by Cara Bristol
I kissed her and cupped her breasts then pulled off the tiny scrap of fabric covering her womanhood. Now that was a pretense. I couldn’t imagine what purpose the panty served—although I did find it erotic for some inexplicable reason. I dragged her to the edge of the desk, dropped to my knees, eager to bring her the same rapture she’d brought to me.
I began with light, teasing touches then increased pressure and speed, using my mouth and hands to elicit gasps of pleasure. Her channel grew wetter, her grip tighter around my thrusting fingers. Tension and moans increased when I drew circles around the tiny pearl at the top of her sex.
“Oh god, don’t stop, don’t stop. Yeah, there. There! Kord! Oh my god. KORD!” She flung her head back, her mouth open, eyes squeezed shut. Her magnificent breasts thrust upward, flushed rosy, the nipples beaded.
As soon as the flutters around my fingers subsided, I sprang upright and pressed my erection to her entrance. With a rocking motion, I pushed inside. I groaned as her slick walls closed around me, residual flutters caressing my manhood. She anchored her heels against my buttocks, and we moved in a tandem push-pull, advance-retreat dance of love and life.
My mate, mine. She might not realize it, but I claimed her with every stroke.
Our thrusts grew harder, faster, and then we were both flying over the edge, sailing on the winds of bliss.
Muscles in my neck corded, my horns contracted, and my essence once again spilled forth.
My mate. Mine.
Reluctant to separate, I held her tight and turned so that my ass rested against her desk. I reclined and settled her on top of me so she wouldn’t have to lie on the hard surface. Though her desk was large, my legs dangled over the side. With a sigh, she relaxed, burying her nose against my throat. I stroked her spine.
She giggled. “We’d better take extra care to wipe down the desk tonight. This morning, I was reviewing the accounts payable with Holly and noticed an ass print on the desk.”
“Half or whole?”
“Half.”
“Yours or mine?”
“It was cute, so it had to be yours,” she said.
“Then I’m sure it was yours. You have a wicked ass.” I squeezed her butt cheek. On Dakon, physical labor kept us lean and trim; Earthers went to gyms to “work out” to attain the same results. Barb went four days a week. “I love watching you walk, the way you jiggle,” I teased.
She took the bait. “Jiggle? Jiggle?” She lifted her head. Fire flashed in her eyes. “You could bounce a quarter off my ass.”
I laughed and hugged her. “I would like to try.”
She settled on my chest again. “Anyway, we need to be sure to do an extra wipe down.”
I hesitated. “So people won’t know about us?” Secrecy left a bad taste in my mouth. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that Barb and I were dating. I wanted to ask her to be my mate so it would be official. I disliked hiding our affections, acting as though we were nothing more than boss and employee. Denying our relationship seemed wrong, disloyal—although sometimes I got the impression the clandestine arrangement heightened her enjoyment of our couplings.
We’d enjoyed relations all over the restaurant—in the kitchen, in the hall leading to the restrooms, in a couple of the booths on the restaurant floor. We always stayed in the restaurant. Only once had we left the premises for a date—going on a “drive” and ending up parked on a rise overlooking the city lights.
“I was referring to keeping things sanitary—but that, too,” she said.
I took a breath. “The staff has guessed.”
Her head popped up again. “What?”
“I kind of slipped and admitted it to Holly,” I confessed, “and then she said the employees were already aware of us.”
“Were they pissed off?”
“Mad?” I shook my head.
“It looks bad if I have one rule for the staff and another for myself.”
“I didn’t get that impression.”
“Well, good. Maybe I’d better rescind the no-fraternization rule to make us legal. It would be nice to act like a normal boyfriend and girlfriend. It gets tiring to watch everything I say and do.”
Did that mean…“You want to be open about us?”
She swallowed and nodded. “Yes.” She fluttered her hand. “We can’t blatantly boink on my desk during the day, but I hate pretending you don’t exist.”
“I worried something about me made you reluctant to acknowledge we’re together.”
