by Brenna Lyons
Sandy turned on the seat, then slid her feet into her modest heels. Her manic movements made him smile. Arren got out of the car and shut his door. He rounded the vehicle to her side and opened hers. The sight of her—her lush breasts bracketed by her open shirt and bra—had his cock complaining.
She put one shapely leg out of the car and took his hand. Sandy hesitated a moment, halfway to her feet, and stared at the ridge of his cock through his trousers. Her hand cupped him, and she straightened. But her gaze stayed locked on the view of him.
“As soon as possible?” he repeated.
“Oh, yes.”
His length jerked at the tone of invitation. “Not in a filthy garage,” he vowed. “But we may not make it off the elevator.”
Sandy gasped. “Oh, yes,” she repeated.
Arren reached past her, pulling a small box of condoms out of the glove box. Sandy didn’t hesitate. At the sight of them, she started working his trousers open. Arren pulled a condom sized for his primary out and held it up to her. She snatched it, then eased his cock out of his trousers. Sandy ripped it open, pulled the condom out, and started rolling it down his length.
Oh, Seir-God, this is going to be hard and fast, and it’s not going to end at once. That in mind, he tucked the box of condoms into his pocket.
When she reached the base, she looked up at him. Arren guided her to the elevator and called for it.
Her fingers trailed up his length, and Arren pulled her into a kiss. She parted her lips, inviting him in, and he took full advantage of the offer. By the time the elevator arrived, they were fully engaged in each other, so much so that the doors started to close without them.
Arren threw his hand out and slapped it open again. Then he backed Sandy onto it.
He parted from her long enough to hit the button for the penthouse. Then he lifted her and pressed Sandy to one of the mirrored walls.
Inspiration struck. “Pull your skirt up. All the way to your waist, Sandy.”
She complied, her breathing ragged.
“Now look at the mirrors. Watch my cock.”
He didn’t question when she’d found the right angle. Her breathing hitched, and she raised her legs a bit, hooking them over his waist.
Arren eased inside, millimeter by millimeter, savoring her grip against his cock. Whoever she’d been with before him had obviously been a smaller man than he was.
Her eyes closed on a groan.
“Watch,” he reminded her.
Her gray-blue eyes slid open, and she focused on the mirror again, her breathing harsh and her body trembling lightly.
The elevator stopped, and the doors slid open. Arren withdrew slightly, smiling at her moan of protest. He eased her down again, savoring every clenching muscle.
The doors slid shut, and Sandy gasped. Her eyes went wide.
“What is it?” he invited, withdrawing again, a long, slow glide that ensured he wouldn’t miss a single sensation.
“The…” She gasped again, as he reversed direction. “…elevator.”
“My private elevator,” he reminded her. “No one else can open it or call for it.” Well, no one but Raashh’s security team or members of Raashh’s nest, but there was no reason for them to come here.
Sandy nodded.
Arren slid back and forward, his heart pounding at the little mews of need and whimpers of protest escaping Sandy’s lips. Her sounds enflamed him.
She was rapt on the mirror image, her lips slightly parted. Visions of her sucking him down nearly forced him to climax.
Not without her. But he needed to bring Sandy to climax again soon, or he wouldn’t be able to live to that.
“I have more mirrors in the penthouse, Sandy.” He didn’t speed his thrusts, but he pushed deeper.
Her breathing went ragged. “Over the bed?”
Deeper. She likes that. He chuckled. “Nothing like that. There’s a big mirror in the bathing room. Would you like to watch us in it?”
The clenching of her sheath said she did. “Later.”
So close. “There are mirrored closet doors in the bedroom. I would very much like to sit on the edge of the bed with you astride me, both of us facing that mirror.”
She shot into climax with a scream, and her eyes closed.
Arren pushed deeper. “Watch.” Seir-God, but he wanted her to watch. The game was a delight.
She complied, and little sounds left her lips at every forward motion of his hips. Arren couldn’t hold off any longer. He climaxed, his heart aching in the certainty that she’d had what she wanted and would choose to leave him.
They parted slowly. Arren eased her to her feet, then straightened his trousers a bit over his half-mast length. Sandy’s rapt attention on the move made his heart stutter.
“What do you want, Sandy?”
She took a deep breath. “I think you should show me where the bedroom mirror is.”
His primary jerked at the invitation. Arren hit the door open button and waved her into his apartment. “Anything the lady wishes.”
It wasn’t a line. If it meant the possibility of convincing Sandy to be his, he would offer fantasies and make those she’d harbored for years come true.
****
“You don’t really have to walk me to my door.” Sandy’s blush was deep, but he didn’t sense that she had something to hide.
Arren smiled. “A gentleman would,” he countered.
She smiled at that, the same shy little smile she’d been shooting him all afternoon. “Okay, but I warn you, my apartment isn’t nearly as impressive as yours is.”
He stroked the backs of his fingertips along her cheek. “You don’t think that matters to me, do you?”
“Considering the day so far…”
He raised an eyebrow and waited for an answer.
“No. Of course not.” She wasn’t lying.
