Epilogue
Killan
“Fek off, Killan.” Roan rolls over, presenting me with his back. He tugs at his Mate’s blanket, pulling it more securely over his shoulders and adjusting it neatly over hers.
“Killan?” Harlee is squinting at me through the darkness, her voice groggy. “It’s early. Is there another emergency?”
“Yes. No!” I hastily correct when she sits bolt upright, clearly prepared to jump into action. “It is a non-life-threatening emergency. For me. Not for you.” Guilt has me wincing, but I do not back down.
“What the scudding fek are you talking about?” Roan growls, holding open his arms for Harlee to resettle against him.
“I need—” I make a grab for Roan’s datapad, intending to turn on the light, but the datapad is not in its usual location on the shelf over his bed, and Roan smirks when he sees me searching for it. “I need…something.”
“Something?” Harlee repeats. “That’s why you woke us up?”
“Yes.” I give Roan a hard look. “I need something important.”
“What?” he demands.
“You know what.”
“Evidently, I do not. Tell me or get the fek out of my house.”
I grit my teeth. “Contraception.”
“Oh.” Harlee giggles.
“Pretend you are still asleep,” I beg her. “For my dignity.”
“Of course. I’m asleep.” And she closes her eyes.
Roan, however, rolls out of bed. “Why did you not say so before? This is an emergency.” Retrieving his cracked datapad from his bedside table drawer, he switches on the overhead light, and Harlee, who stopped pretending to sleep almost immediately, claps a hand over her eyes.
“Babe!”
“Sorry. Sorry.” He kisses her cheek in recompense.
“Now, please.” I am not above begging. The knowledge that Lydia is in her bed, wet and waiting for me has my cock pressing against my slit.
When she woke me in the middle of the night, her skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat, and her hands were shaking.
But when I tried talking about the abduction and everything that happened yesterday, she shook her head and said, “Not that type of dream.”
“What is your preference?” Roan asks, gesturing at his still-open bedside table drawer.
A thought suddenly occurs to me. “You have used these?”
“Gross!” interjects Harlee.
“No!” Roan stares at me as if I have poisoned an entire lake of algae. “Everything in this drawer is single use. To be thrown out afterward. Everything in this other drawer is—”
“Nope!” Harlee slides across to Roan’s side of the bed and slams a hand against the other drawer Roan had been about to open. “Absolutely no looking in there,” she tells me, sounding firmer than I have ever heard her.
“No looking,” I promise. “Not that I would want to look.” Instead, I peer into the single-use drawer.
It is full, most of which I do not recognize.
“Akh…” Do I have a preference? I have never had penetrative sex before.
Mayhaps Lydia has a preference, but it did not occur to me to ask. Thirty-eight and clueless still.
“Take these,” Harlee says, pulling out a packet from the open drawer. “Good, old-fashioned condoms. You can’t go wrong with those. And Lydia will know what they are because we have condoms back on Earth, too.”
I take them from her, and silence falls. There is a long moment when all three of us struggle to think of how to end the conversation. Should I say thank you? Instead, I say nothing at all, and they both watch me back slowly out of the room. I slam their bedroom door shut to break eye contact.
Lydia
“Killan.” I sit back against the headboard as he comes rushing into my room.
I’m wearing nothing more than a T-shirt, and one of my hands is damp because I couldn’t stop touching myself as I waited for Killan to return.
The anticipation an aphrodisiac—as was my dream. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I have seen…things. Things I wish I could forget.”
For a second, I’m confused. Then I remember exactly what type of items are in Roan’s contraceptive collection. I nod understandingly. “The dildo Roan made in the shape of his dick.”
“What?” Killan stares at me.
“Don’t worry, it grossed me out, too. Imagine making a mold of your own dick. That guy has balls.”
“He showed you his cock?” Killan asks, drawing himself up to his full height.
“He showed Harlee a replica.” I catch hold of an arm before Killan can storm back into Harlee and Roan’s cottage and start a fight. I’ve got more important activities planned. “I, unfortunately, happened to be in the room at the time.”
His eyes narrow as he considers my explanation, then he presses on his pocket, releasing his cock. “Mine is much superior.”
