No matter. She is in my arms now, and this is what I will focus on.
We embrace for a minute or so, and then her whimpers turn to small hiccups of laughter.
“What is it?” I ask her, further perplexed.
“I was just thinking about how you said you would ‘strategize’ over telling me you love me,” she says, finally letting me go to wipe at the corners of her eyes.
“Yes,” I shrug. “If there is a battle to be won, then one must strategize.”
“And your strategy was… Give her an amazing orgasm and then go in for the kill,” she says, blue eyes sparkling at me. I suppose she thinks it’s funny that my training is being put to such an un-war-like usage.
“Precisely. I guess I’ve miscalculated. That is the way of it.”
She frowns, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to… Look, I… I just need time. I’m sorry.”
“Do not worry yourself. We will have time. I will make sure of it,” I tell her. “I am not happy that a threat to your life is what brought us together today, but I will not stand to be locked away from you any longer. I am keeping my foot on the ground.”
“You’re putting your foot down, you mean?”
“You find it very amusing when I misunderstand human phrases,” I say. “You enjoy laughing at me?”
She giggles again. “Of course, baby. It’s hilarious.”
“There is one that should be discussed! Why do you call me baby like a small child, an infant? Is that not odd?” While I’m talking, I pull at the edges of her small top, which is all that remains on her body. Every time she laughs, she shakes, calling my eyes to her chest. It’s time to uncover it. She obliges me and tosses it away. I join her on the floor, sliding off the couch until I am seated with her between my legs.
“I guess it’s a little odd, but baby is just saying someone is precious and they belong to you, right? And you take care of them,” she reasons. I brush my fingers over her bare breasts, taking in the contrast between our skin tones. She has no sheen to her, and she has that matte tan color like a smooth swathe of warm sandy beach. My fingers are cool and gray by comparison, shimmering silver where the light hits. She takes my preoccupation as an opportunity to begin removing my pants. I wear Kar’Kali fatigue trousers, which zip open when she begins fiddling with the closure.
“Mmm, I do like to take care of you,” I say, thumbing over her standing nipple, darker in color than the rest of her— not quite pink and not quite brown.
“But now it’s my turn,” she purrs. “To take care of you.”
She grasps my cock in her hand and slowly caresses me. Her lips crash against me as I groan. Then she has two hands on me, pumping my aching length with delicious pressure. Her nipples brush against my chest as she leans forward. Our tongues entwine. It is a full sensory overload. All I can do is clutch her and pant like an animal, my hips begging to pump and thrust against her.
“I think I’m going to ride you,” she tells me, bending to pull the pants away, down my legs until I help her to be rid of them entirely.
“What can you mean?” I ask, not sure how that translation makes sense.
“I’ll show you.” She grins and prowls forward to straddle me. Mesmerized, I drop my hands to the side and watch. With her hand she directs my cock, first grinding it against the folds of her cunt. Her wet slit slides up and down, coating my cock with her juices. I groan and let my head lull back to rest on the seat of the couch behind me. As I open my eyes again, I see the glorious sight of her lifting up and sinking down over my cock.
Tight, slippery, and perfect, her pink slit sucks in my length. Oh, it has been too long since I last felt this clasping warmth. She begins moving over me, and I wonder whether my heart has stopped beating. Her hips make circles that edge me close to my climax in moments. She is mewling with her own pleasure as well, rocking herself back and forth in a dizzying rhythm.
I feel a familiar spark inside, something that is becoming all too common in my life—the instincts that take over. My hormones are spiking, driving me to thrust up in harmony with Ella’s movements. The squeal I hear as a result encourages me further. I grip her hips and pump up into her pussy, slamming her hard. Her expression slackens and she groans as I take control from beneath her. She is coming, but I don’t stop bouncing her up and down on my cock.
At this angle, I can see everything—the clenching of her abdomen as she comes, the creamy juices she’s left on my cock as it slaps in and out of her, and the way her tongue limply wags in her mouth as she screams. It is sheer sensory overload. I follow her climax with my own, spilling my seed inside her as she clutches down on me and pants.
I hold her to my chest as we both recover from our orgasms. I feel shell-shocked.
“That,” she says with a pleased giggle, “Was cowgirl style.”
“You’ll have to explain the misleading nomenclature,” I sigh. “But I will admit that was quite amazing. You should demonstrate the canine version. For scientific study, of course.”
Chapter 20
ELLA
A week later, Kila and I have perfected every sex position known to man (and perhaps a few of our own invention). He spends every night at my apartment. I’m positively glowing with joy from all the orgasms. I’m baking cookies for the fun of it and distributing them around the office like a well-fucked fairy. Kila pays attention to everything, and I mean everything. I’ve never had a more attentive lover. I’ve never known a man to study ways to please me in his spare time, but Kila walked up to me one morning and interrogated me on the G-spot.
“Why have you not brought this up?” he demanded, showing me an infographic on his tap-pad from a defunct fashion magazine’s website. “I’d like to discuss this erogenous zone. Theoretically, I find it fascinating.”
He then proceeded to make his interest not-so-theoretical, and finger fucked me to his heart’s content. Every day we come to work more like honeymooning lovers, meanwhile Pakka and the team watch us like Puritans sure we’ll burst into flame for our fornicating ways.
It’s Monday, and after a weekend of pure bliss, Kila and I are reluctant to be parted. Today is the day the Kar’Kali have been anxiously awaiting all month. The Alliance’s top chip surgeon is finally on site and ready to remove the malfunctioning hormone suppressors.
“Kila is going first, but we will all have them out by the end of the week. One surgery per day,” Pakka explains to me while Kila is getting strapped into a gurney and covered in weird little wires.
“How do I know you’re not gonna slip in some new chip without telling him and he’ll be zombie Kila?” I demand. The panic I feel as they prep Kila for surgery is not entirely rational, but I can’t help but imagine the worst-case scenarios. This surgeon is supposed to be the absolute top of the line guy, but I imagine it only takes the slip of a hand and my baby is a vegetable. That is if he’s even using his hand. Do these high-tech surgeons just operate a machine that does it for them?
Pakka has an odd look on his face, one I haven’t seen on him before. “Ella,” he stutters. “Is your opinion of me so low that you think I would lie to you and trick Kila into something against his will?”