by Julia Sexton
Vincent paused mid-stride to look at her.
“What?”
Well, no sense in backing down now. She had already been caught.
Genevieve switched the phone over to voice mail, stepped out from behind her desk, and walked up to him.
She leaned up, curled a hand around the back of his neck to pull him down, and kissed him.
The kiss was short and glancing at first. He hadn’t been expecting it, after all. But he adapted at an admirable pace, and the kiss very quickly turned harsh and biting, filled with pent up irritation.
His hands fell to her hips, his grip on them almost bruising, and the kiss seemed to go on for an eternity, the rest of the world slowing to a halt around them.
When at last they parted, Vincent asked breathlessly, “You’re supposed to be leaving soon, right?”
“Mmhmmm,” Genevieve hummed in confirmation.
“Oh, good.” He gave her one more, quick kiss and took her by the hand.
“Follow me.” He led her towards the glass door that led to the rest of the penthouse, and Genevieve barely remembered to grab her purse from the desk on the way past.
They made it to the bedroom quickly, and they stripped just as quickly, pulling clothing off and tossing it every which way, just to be naked as fast as possible.
They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, tumbling this way and that, Genevieve on top, and then Vincent, and then Genevieve again.
When they finally came to a stand still, Genevieve was straddling Vincent’s hips, her knees on the mattress and her hands on his chest.
He was already hard, his cock pressing against her thigh and smearing precum against her skin with each subtle movement, and she could already feel herself dripping wet.
Vincent reached towards the bedside table and fumbled blindly in the drawer with one hand. When he pulled his hand out again, it was with a condom held between two fingers. He tore the package open with his teeth and handed it to her.
Genevieve rolled the condom down over his cock and tossed the wrapper aside. With that handled, there was no beating around the bush.
She closed one hand around his member to hold him steady, lifted herself up on her knees, and then sank down slowly on his cock.
They moaned in tandem, Vincent’s eyes slipping closed and Genevieve’s head falling back. For a moment they stayed like that, joined together and relishing the sensation.
Vincent gripped her hips once more, and his thumbs slowly stroked over the stretch marks there, tracing them, as if to commit them to memory.
And then he gave her a tug, and she lifted upwards, his hands pulling her back down and his hips lifting off of the bed to meet each downwards movement.
It was quick and dirty, each thrust a frenzy of movement. They seemed to be in perfect sync with each other the entire time, and each thrust was just the right speed, just the right angle, just the right depth. It seemed as if they had only just begun, and they were already approaching the end.
With each thrust, heat and tension coiled in Genevieve’s belly, like a wind-up toy being wound too far. With each thrust, it was wound a little tighter until inevitably, it burst apart, and she came with a moan that may as well have been a scream.
Her limbs felt like jelly and she wanted nothing more than to sprawl out on the bed like a content cat, but she held out for a few more thrusts, until Vincent tensed and arched like a bow and came with a low, drawn out groan.
For a slow moment, Genevieve stayed on top of him, looking down and thoroughly enjoying the sight of him utterly undone.
It wasn’t long before she toppled sideways onto the bed, though. She tucked herself against his side contently.
Vincent pulled the condom off, tied it off, and pitched it towards the trashcan. He wrapped one arm around her, and in moments, Genevieve was out like a light.
Chapter 8
Genevieve woke up when Vincent left the bed. He didn’t go far; he just stepped out of the room. She could tell he was talking on the phone, but she couldn’t tell whom he was speaking to, and she couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying.
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t think much of that. Given his accent, she knew that English wasn’t his first language.
But it didn’t even sound like any language she had ever heard. It was all guttural, almost animalistic sounds, and at one point Genevieve swore she heard him growl.
Whatever the conversation was, it only lasted a few minutes.
When Vincent stepped back into the bedroom, Genevieve sat up, and he froze like a rabbit getting ready to bolt.
“Oh,” he managed after a moment, trying and failing to sound natural. “You’re awake.”
“What was all of that?” she asked.
He flinched.
“You, ah…you heard that?”
“What’s going on?” she asked, insistent.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Nothing,” he replied, but he wouldn’t look at her. “Nothing is going on.”
Genevieve joined him on the edge of the bed and turned on the lamp on the bedside table.
She looked up at him, met his gaze, and asked, “What secret did you tell Cathy? Why did she leave?”
Vincent looked away from her. For a very long moment, he didn’t say anything at all. When at last he finally spoke, his voice was almost inaudible as he admitted, “I’m not human, Gen.”
