by Lila Dubois
Akta stiffened, looking at his back as he closed the drawer. “You chose the name Henry when you came to LA—I knew that.” She’d never heard him mention his given name.
“My real name is Mir’ek.”
“Mir’ek.” Akta sounded it out. He started to walk away, but she touched his arm. He turned to look at her and she tried to pair that name with his face, to see him as Mir’ek, not Henry. She couldn’t—he was Henry to her. Frustrating, fascinating, sexy Henry.
“Do you want me to call you Mir’ek?”
“No.” His gaze met hers. “I like Henry. I just wanted you to know my real name.”
Akta took a breath. “Thank you.”
In silence, they finished setting the table. When Akta pulled hot plates and bowls from the oven, Henry set out trivets, then grabbed oven mitts to help her carry everything to the table.
The strange mood that had gripped Akta since the night of the attack was fading. She’d been both angry with Henry and wary of him. She wanted to talk to him and wanted to pretend nothing had happened. But this—sitting at her dining room table with Henry across from her—felt right. She relaxed in his presence, felt more herself than she did with anyone else.
When they were halfway through their bowls of noodles, he put down his chopsticks. “I wanted to talk to you about last week.”
Akta toyed with a snow pea. “You mean the night of the attack.”
“Yes.”
Her lips twisted and the anger that had been festering in her bubbled up. “The night you decided that only if the world were basically ending would you kiss me.”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I thought you came because you…you cared about me, and you wanted to be with me. I’d been waiting since the day you told me you were a virgin. Actually, I feel like I’ve been waiting since we met.” Her voice was getting louder and louder, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “I’ve been waiting for you to notice me, for you to give some indication that you wanted me the way I want you.”
Akta jumped out of her chair, needing to move. “I thought that after you told me your secret, it would happen. There was nothing standing in our way. But instead I didn’t hear from you.”
Turning to face him, Akta had to stop herself from grabbing him and shaking him, which would have had as much effect as shaking a statue. “Instead you only show up when you think we’re all doomed. Only when the world is freaking ending am I worth kissing—as if I’m some sad end-of-the-world date!”
Henry rose very, very slowly. His eyes were so blue they seemed to almost glow from within. Akta crossed her arms.
“You think my coming to you that night was a sign that I didn’t care about you or value you?”
“Exactly.”
Without warning, Henry grabbed her, jerking her forward. Akta hated herself for finding it arousing, but she did. Her sweater slid down her arms and her nipples tightened under her thin top. She just hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“I came here to see you, to be with you and protect you, instead of going to help my Clansmen, my family. They were going to face death, death I may have been able to prevent if I’d gone with them, but none of that mattered to me. When I thought the ‘world was ending’, as you put it, the only thing I wanted was you.”
His grip softened and he touched her hair, her cheek.
“Before I died or had to flee, I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to touch you and tell you that you matter to me. I feel things for you I can’t even pretend to understand.”
Akta’s stomach flip-flopped. She’d been terribly wrong, but she almost preferred her thoughts to this truth. She shouldn’t matter to him more than his own people, more than his own survival.
“Henry…I didn’t realize. I thought you were sent here to guard me and then just decided to kiss me.”
“No. I was supposed to go to the battle, to fight with them, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t die without kissing you one last time.”
He cupped her face, holding her still as his mouth settled on hers. Last time he’d surprised her, but this time he rocked her to the core. The kiss was perfect—a soft yet firm meeting of lips.
Akta’s body reacted as if he’d flipped a hidden switch deep within her. She was more aware of him than she ever had been before—his height, the breadth of his shoulders, the faint stubble on his chin and the scent of his skin.
“Henry,” she breathed as he kissed her cheek, her jaw.
“Akta.” His arms came around her hips, pressing them together from pelvis to chest.
Akta’s nipples were hard, making her hyperaware of the hard wall of his chest. His hands roamed over her back, down to her ass.
“I want to…” Henry swallowed, “…make love to you.”
Akta smiled. “I want that too.”
“I know how to do it.”
Akta raised a brow and Henry groaned. He rested his forehead against hers.
“I mean, I know what sex is and how to do it. I just haven’t done it before.”
“I’m okay with that, but you have to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“You’ll tell me what you like, what feels good. And most importantly—” Akta touched his cheek so he’d look at her, “—don’t hide from me. Sex is about being vulnerable, about letting your partner know what you like, what you want.”
Henry held her gaze for a long moment before he nodded.
Akta took Henry’s hand and led him toward her bedroom.
Henry told himself to get it together. It was not like he didn’t know what sex was or had never felt pleasure before—his hands worked just fine. He’d always imagined that when he did have sex it wouldn’t really be that different from masturbating. And if it was different, it wouldn’t really affect him.
How wrong he’d been.
They were only holding hands and Henry’s cock was so hard it physically hurt. His jeans, which were by no means tight, seemed to be cutting into him in a manner akin to torture. He was nervous, with butterflies in his stomach, and he both wanted to bolt out of the house and jump her right there in the hall.
