by Francesca B.
In the shower, after Verit has left, I play tonight’s romp over in my head. I can’t deny that the sex was fantastic, as always. I like to be dominated, but I have no interest in being owned, in being controlled. In retrospect, I wish I hadn’t given in so easily.
I knew what I was getting myself into when I climbed into bed with a K, but I never intended to become a stereotype or another cautionary tale. We’ve all heard the horror stories of human women who got in too deep with a K. In the aftermath, they’re always made out to be naive, easily malleable things, thoughtlessly handing over their free will in exchange for a sexy blood high. Charl, it’s whispered under breaths, like a bad word. As in: She met a K, let him make her a charl, and then her loved ones never saw her again. The stereotypes about the male charl aren’t nearly as forgiving.
I lean my forehead against the cool tile wall, warm water dancing over my skin. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe a K and a girl like me aren’t compatible. Maybe I should call this off before it all goes wrong.
But, I also really want to see Verit again. And I really, really want to let him dominate me again, his rock solid body moving over me, pinning me down.
I could so easily become addicted to that, as much as I hate to admit it. But I won’t let it be at the cost of myself.
I close my eyes on tonight’s memory, and flip it. Literally. I play a new scenario over in my head, where I’m on top, I’m in charge. I’m gripping Verit’s wrists above his head, and he’s letting me, that sexy smirk twisting under a jet black blindfold. In real life, my hand slips down to my clit, and in my imagination, Verit’s soft lips follow suit. The fantasy of Verit makes me come undone just as easily as the real thing does.
Chapter 9
A few days later, we go to a classy little café a few blocks from my apartment, where again everyone seems to know Verit. The hostess leads us to a table in a quiet corner, where mimosas that she informs us are, in fact, bottomless, are already waiting for us.
“Mimosas should only ever be bottomless,” I announce as we peruse the menu.
“Noted,” Verit says with a half cocked grin.
He orders a quinoa bowl, and I order avocado toast and coconut bacon.
“Were you a big bacon lover?” he asks, as we wait for our meals.
“Um, not really,” I say, sipping my mimosa. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve had real bacon since I was a little kid.”
“Oh, were you a vegan before our arrival?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Almost, yeah. I was a vegetarian before the Invasion, so it was a relatively easy transition for me.”
“Interesting,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve met many humans of that opinion. Most are generally rather upset about that whole ordeal.”
He brushes ‘that whole ordeal’ away with a flick of the wrist. I shrug.
“It wasn’t a huge deal for me,” I say, not wanting to get too deep into the politics of it all over a friendly brunch. Instead, I start rambling nervously about nonsense, trying to put off what I came here to say for as long as possible. “I do miss cheese quite a bit though. I loved a good grilled cheese sandwich. Ooey and gooey and dripping with calories. My mom made the best ones when I was a kid.”
He politely listens to my ramblings until our food arrives, and the bottomless liquid courage has loosened my tongue enough to finally just spit it out.
“Um, yeah,” I say, feeling more nervous than I have since our first meeting. “Listen, I had a ton of fun the other night. And morning. And night again. And I definitely want to do it again, all of it. But I’m not interested in becoming one of those girls that people talk about, the xenos that get whisked off to be property of the K. A charl.”
I say the last part in a low voice, partially out of habit, partially in case I’m pronouncing it wrong, or it’s not even a real thing, just another unfounded rumor.
Verit chuckles in that way that would be condescending coming from anyone else.
“First of all, being a charl is hardly a punishment,” he says the word mockingly, in the same hushed tone I just used. “I’d say those women are usually quite happy, and very well taken care of. Secondly, becoming a charl is a very serious step in a relationship, and you and I have only just met.”
“Oh,” I say, face warming slightly. “Okay, so there’s that. But either way, I’m no pillow princess. I’m not interested in becoming the default submissive, no matter how casual this may be.”
“I know you know that us Krinar are infamously dominant,” Verit says when I pause, and I nod. “So what exactly are you proposing?”
