Ar'Tok - Alana Khan Page 0,31

pink fruit that has tiny seeds on the outside of its round flesh.

“Like my game?”

I nod, then add, “No nasty surprises?” Drack, why did I allow that to slip out? It implies I don’t trust her, and really, how could I trust someone I’ve known for such a short time? But I want to. I want to trust her.

“I have a day filled with wonderful surprises for you Ar’Tok. For us both. Not a nasty one on the agenda. Try this,” she says before I can apologize.

After pulling my blindfold to cover my eyes, she pops the next piece of unidentified food into my mouth. The game goes on for a while with no order as to whether the next bite will be sweet or savory. There were no nasty surprises, although we both agreed two of the foods were awful.

Her description of the first terrible tasting one was, “Nasty, disgusting, terrible.” Mine was, “Drack, bitter, never again.”

“That was four words,” she scolds, then makes up for it by kissing me.

“My turn,” I announce.

“But I know what’s under all the domes, you won’t be able to surprise me.”

“There are other ways to surprise you,” I say as my mind throws me a dozen pictures of things I can do to surprise Star in bed.

A moment later, she’s sitting against the headboard, a folded pillowcase acting as her blindfold. The tips of her breasts point at me through the shirt fabric. I’m not hungry anymore, I’d rather taste other, more intimate things.

Moving her legs as if she were a doll, I split her wide, the soles of her feet on the mattress. Then I slide my pelvis so close to her my cock rides her slit, my knees at her hips. If we weren’t clothed, I’d lift her hips and slip inside her in this position.

She gasps, her mouth open in surprise—and arousal. I hadn’t realized how quickly my actions would take us from having fun to erotic bed-play.

“Ar’Tok?” she asks, breathless.

I was right. I had other ways to surprise her.

There’s a little bowl of a frothy, white confection. I dip my finger in and taste it to make certain I don’t put something in her mouth she wouldn't like. It’s sweet and airy.

A dirty thought darts into my head. I could dip my cock into this and have her lick it off. My cock loves this idea and kicks in anticipation. Instead, I swipe my finger into it, order, “Tongue,” and wait for her to comply.

Look at that little pink tongue. I can’t help but imagine it lapping at me, dancing on the head of my cock, tasting what I have to give her. I can’t stifle the groan that escapes me as I picture her head bobbing on me.

“Arousing?” she asks.

I guess it’s obvious.

“It is for me, too. There are so many things I want to share with you Ar’Tok.”

I press my cream-laden finger past her lips and into her warm mouth. My lips at her ear I urge, “Lick me, Star.” She needs no more encouragement as she swirls and sucks and then, just as I’d envisioned, she bobs that pretty head, her long black hair shimmering in the sunlight spilling between the drapes.

A knock interrupts. It’s so jarring I startle.

“Madam? You requested these clothes be delivered for your excursion?” a soft female voice announces through the door.

“Can you get that?” Star asks, her voice a cross between a moan and a complaint.

After the female at the door gives me a thin pile of clothes, I turn to see Star pull off her blindfold and climb out of bed.

“Sorry.” She shrugs. “My mom always told me not to start something I couldn’t finish—she was right. We have no more time for bedroom games. We have,” she glances at her wrist-comm, “thirty minutes to be at the front entrance to catch our hover. Do you want the shower first, or should I?”

I shrug. Is there a written protocol somewhere for morning shower arrangements?

“Eat some real food while I shower. We’re going to be gone a while.”

She’s almost to the bathroom when she turns on her heel, pads over to me, and grabs something from the pile in my hands.

“Wear this under your pants.”

This is a scrap of black fabric. It’s clearly meant to cover my cock and ass and very little more. I lift my eyebrow in question, but she simply grabs what’s left of the pile and returns to the bathroom. Fifteen minimas later she emerges, fully dressed.

“Famished,”