Blind Fall

by Amanda Milo

  His rough hands cup my cheeks, slide to my neck, and hold me still for an inflaming kiss.

  After releasing my mouth, he grits out, “Creator, you taste good.”

  “Yeah? What do I taste like? Meesahrah licked my face a bit ago so I probably taste like—” I start to tease but he cuts me off, one hundred percent serious, sexily caveman.

  “Mine.”

  CHAPTER 27

  BRESLIN

  Wood creaks with every grind and bump and thrust. My feet are braced on the footboard of the bed, my hands are gripping the headboard tightly enough to make my knuckles go bloodless, and I arch my back harder as I tug and and pull my body, keeping my penile stylet only half buried in Sanna’s heat, my pubic bone grinding over her sensitive nodule to achieve the stimulation she likes best. Her legs are folded over my hips, her heels spur my flanks, and my nudging sets her to dancing under me again.

  I jolt into her unexpectedly hard—slamming all the way in when the footboard gives out and the headboard snaps under my hands.

  The shock of it makes her tighten impossibly around me, and I lose myself to the sensation with a heaving, heavy grunt.

  “Did we,” she gasps. “Did we just break the bed?”

  “Yes,” I grit out. And though I can barely think let alone speak, I need to vocalize so that Sanna is aware of what I need. “And we’re not stopping.”

  She grabs my hips and her toes dig into the backs of my thighs, making me want to stay buried deep, keep our bodies connected, keep our souls this close to one another forever.

  She clenches her inner muscles around me and I know forever is not an option. I order myself not to spill inside her yet and I manage to hold off, but Sanna feels too good for me to last long.

  I give in to the urge to thrust. Grunting, growling, knowing how excited it makes her to hear me receiving pleasure from her body, I rock into her until I bathe her insides with another quaking rush of my seed.

  Watching her come undone at my sounds, at the feel of me rutting over her, inside her—it’s magnificent. She is magnificent. Pinning my hips hard to hers, I release again, liquid fire jetting out of my ducts. The mucus my stylet constantly emits for Sanna keeps her body as hungry for mine as mine is for her. This is the reaction Iechydmaw women used to have to Iechydmaw males. It’s anyone’s guess why the response is all but gone in the females our kind—but it’s full strength in my Sanna. Aroused beyond reason, I lovenip her collarbone.

  She whimpers.

  I roar in triumph.

  Before the kick of euphoria even has a chance to dim let alone fade, I flip us, rolling to my back and popping her up above me. “Ride me, salk.” I stroke her flank. “I won’t buck. Much.” I punctuate my statement by planting my heels and thrusting up into her, making her gasp and keel forward, almost collapsing on my chest.

  Of course Ekan would choose this moment to make his grand entrance. Or try.

  The door shudders, making both of us tense and Sanna half-jumps—which makes me fall back with a groan.

  Kota makes an otherworldly noise and throws herself against the age-scarred wood, warning the intruder not to dare try their luck coming in.

  Over the din comes Ekan’s muffled voice after he tries and fails to shoulder it open. “What the tevek? Is this barred?” He begins to beat his fist against it.

  “Give us a quarter of a stick, machaii!” I shout.

  “Making us wait is no way to treat guests,” he hollers back—but there’s no censure. He’s just being a Narwari’s hind.

  I snarl (and I’m amused to note, this makes Sanna shudder—and not in fear). “Guests Comm ahead. Polite for polite: now take a kritted walk!”

  Ekan laughs heartily.

  Sanna’s been trying to rise off of me but my hands on her hips have kept her clamped in place. As all hope for the chance to have her ride me vanishes, I despair more than a little—but only one of us has to suffer. I fish between Sanna and I while she writhes and whispers a wild, “What are you doing?”

  “Let’s finish you off,” I say, not bothering at all to whisper. “Ekan can wait.”

  Sanna tries to rear up but only succeeds in impaling herself on me further and making me grunt. Maybe I’ll be coming after all.

  I circle her nodule and she drops her face to gasp and shudder into my chest. When her insides squeeze me until my eyes cross, I give in to the impulse and bang into her from below until I’m seeding her once more.

