Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Every muscle in my body freezes as I realize what’s about to happen. His presence, controlled for now, looms behind me—waiting for my reply.
The steam from the giant tub curls around our bodies like ghostly tendrils. We're both so still that the surface of the water looks like glass. Mekkra opens his mouth to speak, his warm breath fanning against the back of my neck, and my skin prickles.
“I—I don’t have to touch you,” he says softly, realizing the weight of what he’s asking. “If that matters to you.”
The addition or subtraction of his hand in the situation shouldn’t make a difference, but it does, weirdly. If only bikini waxes existed in space, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. The attempt at compassion on Mekkra’s end lets my shoulders relax, but only a little.
I nod, staring straight ahead, trying to remove any hint of fear from my voice. “Just…get it done.”
There’s a pause, a sharp inhalation of breath, before he cups his hand under my butt and lifts me onto the edge of the huge bath.
Mekkra reaches his beefy arm behind me and his fur tickles the outside of my arm.
It’s soft, so much softer than you would think, and I hate that I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
When he pulls back, he’s got some kind of metal hose in his hands. A thick, cascading ribbon of steaming water flows out of the tube’s head with the click of a button.
“May I begin?” he asks, eyes lowered.
“Yes,” I breathe, gripping the sunken tub’s cold, tiled edge.
He moves closer, the strands of his fur floating up like a reverse image of cream in coffee, and he aims the stream of warm water towards the apex of my thighs.
He works, almost methodically, left to right, starting at the small of my belly.
Slowly, so fucking slowly, the warm and insistent waters tease closer to my most sensitive parts.
The bends of my knees soften, and I find myself leaning farther back.
It feels good, and god, am I embarrassed to admit how quickly my body has reacted to the smallest bit of attention. How could something so simple as a stream of water threaten to undo me?
Get it together, Mae.
He adjusts the angle, and until now the stream of water hasn’t lingered in one spot for more than a second.
But with this change, Mekkra finds my clit like there’s a flashing neon sign saying “orgasm here.” The thrumming pressure of warm liquid on the nerves there makes my breath hitch and the most awkward of groans escape my lips.
I clamp a hand over my mouth to stop the humiliating sound from lasting any longer than it already has. I couldn’t have hidden that reaction if I tried.
His eyes lock on mine, that fucking primal look he gave me on our first meeting suddenly rekindled. But this time, there’s a hint of curiosity behind that look of want.
He moves his hand back and forth, directing the water in a tiny circle around my clit. This time it’s definitely deliberate.
My hand doesn’t leave my mouth even as my ass clenches and I try to tell myself that this has nothing to do with him. It’s just heat, nerves, and my body's need for release. My hips lift from the ground, and my innermost muscles throb as all the blood in my body rushes to my pussy.
It’s just fucking water.
But my body betrays me, and I try to position myself so that he keeps hitting the best spot. I chase the sensation of my pleasure at the cost of my common sense.
He pulls the metal hose slightly off its target.
“You’re trembling,” he whispers.
I shake my head no, even as my other hand grips the tile all the tighter.
“Hmm,” he says as he hits some control on the hose.
He guides it back home, the trickle of water from before more powerful. It feels like it’s swallowing up the whole of my clit, the undulating pressure triggering the release of a delicious shower of sparks that flood all the way to the tips of my toes.
“This is… affecting you,” he says, and something in his voice changes. The careful neutrality of before is thinning. “I should stop.”
I should agree, I should wiggle away, I should go take a cold shower.
But I drop the hand from my face and whisper, “Please don’t.” Because I can’t remember the last time I had control over something I wanted. Even if that was as small as an orgasm.
The water flits away, if only for half a second, then finds purchase where I need it most once more. My breath breaks on a soft, humiliating sound that I know I can’t take back.
I look down to that perfect little stream hitting me in exactly the right spot. The folds of my pussy flutter gently in its wake. Then I look up, to those goddamn eyes—those hungry, possessive eyes—and I shatter.
I brace myself, and the warmth spreads fast across my sex. My body lights up in places I haven’t felt in years, the buzzing of my nerves reaches a peak until it’s nearly too much. Too close to stop now.
My grip slips on the stone, and my breath does too as I try to hold on just a little longer.
But I don’t.
The pressure builds, drawing everything inward until it makes way for the most jubilant of releases as my spine bows and muscles snap.
My pussy weeps and my body buzzes in the pleasure's wake.
My orgasm fueled only by heat, water, and an alien warlord’s restraint. I can’t help it when I reach out my hand, no longer thinking rationally.
I grip his forearm, still riding out the lingering pulses.
The water cuts off almost immediately as I touch him.
He steps back—as far as the tub allows—as if my proximity is something dangerous.
Mekkra’s breathing is ragged, and his spines stand at full attention.
“I—” He stops himself for a moment, as if needing to find his composure. “I shouldn’t have let that happen again.”
Again? I cock my head.
I quickly realize that he’s referring to our first meeting, the one I blocked from my mind. The time I had no control over what was happening to me.
I pull my legs together and cover my chest. “I never asked you to stop.”
“I know,” he tells me through his gritted teeth, as if every word he speaks to me pays some unspoken price. “And I didn’t touch you.”
“No,” I say faintly. “You kept your word.”
He winces.
“I misjudged myself. Your reactions… affected my control.”
The admission is obvious but feels like a secret he wishes he could keep.
“You should know that I allowed it to happen—I wanted to feel good,” I softly murmur.
For a moment he doesn’t move at all. But then he pulls a breath into his chest a little too deeply. His shoulders loosen and his broad frame shifts only slightly. His head turns away from me, and he drags himself out of the pool.
Water drips from his hide, sticking to his heavily muscled body.
The liquid slicks down the dense brown fur so that it clings to every hard line beneath.
Darkened by the water, his build is brutally clear.
Droplets cling to his spines and scatter like rain as he straightens, somehow larger without his armor.
“I know,” he says at last, voice stripped of the ceremony we began with.
“Regardless, I feel like I have no control when I’m with you.
That’s what troubles me most.” He knocks at his skull with his fist, as if he’s punishing himself.
“Starcroft will bring you your meal. Our mating ceremony will begin in the morning.”
Mekkra leaves me there in my afterglow, slowly letting the chill of his absence creep into my bones.
If he’s unsettled—if his control fractured while mine did—I let that be his problem. I won’t be punished for making the best of a shit situation.
And, fuck, if it didn't feel good.
Besides, I’ve got our mating ceremony, and whatever other strange traditions Mekkra has up his sleeve, to worry about now.