“Never! You’re the guy every woman dreams of getting.” She grinned. “Customers will churn with jealousy when they find out you’ve been taken.” Her expression turned serious. “You’re a good guy. You’re so patient. Honest. Loyal. I can tell you’re true blue. Why you like me, I’ll never know, but you make me feel like this could work.”
It was the most positive she’d ever been, and my heart soared, but the implication she didn’t believe she was good enough bothered me. “Why wouldn’t I want you? You’re my mate, and you’re beautiful inside and out.”
She rolled off me and sat up. “You’re the real deal, Kord. You’re genuine. I’m gen-u-wine imitation.” She overemphasized her drawl then waved her hands over her bosom. “My boobs are fake. My hair isn’t naturally blonde or this long.” She flicked at the ends. “I have extensions. It’s not real.”
I tugged on a strand. “It’s attached to your head, isn’t it? What is your concern with what is real?”
“I’m not who people think I am.”
“You’re not Barb Quintain, owner of Barbie Q’s?”
“No, I am that. I just…have walls. I don’t let people get close. I put up a front, complete with costume. It’s like I’m playing a character in my own life. I’m afraid of letting people get to know me. The real me.”
She didn’t realize it, but her shields were as transparent as the yearning in her eyes. I saw the real her and so did everyone else who cared about her. She was a complex contradiction. Scared but courageous. Sassy and sweet. Generous and disciplined. Hardheaded but softhearted. Seemingly extroverted but, in reality, introverted.
“I’ve let you get closer than anyone I’ve ever met.” She looked scared, ready to bolt in an instant, like the cat she fed. “If you see the real me, you might not like me anymore. I’m afraid you’ll see what a total mess I am and leave.”
I cupped the side of her face. She flinched at the contact, but I stroked her cheek, and she released a little sigh and turned her face into my palm. Just like the cat. It had shied away from me, too, but now wound itself around my ankles when I went into the alley to visit it. Had Barb recognized a kindred spirit in the feline?
“I like messes,” I said.
“Nobody likes messes,” she replied.
“I like making messes with you.” I glanced at the smears on the desk.
She snorted. “You know what I mean.”
“Perhaps I have walls up, too,” I said. “Because if you could see inside me, you would realize what I am and how I feel.”
“I do see. Your behavior, how you treat people speaks for itself.”
Just as the way her behavior revealed her caring and concern for others.
Our eyes met. I saw the longing in her gaze. Could she see the love in mine? She was all female, and all mine, but demanding a commitment, formally asking her to be my mate would frighten her. I had to proceed cautiously, show her how much we were meant for each other. Once I’d convinced her then I could seal the deal. My horns tingled as I envisioned that day.
“You are more than I ever thought I could have.” She took a deep breath, and I held mine as a smile trembled on her lips. “This thing between us? I want to make it work. It’s good.”
Obah! Her admission meant the world to me. “I wish to make it work also,” I said, omitting the full extent of my love because she wasn’t ready for it yet. I had to allow her to initiate the first steps. However, the relationship already “worked” for me. It had worked the moment I sa
w her.
“Um, maybe you’d like to come home with me tonight? Spend the night at my place?” She shrugged. “Do it in a regular bed.”
She’d never asked me to her hut before. This represented a huge forward leap. My body responded to the possibilities, my horns and manhood swelling, but her offer meant so much more than another physical encounter. Keeping my voice light and level, I said, “You don’t snore, do you?”
Chapter Eight
Barb
I didn’t snore—but Kord did.
Dead to the world, he sprawled on his back, hogging three-quarters of my queen-sized bed. With his handsome, masculine face relaxed, he appeared almost boyish. His tall, muscular body dwarfed my bed; his legs from the knees down hung over the edge. Scrunched up in the leftover space, I rested against the headboard and watched him sleep by the light of my phone.
Unbelievable. I had a man in my bed, and I wasn’t freaking out or anything. I’d slept with men before, but I hadn’t allowed any to sleep over. Never even invited them back to my place. Kord was the first.
