by Dixon, Ruby
"Then let us marry," he murmurs against my fingers.
11
LUCY
I'm in a daze as the registrar finishes the rest of the bastardized ceremony. Rektar holds my hands and we sign off on official paperwork, where he adds my name to his assets and designates me as his spouse in every record possible. I know from my experience that most mesakkah are very loose with mating unless someone's at the head of an important house and has to produce an heir, so this is a high compliment. Rektar could have just declared himself as my mate and that would have been it. Instead, he's ensuring that everyone knows he's mine and I'm his.
It feels like a dream.
It feels even more like a dream when we return to the custodial office so he can speak with Khex. There, I learn that the guy that was showing up on my property? He's already in custody and about to be shipped off to a prison planet. There was no need for Rektar to marry me. He just…wanted to. Maybe I should be upset that he didn't tell me that my stalker was taken care of before we got married, but all I can think about is that he wanted to be with me enough that he went ahead with things even when he didn't have to.
And when Khex mentions that Rektar basically told Khex that he couldn't have me? I'm practically beside myself with pleasure.
Rektar swaps schedules with Khex, and now he's going to be off of work for two days to celebrate our marriage. Khex waves goodbye with a smirk on his face as we get back into my air-sled and drive to my farm. I glance over at my new husband as I drive, and he's staring at me with such a hungry, avid gaze that I nearly lose control of the sled.
He's quiet as we make it back to my place, and I park the sled in front of the house. It looks just as I left it a few hours ago and yet…everything feels different. I head inside, and…then I'm at a loss of what to do with myself. A quick glance out the window shows that it's still early, the bots moving through the field, watering and weeding. There's plenty of day left, and it feels strange to throw myself into chores or clean house.
It's my damn wedding day and I don't know what to do with myself.
I turn and look at Rektar. He's just inside, standing near the door and looking equally as flummoxed as me. I glance around, and when I look at my kitchen, I get an idea. "I'm going to bake a wedding cake for us," I tell Rektar. "Why don't you sit down and make yourself comfortable?"
He heads for the table and seats himself at one of my tiny chairs. "Humans have a cake on their wedding day?"
"Oh yeah." I smile at the thought. "Most of the time they're big, white frosted cakes with lots of layers. I don't think I can do that, but I can put together a little something for us."
"What other human traditions are there for a marriage?"
I dig under the counter and pull out my single round pan that will serve as my cake pan. "Oh, well, there's carrying the bride over the threshold of the house. Jumping a broom. A bouquet—" I let out a squeak of terror as I'm hauled into the air. "Rektar?"
"You should have mentioned the threshold tradition earlier. I would like to honor your views." With his arms locked around my waist, Rektar carries me back out to the front of the house and down the step and then sets me down. "Do I carry you any particular way?"
I pause. I know I'm heavier than a lot of women, but he didn't seem to have trouble carrying me, and I might as well go for the fairy tale. "It's actually called a bridal carry," I say, a little breathless with excitement. "You put one arm behind my knees and the other behind my back and carry me in like that."
He nods and in the next moment, I'm swept off my feet and into his arms. He straightens, looking over at me. "Like so?"
I put my arms around his neck. "Exactly like so." And I beam at him, because this has always been a fantasy of mine. Every girl dreams of being carried over her threshold, even us curvy girls.
Rektar carries me up the step and back into the house. Our gazes meet again, and he gives me another hungry, possessive look. "What next?"
"I'm afraid that's all there is to it." Though now that I've gotten to experience it, I wish there was a hell of a lot more. And when he sets me down gently on the floor again, as if I'm made of fragile glass, I curse myself for not making something up on the fly. That he has to carry me right to bed and make love to me in that moment.
Damn it.
"There is a kiss," I blurt out as he straightens. "We didn't get to do that in town, but it's traditional for the bride and groom to kiss."
Instead of pulling me into his arms and kissing me passionately, my new husband pulls out his data pad. "That is among the list of things I need to ask you about."
"You have a list?" I'd seen him typing while I drove the air-sled back, but I thought he was emailing Khex or something.
