by V. K. Ludwig
Jax wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me against his chest, leisurely sipping on his drink as he stares over the fields. “My father would enjoy this place. If we put white fencing to each side of the driveway? Yellow siding? New stone shingles in dark gray?”
I plop my head against a chest holding familiar comfort, stroking fingertips over muscles I know are sore and aching. Jax walked into that bank a few days ago like a boss, shirt buttoned over his collar, winning a battle for me I didn’t even have the nerve to fight. For the first time in over a year, I don’t feel alone.
I run my fingertips over his palm, calloused in many areas, just like mine. “How did you end up in that cage?”
“You tell me.” His next inhale lifts my head high, sigh vibrating against my ear. “Someone tranqued me on my way to work. I remember that I woke up with a massive headache, arms bound behind my back, tied to my tail.”
“Who did that to you?”
“All I can tell you is that every single enslaved saikh I met, somehow displeased his female. We all had that in common.”
I curl deeper into him. “Are you telling me she sold you into slavery?”
He scoffs. “Quite possibly. We have too many males as is. What’s one missing?”
“Your females are stupid.”
“Our females are a product of our society,” he says with a tone void of judgment. “Come to my home planet, and the government will grant you a fine estate. You would have many males in constant competition to see to your every wish.”
And yet I bet none of them can measure up with Jax. “Doesn’t that bother you guys? Sharing one female?”
He glances down at me from bunched brows. “How many Earth men does a woman usually have?”
“Um, one?”
“Un-veking-believable.” A hollow chuckle rattles from his lungs, and it takes him a long moment before he speaks again. “I watched some saikhs make the mistake and fall in love with their female. That’s when sharing becomes painful. I never allowed myself to grow emotionally attached since I knew my chances of staying were slim.”
My heart shrivels inside my chest. Does that mean he never loved before? Won’t ever allow himself to fall in love? Both? Because falling for him seems like such an effortless thing to do.
“What about what you want?” I ask. “If a female would have to see to your three most urgent wishes, what would they be?”
There’s no hesitation this time, and his voice rumbles deep. “I would want her to accept me as her mate, love me, and receive my seed.”
I pout up at him. “Receive your seed? As in making a child?”
“A youngling sounds wonderful, but for starters, I would like to experience what it feels like to release inside my female.”
Saliva pools at the back of my throat, but I can’t bring myself to swallow. Um, what? “Are you telling me you’ve never come inside a female?”
He shakes his head. “Saikhs aren’t supposed to unless the female desires it. It’s usually reserved for mates, though it might accidentally happen, which is exactly what sends a saikh into slavery.”
Gravity falls away from around me, and I jerk up. “So that’s why you keep pulling out every time? I thought you wanted to make double sure not to knock me up.”
“We don’t reproduce like that,” he says and strokes some of my strands back. “As you know, I find release, but my seed only rouses for the female carrying my claiming mark. You’re quite safe.”
I stare at him in utter disbelief.
The male who always rolls his hips in-tune with mine, a master at angling his cock just right and going down on me every single time… never shot his cum up a pussy?
Not going to lie, I’m not sure if I could fulfill those other wishes. But this one? I am so going to play good fairy.
“Did Steph say she’ll drop by?”
“Hm?” I look up and, sure enough, a hover car is gliding down my driveway. “That’s not Steph.”
I gulp down the last of my drink, squeeze myself out from between bench and table, and hop over the flowerbed toward the stranger.
When the dark blue vehicle comes to a stop, a Kokonian female steps out, her scales a powdery lavender. Her lips pull into a studied smile as she approaches me, hooves crunching the gravel underneath.
“You must be Lilly.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you from the bank? Because if that’s the case, then let me tell you that my, um, lawyer came in a few days ago. As per… some treaty with a long name, you can’t—”
“Nothing the like, human,” she says, and why is her weight shifting to glance behind me? “I came to look at the Vandalar male you have for sale?”
My arms swing in front of my chest all on their own. “Excuse me?”