Sex was easy. The anxiety-producing intimacy came the morning after when you awakened with bedhead, morning breath, and a guest. To be polite, you offered him a cup of coffee, and the next thing you knew he’d be bringing over a toothbrush to keep at your place. I couldn’t handle that kind of commitment.
Kord made me think maybe I could handle it. Because of him, I wanted to try. It felt nice having him here. More than nice. Cozy. Domestic. Normal. Scary. People might consider normal boring—unless they’d never experienced it, as I hadn’t during my chaotic, dysfunctional upbringing. It would be ridiculous to credit my alcoholic parents with raising me. At best, they neglected me, so I’d pretty much reared myself, and it was challenging to raise a ten-year-old when you were a ten-year-old.
Kord murmured in his sleep, and I smiled. The sexual calisthenics had wiped him out. After leaving the restaurant, we’d come to my apartment and made lov—had sex two more times. Poor guy. It was too much for him; he’d conked out after the last session.
His quiet snore sounded more cute than annoying, the tiny flaw making him seem more vulnerable, less…threatening, somehow, not that he’d ever overtly or indirectly threatened me. Kord wouldn’t do that. Any trepidation originated from inside me. It didn’t take much to activate my insecurities.
He murmured something unintelligible in his own language, and, as I watched, his horns began to twitch. His eyelids flickered, and I realized he was dreaming. A sex dream, judging from the changes in his horns. He’d explained arousal only triggered his horns to throb when he was in the presence of his Fated mate.
Did that mean he was dreaming of me?
Equal parts panic and pleasure fluttered in my stomach. I sucked at relationships, at commitment, at intimacy. I’d never managed a good short-term relationship—how could I handle a forever thing? Just the prospect caused my heart to jump into my throat, but fear didn’t eliminate the yearning for it.
I had a lot in common with Boots. She craved affection but didn’t trust it when she got it.
Except, she was coming around, acted far less skittish than she used to, no longer ran when I got close. With Kord, she was outright affectionate, following him around, winding around his ankles, letting him pet her.
He did have the magic touch. I’d let him pet me, too. I stifled a snort of amusement.
And now he was spending the night, something no one had ever done. Maybe I was coming around, too? Perhaps, with time, I would become less and less skittish, and something long-term might be possible?
Morning would be a test. I couldn’t discount the possibility I’d wake up, feel smothered, and have to shove him out the door to avoid a full-on panic attack. Thanks for the memories, now leave.
Except, right now, I didn’t feel that way at all.
I scooted flat onto the mattress. He was so close, his breath stirred my hair, and his body heat wrapped around me like a cozy blanket. Having him near didn’t feel bad at all. I caressed the back of his hand with my finger.
“My mate. Mine,” he murmured and rolled to face me, flinging his arm across my chest and burying his face against my neck, pinning me against him.
Oh great.
I needed to extricate myself, but I hated to wake him. I’ll move in a minute. If he’s deeper asleep, maybe it won’t wake him up.
Decision made, his closeness began to feel more soothing than restrictive, and I found myself reluctant to move at all. My eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted off to sleep.
* * * *
I awakened to a welcome smell and a cheerful voice. “I made coffee!”
I cracked open my eyelids to find Kord standing over me with two steaming cups. He’d donned leggings, but his manly, muscled chest was bare. His hair stood up at all angles, and scruff darkened the lower half of his face. Damn, he looked yummy.
I probably looked like something Boots had hacked up.
“Good morning,” he replied. “You take it black, right?”
“Uh-huh.” I scooted to a seated position, tucking the sheet under my armpits. “Good morning,” I offered while analyzing my emotions. Nope. No panic. No claustrophobia. No urge to eject him from my apartment.
“I noticed what you drank at the restaurant.” He handed me a mug.
“Thank you.” I took a big gulp and choked. I liked strong coffee, but you could pave a road with this cup of joe.
“Too strong?”
“A b-b-bit.” I coughed. “Maybe I’d better add a little hot water or something.” I started to get out of bed.
“Stay there, I’ll fix it.” He took both cups and disappeared into the kitchen. I dashed into the attached bath, speed-brushed my teeth, splashed water on my face, and ran a brush through my hair. I’d just settled again when he returned. “Try this.”