"I do." He hesitates, his gaze searching mine. "I thought it would be appropriate to establish the rules of our relationship—that way there is no miscommunication."
"That makes sense." Even if it is a tad disappointing that he's not being swept away by passion right in this moment. Given our circumstances, though, and how many times I've ground my teeth at how impossible he is to read, talking things over before we begin is probably the smartest way to go about things. "You ask your questions, and I'll get started on the cake."
Rektar sits at the small table in the corner of my kitchen as I get to work on the batter. He considers his data pad, typing, and says, "Can you please define for me what a kiss is? I want to be certain I do not misunderstand."
Define a kiss? Lord. I think for a moment, stirring eggs into the flour-like substitute. "It's mouth on mouth. Tongues, too. For pleasure and affection."
I glance over at him and he's making notes, a studious expression on his face. "Is plas-film involved?"
"I hope not." I can't imagine what that would taste or feel like. "Did…you want it to be involved?"
He looks up at me, and his gaze flicks to my mouth. "No." Rektar's voice is hoarse. "No, I don't think so."
"Then we're on the same page." I smile at him and turn back to the batter.
"Do you want plas-film at any point?" Rektar continues. "Mating will involve a great many fluids and not all are comfortable with such things."
Mating…fluids? I glance over at him, because that's the most ridiculous statement I've heard yet. His face is deep blue with embarrassment and he's rubbing his ear. "If you'll recall, I don't have a problem with fluids. Yours or mine."
He makes a sound in his throat and marks something off on his pad. "Will you find it intimidating if I put my cock inside you?"
I blink. At my silence, Rektar looks up, and his expression is so very serious that I giggle. "You know I've had sex before, right? I know how it works."
Rektar stares down at his data pad, and my amusement dies. He doesn't find this funny. He's deadly serious.
For a moment, I worry I should apologize. Will that make him feel better, or worse? I consider, then set down the cake batter and move to his side. I pull the pad from his hand and when he turns toward me, I sit down on his thigh. He's indicated that I'm not too heavy for him, and it gives me another little thrill when he puts his arms around my waist, holding me close. "Rektar," I say gently. "I know you want to get this all figured out ahead of time, but sex is an instinctive sort of thing. You don't have to stress about it, all right? I'll tell you if something happens that I don't like."
His gaze is on my breasts, and then he looks up at me, as if remembering that I prefer eye contact. "My experience—"
"—doesn't matter," I say quickly. I've guessed already that he's not exactly a Lothario. I don't care. It's his goodness and decency that draws me to him, not how well he wields his penis. I mean, that will eventually be important, but we all start somewhere. Knowing what I know about him now, I understand his lack of experience. "Why don't we take things as we go and see how we do?" I brush my fingers over his cheek, just wanting to touch him. Caress him. "Does that sound okay to you?"
Rektar closes his eyes and leans into my touch, his arms tighte
ning around my waist. "No one has ever touched me as much as you, Lucy."
Well, now my heart's breaking, because I haven't touched him very much at all. My poor, sweet alien. "We're married now," I point out. "It's human tradition for wives to be positively grabby to their spouses." I move a little closer, practically shoving my tits under his nose, just because I want him to feel my attraction to him.
"And no plas-film," he murmurs, his hand sliding up and down my back in a tentative stroke. "You are certain this is what you want?"
"I might get mad if you pull out the plas-film," I tell him, leaning in. He's so big and brawny that it takes my breath away. Some might say that he's stout—it's clear that he loves a good meal—but I just find that aspect of him equally appealing. He's as strong as he is wide, and I don't mind that in the slightest. It means that he'll joyfully eat when I cook, and I love to cook. I find his sheer size utterly sexy, and I want to run my hands all over him.
He gazes up at me thoughtfully. "I know we are married now, but I wish to be respectful of your past. I know you were a slave, and slaves are not treated well. If you wish to take things slowly, I am prepared to wait however long it takes."
This man is killing me with his sweetness. I lean in and nibble on his ear. "I don't need to wait."
Rektar's breath catches, his hands flexing on my waist. "When…how do you wish to approach this?" He groans when my teeth graze his earlobe. "Shall we…wait for dark?"