“I want us to take turns,” I say confidently, having finally regained my nerve. “Like a game. One night you’re in charge, and the next night I am. I know that’s unconventional for you, so I understand if you can’t agree to that.”
Verit leans back in his chair, hands folded over his broad chest, and studies me. I’m getting used to his stares, and manage to hold his gaze. I push my shoulders back, faking conviction in my ultimatum, as if I won’t be devastated by a no.
“Very well,” he says at last. “I’ll play.”
I grin broadly, and he smiles back. We finish our mimosas, and the waitress bring us dessert unexpectedly. As usual, no check arrives, but no one stops us from leaving.
On the way out, when no one is watching, I pull Verit into the café bathroom and click the lock shut behind us.
“What’s this?” Verit asks, a wicked smile playing across his lips in the dim light.
“It’s my turn,” I say, leaning against the door with a Krinar-worthy smirk of my own.
“Let the games begin,” he says, meeting me halfway in the cramped space.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask quietly, as I undo his fly with greedy fingers.
“Don’t worry,” he says in that delicious husk. “I’ve been with women like you before.”
I smile again and push him against the wall with a rough shove. “I don’t think you’ve ever met a woman quite like me.”
Chapter 10
Our game is all I can think about. I spend my days counting down the hours until Verit and I can play again. We are a tangle of limbs in sheets, addicts chasing new highs. It took Verit a few tries to become accustomed to the new power dynamics, but once he did he quickly grew to enjoy the game as much as I do. We spend most of our nights together, occasionally preempted by meals at the expensive restaurants he frequents, but more often our shared time is spent entirely in the bedroom. We never go to his place, though. I ask about it once, but he just vaguely claims that I wouldn’t be comfortable there.
I don’t tell Noelle all the details of our arrangement, but she knows I’ve been spending more time with my K. She’s warmed up to the idea of him since his extravagant gift, especially since I let her borrow it once, but is still obviously unnerved by the situation. We avoid discussing it outright, which while not an ideal solution, is a decent band-aid fix. I’m having an insane amount of fun with Verit, but I know that our time together is temporary, and in a way, I feel our affair will probably peter out before I’m forced to figure out how to properly address the issue with Noelle.
On my way home from work, I pass a lingerie shop. I walk by this place every day, but this time a new display in the window catches my attention. A pair of wicked red panties are paired with a bra composed exclusively of strategically placed straps, and the whole thing has a sexy bondage feel. The price tag makes me pause, but if I’ve ever had a reason to own expensive lingerie, this is it.
With the black shopping bag hanging from my elbow, I text Verit to come over tonight, unable to wipe the naughty smirk from my face.
When Verit arrives, I greet him in a silky robe. He raises an eyebrow at the look, and I immediately lead him to the bedroom. It’s my night.
“Get on your knees.”
Verit obeys instantly, dropping to his knees on the plush carpet with a muffled thump. He looks up at me through long lashes, eyes bright
and hungry. I circle him slowly, tracing his clavicle, shoulders, back with only the very tips of my fingers. His skin is warm and soft, but he still shivers at my touch. One side of my mouth flicks up in a quick smile, only when I’m out of sight. I stop in front of him, his eyes level with the meeting of my hips. Still, his gaze remains fixed on my face.
“Look at me,” I insist as I untie my robe and toss it aside. His eyes flick down obediently, and I watch the thirsty smile cross his face as he drinks in my new lingerie. Oh my god, I can’t believe this is my life now.
I take another step forward, closing the distance between us. Verit reaches up, but I swat his hands away before he can touch me.
“No hands.”
Verit pulls back for a second, lowering his hands, glancing up at my face again. His eyes are still starved and greedy. Then he leans forward. Soft lips press against my left hipbone, then my right, and then a wet tongue traces the lacy line drawn between. My breath catches, and I bite back a gasp. He teases the scarlet g-string until he catches it in his teeth, and pulls. It’s a slow journey down my thighs, past my knees, then the silk drops to the floor silently.