He’d never been in Akta’s bedroom before, despite all the time he’d spent in her house. She opened the door, leading him into a world that was both foreign and strangely familiar. The walls were cream, the exposed beams a deep brown. She had a huge wooden bed with a brightly colored duvet. On top of that strong, almost masculine base were feminine bits and pieces. There was a freestanding mirror in one corner with a painted frame, a beautiful carved wood bench at the foot of the bed with a pile of discarded shoes sitting under it. A delicate vanity with a little stool Henry was sure wouldn’t hold his weight was across from the bed. There were trays and stacks of little pots and tubes, which he knew after his time on set were makeup, but outside the makeup trailer they seemed mysterious, as if she were a sorceress.
There were candles everywhere—fat ones sitting on little round mirrors, slender ones in glass and metal candelabras, and tiny ones in fixtures on the walls. The room smelled like roses, spice and soft cotton.
He’d never been in a more feminine space. In human form, he was tall and muscled, but not nearly as bulky as Luke or Runako, yet this room made him feel as large and awkward as if he were in his true body, trying to navigate a space not meant for him.
Akta closed the door behind them, then let go of his hand.
Henry folded his arms, then unfolded them. He tucked his hands in his pockets and examined the carpet.
Akta took a lighter from a drawer and went around the bedroom, lighting the candles. When she was done, she flicked off the lights and the room was filled with a warm glow.
“You don’t have to do this.” Henry gestured to the candles.
“Do what? Make it romantic?”
Henry had to check the urge to bolt when she said “romantic”. He couldn’t do this. Despite his virgin status, he was pretty sure he could handle sex—romance was a whole different proposi
tion.
“Yes.”
Akta pulled her hair over her shoulder, stroking her fingers through the long strands. He’d seen her do it a hundred times, but this time it make his cock throb, made him itch to touch her.
“If you don’t want romance, what do you want?”
“I…” Henry closed his mouth. There was only one thing he was sure he wanted. “I want you. That’s it. I want you.”
Akta looked at him from under her lashes. He knew he should go to her, he should touch her, strip off his clothes then peel her out of hers, but he was stuck. It was as if his human form had stopped responding to his commands.
They stood for a moment, looking at each other, neither moving, then Akta shrugged out of her sweater.
Beneath the shapeless thing she wore a tank top and a pair of long, silky PJs. The pants were riding low on her hips, leaving a strip of brown skin visible. Her nipples were hard, the peaks outlined by the thin cotton.
Akta took his hands and placed them on her ribs, just under her breasts. Henry’s mouth was dry. Her skin was warm through the cotton. When she pulled off her shirt, sliding it from between her body and his hands, he was left holding her naked upper body. She tugged her hair free of the tank, then tossed it aside.
Her breasts were small but perfect, the lower swells were pale, the nipples tight and dark.
“You can touch them.”
Henry swallowed, then licked his lips.
Her hands cradled his, guiding them up until his palms covered her breasts. The tight buds of her nipples pressed against his hands. Akta made a little sound of pleasure, her fingers stroking his forearms.
“Now you,” she whispered, reaching for the hem of his shirt. Henry released her only long enough to help her rid him of his shirt. When they were both naked from the waist up, he reached for her breasts again. This time he cupped the bottom, caging her nipples between the edges of his index fingers and thumbs. Watching her carefully, he pinched her nipples.
Akta gasped, her nails digging into his forearms.
Henry pulled back. “Did that hurt?”
“A little.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, a little bit of hurt is good. I liked it.” She guided his hands back to her breast. When he didn’t immediately play with her nipples, she used her own hands. He watched as she pinched the tight buds, twisting and pulling on them.
“Now you.”
She dropped her hands to her sides and Henry’s fingers went to work. This time he watched her closely, listening for her gasps and moans of pleasure. He saw, while tugging her nipples, the moment he went too far. She didn’t say anything but a little line appeared between her brows. He dialed back what he was doing and her face smoothed out.
Confident that he could read her face, Henry bent his head and took a nipple in his mouth. Her skin was warm and firm between his lips. He sucked on each nipple in turn as she moaned and gasped.
“Wait, wait,” Akta whispered.
Henry pulled back, examining her face. “Did you not like that?”
“I liked it…too much. I didn’t want to get carried away before I did this.” She unfastened the button of his pants. Her fingers brushed his dick when she took hold of the zipper. Henry froze.
Millimeter by slow millimeter, she opened his fly. He hadn’t bothered with underwear since he’d carried his clothes. When it was halfway down, his cock sprang free. Henry’s hands balled into fists at his sides.
Akta finished lowering the zipper, then tugged on his pants until they were around his thighs. His cock bobbed in the air, the tip already wet.
When Akta dropped smoothly to her knees in front of him, Henry’s mouth went dry.
She pulled his pants down to his ankles, then helped him step out of them until he was completely naked.
“Akta…” Henry wanted this more than he knew how to say, and yet it felt almost wrong. He wanted to show her how much she meant to him, how much he cared about her, not have Akta pleasure him.
“Yes, Henry?”
He opened his mouth, but her slim, strong fingers curled around the base of his cock. Whatever he might have said died as indescribable pleasure swept through him.