  Ekan raps his knuckles on the door. “An awful lot of heavy breathing going on.” The teveker sounds so pleased with himself. “What are you two doing? Mate-fevered cavorting?”

  “Oh for Creator’s patience,” I say into Sanna’s hair before I lift my head to bellow, “YES! Let us get dressed, you thickskull.”

  “Good for you!” Ekan calls back with genuine happiness. “See you both soon then!”

  “That cheery little swill-stirrer,” I grouse. Gently, I lift Sanna, disengaging us with a wet squelch that has my mouth watering and my body humming for the chance to blow inside of her again. “His timing is rotten. But let’s meet with him. There’s no telling what trouble he can devise if left to his own devices.”

  I watch Sanna while we dress. I mean to search her features to determine if she regrets her decision to stay rather than go with Ekan—but when I see no distress, I get sidetracked. Her lips are darker from our kisses. Her hair is mussed in every direction—disarrayed from when I fisted her tresses earlier and pounded into her from behind.

  I get as far as watching her breasts swing as she fights to shimmy into a tight top—and I’m hard as stone. “Krit.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, wriggling her hips to settle a skirt on her lower half.

  Now I could break through stone. “Watching you has set me to full mast. Again.”

  She stops. Then she ducks her head, cheeks flushing, as she snickers. “What an uncomfortable predicament.”

  She sashays towards me—but she must get a sense for the severity of my baser thoughts because she stops well out of my reach. “You’ll have to tell it to calm down. We need to go out there and say hi.”

  “Come here and say hi,” I tell her, voice husky.

  She shakes her head. “I want to—”

  “Then come here. I’ll care for all of your wants and I vow I’ll make you feel good. Tevek.” I drag the heel of my hand down and squeeze myself until I can think. “No, no, you’re right—you’d best run. Leave quickly before I pounce on you. Maybe if you’re not standing here looking ready to be mounted I’ll be able to wrestle this under control. Krit, one would think you own this member of mine despite me being the one to wear it.”

  Cheeks patched bright like some sort of alien-scarlet come-hither signals, Sanna flees from me, giggling.

  When my organ calms down enough that walking will no longer be uncomfortable, I make my own exit, and I when I step outside my ears are caressed by Sanna’s talented voice teasing notes out in a smooth legato. She’s been singing all over the farm lately, her tree-visitor never far. This time is no exception: I watch as the yushabee drops onto her shoulder—and a shocked Ekan explodes. “THAT is a fortune in the making!”

  Oh no. No way in kritted hell. Storming over, I cut him a warning glare.

  Which he promptly ignores. “Sanna, that’s quite a talent you have.”

  “Not my female, Ekan.”

  “Sanna,” he says patiently. “Have you given a thought to what you’ll do to keep yourself occupied here? The seasons can be long. Would you like to make a small fortune in your downtime?”

  Sanna shifts—instead of looking between us, she listens. And she’s a wise woman: she senses when a trap is being sprung and she doesn’t say anything.

  I do. “You may be my friend, but touch Sanna and you will be a dead one.”

  Ekan feigns hurt but it’s a mockery—his eyes gleam as he watches the yushabee’s hands and hand-like feet close over low branches to return to the tree we’re assembled under. “I�
�m sure Sanna can make up her own mind if she wants—”

  “No.”

  “—for the good of everyone—”

  “No.”

  “—to gain riches beyond her wildest—”

  “Ekan!” I bellow.

  Sanna pats my side, and instead of snapping my friend in half, I settle for steaming him with my angry breaths.

  Unfazed, Ekan grins at me, tweaks Sanna’s cheek over my growl of warning, and bounces back out of my reach before snapping his fingers. “Let me show you what I came for.”

  “About that,” Sanna starts. “I won’t be going home.”

  Ekan waves the notion away. “You’re well mated: that message was received clear when Bres held you captive and rutted you while I stood outside the door—”

  I hiss at him when Sanna covers her face with her hands.

  He isn’t worried for his life like he really ought to be. “We’ll still be going to Earth if you want us to bring you something specific, but otherwise that female-collecting venture? You could say it’s taken a different turn.” He grins. “Wait til you see what I’ve brought for this place. Tevek I give the best gifts.”