It is a magnificent cock, arching up toward his stomach, red and leaking. Begging for me. I instantly want to touch. Instead, I tip my head to one side, pretending to consider. “Maybe…”
“Lydia.” Resting a hand on my nightstand, Killan leans over until his face is mere inches from mine. “That was not a question,” he growls.
I laugh. “Much superior. Infinitely superior. Did you get the goods?”
“Yes.” He holds up another hand. “Condoms. Harlee’s choice.”
“God bless Harlee.” I snatch the packet from Killan’s hold. It contains a dozen individually wrapped condoms, and while I can’t understand any of the alien writing, the instructional illustrations are very informative.
I slide forward, coming to sit on the edge of the bed, and tear open one of the individual packets. Killan’s gaze is locked on my hands, as if he’s trying to memorize every second of our first time together.
Honestly, so am I.
Pinching the tip, I slide the rubber onto Killan’s dick, taking my time and loving the feel of him, hot and hard against my palm. Loving the uncontrolled moan that escapes despite his clenched teeth.
“Come here.” I lie back, letting my legs fall open. Then I card a hand through my pubic hair, and part my folds. I know exactly where I want Killan’s attention focused, and I’m selfish enough to show him.
There’s a moment when it seems like he’s forgotten how to move, then he scrambles onto my bed with less than his usual finesse.
“This is mine.” He brushes my hands away and takes over touching me—circling my clit with a thick fingertip. Sinking another thick finger inside of me. I’m so wet, I can hear him pumping in and out.
I arch my back, gasping his name, wanting so much more.
“Killan.” It’s my turn to growl, and I’m almost surprised by the amount of demanding need in my voice. Almost. “I’ve been waiting for you,” I say, dragging him down for a kiss. “So fucking patiently, and now I want my reward.”
“Lydia.” His eyes darken, and a muscle in his cheek jumps—that’s how tense he’s holding himself.
“If this really is yours,” I say, cupping my pussy, “then hurry up and take it.”
“Fek yes!” He lines himself up, and then he’s pushing inside, inch by slow inch. I can tell he’s trying to be careful; he doesn’t want to hurt me.
There is the sting of being stretched, I won’t lie, but it quickly fades. I try grinding against him, but his weight has me pressed into the mattress, and I can’t move my hips. So I dig a finger into his chest. “Move.”
He pulls out and thrusts slowly. I swear his eyes roll into the back of his head. His movements speed up, clumsy and consumed by desperation. The sensation of him inside me is so fucking hot.
But…well, I’ve always been a clit girl, so I grab one of his hands, the one he isn’t using to hold some of his weight off my chest, and direct it to exactly where I want it.
“Lydia,” he gasps, and he says something else, but it’s such a garbled mess, my translator doesn’t understand. “Ungh!” maybe. Nevertheless, he seems to realize what I need, and he strokes my clit, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic.
I want to make it last, but the real thing is so much better than any of my dreams, and all I can do is wrap my legs around Killan and hold on for dear life. Then I’m coming, my climax cascading along my spine and short-circuiting my brain.
“Lydia. Lydia!”
I’m not sure exactly what pulls Killan after me.
Maybe the sight of my orgasm. Maybe he can feel my pussy squeezing his cock.
Maybe it’s the bead of sweat rolling down my throat, which he laps up with his tongue.
Or a combination of all those things. But I feel his body stiffen, and he groans.
Heat blooms inside me, and I grab his shoulders, squeezing his upper arms, holding any and every part of him I can reach.
Long moments later, Killan lifts his head from my shoulder. “That was… I never…”
I extract a strand of pink hair from my mouth, limp-limbed and sated. “It’s never been like that for me, either.”
He shifts, slipping two arms under me, hugging me to his chest, so that it’s my head pillowed by his shoulder. Like this, I can trace the pattern of his scales across his impressive pecs, studying the way they subtly shift with each breath.
“I can’t say that I’m ever going to be happy about how I got here,” I say, “but I am happy to be staying. I want you to know that.”
His lips brush the top of my head as he kisses me. “I will cut your hairs tomorrow,” he promises. “Then we still start work on your documentary. Mayhaps we can even find ingredients on InGal for your Human bread.”
“And the farm,” I remind him, reveling in a long and satisfying to-do list. “We’ve got lots of work ahead of us to make up for the lost shipment.” I tip my head back so I can look at him. He’s scowling. Of course he is. And for a second, everything is absolutely perfect.