Chapter 18 #2
He breathes in loudly, smelling me. I know he smells my arousal.
“Go ahead. Reach down and play with yourself, like the horny little bitch you are.”
I can’t stop myself. I reach down and play with my clit, even though it’s oversensitive, even though I just came.
And when he growls and his cock swells even bigger in my mouth, forcing my mouth open, the huge veins swollen against my throat, I come in unison with him, so intensely my mind goes blank.
Arrek opens the cage and reaches in, the taste of his seed in my mouth, and lifts me into his arms while I’m trembling, pulling me from behind the bars and carrying me to his leather chair.
I breathe in as I settle into his lap, the naked length of his dick heavy under me, the tree trunks of his thighs stable as he wraps his arms tight around me, pulling me against his sweaty chest.
There’s something so familiar about the smell of him. When I’m like this, overwhelmed and shaking, nothing else smells better, because I know I have this massive alien warrior between me and anything else in the world.
He holds me there for what feels like ten or twenty minutes, until the last trembles leave my body.
“Sit by my side,” he says softly.
I blink. I’d been zoning out, barely noticing anything but his arms around me. They unwrap, and I get up, finding a little fur laid out beside the chair. I lower myself onto it, then remember that I’m supposed to sit a certain way.
“It’s okay. Just relax.”
I sit, rearranging myself comfortably as he heads down the hallway. A few minutes later, he’s back, wearing loose gray joggers and a black T-shirt, barefoot and carrying a loaf of bread. He hasn’t showered.
He turns on the flame on the stove, cuts the bread, and starts toasting it.
I watch him, big and bearded, and realize he’s humming under his breath, a tune I don’t know.
Then he coats the bread in butter. The man who came in with his battle-brothers with an aggressive, brutal focus is still there, but he’s just… existing.
Arrek settles his bulk into the leather chair, rips a piece of bread off, and holds it idly down to me. I don’t even reach for it. I just take it in my mouth and chew, and when I’m done, I lick his fingers clean almost instinctively.
There’s still the taste of his slightly salty seed in my mouth as I eat. I didn’t think I’d like the taste at first, but there’s something strangely addictive about it.
When I’m done, he gets up and starts grinding the coffee. I look at him hopefully, and he looks down at me, the shadow of a smile on his lips.
“Don’t worry. You’re getting some.”
I look down, embarrassed that he caught me.
But he only fills one huge mug, and I know I’m going to have to wait. Then he puts milk in it, brings it over, and places it down in front of me.
“You can use your hands. Sorry it’s so big. When we go to the capital, we will pick one out that’s more suitable for you.”
I try to pick it up with one hand, let out a little eep when it nearly makes me spill, and use both hands to lift it to my lips, making him chuckle. I just hope he picks a plain white mug, something that doesn’t have any double meaning.
Damn, but it’s good. Another addiction growing.
I look up at him and mouth, Thank you.
He looks down at me, and the heat is back in his eyes. “Careful. Careful, pet, you still don’t have permission to speak.”
I look at him through my lashes and wonder if he likes this look too, or if he prefers me to look more like the women he must see when he visits the capital, all… primped and preened and showing off.
As I drink, he lifts himself up, pours himself his own mug of black coffee, and sits in his chair, drinking as he watches me.
The moment I’m done, he points to the cage.
I don’t wait for him to order me out loud.
I put down the empty mug and crawl in, knowing he is watching the roll of my hips, and relax in the furs.
Luckily, my body is adjusting to the caffeine. Although I feel pleasantly awake, I don’t feel like jumping through the roof.
Arrek stands over me for a moment, considering. He runs his hands over the wooden bars, then draws a finger along one of them, the way he sometimes touches the blue-black ring.
Then he looks toward the stack of books. He moves around the cage and squats between me and the books as he picks through them, blocking my view. I can hear him picking out some, and he almost turns before adding another to the stack, then twists and places them inside the cage.
He walks away without a word.
I lift the first mystery and look beneath it, rolling my eyes. At the last second, he slipped in his book on fluid dynamics, almost hopefully.
I finger through the rest of the stack, then look toward the light spilling through the open front door. After a little while, I push the books away and listen, moving myself closer, as close as I can get to the front door.
Migratory birds are calling overhead, and I picture them in their V formation, moving across the sky as they head south for the winter.
I shift even closer to the front of the cage, listening past them, trying to make out the faint sound of the river, wishing I could hear the frogs croaking, thinking I can maybe just imagine the grasshoppers chirping.
“Do you have everything you need?”
The deep voice snaps me back to my cage.
I look up. Mero is watching me. He moved so quietly into the great hall I didn’t notice him, changed back into his trousers and form-fitting black sweater.
He spoke to me and I’m allowed to answer, but I only nod, the bells jingling.