“Embrace how?” She never heard a voice more dubious.
“Let’s say the awkward things now. Ask the embarrassing questions with the understanding that neither of us will be offended or take it the wrong way.”
He nodded, his tawny gaze catching the light. “I admire the way you have grown.” Immediately he flinched at his words.
“See, out of context, that sounds like you’re some perv who waited until I was of legal age before making a move on me, but we know that’s not the case.” Sixteen years had passed since their brief friendship with no contact, exactly half her life.
“Your physical changes are attractive and aesthetically pleasing,” he said, and Nakia glowed at the praise. “But I admire the growth in your confidence. Before you were unsure, needing attention and affirmation—”
“Validation.”
“Yes, validation. Now, you know your mind and have strong opinions, and that is far more attractive than your figure.”
Did she think she glowed before? Because now she was positively incandescent.
“Thanks, you’re not so bad yourself,” she said, hiding her smile behind the coffee cup. Her turn to say something awkward. She took a deep breath. “I never thought I’d like a silver fox before you,” she said, the words tumbling out.
Rohn tilted his head to one side, as if unsure what to make of her declaration. “A fox is a Terran predator renowned for cunning. Is the silver a reflection of age, that I am particularly clever for surviving to advanced agedness? Or is a commentary on environmental camouflage for the arctic?”
Nakia leaned back and laughed. “No, it’s means you’re hot for an old guy. Fox is slang for an attractive person.”
“And I am a silver fox?” A lock of his iron gray hair fell forward. He pushed it back with one hand and Nakia’s thighs clenched. His hair had that just-rolled-out-of-a-marathon-sex-romp vibe and every time he made it messier, it made him all the more attractive. Plus the glasses.
Not fair. Not fair at all.
He paused, as if he could tell, and grinned. His pink tongue darted to his lower lip.
“Stop milking it.” She landed a playful hit on his arm. “I find you physically attractive too. That’s not a secret. I practically drooled all over you last night.”
Her gaze drifted down to the table and the nearly complete model spaceship with the pink tentacle kitty pilot. Its cuteness was completely at odds with the gruff, grizzled warrior appearance.
“How old are you?” she blurted. “I mean, you’re always going on about your advanced age, blah blah blah, but other than the gray hair, you don’t look different. Maybe I can’t tell Mahdfel ages but, honestly, I really don’t see a difference between you and anyone else. So, give me a number. Give me context.”
“145.”
“Holy fuck. Shit. I mean, fuck that’s old. You said you were old, but that’s like ancient. You’re an antique.” Stop talking. Her cheeks burned. Why couldn’t she stop talking?
“I am not decrepit yet.”
Her gaze drifted over his form, lingering on the solid bulk of his arms, the broad expanse of his chest, and the satisfying thickness of his thighs. Everything about Rohn screamed vitality. “No, I’d say you’re far from decrepit.”
The base of his horns flushed with color. “In truth, I am at an age where I should think about retiring.”
“Not something you want?”
“I want to be of use to my clan.”
“I can understand that.” She picked up her empty mug and frowned, before getting up for a refill. “Want more coffee?”
His tawny eyes tracked her as she walked to the counter and poured herself another cup. “May I see your prosthesis?”
She paused, the spoonful of sugar hovering above the cup. In her dating life, she had random guys hit on her because of her leg. They often didn’t ask before touching, treating her like an object for their curiosity. It was always gross, and while she never hid her prosthesis, she took her time getting to know any potential partners to weed out the amputee fetish creeps. But this was Rohn, he didn’t ping any of those creeper vibes, and she trusted him. “Okay,” she said.
“If you are uncomfortable—”
“It’s fine. I mean, it’s not a secret and you saw it yesterday.”
“I failed to observe properly.”
Too busy shouting at Jaxar. “We had a lot going on.” She stepped around the counter and unbuttoned her trousers as the pant legs were too tight to hike up her calf.
“Nakia! Do not expose yourself.” Rohn shielded his eyes with one hand, the root of his horns flushing a deeper color.
She smiled at his sudden shyness. “We are married, you know.”
“I noticed.”
“At some point you are going to see me in my undies.”
The blush intensified. Was he a chronic blusher? Or did the gray of his hair make it more pronounced? She certainly enjoyed watching him peek at her between his fingers.
She kicked off her trousers and waited for her shy husband to open his eyes.
“Come on, it’s just a body,” she said.
“It is your body.” His throat worked with a swallow. “My control may slip.”
“Is one little piece of fabric all that stands between you and losing control?”
“I cannot say, but I know it is easier when you are clothed.”
Nakia pried his hand off his face. “Look.”
His gaze swept from her feet upwards, lingering at her hips, then back down to her calf. She stuck a dramatic pose with her prosthesis before rotating slowly, letting him see it at all angles.
“Does it—”
“One awkward question at a time,” she said, flinging herself down next to him on the futon. She stretched her legs across his lap. “So, can you scratch yourself with your horns? Like on your shoulders?” She tilted her head down and raised one shoulder to her ear to demonstrate.
His brow furrowed. “Why would I use my horns when I can use my hands?”