I lick the shell of his ear, loving how he shivers ever so slightly under me. "What happens after dark?"
"Nothing. I just…perhaps we should wait—"
I sit up, looking him in the eye. "Wait for what?"
His cheeks are stained with darker blue. "I am…that is I mean…I don't want you to feel that I'm rushing you." His gaze searches mine. "I want to honor your traditions without pawing at you because you are now my mate. I can wait a few hours."
This man is obsessed with waiting. I do like that he mentions pawing, though. I hike up my skirts, bunching them up to my thighs and wiggling a little as I sit on his leg. My panties are a sad scrap of hand-sewn material, and for once, I wish I'd gone full-alien and not worn them. I take his big hand in mine (god, SO big) and guide it to the waist of my panties. I push them down at the same time that I nudge his fingers inside them, and move his hand to my pussy, where I'm wet and hot and aching. "Does this tell you anything?"
Rektar groans, his eyes closing. His throat works, his Adam's apple bobbing.
Still shy. I don't mind that, because I like being forward with him. I lean in and skim my lips over his. "It tells you," I whisper, "that I am perfectly okay with being pawed by my husband."
He groans again, the sound ragged, and then his fingers slide over my folds. His eyes open as I suck in a breath, and as we stare at each other, he strokes his fingers through my slick heat. "Where is your bed?"
I wiggle against his hand, and I'm rewarded with a thick finger brushing against my clit. "In the bedroom, of course."
Rektar's hand leaves my panties, and I want to cry out from loss. Before I can, though, he's on his feet, me carried in his arms, and he heads for my room so quickly that it makes my head spin. A split second later, I'm on the bed, on my back, and he pushes my skirts up again. His hands go to my panties, ripping at the fabric, and then he pauses. "Can I touch you how I want?"
I nod, frantic.
With a sexy growl in his throat, he finishes tearing my panties off and flings the fabric aside. His eyes feast hungrily on my bare lower half, and then he kneels on the floor at the edge of the bed, his hands on my hips as he hauls me forward. I've never had anyone look at me with such utter focus, and just his expression is getting me aroused. He puts a big hand on the inside of my thigh, caressing my skin, before pushing my legs apart.
"Gonna taste you," he mutters, leaning in. "Can't wait any longer."
I practically wriggle with anticipation at hearing that. "You don't have to wait," I pant. "I want you to touch me." I brush my fingers against his short hair and give him the smallest of nudges to let him know that I am A-OK with him tasting me.
I expect the first brush of his tongue to be hesitant. Uncertain. I'm totally wrong in that. He uses his thumbs to pull my folds apart, regards me with that hungry look, and then gives me the licking of my life.
A shocked—and aroused—sound escapes me. His tongue is covered in ridges, and when he licks me that hard, I feel each one drag along my skin. My fingers tighten in his hair as he makes a sound of pleasure and goes in for another thorough lick. "Kef me, you taste good."
"You like the way I taste?" I card my fingers through his hair, tightening when he gives me another devastating lick.
"Perfect," he murmurs, lapping at my folds. "You're so perfect. Your cunt's so soft against my tongue, too. And wet. How are you so wet?" He sounds awed.
"Because you turn me on," I tell him, panting. "Because the thought of you touching me makes me go crazy with need."
Rektar makes a low sound of pleasure and licks me again, this time exquisitely slow. He takes his time, the tip of his tongue caressing my clit as he finishes. "What's this little thing here?"
"Clit," I pant. "It's very…sensitive."
He deliberately drags his tongue around it, watching my reaction. The sight of him gazing up at me from between my thighs as he licks me is almost as erotic as the feel of his tongue against my clit. Almost. The two together, though, makes me absolutely crazy. I whimper, my hand tight in his hair as I lift my hips and grind against his mouth.
"Your smell," he growls.
I freeze. Oh god. I forgot. He won't like my smell. The urge to clamp my thighs shut is overwhelming. "I-I can get perfume. Give me just a moment—"
Rektar growls at me. Growls. He locks one arm around my hips, pinning me into place with my pussy right under his nose. "No perfume. I can't stand the smell of that shit. Your natural scent is perfect."
