Her heart swelled in her chest as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Marljas, I…”
A finger over her lips stopped her from finishing what she had to say.
“Do you love me?”
Sheala looked up into his intense, golden gaze. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Gods but he was handsome.
His face blurred.
Did she love him? How could she help but love him? “Yes, I love you.”
When he pulled her back into his arms and hugged her close, Sheala buried her face against his chest.
She did love him, more than she’d ever thought it was possible to love anyone else. How could she not love him, a man who had killed for her, one who would sleep with her, hold her close, comfort her, yet not demand sexual satisfaction because of her fears? She would always love him.
She shivered as the hard ridge of his cock rubbed against her belly. Memories of how good his cock tasted surfaced in her mind.
Sheala wiped her face against his shirt. Just because her sexual desire had been ruined by Bakom didn’t mean she couldn’t satisfy him. It wouldn’t take long. And he would be so happy.
Dropping her arms from around his waist, she pushed herself free of his arms.
The hurt look that appeared in his eyes had her blinking back tears again, but she held her voice steady.
“There was a day on Drakan that I remember very well. Do you?” That day, she’d almost given in to temptation, stripped off her clothing, and mounted him then and there. But she’d conquered that urge and pleasured him instead. She could do that again.
Dropping to her knees in the thick bed of straw, she freed his cock from his pants, kissed its tip, and sucked it into her mouth.
Sighing, her husband leaned back against the wall and spread his legs.
Grasping his cock, she wrapped her fingers around its thick base and slowly slid them up its length.
Then, just as slowly, she slid them back down.
Above her, Marljas moaned and thrust his hips forward.
The contentment in that moan excited the butterflies in her stomach even more as Sheala leaned forward and dragged her tongue down the length of his cock then back up again, tickling the base of the head with her tongue.
His moan became a groan.
Reaching up, she jerked his pants down over his hips. They fell to his knees, where the tops of his boots caught them.
Above her, he jerked his tunic over his head.
Sheala sighed with satisfaction. He had such a beautiful body. Flat stomach, ridged abdomen, broad chest. All hers. Turning her head, she nibbled the inside of his hard thigh. Then, lifting his cock out of her way, she sucked his balls into her mouth.
As his tail jerked and tried to untangle itself from his pants, Marljas dug his claws into the hard wood of the wall behind him.
She wrapped her own tail around her thigh. Its tip rested close to her crotch.
“Hmmmm. You taste like sweat.”
Splinters of wood fell to the floor as he dug his claws deeper. “I will soon taste like more.”
She licked his cock again, kissed its tip.
A drop of silvery liquid seeped onto her lips.
“You taste like love.” She sucked him into her mouth.
His breathing became harsher. Claws sheathed, he dropped his hands onto her shoulders and pushed her away from his cock.
Sheala released it slowly and looked up.
“Take off your shirt. I want to come on your breasts. Like that day back on Drakan.”
Hesitating only a moment, Sheala pulled her shirt over her head. She wouldn’t mind him touching her breasts.
Cupping them, she pinched her nipples and looked up. “These breasts?”
His answer was mostly choked out. “Yes. Rub my cock against them—please.”
When she leaned her breast against his cock and rubbed herself back and forth against it, he pounded the wall with his fists then dug his claws in once more. “Yes, like that. Gods, Sheala, you make me ache.”
Chuckling, she pushed his cock down and squeezed it between her breasts. Leaning forward, she buried her nose in the wiry hairs at the base of his cock and inhaled. After a quick kiss, she leaned back, freeing his cock—momentarily. Almost immediately, she wrapped the fingers of both hands around it and began to pump. “Come for me, love.”
The tip of her tail began to caress the inside of her thigh.
His hips jerked then he matched the rhythm of her hands. “Yesssssssss. Pump me. Squeeze me—harder.”
After licking the head of his cock once more, Sheala complied. “Are you ready to come?”
“Lean back—now!”
Spreading her knees, Sheala arched her back.
In her hands, Marljas’ cock jerked.
Warm cum spurted onto her breasts—and spurted and spurted.
Finally, she loosened her grip and Marljas slumped back against the wall.
Straightening, Sheala looked down at her breasts then at her hands. His silvery-white cum covered her.
