by Tracy Lauren
“So…that’s me. Prudence the prude. Nice to meet you,” I say, turning to avoid his eyes.
“Why the name Vivian?”
“Huh? Oh… I don’t know. I always thought names that started with a V were sexy…adventurous or something,” I shrug.
“V, huh? The sexy and adventurous V.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“I am not,” he says seriously.
The silence stretches between us.
“You know Dax is not my real name. It is short for Philidaxium.”
This catches my attention and I look up at him. “Is that true?”
“No. But would it matter if my name was Philidaxium? Would I be any less me?”
I roll my eyes at him. “Easy for you to say. You like who you are. That’s where we differ, Dax, one of the many, many, many ways in which we do. And unfortunately for me, I don’t know if there is any way to outrun who we are. At least, I haven’t been able to do it yet.”
“Your problem is that you are trying to run from who you are rather than discover all you can be,” he says knowingly.
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Pfffftttt. Whatever,” I counter as I hold out my glass for him to pour more liquor into it. He obliges, but only fills it halfway this time.
“We do not differ in so many ways, my sweet V. You said it yourself. You want to be sexy and adventurous. Interestingly enough, that is exactly what I want to be.”
“Yeah, I only see one of us pulling that off though,” I say into my cup and instantly cringe. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. “So,” I say, changing the subject. “Do you think this can continue? Now that you know who I really am?”
“You still have not told me what a librarian is,” he points out.
“Oh…um, a person who works at a place where they keep lots and lots of books.”
“Is that where you learned to do that trick on the vine? From a book?”
“No!” I laugh. “No, I didn’t learn that from a book, and I’d bet most other librarians definitely do not know how to do that. You haven’t answered my question though,” I notice.
“Can we continue on? Why would we not? I see nothing that has changed,” he replies. “Besides, I think I quite like the idea of helping you achieve your goals. Perhaps I am the perfect person to teach you the skills you desire.”
“Skills?” I ask, not following, probably because of the light feeling the liquor is giving me.
Dax stands and pulls me up from my seat. “To be adventurous. To be sexy.”
I flush from embarrassment. He noticed that I called him sexy.
“Come, V. We are done with all sadness for the night. Let me show you around my ship,” he says, tugging me out of the kitchen.
Chapter 21
Dax
I forego a true tour and take V exactly where I want her: to my bedroom. When the door glides open and she takes in the sight of the bed she rushes past me, knocking me out of her way.
“Oh my God! A bed!” she exalts, diving onto the mattress and burying her arms and face in pillows. I waste no time climbing in next to her.
“Ahhh, this is such a luxury after sleeping in those reclining seats,” she says under a mess of wild mane. I reach over and pull the strands of her hair back, exposing her smiling face.
“You are already drunk, little female,” I notice.
“Only just barely, but I can’t say that I didn’t warn you,” she says, propping herself up on her elbow. I mirror her posture, lying close enough to lean over and kiss her. Though tonight will not be the night for that. I prefer my women sober. But that does not mean I will not enjoy a game of flirting. Especially now that V is relaxed and finally letting her guard down with me.
“Where’s your room?” she asks nervously, the silence between us putting her on edge, or perhaps it is our closeness.
“This is it.”
“Where’s my room then?”
“This is it,” I smile.
“Dax! You told me this ship would have beds, as in plural!” she says sitting up.
“Did I? Are you sure? Perhaps your translator malfunctioned—”
“How are we going to sleep with only one bed?” she asks, ignoring my words.
“I like to sleep on my back, I imagine you can curl in next to me and use my chest as your pillow.”
“That is not funny, nor is it what I meant!” she tells me, pulling her mane back from her eyes again.
“Come here, let me fix that,” I say, sitting up as well.
“What-I-?” she begins to protest as I pull her towards me. She shyly allows me to turn her around. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice quivering.
“Your mane,” I tell her, pulling her onto my lap. She immediately scoots off and out of my reach. “What is it?” I ask, perplexed.
“You want me to sit there?” she asks, as if I have just blasphemed.
“You always sit on my lap,” I reply, surprised at why this is suddenly a problem.
“But, but usually it’s when we’re in the cockpit,” she says, and her eyes go wide and a deep red flush covers her cheeks. “I mean the bridge! The bridge!”
I get to my feet and grab her ankle, sliding her closer to the edge of the bed. She lets out a small gasp before I scoop her up into my arms and carry her from the room.
“Dax!” she squeals, simultaneously clutching at me and holding me at bay. “What are you—?”
“Taking you to the bridge so I can braid your mane properly,” I tell her.