The entire world seemed to pause for a few seconds, as Genevieve slotted those four words into place, carefully examining them until they made sense, but they stubbornly refused to.
“I…I don’t understand,” she finally said, as she tried to get him to look at her.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not human,” he repeated, louder that time, anger creeping into his tone. “I’m not even from this planet.”
“I don’t believe you,” Genevieve replied, her words trembling slightly.
“You’re just…you’re joking or—or you’re trying to freak me out or—something.” She shook her head tightly. “You’re lying.”
Vincent breathed out heavily through his nose, and finally he looked at her. Genevieve squealed in surprise when his eyes went from their unusual but more-or-less human lilac to looking like a pair of swirling, cobalt blue marbles.
“I’m not human,” he reiterated quietly, as his eyes went back to lilac.
Genevieve scrambled to her feet and began gathering up her clothing. She started to dress quickly, foregoing her bra, panties, and socks in favor of haste.
She awkwardly stuffed the undergarments into her purse, picked up her shoes, and hurried towards the glass door.
“Where are you going?” Vincent asked, a few steps behind her.
“It’s two in the morning.”
“I’m going home,” she replied, stepping into the waiting room.
“I—I need to go.”
If he said anything after that, she didn’t hear him. She stepped into the elevator and slammed her hand down on the button for the ground floor.
She tugged her shoes on before the elevator reached the floor, and she hurried out the front door and to her car.
The drive back to her apartment passed in a haze, and it wasn’t until she was home that she let herself think about what had just happened.
An alien. Her boss—the man she had just slept with—was an alien. She did laps back and forth across her apartment as she tried to wrap her mind around it.
She chewed at her lips and picked at her nails and twirled her hair between her fingers, and then she simply sat down on the floor and buried her face in her hands.
What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t tell anyone. No one would believe her. Should she quit? But no, her mind almost immediately rebelled at that thought. Besides, it was a good, well-paying job and he wasn’t a bad boss.
But what was she supposed to do? There wasn’t any easy answer jumping out at her.
She supposed she would just keep doing her job unt
il she had things figured out. She would just keep everything professional until she knew what to do about the situation.
Calmer at that point, Genevieve stood up, kicked her shoes off, and went to bed. Her sleep wasn’t particularly restful, but at least she wasn’t awake all night.
Chapter 9
For two weeks, Genevieve went through the motions. She answered calls, scheduled and rescheduled meetings and events, replied to emails, and even took notes at one point.
There were no conversations, though. No leaps from the fire to the glacier. No navigating any minefields. When they spoke, it was on a purely professional level.
And it was…painful. She didn’t like ignoring him. She didn’t like the look Vincent gave her when the friendliest she got was a polite, “Good morning, Mr. Grimoire.”
The news had freaked her out, sure, but she missed spending time with him. And she supposed that was all the answer that she needed.
On the fifteenth day after the incident, she put in the earrings he gave her and she put on the necklace.
Once she walked into the waiting room, she didn’t bother switching the phone back over from voice mail, and instead walked right up to the office door and knocked on it.
The door opened and Genevieve stepped inside. For a few seconds they just stared at each other, regarding each other silently. Vincent broke first.
“Morning, Genesis.”
Genevieve smiled. “Good morning, Vincent.”
The air itself seemed to relax, and Genevieve made her way across the room. She stepped behind the desk so she was standing between Vincent’s knees, and she leaned against the edge of the desk.
“Explain it to me,” she said simply. “Explain to me who you are.”
Vincent sighed. “It might take a while,” he replied.
Genevieve shrugged. “I’ve got time.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Vincent teased quietly.
Genevieve arched one eyebrow and Vincent cleared his throat.
“My people are sort of nomadic,” he began.
“Our planet is uninhabitable and is little more than a massive, dried out ball of dust, so we go where we can. A lot of us live on space stations—I’m from a station in the Arcturus solar system—but they aren’t ideal, since they get crowded quickly. So we look for planets that we can move to, and we blend in with the dominant species and just go about our business. We’re shape changers.”
“So what are you, specifically, doing here?” Genevieve asked.
Vincent was quiet for a moment, deciding how to answer.
“Some of us are like champions of our people. We handle the finding of planets. Some of us fight violent creatures. Some of us research the planets to make sure they’re safe to live on. And some of us are like me. Once a planet shows promise, people like me come down to see how adaptable the people are. We blend in, but we at least want to be comfortable. If the dominant species is too primitive and too resistant to change, we leave.”