“You’re wet.”
Sheala looked at him and smiled. “You got me that way.”
He shook his head. “No, between your legs. Your cunt is wet—for me.”
She sucked in a breath but didn’t deny what he said. It was true. She’d tried to ignore it, but she was wet—and throbbing. “Marljas, I…”
Smiling, he shook his head. “I won’t touch you,
Cheta
, not if you don’t want me to, but you can’t remain unsatisfied. You need to come too. Touch yourself.”
“But…”
“You won’t hurt yourself, and I would die before I allowed anyone to hurt you. Help yourself heal.”
Her crotch still throbbing, she looked at her hands.
His voice was low, hypnotic. “Just touch your breasts then. Proof of my love is all over them.”
Slowly, she lifted her hands and cupped her slippery breasts. She slid her hands around, over and under them. Closing her eyes, she pinched her nipples.
Her own moan surprised her, as did the stab of desire between her thighs when she pressed her tail against her cunt.
His voice was no longer above her. “Yes, Sheala, please yourself. Begin the healing process.”
“Hmmmmmmmmmmm.” Arching, she leaned back.
A strong arm slid beneath her back and she stiffened and opened her eyes. Marljas was behind her, supporting her body with his. She turned her head against his chest and looked up at him.
He stared down at her with a love-filled gaze. “I’m only supporting you so you don’t fall. I won’t touch you,
Cheta
. Close your eyes again. Relax. Love yourself.”
Minutes passed, but when he made no other move to touch her, Sheala relaxed, sliding her hands though Marljas’ cum, spreading it over her torso.
She stopped when the waistband of her pants prevented her from moving her hands lower.
A ripping sound reached her ears, and her pants fell down over her hips.
Again she stiffened and opened her eyes. “Marljas…”
The arm beneath her never moved. “I’m only helping you to help yourself. You’re so wet, so needy. I can smell your desire. Touch yourself,
Cheta
.”
Sheala stared up into his face. He was hiding nothing, not his concern, not his love, not his desire.
But—she trusted him—more than she trusted even her own family. Sighing, she closed her eyes and let her hands drift down over her stomach and into the soft hair of her mons. Then lower to her wet, swollen lips. When her finger touched her aching clit, she jerked and shuddered. A long moan escaped from her throat.
As she rubbed her clit, her tail slid between the lips of her cunt and her hips jerked involuntarily.
With her other hand, she pinched a nipple.
More heat stabbed her groin. Prickly straw tickled her ass. The tip of Marljas’ cock nudged her back.
Centering all her concentration on the wonderful, powerful ache between her legs, she ignored it. She rubbed harder, her fingers and tail sliding between her slippery lips. The tip of her tail slid into her cunt.
“That’s it, my beautiful
Cheta
, love yourself.”
Sheala swallowed, gulped down a mouthful of air, and groaned. Pressure built rapidly, and she didn’t try to hold on to it. Hips jerking, she arched her back even more and stiffened as her orgasm rolled through her body. Her cunt sucked at her tail as heat engulfed her, spreading outward and upward from her groin.
Dimly, she noted that warm cum spurted beneath her and onto her shoulder blades.
When the bright motes of light disappeared from behind her closed eyelids, she opened her eyes and stared into Marljas’ face.
Sheala lowered her eyes and straightened, lifting her weight from his arm. She looked at her husband from under her eyelashes. He was still kneeling on the floor of the stall, naked from the knees up, his cock slowly relaxing. A piece of straw dangled from its tip.
Sheala smiled then started to giggle.
He cocked an eyebrow.
“What’s so funny?”
She jerked her chin towards his hips. “Your cock has a beard.”
He grinned back. “And you, my love, now have gold growing between your lovely thighs.”
“What!” Leaping to her feet, Sheala pushed her pants midway down her thighs and slid her hand between her thighs. Straw was stuck to her. Her shoulder blades itched.
“There was a lot of straw on the floor.” Rising, he pulled up and fastened his pants.
Muttering, Sheala pulled as much straw loose as she could.
“Want some help?”
His voice was entirely too jovial.
Her tone was exasperated. “No!”