He blows on my pussy, the slightest pressure that somehow feels both cool and hot, and this time I can’t help but let out a ragged breath. A grin plays across his face for a moment, a split second of self-satisfaction, and then his lips are against my flesh.
I cry out as his tongue teases my clit, sagging back against the bed. Verit grabs my ass with both hands and pulls me forward, closer against him, nails digging into my flesh. I grip his head for support, burying my fingers into his soft curls.
“Make me come,” I say softly, but he continues to tease, so I repeat the order more forcefully. “Make me come, Verit.”
He obeys, catching me as I sag forward, legs gelatinous beneath me. He licks my folds gently until I’ve recovered. I pull him back up to his feet, guiding us both to the bed, and fetching the pair of cuffs from my nightstand. The leather restraints, a recent purchase, can’t realistically contain Verit, but they put up a better fight than the cheesy pink fur cuffs that he snapped about two nights in. I wind these around the bedpost and secure them on Verit’s wrists, pulling them tight enough to make him growl. God, every sound he makes vibrates through me like a symphony.
“Careful, kitten,” he says, in that honey liquor voice of his.
I shut him up by pressing my fingers between his lips. He immediately sucks them in, pulling hard until I gasp. When I withdraw the digits, I place them between my legs, and start rubbing my own clit. A deep rumble emanates from Verit again, and his arms pull unconsciously at the restraints, his eyes fixated on my careful ministrations.
“Shh,” I say, moving faster. “Just watch.”
The sight of him hungrily watching me makes me moan, and before long I’m riding out my second orgasm of the night, which I’m sure won’t be my last.
“Ari,” Verit gasps hoarsely beneath me. “Let me touch you.”
I release one wrist, and with inhuman speed Verit has flipped us and is pushing me into the mattress, his body heavy on top of me, restraints still hanging off of one wrist.
“It’s my night,” I protest faintly, as his erection presses against my ass.
“Yes, but I know what you want next,” he says, lining his cock up against my entrance, and pushing into me ever so slowly.
I can’t argue with that, moaning as he withdraws partially and thrusts in again, my inner walls clenching around his girth. Soon enough I’m screaming into my pillow as he comes inside me, fingers grasping desperately at his thick arms as he fills me up. How is it that every time we fuck it’s the best sex of my life, and the next time still tops it?
Chapter 11
The first time I go to Verit’s uptown apartment is a real culture shock. He invites me over for dinner, sending his driver to pick me up. His building is modern and clean cut, a puzzle of glass and chrome. After the doorman lets me in, I take the elevator to the penthouse as instructed. Upstairs, the elevator doors opens directly into Verit’s apartment.
“Ari? I’m in the kitchen,” Verit calls out as the elevator dings shut, and I follow his voice down the hall.
The kitchen is sparse, to say the least. There is a long counter with two bar stools tucked under it, but no appliances. No fridge, no stovetop, no microwave. Bizarrely, there is a panini press, which Verit is standing over.
“Hi,” I say cautiously, taking a seat and slinging my purse strap over the back of the bar stool. “Whatcha making?”
With a mischievous grin, Verit opens the press, and I immediately recognize the smell.
“Shut up,” I say, jaw dropping open. “Grilled fucking cheese?”
“Grilled fucking cheese,” he echoes with a chuckle.
“But… how?” I ask, still half-mute with surprise. “I haven’t been able to find cheese in years, at least not anything affordable.”
“I’m a very wealthy man, Ari, with endless connections,” Verit reminds me. “It was rather easy to acquire, once I decided I wanted it.”
Like me? The thought flits across my head for a split second, but I shove it away. I’m too genuinely ecstatic about this turn of events to start overthinking the circumstances.
“Where’s your bathroom? I have to wash my hands,” I ask, hoping my excuse to snoop isn’t too thinly veiled.
“Down the hall, to the left,” Verit says.