“Oh…” she says, and her body relaxes in my arms a bit, though the tension in her expression remains ever present.
“Here we are,” I tell her after the short trek. I drop down into the seat, still holding her, and stare at the female in my arms. Timidly, she peeks over her shoulder at me.
“What?” she asks.
“I am only trying to decide what to do with you,” I tell her. She shifts on my lap.
“You mean my hair, right?”
“What else would I mean?” I ask with a mischievous smile.
“I think I need another drink,” she breathes out, her eyes wide.
“Just a moment,” I say, setting her aside and hopping up. I open up a console drawer and bring out another bottle, but a different liquor this time. I pull a small glass from the drawer and splash a little of the contents into the bottom of it before I hand it to my V. She eyes it suspiciously.
“Do you have alcohol hidden all over this ship?” she asks with a cocked brow.
“Only in the most necessary of places: the kitchen, the cockpit,” I say with a smile and enjoy V’s blush when I say the word cock, “and there is a meeting room of sorts, I have a little something in there—”
“And let me guess, the bedroom?” she says smartly.
“Absolutely not,” I tell her.
“You’re kidding, right?” she asks, her eyes going from me to her drink. She sniffs it and makes an unhappy face. “This smells strong.”
“That’s because it is.”
She frowns and takes the shot. Slapping at her knee, she shakes her head in disgust. “Oh my God. Yuck,” she says when she can speak again. I reach over and take the glass from her hand. She does not protest. I do not let go of her fingertips as I lead her back to the captain’s seat. This time, when I pull her onto my lap, she settles in, her shoulders more relaxed now. I run my claws through her mane a few times, still contemplating the style.
“Are you?” she asks, clearing her throat.
“Am I what?”
“Kidding?”
“About alcohol in the bedroom? Never. Mating is about experiencing another person fully. Adding alcohol takes away from that.”
“Oh,” she says, and her shoulders slump a little. I reach up and turn her face to the side.
“What are you doing now?”
“You are drunk. I tell you, female, I am still trying to style your mane for you.”
She eyes me with furrowed brows over her
bare shoulder. “Well get on with it then.”
I pull the warm brown strands of her hair over one shoulder and decide on a simple, loose plait. Something soft to go with her goddess-like attire. My claws gently scrape over her shoulders as I gather her mane. I notice that she does not prickle or start. Instead, she lets out a little moan and leans back into me. She really must be drunk, I think, laughing to myself. I decide to play with my power and massage her scalp as I unnecessarily straighten her locks. She moans again, more perceptibly this time.
“That feels really good, Dax,” she tells me, and my hands still. I bite into my lip to try and keep my cock from rising. Sitting on my lap, she would surely take offense at the sensation of my hard cock pressing against her ass. I center myself (as much as possible) and make quick work of her mane.
With her hair braided to the side like this, it leaves her neck exposed to me. The milky-white flesh seems like an invitation, and I pause there for a moment, taking her in. She turns to look at me. Her eyes are heavy lidded with her intoxication and she looks more relaxed than I have ever seen her. My attention is drawn to her mouth as she bites her bottom lip. One second, all I can hear is the soft sound of her breathing, the next second, I hear pounding. Or perhaps it is something steadier and more rhythmic. Something like a drumming.
“Do you hear that?” I ask, cocking my head to the side. I push V up and begin exploring the bridge.
“Hear what?” she asks.
“It is like a drum or something…” I say, bringing my ear closer to the control panels. But it cannot be my ship, for this is not the first time I have heard it.
I am still hopelessly searching the bridge for the origin of this noise, when the floor suddenly lurches beneath my feet. Steadying myself, I pop my head up to see V at the controls.
“What is it you do?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I just sort of felt like flying,” she responds, one hand on the steering column and the other fingering her braid. Instantly my attention is brought back to my female. I quickly type coordinates into the control panel.
“Head this way,” I show her on the screen.
“What’s that way?” she asks.
“Adventure.”
It doesn’t take long before we see a gray and desolate moon stretching out before us.
“Looks kind of scary,” V says, looking down at it. “We aren’t getting out, are we?”
“No, little goddess. There is no atmosphere out there. We are here only to fly.”
“Pfft.” She makes an odd noise by sticking out her tongue and blowing. “We can fly anywhere, we’re in freaking space,” she says, more to herself than to me.
“This will be fun, I promise you. Take us down here.” V follows my instruction, looking uninterested in her task.
“Do you see that depression ahead?”
“Yeah, what is that?” she asks.
“It is a crater.”
“Holy shit, that’s huge.”
“Drop in, but stay near the rim.”