"What?" I stare down at him in surprise.
He rubs his face against my thigh, his mouth wet from his ministrations. "I'd wear your scent on my face all day every day if I could, but I'd be so keffing hard I wouldn't be able to get anything done." He closes his eyes, a blissful expression on his face as he moves back toward my pussy and takes a deep, lingering breath. "Just hide out in the back room and jerk off for hours."
"Like you did in my barn?" I whisper, scandalized and amused both.
"Just like."
I hesitate, caressing his cheek. I want to believe him, but I need to confirm it. "My old master was a mesakkah. A very old one. He said that humans smelled terrible and he wanted me to wear perfume all the time to spare his nose."
"Then he is a keffing fool." Rektar buries his face between my thighs again, giving me another thorough lick. "I can't get enough of your scent."
Pleased, I rock my hips against his mouth. "Then I won't wear perfume ever again."
"Good." He laps at me, his tongue's ridges sliding over my sensitive flesh. "Now you tell me—what feels good? Tell me what you like and I'll do it."
I rock against his mouth again, distracted. For some reason, I hesitate at telling him exactly where to touch me. Maybe I'm still focused on the awkward conversation about scents and I'm feeling a little shy. I don't want him to think I'm being pushy or overly demanding, not when he's already doing an awesome job. His tongue is absolutely wrecking me with every slow, deliberate stroke. "You…you're doing fine."
Rektar chuckles, and then nuzzles at my pussy in a way that nearly makes my eyes roll back in my head. "Now you are shy? Just because my head is between your thighs?" He licks me again, grazing at the entrance to my core with his tongue. "The boldest female I know?"
I whimper again. "You like it when I'm bold?"
He lifts his head to gaze up at me with hot, dark eyes. My thigh quivers in his grip and his gaze moves to it, pinned between his shoulder and his ear. He studies my thigh for a moment, then looks up at me again and gently runs the tips of his fangs over my
skin in a bite that gives me goosebumps and makes my core clench around nothing in particular. "I love your boldness," he tells me. "I want you to tell me what you like so I can know how to please you. I love how fierce you are and how you know what you want. How can I not want boldness from the female that marched up to me, grabbed my cock and tasted my seed?"
The man has a point. Why would I stop being bold now when it's getting me exactly what I want? I arch on the bed, my breasts aching as he gives me another delicious lick. I want him to play with them, too, but at the same time, I don't want to distract him away from the reverent licks he's giving my pussy, because those are incredible. "My clit," I whisper, sliding a hand down to show him how I like the hood to be teased, not the sensitive surface itself. I draw little circles around the bead of flesh as he watches with hungry fascination. "You can lick it or suck on it, but a slow and steady rhythm is best so I can come. And I like it when you put your fingers inside me. Fuck me with them while you work my clit."
He lifts his gaze to me, pleased. "You make my mouth water with need."
My pussy clenches on nothing, and I feel so hollow. God, he's making me so wet. I need him to fill me up, need him to fuck the hell out of me. It's been so long since I've had really good, earth-shattering sex and I'm craving it something fierce. It's not just that I want that earth-shattering sex, either. It's that I want it with him. I want us to come together, to become one. I want to blow his mind and have him blow mine in return.
I want him to make all the aching loneliness I've felt disappear. I don't want just a bed partner. I want a partner, period.
"Rektar," I whisper, caressing his face. "I will love every touch you give me. I promise this." I pause, and then add, "But if you want me bold, then hurry up and put your tongue to work, because I'm needy as hell."
My mate chuckles, pleased, and gives me another slow, sensuous lick. For a moment I think he wasn't paying attention to my directions, but then his mouth moves over my clit and he sucks on it, clasping his lips around it. The pleasure's so damn intense I nearly come off the bed. I grab his horns with both of my hands, whimpering and rocking against his mouth as he lavishes my pussy with fervent attention. His hand moves to my core and then he's pushing a finger inside me as he sucks on my clit, and I cry out again, because just that single digit feels so thick and mind-blowing that I'm about to lose control.