I follow his directions, mildly unsettled by the apartment’s decor, or rather lack thereof. It’s not as if the walls are totally barren, but the whole set up feels like it came directly out of a furniture catalogue. There’s nothing personal to it. Nothing particularly homey.
The bathroom is no exception, with deceivingly simple looking stand-ins for the typical bathroom components. I assume it’s K technology, marveling as I clean my skin with the hand-sanitizer-esque gel that emits from the “sink.” It’s awe-inspiring, but also bizarre within the confines of a distinctly human apartment.
“I told you you’d feel out of place here,” Verit says when I return, still gaping at my surroundings.
“I don’t want to, though,” I admit truthfully. I regularly wish that the Krinar weren’t so steadfast about not sharing their technology, as well as most of their culture and advances, with us mere mortals. I’d love to have a freaky toilet tube in my apartment. Still, Verit’s particular set-up is so sparse, it’s hard to imagine this ever feeling like a real home.
Verit flips a sandwich off the press and onto a plate, which he slides in front of me, where a glass of red wine already awaits. The bread is perfectly toasted, the cheese oozing out delectably. I pick up the sandwich, and immediately my fingers are deliciously buttery and greasy.
“Oh, wait,” I say, face falling with the treat inches away from my mouth. “I haven’t had dairy in so long, it’ll probably make me sick.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Verit says, cutting me off before I get more upset. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a nondescript silver cylinder, and waves it at me as if I’m supposed to know exactly what it is, before hiding it away again. “If you begin to feel even slightly ill, I can heal you immediately. Just enjoy this moment.”
And so I do. Verit doesn’t partake. I offer him a bite, but he turns it down, and I don’t press him further. The grilled cheese is even better than I remember, either because of the long wait and anticipation, or because Verit likely sprung for the highest quality ingredients, or both. I moan in delight at the rich flavor, and I can tell that it’s turning Verit on a bit, but I don’t care. Well, that’s not entirely true—I do care, and I like it.
I start licking my fingers clean when I’m done, thirstily drinking in the way he watches me. After a moment, he catches my wrist over the counter, bringing my hand to his lips. He pulls my middle finger into his mouth, gently teasing it with his tongue, then sucking on it hard. I gasp at the sensation, feeling moisture begin to gather between my legs. He does the same to my other four fingers, unti
l I’m jelly in his hands.
“How about a tour?” I ask hoarsely, when I can’t take it any longer.
As Verit leads me straight to the bedroom, I desperately want to ask if he often has humans over, particularly women. Given how cagey he’s been about inviting me, and that he’s told me before that his past affairs with humans were all one night stands or very brief flings, it seems unlikely. But I know that if he confirms this, it will cement the fact that this is special, in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for.
The bedroom is unsurprisingly vacant, aside from a large, circular bed in the center of the room, which Verit quickly tosses me onto. I’m giggling when I land, but gasp when the mattress seems to move beneath me. The soft surface shifts under my weight, changing to fit my body perfectly, even as I adjust my position.
Before I can marvel for long, Verit is on top of me. He kisses me, hard, teeth pulling carelessly at my lips. One hand pins my wrists above my head, the other is on my breasts, my hips, my ass. With one swift move he spins me around, shoving me against the bed while kissing my neck. I moan in delight, and he pulls up my dress, groaning when his hands find no panties.
“You dirty slut,” he teases quietly into my ear, nibbling at the lobe, and I feel my sex burn with want.
“Fuck me,” I demand readily, pushing my bare ass against him. I can feel his erection through his jeans, rock hard for me.
“Tsk tsk,” he reprimands, moving his hand to cover my mouth. “It’s my turn tonight.”
I suck his middle finger into my mouth, mimicking his earlier ministrations, and he inhales sharply but doesn’t stop me. I work my tongue around the digit slowly, relishing his response. He kisses the side of my neck, his free hand teasing my clit, his hips grinding against me. The friction of his jeans against my bare skin pushes me to the edge, and I cry out, releasing Verit’s finger.
