with a napkin.
“I think I’m going to like Trion food. Perhaps that was why I was matched to the planet.” Her smile was bright and her eyes alive with teasing. She was fed and rested and… not her usual feisty self. Although this was the first time she was either fed or rested as well as not in danger.
“That is not the only reason. Trion culture satisfies your other cravings as well.”
My cock stirred again at the idea of spreading her out across the table and tasting her. There was time. We had yet to hear from Zenos although with the way time bended between Trion and other places in the universe, I expected it anytime.
“What other cravings?”
So she chose to be coy. She had not been so reserved while riding my cock. “Your need to surrender, to feel safe. To let go. You hunger to be conquered, gara.”
Zara blushed, bit her lip. “No. It wasn’t like that. I’m not like that.”
I arched a brow. “Really? Then it wasn’t your pussy that dripped at my command?”
Her mouth opened, and she stared at me wide eyed. As if while she was brutally honest and straightforward with many things, her sexuality was not one of them. I crooked my finger, beckoning her to me. She swallowed hard but stood and came around the table.
I turned and parted my knees, so she could stand between. “Gara—”
“Zara,” she countered.
“No one has called you an endearment before? Is that why you are so against it?”
She pursed her lips. “An endearment means there is a connection, something special between two people. We don’t have that.”
I stifled a smile, for I knew she’d perhaps knee me in the balls for it. She was good at denying herself, at avoiding what was right in front of her. Me. Of this… chemistry we had.
“Zara, gara, you do not feel the connection?” I set my hands on her thighs, slid the soft fabric of the shirt she wore--my shirt--up. Higher and higher.
She didn’t move. Fark, she didn’t even breathe. She could step back at any time, but she didn’t. My touch was something she wanted, the anticipation of what I’d do next was something she craved.
The air was still, the sun warm through the windows. The house was silent except for our breathing. No one was chasing us. No one was shooting at us. No one needed us. We were free to explore what this was between us.
I cupped her pussy, felt her desire. Her heat. She startled but didn’t move away. Her eyes flared. “Do you know what the nipple rings and chain are for?” I asked.
She shook her head but held herself still. I didn’t do more than pet her pussy. Slowly. Gently.
“They are for your mate to affix his medallion, so everyone knows who serves and protects her.”
“That’s sexist as hell.”
I offered a slight shrug. “It is the male who is kept, who is permanently chained to his mate.”
“I’m not your mate,” she snapped.
“You may not belong to me, but your pussy does.”
She tried to step back, but I curled a finger into her. Her inner walls clenched down upon it.
“Whose hand is coated in your need?”
I pressed against her G-spot, waited.
“Yours,” she said finally.
Pulling my hand from her, I set her back a step, so I could stand. I went to the S-Gen machine in the kitchen, but I didn’t order up food. In moments, I opened the door and returned to my seat before her. I held up the item. Two golden spheres attached by a small chain that ran between them, and another, much longer chain with a marked golden disc attached to its terminal end.
She stared at it.
“It is time to show you the pleasure of a Trion female. Shirt off, please.”
I didn’t explain what the spheres were for. She’d find out soon enough. Her curiosity got the better of her, for she lifted my shirt off and dropped it to the floor.
“Ah, so beautiful,” I praised. “Feet wider apart.”
When she complied, I held onto a single gold ball and let the second, along with the chain, dangle.
“Um, what are you doing?” she asked when I carefully nudged the sphere up and into her pussy. It was an easy task with how wet she was. “I’m not much for weird sex toys.”
I didn’t say anything as I set the second sphere inside her.
Removing my hand, she gasped, and her hips curled back, a sign she was clenching hard to hold the objects within.