Finally she tried to pull up her pants, but stared down at them in dismay. With the cut Marljas had made in them, no way would they stay up. “How am I supposed to get back to the house? My blouse won’t cover this.”
Still grinning, her husband lifted his tunic from the floor and dropped it over her head. “Here. This will cover you, and I’ll carry you.” He slid the stall door open and swept her into his arms before she had a chance to protest.
“Marljas! Put me down. I can walk.”
He chuckled. “And have your pants fall down around your ankles. You’d trip and fall. Then everyone would see far too much of your lovely body, and I’d have to challenge every man out there to defend your honor.”
“I can defend myself!”
Amusement still swam in his voice as he kicked the barn door open. “Not on Gattan,
Cheta
. Just as a woman is expected to defend the honor of her husband against other woman, a man isn’t a man if he doesn’t defend the honor of his wife against other men. His mother, especially, would never forgive him.
Of course, if any of the women comment on your lovely ass, there’s not a thing I can do. You, however, are free to defend your honor against them all you want.”
She stopped struggling. “Fine! Carry me if you want—half naked the way you are. Everybody will know what we were doing. I thought Gattans were more circumspect.”
He grinned down at her. “But this Gattan is married to a Drakian. And everybody knows Drakians don’t care who knows they’ve been making love. You’re corrupting me. And—I like it.”
Two hours later, after a long soak in warm, scented bathwater, Sheala sat before the huge fireplace staring at the dancing fire, one that was always lit no matter what season of the year because tradition said it was bad luck for it to go out. As she stared into it, she mulled over the time she’d spent in the barn with her husband, time she’d spent making love. That’s what they’d done even though there hadn’t been any true sexual intercourse between them, and Marljas hadn’t touched her except with his arm.
Drawing her knees up, Sheala rested her chin on them and continued to watch the flames flicker and leap. Could she do it? Could she let Marljas touch her intimately, slide his cock into her? The memory of their night on his ship slipped to the forefront of her mind. Smiling, she sighed. It had been a wonderful night.
Closing her eyes, she slid deeper into the memory. Marljas kissed her, nibbled his way down over her stomach, and looked up into her face. But as she lifted her hips in invitation, Marljas’ face was replaced by Bakom’s.
Gasping, Sheala yanked her eyes open. Shivering, she stared blindly at the fire, shoving her attacker from her mind, struggling to replace him with happy memories. Her brain returned to that afternoon as Marljas had carried her from the barns to the house. Anyone who’d seen them had called a greeting and then chuckled. Her husband had grinned and told them he had the most passionate wife on Gattan.
Not to be outdone, she’d smiled and told them Marljas was a fantastic lover.
Instead of embarrassing him like she thought it would, he’d roared with laughter and thanked her for the compliment. When they’d finally reached the house and encountered his mother talking with some of the household’s women, he’d repeated what she’d said—much to her mortification.
All the women—except Teena—had gaped at them. Marljas’ mother had smiled, nodded, and gone on talking.
According to Deni, Gattans, especially Gattan men, didn’t talk of such things in mixed company. Was Marljas different from other Gattan men? Or was she changing him?
“Did you have a nice bath?”
Sheala wrenched her thoughts away from her husband.
Blinking, she turned her head from the fire and stared at her mother-in-law. “What?”
The older woman smiled at her. “We’ll eat our last meal of the day within the hour. Now, how much do you know about Gattan history?”
Sheala gathered her scattered wits and focused on her mother-in-law. “Umm, history?
Teena laughed. “The history of Gattan? You’re a member of the family now. You should know our history.”
Sheala blinked again. “Oh! History, yes. Gattans are as technologically advanced as Drakians and Medirians. Your small interplanetary battle cruisers are superior to any Drakian or Medirian ships, but our larger ships are better than yours.” Sheala smiled. “And though you’ve kept it hidden, even from other planet’s ambassadors since you first made contact with us, Gattan is a matriarchal society. Your queen, not your king, is in charge.”
Teena smiled. “All true, but that isn’t our history.” She handed one of the mugs she carried to Sheala.
“Tea. Sit back and relax, and I’ll give you a very quick summary. Yes, we’re as technologically advanced, but we also still cling to as many of our traditions as possible. Naturally, our homes have every modern convenience, but we disguise them with traditional packaging.”