Chapter 6
CHAPTER
SIX
MELODY
Brux sweats through dinner. It’s adorable. My forwardness has clearly flustered him, but I don’t regret it. He clearly doesn’t think much of himself or of his appearance, and if it takes me being blatant to show him that I’m sincere, then I’ll be utterly brazen.
I’m not going to let him walk out of my life again. Not when the universe has dropped him into my lap. This is a sign, and I’m going to grab it.
So we walk, hand in hand, into the greasy cantina that’s the only place on Risda to dine out. Since I don’t have a home of my own, I’m rather sick of the food here, but I can choke it down one more time as long as the company is good. Brux takes one look at the only open table left for us, and he seems utterly appalled at how dirty the countertop is. He releases me, and with a napkin, wipes the entire booth down, along with the seats, and growls that I deserve better than to sit in someone else’s mess.
And he wonders how I can be attracted to him? He should be wondering how he’s going to fight me off at this rate.
I sit down and he goes to get our food from the bar, along with a couple of brews. When he returns, I beam at him, my heart light and full of joy. “Tell me what you’ve been up to these last few years,” I say. “Or what brings you to Risda. Whatever you want to talk about.”
He takes a sip of his brew and shrugs his big, broad shoulders. “Work.”
“What kind of work? Construction, right? Have you worked for the same company long?” I poke at the fried foods in front of me, not really hungry as much as craving to hear more from Brux. I want to know all the details of his life.
The look he gives me is funny. “I work for whatever crew will hire me.”
“I would think with your strength that you’d be in high demand.” I eat a fried tuber and lick my fingertips clean.
Brux gives his head a quick shake. “I’m not a desirable employee.”
“Why not?”
His eyes narrow at me, as if he can’t quite believe that I don’t know these obvious things. “My family name is worthless. I have a prison record. I’m clearly not entirely mesakkah.”
“What did you go to prison for?”
“Robbery. When I was young, I lived in the slums on Homeworld’s moon.” He shrugs. “It wasn’t a good time.”
I want to frown, because isn’t that always the story? The poor stay poor because they can’t break free from the cycle. I should have guessed that sort of thing would happen even in an alien society, but it sucks to think that some shitty things are universal. “How long were you in prison?”
“Five years. It wasn’t a prison planet, at least. I’ve heard those places are nightmares. I was sent to a penal colony planet with a bunch of other younger delinquents, and we did a lot of hard labor. I was offered a construction job when I got out, as long as I kept out of trouble, and I’ve been doing construction jobs ever since then.” He shrugs. “It’s about the best kind of job a male like me can expect.”
“What do you mean, a male like you? You’re one of the big blue guys that run everything, right?” I wave a hand at our surroundings. “This planet, all the space stations, you name it. If anyone has an advantage, it’s you guys.”
His jaw juts, and he looks rather mutinous. “My bloodline isn’t clean. My family name isn’t, either.”
I take a sip of my beer. “So what kind of alien are you if you’re not fully blue dude?”
Brux is quiet for a moment, as if he’s not sure he wants to admit it. “Moden. My father’s father was a splice. If you know anything about mesakkah, they value good bloodlines.”
“And a splice is bad, I take it.”
“A lab-created monstrosity.” He gestures at his face. “It’s why I look like this.”
“Devilishly handsome?” I tease. “And if you’re trying to scare me off by telling me how terrible your family history is, it won’t work. A lot of humans think breeding to keep bloodlines clean is disgusting…and those that do usually end up with buck teeth. If you don’t bring in fresh blood, you make the entire line weaker.”
I mean, the breeding I’m thinking of is purebred dogs and people with Habsburg jaws, but it’s the same thing, right?
Brux takes a big gulp of his beer and I notice he’s not touching the food. Leaving it for me? Or just going to ditch me quickly for a real meal later?
“You sure do make a lot of excuses for me,” he finally says, setting his beer down.
“I’m a big fan of yours. It means I will absolutely make up a thousand excuses as to why I think you’re awesome.” I take a fried leaf and then push the basket of food toward him. “Are you not hungry?”
He pauses. “Are you sure you want to spend time with me? Someone is bound to notice and say something.”
What, that I’m slumming? He really doesn’t have a high opinion of himself. He’s spent the last few moments going into great detail about how terrible he is, as if he’s going to somehow convince me to change my mind. “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you have a tongue that could lick out a sonata on a piano. They’ll understand.”