Her other hand joined the first, curling around the rest of his shaft. She squeezed and Henry nearly dropped to his knees.
“Remember, you promised to tell me what you like,” she said.
He could feel her breath as little puffs of air on the tip of his cock.
“This,” he gasped, “I like this.”
“I’m glad.” Her thumb rubbed the head of his cock. “Henry, look at me.”
He looked down, met her gaze and watched as she took his cock in her mouth. He shuddered in pleasure. Cupping her head, he sank his hands into the long strands of her hair.
Akta’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock as her hands rhythmically squeezed him. Then she dropped one hand and took him deeper into her mouth. He could feel her tongue, lips and teeth working him. This was nothing compared to a quick, sad jerk lying in bed at night. His whole body felt alive from the pleasure of her mouth.
Her free hand cupped his balls, stroking them as she built up a rhythm, her head bobbing forward and back.
It had been only a few minutes, but Henry couldn’t hold himself back. He shouted in pleasure as he came. Akta sucked his cock in deeper, stroking the underside with her tongue as his orgasm shuddered through him.
Spent, he staggered back a step, dropping into the little chair at her vanity, which creaked, but held. Akta disappeared into the bathroom. Henry took a few shaky breaths. He was more relaxed, and more elated, than he could ever remember being.
Why had he waited so long to do this? Sex was awesome.
And they hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.
Then again, he doubted he would feel this way if he’d been with anyone other than Akta. As if thinking her name had called her to him, the bathroom door opened.
When she came out, her hair was loose, draped over her body. It hid her breasts, but as she walked the tight buds of her nipples peeked through the curtain of her hair.
Henry opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to thank her, but that seemed stupid. He wanted to tell her how much he’d enjoyed that, how much her touch aroused him, but that wouldn’t be anything she didn’t already know.
“Akta.” He rose to his feet. His cock was still semi-erect, and as he caught sight of her nipples, he could feel the first stirrings of fresh desire.
“Henry.” She slid her pants down. They pooled at her feet. Stepping out of them, she stood before him completely naked and yet still covered by the silky black strands of her hair.
Reaching up, she brushed her hair back over her shoulders, exposing her naked body to his gaze. “Touch me.”
Chapter Seven
Akta held her breath as Henry came to her. Her whole body was humming with arousal.
Normally she was happy to follow the guy’s lead in sex. She loved to be touched, to be made to feel feminine and fragile under a man’s hands. It surprised her how hot it made her to be the one to take charge now, to touch Henry and to demand he touch her.
He took a lock of her hair, pulling it forward. He examined it, running his fingers along it. Akta had to bite back her impatience. Laying her hair over her breast, Henry rubbed her nipple with the soft strands. Pleasure rippled though her. It was good, but not enough.
Taking his other hand, she brought it to her bare breast. His fingers immediately closed around her nipple, rolling and tugging with just enough pressure to have her wanting more.
“I want to make you come,” Henry said, breath ragged. “The way you made me come.”
Akta guided them back to the bed. Tossing the duvet to the floor, she lay back, propping herself up on one elbow. Henry’s gaze was fixed on the apex of her thighs. Akta stroked her fingers down her sternum, over her belly to her pussy. She slid her fingers between her legs, keeping them closed. She w
as so wet she was slippery. Unable to avoid the temptation, she pressed one finger between the lips of her sex and touched her clit.
“What are you doing? Show me,” Henry demanded.
Slowly, Akta parted her legs. Henry dropped to his knees beside her bed. Akta braced her heels on his shoulders and scooted her butt to the edge. With her left hand, she pinched and twisted her own nipples as her right hand separated the folds of her sex. Two fingers splayed, she used her middle finger to circle her clit.
He hadn’t touched her, and yet Akta was more aroused with each passing moment. She could feel him watching her, feel the way he studied her movements, learning what she liked, what pleased her.
Henry’s fingers stroked the inside of her thighs until he reached the warm, wet core. She pulled back as his fingers caressed her labia, then circled her clit.
“This is your clit,” he said, carefully petting the little bundle of nerves.
“Yes.”
“You’re beautiful here—so warm and wet.”
His head bent and he licked her clit—two long, hard strokes. Akta jumped a little.
“Softer,” she said, “and use more of your tongue.” She held her breath, scared he’d be angry with her for directing him, but he wasn’t. He pressed his tongue flat against the inner folds of her sex and rubbed her clit.
Akta’s fingers dug into the sheets and she pressed her feet hard against his shoulders. “Henry, yes, Henry.”
She savored his name. She’d imagined this, imagined them together like this.
He drew back for a moment, panting a little.
“Give me your hand,” she said.
Henry held up his hand. Taking it in both of hers, she folded all but his index finger into a fist, then guided his hand to her pussy. She ran his finger down the center of her sex and positioned it at the entrance to her body. She saw his eyes widen, and in the next instant his finger was inside her.
“Like this?”
“Oh yes.” Akta closed her eyes, reveling in the moment.
“You’re very tight.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“How long?”