“The ad you placed?” she asks, her voice too sweet and her smile too bright. “At the community board? A friend of mine told me.”
A stab clenches my stomach.
Oh shit. I forgot all about that.
“Well, see, the thing is…”
My voice trails off. What is that thing exactly? Didn’t I say I would sell him the moment someone showed up with cash?
I startle when Jax walks up beside me, warm hand rubbing over my shoulder. “If her creditor sent you, let me make one thing clear—”
“No, no, no, Jax,” I say. “She came to, um…” Take you away from me.
Liquid panic infuses my veins, and my fingertips tingle. This is a disaster. The fields are done, and I don’t need Jax anymore, so why does the idea of him leaving trigger such a flood of unease? Unease? Fuck, it’s downright panic.
“Ah, let me examine you,” the Kokonian croons and stalks around him. “Such a fine specimen.”
She reaches her hand out and strokes her palm over his pec and down along his abs, pure, rancid bile bubbling at the depth of my stomach. What’s this bitch doing touching him like that? I didn’t give her permission to conduct an inspection.
Jax immediately jerks away, his panicked eyes locking with mine. “Why is she here?”
“I assume you displeased your mistress,” the Kokonian chuckles. “But fear not, Vandalar, a male with such strength will only bring me joy.”
Jax sucks in a sharp breath, his eyes still on me but now glistening. “I displeased you? How? When? What did I do wrong?”
“What?” My organs liquify, that panic turning into a massive boulder of guilt, squishing it into my stomach cavity. “No, this is all just a misunder—”
Slap.
“How dare you peek into his pants like that?” I snarl after I slapped her hand away. “If you touch him again, I’ll get my shotgun.”
She throws her hands up. “At the very least, I need him to strip down for me.” Her attention turns to Jax. “Growl at me, male.”
“Absolutely not,” Jax barks at her before his pleading eyes are on me again. “Lilly? I promise I can be better.”
I melt into a puddle of shame right there. How did other females manage to send this guy away?
Because I cannot.
“No, you can’t be better.” Because you’re the best already. “Look, lady, this is a misunderstanding. I changed my mind and simply forgot to remove the ad. He’s not for sale, so trot those hooves back into your car and get off my property.”
She peels her lips into a snarl as she turns back to her vehicle. “Two hours to drive out to this decrepit place. For nothing.”
“There’s another Vandalar male for sale at the slave trader over at exit three.”
She huffs. “I’ve been there already, and there are no Vandalar available until the next shipment. I can’t believe I wasted all this time.”
Her curses fade into the background when I turn to face Jax, his entire body shaking. “I’m sorry about that. I placed the ad the day I couldn’t return you and forgot about it.”
He stutters in a breath, almost as if the poor guy is a heartbeat away from a nervous breakdown. “So, I’m not for sale?”
&nbs
p; “You can’t be for sale,” I say, and why are my hands reaching toward his collar?
Everything inside me convulses at this risk I’m taking, though I’m not sure what I fear more: that he could run, or that he might stay.
I swipe over his collar, remove it, and let it clank onto the gravel beside us. “You can’t be for sale because you’re not my slave, Jax. Not anymore.”
Jax rubs his hand over his neck, confusion solidified in his gaze. “If I’m not your slave, what am I?”
My muscles turn rigid.
Man… I did not see that question coming.
What do you call a guy you who lives with you under the same roof? You’re not supposed to shack your roommate. You definitely aren’t supposed to fall asleep wrapped in the arms of your booty call.
Every. Single. Night.
The longer I delay my answer, the more he straightens with expectation. If I wouldn’t know better, I’d say I have a Vandalar boyfriend.
That thought scares the shit out of me.
Fourteen
Lilly
“Um…” I breathe, and Jax narrows his gaze, the tension between us palpable. Not the sizzling kind. More like the awkward kind where silence has the power to echo until your brain hurts.
I don’t want a boyfriend.
Really, I don’t.