  “Puppies?” Sanna asks with a sweet smile.

  “What are puppies?” Ekan asks, throwing open one of the Na’rith ship’s bay doors.

  Standing just inside are females. So many females. Females of every kind.

  One of them—a human female—approaches us, her smile all teeth. “Lucky you. Your BF here brought you a shipfull of whores.”

  I gape around us. “You stole WHAT?”

  Sanna gapes in the direction of the female’s voice. “What did you just say?”

  “Aw, did I ruin the surprise?” the woman asks, not looking sorry in the least.

  Ekan herds the angry-looking female back into the ship, and the collective gives her a wide berth as he does it. “Tut tut Gracie, that’s ‘former brothel slaves.’ Please go back where you belong and don’t stir up the others for once?”

  When he returns to our side, he sends me a harried look. “That female is exhausting. Be glad she declared she doesn’t want to live on a planet full of farmers. Anyway, besides her, you’ll love my gift—it’s fantastic. I brought you wives.”

  Sanna’s arms drop from me. “WHAT!”

  I drag Sanna closer. “Ignore whatever he just said. He’s claimed that simulated sunlight is just as good as the real thing but clearly the lack has left him with some damage.”

  “Sanna, Sanna,” Ekan chides, “These wives aren’t for Breslin. He’s just going to help me parcel them out to farmers that will pay. Don’t worry: I’ll even give Bres ten percent of the cut.” He looks skyward. “Females. So territorial.”

  The human named Gracie raises her voice enough to be heard. “Hey, I volunteer to kick his ass for you.”

  “No worries,” Sanna promises. “I’ll be happy to do it myself.”

  Ekan holds up his hands and looks between the humans. “What is it with this species? Such aggression.”

  “Why did you bring a shipfull of former slaves here?” I manage in a controlled and level tone.

  “We promised to do our best to get them happily paired off as beloved wives to lonely, doting farmers who will treat them like treasured princesses for the rest of their days.”

  “That does sound nice,” Sanna concedes. “IF that’s what they want.”

  “It’s perfect. And this,” Ekan throws his arms out and turns in a circle, “This is the perfect place! No one will ever look here.”

  He stops and scratches his chest as he takes in his surroundings, grimacing ever so slightly in a way that suggests that there’s nothing at all before him as far as the eye can spy save for farmland, leafy pissing posts and livestock. He ignores the females that are peering out of the ship’s belly in curiosity, and he sets off for the house.

  The krit of it is: he’s right—about the fact no one will show up here to search for stolen slaves anyway. This planet’s farmers don’t have access to ships to shuttle off and buy up women. No one will suspect this place of harboring stolen females. “Where did you get them all?”

  Without asking for an invitation, Ekan shoulders open the door and steps inside, heading for the icebox. He’s always hungry, and he pulls out a platter of cold cuts that Sanna prepared for me. “We acquired them from pleasure houses here and there.” Stuffing his mouth full to free up his hand, he plants his fist in the center of my chest, a gesture peculiar to Na’rith’s as far as I’ve found, and meets my gaze with one of the most serious expressions I’ve ever witnessed Ekan be capable of. “If you could visit some of your neighbors and start discreetly asking around,” he swallows his bite of food, “we’d like to get these lovelies paired off. We’ve promised them we’ll try another planet if they don’t find what they’re looking for here—but believe me, the sooner we can unload, the better for ship-domicile relations.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” Sanna asks, her tone flavoring the air with irony.

  Ekan groans dramatically. “You humans may not have much in the way of a developed sense of smell, but you sure can detect the scent of a stray female.” He gestures widely in my direction. “Take note, Bres. Don’t let yourself get cornered by one of Sanna’s rivals. Pro tip? Any stray female is your female’s rival. Heed my words, friend.”

  He reaches for another bite, but stops with the hunk of meat suspended over his mouth when he catches sight of our bed—the head and footboards looking like they were blown off. “Upstagers!” Ekan exclaims. “After Beth spawns, we should chain her to our beds until we break them!”

  EPILOGUE

  BRESLIN

  Iechydmaw men fall all over themselves to prove to the females that they will make good mates. For two days, unbeknownst to me, Ekan charges the men to rent out my flashiest Narwari and my nicest wagons for countryside rides so the ladies can get a feel for the place.