I took a sip. “Much better.”
He grimaced. “Sorry. I’ve never made coffee before.”
“Well, it’s the thought that counts, and it’s good now.”
He came around the bed and slid in beside me.
We sat there drinking coffee in comfortable, companionable silence.
“This is nice,” I said.
“It is,” he agreed.
If this was what normal felt like, perhaps I had been too guarded. Perhaps I should have had men stay the night before.
Uh…no. This was nice because the man was Kord. This wouldn’t have worked with any other guy.
“Did you sleep well?” I asked.
“Like a rock.”
I had, too. Once I’d settled in, I’d gone out like a light and remained out all night long.
He grinned. “Your bed is much more comfortable than your desk at the restaurant.”
“It is, isn’t it?” I took another sip. Since he’d diluted the coffee, it was pretty good. Smooth—like my emotions. I felt no panic, no claustrophobia, no anxiety. Maybe this is doable. If Boots can make progress, I can, too. Boots 1, Barb 1. I tied with a feral cat.
“You’re off today, aren’t you?” I asked casually.
“That’s what the boss put on the schedule.” He winked.
“Did you…um…want to do something?” Never in a million years would I have guessed that after spending an entire night with a guy I’d seek his company out the next day, too.
Kord looked at me and twitched his horns.
Could he do that at will? I stared. Desire ignited low in my belly, but I giggled. “Besides that.”
“Well, after that, I’ve heard of a park that’s supposed to be the happiest place on Earth. I’d like to go there.”
“You don’t mean…Disneyland?”
“Yes! Have you been there?” He downed the last drop of his coffee and set the cup on the nightstand.
I hesitated. “A couple of times.”
My high school senior class had gone there for grad night. I’d saved all year and hidden my money and intentions from my parents so I could go. I did have fun, but the evenin
g was somewhat marred by worry about the hell I would catch later. As it turned out, they were both passed out when I sneaked back home.
However, the visit most cemented in my brain had occurred when I was a child. A trip to Disneyland had been promised often but never delivered until my tenth birthday. I’d been thrilled my parents remembered my birthday at all, and a trip to Disneyland was a dream come true. Except once in the park, my father started drinking out of his special flask and got drunk and belligerent. He caused a scene, threatened Mickey Mouse, and got us escorted out. The whole way home, while driving, my mother screamed at him for ruining my birthday. When we got to our apartment, she got blitzed herself, and the fighting began in earnest.
I hid under my bed.
The police came.
Good times.
“Oh. Then you wouldn’t want to go again. All right, we’ll do something else. What would you like?”
“No, I would like to take you to Disneyland. It will be fun. A do-over!” I said. Today would bring new beginnings. Excitement curled inside. I couldn’t wait to see the world’s most famous amusement park through his eyes.
“Do-over?” He frowned.
I hadn’t meant to admit that. “Nothing.” I shook my head. “But before we go, about that…” I set my coffee on the bedside table, leaned over, and kissed him.
“Oh yes, that…” He nibbled on my neck and pulled me on top of him.
Chapter Nine
Kord
“Mommy! Mommy! I want my picture with the alien spaceman!” A young kit wearing a head covering with big black ears ran over to me and grabbed my leg.
I curved my lips into a grin as his mother snapped a photo with her phone. “Thanks!” she said. “Great costume, by the way. It looks so real.”
“Because he is real,” Barb muttered after the female and kit wandered off. “That’s the last one. No more.” She scowled.
“I don’t mind.” I loved kits, and it seemed to make them happy to have their pictures taken with me.
“I do. We came to Disneyland so I could show you the attractions—not so you could become an attraction.”
Humans dressed up like giant mice, ducks, bears, princesses, toy space rangers, and pirates roamed the park. I’d been mistaken for one of the characters. Since we’d arrived, I’d been approached by a couple of dozen people—not all of them kits—who asked to get a picture with me. At first I explained I wasn’t a Disney character, but several swore they had seen me in a movie vid, and acquiescence became more expedient than arguing.