Genevieve tipped her head to one side.
“Why not just introduce it all at once?” she wondered. “Force the matter a bit.”
Vincent shook his head tightly. “Bad idea,” he replied.
“I couldn’t just whip out a warp core and say ‘congratulations, you can now go faster than the speed of light.’
There are things that need to be accounted for, consequences that need to be kept in mind. It would be like giving the latest technology to a cave man. Sure, he might understand that the big boom means things die, but I doubt he would understand radiation or nuclear fallout. It needs to happen somewhat naturally. The science needs to be there, not just the end result.”
“And how do you like us humans so far?” Genevieve asked playfully, leaning towards him slightly.
“You’re okay,” Vincent drawled wryly in reply.
“Anymore questions?”
“Just one,” she answered.
“Who were you on the phone with that night?”
“That was Isaiah,” he replied easily.
“He’s the one who’s been researching how safe Earth is for us. Luckily we didn’t need a champion to kill anything, though rumor has it there’s one running around somewhere, all domestic-like.” He shrugged.
“Isaiah and I keep in contact, now and then, since we’re working towards the same goal. He’s got a bit of a stick up his ass, though.”
Genevieve giggled quietly, and they lapsed into silence.
Eventually, Vincent asked, “So, are you going to run away again?”
She shook her head.
“No. I like it right where I am.”
Vincent hummed contemplatively, settled his hands on her hips, and tugged her forward and down.
She stumbled forward half a step and abruptly found herself straddling his lap.
“I think I like you better here,” he observed.
“What do you think?”
“Much better,” she assured him.
There was barely any space between them at that point, so it seemed only natural to lean forward to kiss him, closing what little space remained.
Their lips moved against each other gently at first, until Vincent bit at her lower lip and dragged his tongue over it to sooth it. From there, it was as if they were trying to inhale each other.
Slowly, Vincent began working Genevieve’s skirt up her thighs, until it was high enough up that he could hook his fingers around her panties without much hassle and pull them down. She lifted herself up slightly, just enough to make it easier.
He pressed two fingers against the lips of her sex, and the longer they kissed, the wetter she got, until she was slick enough for him to press two fingers to her entrance and push them inside.
Genevieve moaned against his lips and fisted her hands against his shoulders. As he thrust his fingers in and out of her pussy, she began to use her thighs to shift herself up and down, riding his hand.
After all of the emotional turmoil of the last two weeks and the sudden relief of that morning, it didn’t take much until she was almost ready to burst.
Vincent pressed his thumb to her clit and began to stroke, and Genevieve buried her face in his neck to muffle her voice. He managed to circle his thumb over her clit three times before she gasped his name against his skin and came.
She relaxed against him for a few seconds, just basking in the feeling. As she leaned against him, though, it didn’t take her long to realize that his cock was completely hard.
Leisurely, she squirmed backwards off of his lap, and she settled on her knees on the floor, where she took the time to pull her panties back up and shimmy her skirt back down.
In anticipation, Vincent already had his hips lifted off of the chair when Genevieve unbuttoned and unzipped the fly.
She slid his trousers and his boxers down just far enough for his cock to spring free, and Vincent dropped back down to sit in the chair.
For a second, Genevieve just contemplated the erection before her, and then she curled one hand around the base of it and she closed her mouth over the rest of it.
Above her, Vincent groaned and the chair creaked as he sank down on it.
Genevieve bobbed her head up and down slowly at first, adjusting to the feel and weight of him on her tongue. As she got more comfortable, though, she began to speed up, and it wasn’t long before Vincent was nearly vibrating with tension as he did his best not to thrust into her mouth.
Still, his hips moved in occasional, fitful little jerks. He was moaning unrepentantly, but every sound he made was muffled. Genevieve shot a glance up at him to see that while one of his hands was clenched on one of the arms of the chair, his other hand was pressed over his mouth.
She hummed in amusement at the sight, and then she hummed a second time to get him to repeat the panting reaction he had to it.
The small jerks of his hips were getting more frequent, so she knew he was getting close. She squeezed her hand around the base of his cock for a moment
before loosening her grip, and she pressed the flat of her tongue against the underside and dragged it upwards.
She sealed her lips around the leaking head and sucked hard.
With a drawn out groan, Vincent’s back arched away from the chair and he came. Genevieve swallowed quickly, and drew her mouth away from his softening member with a quiet pop. She scrubbed the back of her hand over his mouth.