“I dunno. What if your hands are full and your shoulder is itchy? Whaddya do then? I got to know.” She wiggled her toes for emphasis.
“Yes,” he said in an authoritative voice. “Then scratching myself with my horns is my only option.”
“I knew it,” she bubbled, happily sipping her coffee. His golden gaze caught hers and he smiled, the easy peace of it melting her into a puddle of goo.
She loved him. The knowledge struck her with such certainty that it rocked her to her core. Different from the infatuation of her youth, she could sense a tender regard that held the same sense of comfort and security, but she could also sense playfulness and confidence. Her confidence. His playfulness. He didn’t treat her like a fragile thing, but as a peer, and fuck if she didn’t love the heat in his tawny eyes.
She licked her bottom lip, aware that his eyes tracked the movement. Those glasses. Her gray wolf. Nothing escaped his notice.
“May I touch your prosthesis?”
Not what she expected him to say, but okay. She nodded.
His hand started at the black cuff of her compression sock, what she wore on her stump to help with circulation. The prosthesis fit over it. His fingers brushed the fabric, then skated down to her ankle. Growing more confident, he held the white plastic limb firmly, before his hand moved back up in a caress. He watched her for her reaction. “Can you feel that?”
“Yes. Mostly the warmth of your hand, but some touch.”
“That seems remarkable to me,” he said.
“It is a very sophisticated piece of tech.” When it worked.
His fingers traced the glowing blue seams down her calf to the turn of her ankle, ending at the sole of her foot. She wiggled her toes just to see his grin.
“Does it pain you?”
“Honestly, sometimes. Mostly I don’t even think about it. It’s just part of me, but sometimes it aches. And taking it off at the end of the day is the best feeling, like taking off your bra but ten times bette
r. That probably wasn’t the best analogy.”
“It paints a picture.” His gaze darted between her foot and her lips and back again. “Can you feel this?” With his index finger, he stroked the sole of her foot.
“Yes.”
“Ticklish?”
“Are you?”
He nodded.
“Seriously? Where?” She had to know.
That grin again, wolfish and playful. Coupled with the warmth in his remarkable eyes, her heart lurched. “Not telling. You’ll have to find out.”
She was a goner. Absolutely gone.
Nakia set her cup down on the table and shifted toward Rohn.
“What are you doing?” His eyes flashed tawny, then gold, as she straddled his lap.
He was solid under her touch, unyielding as she settled into place, and she enjoyed every touch. She felt his hardness against her hip. Clearly, he liked it too.
“I want to see something,” she said.
Chapter 10
Rohn
Rohn started to remove his glasses. Her hand made him pause. “Leave them,” she said, voice thick with desire.
“Yes?”
“Oh yes. They are working for you.”
They were a visual reminder of his deficiency. It seemed impossible that his mate would find them attractive, but the unmistakable musk of her arousal hung in the air. His tattoos burned at the recognition of desire and he hardly believed that someone so vibrant desired him.
She climbed on his lap, her legs straddling his.
He swallowed, unable to take his eyes off of her. “What do you want to see?”
“This.” She slanted her mouth over his, her lips brushing softly. He responded, just as softly. Her tongue licked the seam of his mouth, demanding entrance, and he opened for her.
She tasted sweet, better than chocolate chip cookies or smoky liqueur. She was distilled sunshine and joy, warm and sweet, and made for him.
The kiss deepened with an air of urgency. His cock hardened and pressed between them. She made an appreciative noise but said nothing, grinding against him. The scent of her surrounded him, a light floral fragrance. He committed the moment to memory, not wanting to miss a detail.
She pulled back, a smile lingering on her kiss-swollen lips. “Oh, wow.”
“Did you find what you wanted?”
“Oh, we’ve got chemistry, all right.” Her index finger brushed his lower lip.
“Let me verify.” He kissed along her jaw and down her neck, exploring her softness and marking her all the while. She wiggled out of her shirt, grinding against his cock.
“I want to see you,” she said, tugging at his shirt. He tossed it to the floor, holding his breath as his mate took in his physical appearance. She had seen him unclothed once before but now her fingers traced the patterns of the tattoos across his shoulders and chest. The normally dark ink now glowed a bright silver, reflecting his heightened emotions. Her fingers rasped over scar tissue and ink, touching him with reverence. “Wow. I heard rumors that the tattoos glowed but I didn’t believe it. Wow. You’re really something,” she said.
“Something good?”
“Something wonderful.” She glanced up the pattern she traced on his pecs, dark lashes framing her velvety eyes, and she licked her bottom lip.
Their gaze held and the atmosphere went from warm to superheated. He needed to see all of his mate. To taste her. To be inside her.
He fumbled with the fastener on her brazier but grew frustrated and tore it away.
“That was a good bra,” she protested.
He did not care. Her breasts were high and small, the perfect size for his mouth, capped with rosy pink nipples. He took them into his mouth, rolling his tongue. She arched into him, her hand frantically working to free his cock.
His finger slipped under her panties and tugged them down. He wanted them off but he did not want to release her nipple, either. Frustrated he could not have both, he pulled away and focused at the scrap of fabric causing such trouble. With a growl, he tugged on it until the fabric ripped.