Arren was relieved. He let himself out of the car and circled to her door, opening it before she had a chance to. Sandy offered a smile and led him inside, then up the stairs to the second floor.
There were two apartments on this level, and the building wasn’t a large one. Arren did calculations. It was most likely a single-bedroom unit of thirty or forty square meters, adequate for one person. Or a very cozy couple.
He committed her address to memory, as he’d been committing every detail to the same, sexual tastes and more mundane likes and dislikes. It had surprised him to find she worked for the law firm Spice used, Tasker and Rowe, but that could work out well for them.
Sandy hesitated at the door, then looked up at him. “It’s not much, but would you like to come in?”
Was she kidding? Being invited into a female’s home was something Xxanian mix males dreamed of. “I would. Very much.”
Her lips quirked up in a smile. “Good.”
He was still reeling at that single word when she opened the door and led the way inside. Arren didn’t dare ask what she meant by it. They barely knew each other. She hadn’t made decisions about him beyond the moment, he was sure.
Sandy closed the door behind them, and he looked around. The entryway was narrow and full of furniture that looked like antiques, all in matching dark wood. She pulled off her coat and hung it on an old-fashioned wooden coat rack. Then she deposited her keys in a ceramic bowl set on lace-covered table that also supported a lamp with a shade of what appeared to be a patchwork of colored glass.
“What do you think?” she asked, her smile strained.
He reached for the lamp, then hesitated, certain that this was not a reproduction. It was museum quality, he was sure. Raashh had insisted on museum quality art for Spice Tower, so he’d seen his fair share. “May I?”
“Yes. Of course.” She reached around him and turned it on.
The glow was mesmerizing. Arren touched the glass, his fingers shaking lightly, afraid of breaking it. “It’s beautiful. Antique, I presume?”
“Yes. It has been passed down in my family from mother to daughter since
the nineteen-fifties.”
His jaw dropped at that pronouncement. “Seven hundred years?” These things were worth a fortune. If anyone knew about them, they might kill Sandy to own them.
“Unbelievable, isn’t it? The power supply and light source have been updated, of course, but the entire lamp body and shade are original.”
“I think it’s fantastic. One of the things missing in my penthouse is a sense of history.” Then again, even Raashh’s nest hadn’t had a sense of history, since he’d been separated from his home world and trapped on Earth. Daveed and Joy’s sons were only the second generation to spend their entire lives in the nest.
His heart lightened at the idea that Joy could provide that sense of history to his home if they mated. He would love to have her precious belongings surrounding him. “Is there more?” He had to know.
Sandy smiled widely. “Some. Over the centuries, pieces have been split up. My great-great grandmother got these pieces, while her younger sister got the dining room set. Over the years, that’s happened. The lamp is the oldest of the pieces I inherited. Most of the others are between a hundred and three hundred years old. The table and coat rack are three hundred. But this…” She touched the lamp, her expression soft. “This is the one thing I hope I never lose.”
If we’re together long enough, I’ll convince her to let me put in a security system to protect her and her belongings. “May I see the others?”
“Of course.” She turned with a spring in her step and rushed through the kitchen into the living room. “The coffee table matches the set in the front hall, and the bookshelves are from my great-great grandmother, to replace the ones given to her sister. They match the other pieces well, I think.”
“They do,” he agreed.
She waved him along and fairly sped out of the room.
Arren stopped halfway to the doorway. There was a male scent in the room. It might be a relative of Sandy’s, but he couldn’t be sure. The cologne or aftershave the man wore was too overpowering for him to identify the scent of the male beneath it.
“Arren?” she prompted him.
He followed her voice, tongue scenting as he made his way down the hallway toward her. “You never told me about your family,” he noted. “Do you have any sisters or brothers?”
“No sisters. I do have a brother.”
His heart eased a bit.
“We don’t see each other often. Noel’s military, so he’s offworld most of the time.”
The scent got stronger as he approached her, but he could tell now that the male scent was old…stale. Whoever he was, hadn’t been in her apartment for days. Perhaps a week, considering the after shave. But still, another male’s scent in Sandy’s home was unacceptable. He marched through the doorway…into her bedroom.
“The bed is a reproduction, made to match the bureaus. They are two hundred and fifty years old, and the jewelry stand is five hundred years old.”
The latter floored him. “You have strong family ties.”
He’d never felt as strongly about his own. His Hauaa had died when he’d been too young to remember her, and his seir didn’t like to talk about her passing. Or about her in general. His seir had always been distant, and his brother hadn’t been close to him, in age or in temperament.
And that was before you took into account that Arren was a Subdominant. His seir was ashamed of him, and his brother looked down on him.
Moving out of the nest hadn’t been a hard choice for Arren. It certainly hadn’t been nearly as difficult as most Xxan made it seem it would be.
“Not so much these days. To be honest, I was never close to my father. My mother… Well, she’s been gone since shortly after I started college. It’s just me and my brother, and like I said—”
“He’s not around much,” he repeated.
She smiled weakly. “Yes. I see him nearly every time he’s on the planet though.”
“Is he now?”