“Oh, hell no!” she exclaims, beginning to turn the ship around. “I don’t want to see what’s down there!”
I jump into the seat behind her and reach my hands around to grasp the controls. Locking my fingers over hers, I force her back to the crater.
“Be calm, my V, I am here with you. Besides, you will love this. I promise,” I say with my lips pressed against her ear. Her hands grip tightly to the controls, but her body relaxes against mine. When we get to the rim she sucks in a breath of air before we drop down inside.
“Oh holy—!” she exhales sharply as she takes in the remains of the impact site. I wrap one arm around her waist and use my free hand to steer. Her hands fly to my arm and she clutches onto me as if my touch is the only thing keeping her safe. I swerve closer to the high and rocky sides of the rim, just to feel her tighten her grip on me.
“There are no monsters here, right, Dax?”
“Monsters?” I ask, schooling myself not to laugh at her question. “There is nothing down here besides dirt and rocks. Perhaps there is one monster, but he is already here with you,” I tell her, reaching my tail around to tease at the hem of her long skirt.
“Hah hah. Very funny,” she huffs. “Watch that boulder!” she exclaims suddenly as I fly precariously near an especially large stone. I swing the ship wide, rounding the thing at a safe enough distance, but causing V to lean back against me.
“Let’s go a little farther in,” I say as I pivot the ship from side to side to avoid rock formations.
“Farther? You told me to stay near the rim!”
“I changed my mind.”
“Of course you did. How convenient,” she says as I follow the line of an alluvial fan deeper into the center of the crater. The center eventually bottoms out, leaving a smooth surface. I fly low enough to kick up waves of dust that float away into space. V does not complain, but instead takes in the sights. One hand still holding my arm and the other reaches up to link with mine on the controls. Together, we swerve wildly around the crater.
The tension in her body is like the ebb and flow of the tide, and I find myself loving the moments she grips at me and gasps just as much as I enjoy the times that her body relaxes against mine. I pivot and tilt the ship, just to feel her move against me, just to hear the small and sexy sound of surprise as she gasps. I take her hand and place it back on the steering column.
“Have fun,” I tell her, pulling my hands away and leaning back into my seat. She takes the lead without fear or complaint, but continues to sit bolt upright between my legs. Her back and shoulders are tense. I want to reach forward and run my hands down her back, to massage those tight muscles until she is loose and free in my arms, but I resign myself to only watch this evening. I will not touch a woman who has been drinking, no matter how sexy she is when she flies my ship.
“Do you see that dark space? Up ahead there, to the right?” I ask her.
“Yeah, I think I see what you’re talking about,” she replies, straining her eyes.
“Go to it,” I instruct.
“What is it?”
“The dip there is a landslide area along the rim. It leads to a trough that encircles the majority of the impact site.”
“But what do I do when I get there? Do I stop? Turn around? What?”
“Enter it,” I say laughing. Obviously I want her to go inside.
“Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
“Can I at least slow down first?” she pleads.
“How about this: you navigate and I will be on acceleration.”
“You mean acceleration and deceleration, right?”
“Focus on your task, V,” I tell her, and she stifles a squeal as she rounds the turn beyond the landslide. The space beyond opens up into a wide ravine. We are surrounded by steep, gray walls capped by the star-flecked blanket of space above us.
I ramp up the speed as she flies. The wide walls of the ravine are an excellent place for her to train, and she builds confidence as we circle the crater. She does not know it yet, but what I look forward to the most is the end of the ravine, when the walls close in tighter and the ground slopes up suddenly, just before the trough ends in an abrupt point.
“Dax? Are the walls getting tighter here?” she asks, and I don’t reply. “Dax?” she asks again, venturing to shoot her eyes over her shoulder at me for a split second before she returns them back to our flightpath. I accelerate.
“Daaaax…” she whines as the walls perceptibly begin to close in. “Slow down,” she tells me. I remain silent. “What do I do? Is there a turn or something coming up?” She waits for me to reply, but I do not. The farther we go, the tighter the walls become.
“Dax! Tell me what to do!” she shouts, and I bite back my laughter.
“Goddamnit!” she exclaims finally and yanks the steering column back hard. She leans back into me as we go rocketing upward so fast that I instinctually wrap my arms tightly around my female to protect her. The art
ificial gravity quickly begins to stabilize and she rounds us back down to the surface of the moon. She makes a hard left to steer us away from the crater.
She huffs at me but says nothing. I lean around her to get a good look at her face, and I see the corners of her mouth curled up in a smile. When she sees me looking, she quickly wipes it from her face.