I could swear he blushes under that blue-gray hide of his.It’s perplexing. It’s even more perplexing when he mutters, “I don’t have a particularly skilled tongue.”
I push the leaves toward him again and then study his expression, trying to figure him out. “Do women just not hit on you, Brux? Because every time I compliment you, you get this constipated look on your face and then you tell me about how terrible of a choice you are.”
He scowls, nudging the basket back toward me as if we’re playing tennis and it’s my serve. “I just don’t want you mistaken on anything.”
“On liking you?”
“On what kind of person I am.” Brux stares down at me, his face hard as if he’s preparing for war. “I’m still not entirely sure you’re not pranking me.”
Pranking him? Pranking him ? Here I’ve been fighting hard to try and show him my interest at every turn and he still hasn’t caught on? I slip my shoe off under the table and slide my foot up his leg and between his thighs. “Do I need to crawl under this table and give you a blow job to show you how I feel about you? Or is this helping things become clearer?”
His eyes narrow at me but he doesn’t push my foot away. I rub the heel of my foot directly where his cock is, and underneath my sole, he hardens. I give him another sweet smile.
“I like you,” I remind him. “I’ve liked you for five years. If I’m being aggressive, it’s because I like you and I want to make sure you know it. That way if you ditch me again, I’ll know I’ve tried everything I could possibly do to show you my interest.”
“I didn’t ditch you before.”
“Sure felt like it.”
“I took advantage of you in a weak moment. I made sure you were safe and then I got out of your life. It was for the best.”
“Was it? Because you didn’t ask me how I felt.”
He runs a hand down his face, scrubbing it. The cock I’m currently wiggling my toes against is nice and hard. “I bought you from your owner because he was a piece of keffing shit. Didn’t know what to do with you once I had you, and then after….” His throat works and his gaze skims away from my face. “After, I thought it would be best for you to go with Lord va’Rin.”
I run my big toe along the ridges of his shaft. Crazy how I’d forgotten about those. I love touching him, love his soft suede-like skin, his expression of surprise when I caress him. Love everything about this guy, to be honest…except his self-esteem. “Looking back, I can’t say it was a bad choice. Lord and Lady va’Rin have been really nice to me and this planet is great. So much better than being someone’s kicking post. But you’ve been here for a few months, guessing by the size of the project. You never thought of looking me up?”
“Didn’t think you’d want to see me.”
“You’re wrong.” I grind my heel against his balls, and I could swear his eyes flare with excitement. He’s not pushing my foot away. Not stopping me. He might talk like he’s the worst thing to happen to a woman, but I know the truth.
Brux eyes the basket of food between us, mostly untouched. “I just…how do you see this thing between us going, Melody?”
I pretend to misunderstand. “Dinner? I thought we’d eat some really shitty cantina food, drink a few beers, and then go back to my room. I’d sit on your face until you make me scream, and then you’d fuck the daylights out of me. We’d probably break my bed, because it’s pretty old and creaky, and then pass out for a while before heading into round two. And then eventually, round three. Then we shower—optimally together—eat some breakfast, and then go to work.”
“So this is just about sex?”
“No. But it can be, tonight.” I smile brilliantly at him and give his cock another meaningful nudge with my foot. “If you just want to eat dinner and call it, I’m okay with that too. Well, less okay, but I understand it. But don’t push me away because you think it’s what’s best for me. Let me decide that part.”
He’s silent for a long, long time. Then, he slowly nudges the basket back toward him, eats a leaf, and then sends it back to me. “Let’s start with dinner.”
My smile grows wider. “What about you? Where do you see this heading?”
Brux actually seems pained by my question. He slides that big hand down his face again, then glances around the cantina, as if he’s afraid someone will hear his answer. “I haven’t…I don’t think about it. I haven’t dared to hope…”
He trails off, and my heart aches.
This sweet man deserves to have his soul sucked out through his cock and I aim to be the one to do it. “I think you’re allowed to hope. I’ll fight anyone that says differently.”
The look he gives me is puzzled, but amused. “Thanks, I think.”
He still doesn’t look convinced. That’s all right. Only one of us needs to be fully invested to move things forward, as far as I’m concerned. I’ll prove myself to him soon enough. So I slide my foot out from between his thighs and relax back in the booth. “How about we take this day by day, then? Let’s start with a nice meal and see where things go.”
“A nice meal?” Brux picks up one of the soggy fried leaves. “Are we leaving, then?”
I laugh with delight, because it’s the first sign that he’s loosening up around me.