“Were these good, also?”
“No,” she said, “they sucked.” She did not hesitate and lined herself over his cock.
“You are not ready. You will damage yourself.” He needed to open her, to prepare her for his girth.
“Trust me, I’ve never been more ready.” She bit her lower lip as she sank down onto his length, groaning.
Her heat surrounded him. Tight, tighter than he expected, and perfection.
“You are so tight,” he said, panting with the effort it took not to come immediately.
She rode him, a look of concentration on her face. Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging. Eventually she latched on his horn, using it to leverage herself up. “I can’t believe how good you feel, babe,” she whispered.
He could watch his beautiful mate forever, entranced at the way her body moved in pleasure and the bliss on her face. He growled, bucking up into her. She gasped and rode harder, her tits bouncing.
His hands clasped her hips, holding tight. She clenched around him, squeezing him tight. Pure electricity shot up his spine. He wouldn’t last long.
Now. Claim her.
They reached the peak together.
He sank his fangs into the delicate flesh on her shoulder as the electricity coiled through him, pushing him to the edge of his climax. He bit down, not letting go until he tasted blood, and emptied deep into her. Her pleasure blended with the pain, squeezing him tighter and milking him for every drop.
He stroked the bottom of her left foot in a tickle. She kicked and twisted, laughing the entire time. He loved the sound of it, the delight and music in her laughter, and vowed to hoard all her sounds of pleasure.
Her other surprisingly solid foot landed heavily against his chest and pushed. He grunted with appreciation at her strength and captured the offending foot.
Starting at the flesh of her upper thigh, he stroked the length of her right leg, and her breath caught in her throat. Another sound of pleasure to file away. Moving down to the artificial portion below her knee, he listened and watched carefully, wanting to remember every detail. Warmed by her body, the surface coating felt as pliable and delicate as Terran skin, covering the hard layer below.
“Does your leg pain you?” He had to ask. He needed to know and rectify the situation if possible. The idea of his mate suffering the slightest discomfort would keep him up all night.
She stretched out her legs, flexing each foot one at a time. The long, shapely line of her calf turning into her delicate ankle caught his eye. He misspoke. Worry would not keep him up all night.
“I don’t even really think about it anymore,” she said. Her slender finger undid the fastener and the device slipped free, revealing the stump dressed in a black stocking. She rolled the stocking down. Her skin had a wrinkly, compressed look but was otherwise healthy. A scar, faded and pale, curved around the end. “It’s just me. I pretty much wear this all day, even in the shower, but not when I’m sleeping. I attend regular medical appointments to check on my muscle development and hip joints, get a new prosthesis every few years, and that’s it. Mostly I get tired of people telling me I’m so brave for having the audacity to exist. What was I going to do? Give up?”
“No, I don’t think you know how.”
“Damn straight. Team Rokia isn’t made of quitters.” She scooted back in the bed, her leg brown against the white bed linens.
The iron resolve in her voice made him smile. “May I touch you?”
She sucked in a breath but nodded.
He watched for her reactions as he leaned in, starting with a kiss where her hip met her thigh. “I love this spot,” he murmured. He planted soft kisses on the inside of her thigh, breathing deep the musky scent of her desire and his spent seed, and murmured that he adored this spot. And the next. And the next. Every inch of her was perfection. He loved it all.
He worked his way down to her knee, loving the feel of str
ong muscles under a layer of softness. At the bend behind her knee, he gave it a long, wet kiss. She squealed and jolted. Another ticklish spot. Finally, he reached where her leg ended.
Paler than the rest of her bronze skin, it looked remarkably unremarkable. A thick scar, faded with time, curved along the rounded end. Nothing looked inflamed or irritated. This was an old injury, long healed.
“Does this require special care or consideration?”
“I clean the socket at night. Sweat can get in there and make it a bit gross. I usually lotion up my stump before bed and clean the receptor pads.”
“May I do that for you?”
She chewed at her bottom lip before nodding. “I know we’re naked and whatnot, but that seems very… intimate.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, I understand.”
She sighed. “How can I refuse that? Of course, Rohn. There’s no part of me you can’t touch. No part of me I don’t want you to touch.”
She reached to the bedside table and handed him a bottle of lotion. He worked the cream into her leg, covering every inch of skin. He watched the pulse point in her throat for any sign of distress. She merely sighed and sank back into the pillows.
They lay together, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces as Nakia curled into his side. She rested her hand directly over his heart. Could she feel it beating? Did she know it would beat only for her for the rest of his days?
“Can I ask about your horn?” She shifted, her velvety eyes looking up at him.
Stars above, he couldn’t resist those eyes. Normally he did not speak of challenge with Levin that left him disfigured. Those who were there knew and he didn’t see how it was anyone else’s business.
“A toxin prevented me from healing properly,” he said. “It also impaired my vision.” He tapped his cheekbone, just under his right eye. “Because of this, I am not fit to pilot.”
“But you manage all the pilots and the ships and the equipment.”
“Yes.” It was as close as he would ever get to flying solo in the stars.
“Do you like your job?”
Rohn Page 11