And if I did — which I don’t — who says Jax even wants me? He doesn’t grow emotionally attached to females. Didn’t he say so himself twenty minutes ago?
“Lilly?”
Everything around me turns upside down. Shit, shit, shit. I need an answer. “My… saikh?”
He shrinks by a few inches, intense eyes narrowing on me. “Is that a question or a statement?”
I have no idea. “A statement?”
He stares at me way longer than is comfortable, face neutral, but eventually presses a long kiss onto my forehead. “You honor me.”
Am I? Because his posture is all wrong. Lips pressed tight, shoulders rounded, tail hanging limply behind him. Considering how badly he wanted to be my saikh, shouldn’t he be more energetic? If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s… disappointed?
The romantic in me swoons over the thought. But the thirty-one-year-old, mature, rational divorcee says I’m probably overthinking this.
I read enough self-help books ever since Nick moved out — all uniformly suggesting I’ve got commitment issues — to know I’m trying to find excuses why this won’t work. But the one I have is rock solid.
All this cooking, cleaning, and edging me to orgasms? It’s too good to be true. Those are just the efforts of a saikh doing what he was trained to do, right?
“I will please you,” Jax says as if on cue. “And I’ll start by getting dinner ready.”
He walks off, tail claw dragging over the grass, taking nothing of that tension with him. Nope. It creeps into my body instead, manifesting itself as locked joints, and I can’t shake the feeling that things will get a lot more complicated from here.
Great. Emotional confusion.
Just what I need.
I force my feet to carry me back to the patio, where I grab the two glasses and the bottle, my mind racing. Between a boyfriend and a saikh, the latter is the better choice, isn’t it? At least then I know what I’m getting: the pretty illusion of a picture-perfect relationship.
For as long as he can keep it up…
Inside, Jax cuts fresh cherry tomatoes into a bowl of salad. “How hungry are you?”
“Not at all, to be honest. That out there kinda spoiled my appetite.” And I would be surprised if it didn’t spoil his. “I’m truly sorry this happened.”
Jax tosses the knife aside, grabs my waist so quickly I can’t dodge it, and lifts me to sit on the counter. “Just remove the ad before more females show up and try to get a sneak peek of my penis.”
“Gosh,” I groan and sink my face into my palms. “I can’t believe she did that. You have no idea how terrible I feel about this incident.”
He tugs my hands off my face, a new kind of appetite flaring in his eyes. “How are you planning to make up for it, mej liku?”
Sudden warmth spreads through my core. I remember those words. He said them once before in the shower and hearing them again sends a flutter into my stomach, their meaning as obscure as the male himself.
“What’s that?”
“My female,” he murmurs, and that flutter turns into a hurricane of emotions.
What if I want to be with the male hiding underneath the saikh? The guy who, I don’t know, maybe leaves his socks everywhere and fondles his balls while watching TV? Can Jax strip the saikh and be real? Because I think I might want him to be.
“Bring me to the bedroom, and I’ll blow your mind,” I whisper.
He picks me up and carries me through the hallway, planting dozens of kisses along my forehead and down my temples. “Thank you for releasing me. It means a lot to me.”
“Just don’t steal my truck if you ever decide to run.”
“I’m perfectly content where I am.” Jax lowers me onto the linen and undresses, the sunset casting a pinkish hue over his kuchi. He climbs between my legs, palms stroking my knees. “How do you want me?”
Real. I want you real.
I wiggle out of my dress and panties, staring at him for a long moment before saying, “I just want Jax.”
Confusion fleets across his handsome face. “And how do I do that?”
Shouldn’t he know?
I wrap one arm around his neck, twirling his black hair with my free hand until beautiful strands tickle over his shoulders. “No special angles tonight. No breathing techniques. No yel’kan, udinam, or whatever other tricks you have up your sleeve.”
With a tug on his shoulder, I pull him down against me. “Show me what you like.”
I swallow tightly when he lowers his hips between my legs. His cock strains toward me, engorged veins cutting along protruding ridges, a glistening drop of pre-cum sitting at the slitted head.
