m not interested in taking up farming, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m just wondering if staking a claim would be worth the hassle. Maybe I could turn a profit later when this place gets a little more crowded.” Court had never been that kind of opportunist, but she liked to think she was channeling her grandfather. The lie sounded exactly like something the elder Owen McGarry would make up on the fly. And that reminded her that the youngest Owen owed her some information. She needed to try to connect with him before she made any further moves.
“My father does that,” Brenna said. “He snapped up a lot of the parcels between here and Dashen, which is where a lot of the industrial activity will be centered.”
Court made a waffling hand gesture. “I’m thinking something a little farther out. Unmolested.”
“Like vacation property?”
“Sure.” Court gave a slow nod. “That sounds great, assuming there’s anything suitable available.”
She had no idea where Trigrian’s family farm was situated and whether or not Terrans would consider the land prime real estate. She hoped, for his sake, that the property was undesirable and difficult to access.
“There may be some property still available near the north coast,” Brenna said. “You’ve got to get over a mountain range to get to that region, which isn’t convenient with there being no craft landing facility there. And I know the farther east you go, the less civilization there is until you reach the Sisten Desert. There’s good land on the other side, but good luck reaching it. There have been reports that militant Jekhan rebels reside along that arid strip and they’ll fight anyone who gets too close.”
“Hmm.” Sounded a lot like a boogeyman story to Court—a fable devised by the people who had much to gain from most people staying away. But, usually, there was some truth to every fable. She just needed to figure out if she was willing to learn the facts firsthand.
“Even if you found a little land you liked,” Brenna said, “I think you’d lose your claim unless you were there fulltime. The rule, at least right now, for those unincorporated areas is that you can take any parcel, but you have to erect a barrier, post a claim of ownership at each corner of the property, and be prepared to fight if anyone questions your right to be there.”
“Maybe my McGarry skepticism is flaring up again, but it sounds to me like the folks in charge would have all the folks out in the exurbs making land improvements. Farmers would fight and kill each other trying to get bigger shares of the pot. When there are only a few owners left, the government agencies can swoop in and claim land with some of that imminent domain bullshit.”
“And that’s why if you want land, get some far, far from the city, and know that even the simplest errands will take you a day if you don’t have a good flyer. No one has a good flyer. We have no idea how to make the Jekhan ones work, and that’s after ten years of reverse engineering attempts.”
“Something to think about, I guess. Thanks for telling me.” Court glanced at the wall-mounted digital clock and groaned. “I’d better go see Festus. Wouldn’t want to keep the man waiting. He’s very important, you know.” Court huffed sardonically.
Brenna’s eye twitched. “Right. He’s the most important pain in my ass. I hate this place.”
“So, why don’t you leave?”
Brenna stared at her for a moment and nudged her glasses up her nose. “Probably for the same reason you don’t.”
I doubt that.
As far as Court could tell, Brenna didn’t have anything to prove. Court always had.
___
Murk was sitting at the kitchen table, carefully drying all the pots and pans Trig had cleaned, when the front door opened.
Immediately, Trig sprung to high alert and was there at Murk’s side, helping him up.
Jerry skittered past them, barking happily and turning himself in what had to be dizzying circles.
Courtney.
Jerry would know.
“Hey, meatball,” she called.
Trig let out a relieved exhalation and gave his knotted hair a yank before returning to the sink. “We need a system,” he mutte
red.
Courtney walked into the kitchen carrying a full canvas tote in one hand and a box under the other arm. As Jerry danced around her legs, she looked from one man to the other. “Well, well. Look who’s in my kitchen.”
“Murk wanted to help a little,” Trig explained. “He felt up to doing some work. We kept all the lights off in the front so the house would look like no one was home.”
“And it did.” Courtney set the box on the table and carried the bag to the counter.
“It’s late. I already fed Murk.” Trig’s tone straddled the line between hurt and accusatory. He’d never been good at hiding those emotions, and—for that matter—knowing when he should have been feeling them. Murk had perhaps kept his boy too sheltered during their early years together. He hadn’t wanted anyone else to try to entice Trig, fearing that the younger man would find that being Murk’s lover wasn’t the honor it was made out to be.
Courtney’s grin faltered. She shifted her weight and tugged her collar away from her neck. “It is late, I guess. Later than I’d hoped to be home.”
“Where were you?” Trig snapped.
Murk tossed the wadded dishtowel at Trig’s head before Courtney could shape the words.
Murk wanted to know the answer, but Trig needed to learn to use a bit more diplomacy when engaging with Courtney. She wasn’t a Jekhan woman. Their women expected those sorts of emotional outbursts from them and mostly ignored them.
“Fine.” Trig tossed the towel back to Murk and, rolling his eyes, returned to the sink.
Courtney looked at both men again and then, gnawing on her lip, made her way to the stove where she lifted the lid on the bubbling pot.
“Smells good. What is it?”
“Stew,” Trig said. “Made with odds and ends I found in your chiller.”
Trig made the best stews. He’d learned to cook from his mother who’d had a knack for making a little bit of meat last for days.
“Mind if I have some? I’m starved. I’ve been running around for three hours.”
“Not at all. I’ll serve you some. There’s a method for eating this particular stew.” He dried his hands on his tunic and grabbed a bowl from the drying rack.