“No. He’s been deployed for the last six months, about half his typical tour. I can’t wait for him to come home again.”
The scent wasn’t her brother. Was it a former lover? Most likely. A casual acquaintance wouldn’t have left his scent in her bedroom, and a maintenance man wouldn’t have spent enough time to leave such a potent scent.
“Arren?” she prompted him.
“My mother died when I was too young to remember her.” And I don’t see my brother often. Maybe that’s why they were so drawn to each other.
The scent irritated him, reminding him that another male had been here, probably within the week. Arren replayed what he knew about the last male in her life.
He cheated on her. Whoever he is, he isn’t welcome here, because he went sniffing after something he found more appealing. The idiot.
“Arren?” She touched his cheek.
“I want you. Here. Now.” He had to eradicate that damned scent. No male scent but his own was allowed near her. None but her brother. That is right. That is proper.
She didn’t hesitate. Sandy rose on tiptoe and kissed him. Arren led her toward the bed, thankful that the scent was not as potent there. She’d changed the sheets, wiped away the other male’s scent as best he could.
I can do better.
Chapter Ten
Her alarm blaring dragged a groan from Sandy, and she reached around for the offensive piece of machinery. It turned off at her slap, and she burrowed under the covers.
The enticing scent of sex had her licking her lips. Her body came to life a little at a time. Pleasant twinges brought vivid memories of the marathon of sex she’d indulged in with Arren, first at his apartment and then at hers. Her nipples came to hard points, and her sheath wet and pulsed in want.
That’s it. I’m calling in sick today.
Sandy turned toward…the empty side of the bed. “Arren?”
There was no response, and she flopped down onto her pillow, cursing under her breath. When he’d stayed in bed after sex, she’d had fantasies of waking with him, but he was gone.
“Typical male,” she grumbled. They were all the same, human or Xxanian, and any hope for variation in the breed was a pipe dream.
Her arousal waning—Too much to ask to have a hot morning climax of my own making, I guess.—Sandy threw the covers back and lumbered out of bed. Might as well go to work, since my day is already ruined.
She tried not to obsess over the fact that she’d never cared when Jason had left after sex. Jason never made me come like Arren does. That’s all it is.
Sandy knew she was lying to herself. Arren was like the fairy tale knight: gracious, chivalrous, and attentive. But hot in bed. The Brothers Grimm never wrote that into their bedtime stories. A lot more adults would read them, if they had.
There is a lot to fall in love with there, beyond that talented cock and mouth.
She grumbled a sacrilegious oath and called herself a fool for even thinking something so stupid. What? I live to have my heart broken?
Probably so.
In the kitchen and still naked, Sandy reached for the coffee pot. Paper crinkled under her hand, and she squinted at it. It took a full minute for the neat penmanship on the note paper she kept next to phone to take shape. Her hands trembling, Sandy opened it.
Dear Sandy,
My apologies for leaving this way, but I had an early morning meeting to attend to. I didn’t want to wake you, since you no doubt have a long day of work ahead of you.
Last night was wonderful. I hope it was the same for you.
I would very much like to see you again, if you’re willing.
Willing? Is he kidding? What part of last night did he find me unwilling? She read on.
I have left my business card on the counter. My private line is on the back. If you would like to see me again, please leave a message for me at your convenience, and I will get back to you as soon as my schedule permits.
Arren
Her heart melted. Okay, so he wasn’t like human men. No human man wou
ld have left a note like this. No human man would have even explained why he’d left, let alone apologized for leaving without waking her. For that matter, how many human men would have left a direct number? Most of them took a woman’s number and gave lip service to “I’ll call you.”
She considered calling him right away, then dismissed the idea. If he left early for a meeting, he was either getting ready for that meeting or involved in it. Waiting for a while might mean she’d reach him after it and be able to talk to him directly instead of leaving a message.
And if I call now, it will look desperate. As if she didn’t already look desperate to him. Sandy had abandoned anything short of that when she’d admitted why she wanted to sleep with him.
Frustrated with herself, she filled the coffeemaker, started it, then headed off to the shower. Maybe that would clear her head.
It didn’t. Sandy emerged from her morning bathroom routine no less conflicted than she’d been before it.
But at least I have coffee to help me recover from the sleep deprivation, and I intend to savor it.
Thirty minutes later, dressed in a skirt suit, she slipped her feet into her pumps and reached for her purse. The business card caught her eye, and she lifted it from the counter.
It was better to call Arren from here than work, she supposed. If it meant leaving him a message, it did.
Sandy pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and dialed the phone number on the back of the card. It rang once. Twice.
A voice answered with a cheery, “Mr. Raashh’s office. How may I direct your call?”
“I’m sorry,” Sandy blurted out. “I thought I was calling Arren…Mr. Raashh directly.”
“You are. He is in a meeting at the moment. Can I take a message for him?”
His secretary? I don’t think this is what Arren meant by leaving him a message. “Uh…I guess n—”
“Oh. Is this Miss Butler? I’ve been expecting your call.” There was clicking of keys on the other side of the phone. “Are you free for a meeting this evening?”