“Just Jax,” he whispers, and seconds later, his mouth dips down.
Soft lips caress mine, and his tongue plunges deep, twining, teasing. Everything inside me clenches, and I rotate my pelvis in search of his cock. When he nudges where I’m wet, I let out a groan and rock him inside with slow, upward movements.
“I’m going to bury myself so deep inside you, there won’t be an inch on your body not knowing my touch.” One well-aimed thrust, and Jax enters me with a groan, his eyes almost glassy as thick flesh stretches me with no mercy. “Vek, Lilly. It takes all that I am not to release right here, right now. You’re always so wet for me.”
“Anticipation,” I moan and arch my back, slowing the pace at which he invades me, spreading the agonizing pleasure with each ridge he strokes inside me. “Mmh, Jax, I want more.”
“Then quit bracing.” He slides one hand between my shoulder blades, making my chest arch upward, licking the rise of my breast before his tongue circles a nipple. “Open up for me, Lilly. Let me in.”
I open my legs wide, needy for that hard thrust I know is coming. “God, Jax. Do it!”
His chuckle rumbles into a deep moan. “Still so impatient.”
That violent thrust never comes.
He enters me so slowly I can count every ridge as it grinds its way along my walls. “You’ll be the death of me, Lilly. Such a nice little cunt clasping around my shaft.”
His tongue trails over the side of my neck, and he enters me with shallow pulsations unlike all the frenzied encounters we shared before. Controlled strokes claim me so slowly it’s torture, stretching me by slow degrees, making my walls spasm.
Jax groans helplessly, and I can’t say which one of us trembles more as he pushes deeper. He angles his hips, thick cock rocking in and out of me, my clit already throbbing.
The moment he throttles his breathing in an even rhythm, I cup his cheek and bring his gaze to me. “Don’t control your breathing. Don’t think. Just do what feels good.”
&nb
sp; “I won’t last long without it.” He clenches his eyes shut at his next thrust as if to offer proof. “I’m not used to it, Lilly. Not this way.”
I answer by guiding his mouth onto mine, kissing him so furiously all he can do is moan. “This is how I want you.”
To hell with breathing techniques. I don’t need a saikh. I need the male who took the glass from me when I got the letter from the bank. The guy who held me when I needed it most. I want the Vandalar I know will fight beside me, instead of running off when things are tough.
I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him so deep he groans into my mouth. “I just need Jax.”
He retreats from our kiss and stares down at me, his eyes narrowing with each slow thrust. “I’m right here, Lilly, and nothing can get me to leave you unless you hold a gun to my head again.”
And I don’t want him to leave.
I hold his gaze and roll my hips with his. Each stroke comes slow but intense, remaining entirely still inside me for a breath before he pulls back and repeats it. It’s simple, unhurried, and it’s the first time that we aren’t fucking. We’re making love. And I catch a glimpse of the male beneath the saikh.
This guy isn’t savage thrusts, violent pounding, and perfectly timed movements. He is fingers stroking through my hair, stunning eyes holding my gaze, and smooth strokes keeping their rhythm consistent.
And I love it.
He brushes both hands down the side of my face, nuzzling my nose with his, whispering, “Mej liku.”
I wrap my arms around his back and pull him closer against me, bracing his movement, sensing my orgasm build. And he knows it because he groans when my pussy clenches down on his cock, pleasure rippling through me.
His body shakes against mine, pupils nervously flitting across my face while his cock jerks and throbs between my tightening walls. “I have to slow down.”
“No, you don’t.” I wrap my legs tighter around his waist, not letting him retreat. “Come with me.”
Jax tenses against me. “I need to please you first.”
“We’ll please each other,” I say. “No more pulling out.”
His strokes turn agonizingly slow, grinding against me with such passion everything between my legs convulses. I suck in a sharp breath, letting my orgasm ripple through me, clasping so tightly that he can’t escape the sensation.