  Up until I saw him counting credit sticks I thought I was being hospitable for free.

  “Have you no shame?” his woman, Beth, asks him.

  “This isn’t for me,” he protests. “Think of it as a congratulatory nuptials gift for a bed well broken.”

  “Bed well broken…?” Beth stares at the most deranged of her mates in confusion before turning her gaze on Sanna.

  As if she can sense it, Sanna’s cheeks flush.

  Beth’s eyes fly to me. “Wowww…”

  Ekan shoves the creditsticks at me and takes Beth by the shoulders. “We have to break their record.”

  Beth gestures to us. “How do you top that? We can make it good, but they kinda did it first—”

  Her eyes go wide as Ekan swoops in and he attacks her mouth. He only lets the poor pregnant woman up, so he can proclaim, “They broke a bed; we’ll collapse one!”

  Over sticks and sticks (or weeks and weeks, as Sanna calls the passage of time) Sanna does an excellent job as matchmaker, using her knowledge of the friends she’s made here to suggest males whose personalities would complement the women she gets to know.

  The women are smitten with our Iechydmaw style of gentle courting. They’re delighted when their besotted admirers’ dijjü start swelling for them.

  Having a sudden abundance of women to take out and spoil has made our little town grow—and one of the females opens up a dress shop. It’s an instant success and more business ventures are predicted to follow as these women discover or rekindle personal talents and hobbies.

  Having their ship empty of all the drama that evidently came with housing a mass of females, the Na’riths are in high spirits and I press my advantage with a grateful Ekan, asking for a favor. I’m aware that the Gryfala are keeping a settlement of humans and to provide for them, they hired the Na’riths to obtain necessary supplies from Earth. I hoped to purchase provisions too. Some out of the ordinary.

  Ekan delights in odd quests and his eye for rare things means he’s taken quite an interest in this venture. This day marks their return, and although Sanna’s
aware of their impending arrival, she has no idea what gifts the Na’riths will be bearing.

  She’s singing to her yushabee when their ship lands in the pasture, scattering decoy Narwari while the rest of the pack rapidly configures themselves in a classic staggered formation known as a hunting net. Meesahrah immediately goes to work trying to pry at the aft fuel cell access panel. I bellow for her to leave off. The Na’riths will be understandably unamused if she manages to cause any damage.

  At her sides are two suitor salkells that she’s stopped kicking away. I caution Sanna against getting her hopes up that Meesahrah will settle with them, but the truth is, she’s never shown this much attention to a pair of males before and I’m feeling rather hopeful myself.

  The ship’s main doors open, and the exit ramp thuds loudly to the ground.

  Sanna heads for the ship, calling out a friendly, “Hi guys!”

  Instead of hearing five Na’riths and Beth answer back—there’s a thunder of paws and claws on shipdeck grating.

  I reach Sanna just as Kota goes on the alert. “You may want to release her from work,” I warn. “Otherwise she’ll be sorely tested to complete her duty.”

  Spotting the miniscule versions of her kind, her tail wags wildly.

  Loud yips and whimpers of excitement answer from the spacecraft gangplank—along with a ridiculous imitation of a commanding bark as the seven prick-eared tanks shiver with anticipation.

  “Do you—” Sanna starts. “Do you hear that?”

  “Oh, I hear it,” I grin.

  “That sounds like… Bres, are those puppies?”

  Kota’s last harness buckle drops just as she’s met with a wall of madly barking, leaping alien creatures.

  “Kota loves puppies,” Sanna manages in a choked voice.

  I hug her to my side. “So you said.”

  Meesahrah honks. Her ears are crossed and her dimpled chin is dropped in shock. Meanwhile, the rest of the Narwari are lined up, all focused stares as if the puppies are their next meal. We’ll have to nip that misconception in the bud. “Let’s get them in the round pen. The sides are high enough they won’t get out, and it’ll give them a chance to run around safely.” I lead, Kota races around me in circles, and puppies give her chase. When we arrive at the soft-sand filled pen, Sanna reaches out to open the gate, and when the last pup makes it through, I let Sanna know it’s safe to push the gate shut.