Clonely You (Sunrise Cantina #2)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER

SIX

AITHAR

I can’t wait any longer. I know I said I’d be over at Michaela’s farm at dusk, but by the time the sun starts to head toward the horizon, I’m in the air-sled and flying over to her place. I can’t stop thinking about her and what she intends for tonight.

I’m so eager to be used . Especially by her and her soft lips and gentle hands. I want to know what all it entails, this being used. Will she touch my cock? My arms? My thighs? Or will she put her mouth on mine again? I am truly fine with as little as she wishes to give me, but oh, my mind does go to illicit places.

I would like some good memories so when she inevitably tells me that she is interested in some other male, I will have something to look back to. Because they always say they want someone else. It is not me, they reassure me. They want someone more commanding, someone more experienced, someone less eager to please. Someone less a’ani.

Until then, I will enjoy myself.

Once the sled is parked, I take a deep breath to steel myself, and then emerge. The pants that Ruthie insisted I wear to “show off my goods” are Sakkar’s, and so tight that I have difficulty moving naturally. The tunic I’m wearing is Kazex’s, and the neck is cut down to gape open to my pectorals. It shows off my tattoos and my musculature, according to Ruthie, who helped me dress.

She also tried to give me facial piercings, but I declined. I do not want my face hurting when Michaela kisses it. As a compromise, I let her spike my short hair into what she called a “rugged” look. When she was satisfied with her work, she called in Ruth-Ann to judge my appearance, and I’d turned in place to display everything.

“Well, he looks like he’s angling to get laid for sure,” was all Ruth-Ann said.

This pleased me to hear, as I am definitely looking forward to getting laid.

I approach the barn, keeping my steps slow and measured, even though I want to sprint to Michaela’s side and immediately fall to her feet. She comes out to greet me, her puffy hair pulled back from her face with a thick band. She’s wearing her work overalls and there is a smell of stock animals and lactation about her.

“You’re early,” she greets, and her gaze moves up and down my body. “And walking funny. Are you okay?”

“My pants are very tight,” I admit, trying to adjust my gait as I approach to be more normal. “You are more lovely than I remember, and I remember you as breathtaking.”

“Flatterer.” A smile spreads across Michaela’s face at my words. She glances back at the barn, and her expression grows reluctant. “I won’t be ready for at least another hour. I have to pull the butter out of the churns.”

“May I help you?” I all but bound towards her, and the seams on my trou protest, making me lurch awkwardly.

“Are you sure you’re dressed for it?” She arches a brow at me.

“I can undress if you’d prefer me that way.”

She laughs, her head thrown back, and I feel like the most important male in the universe, that I got this beautiful creature to laugh at my words. “Okay, fine, come on. I’ll show you what I’m up to.”

We enter the barn together, and as we do, the smell of milk and the dairy-stock creatures becomes overwhelming. My nostrils twitch, but I manage to keep my face composed because I do not want to insult Michaela. This is clearly a delicacy for humans, and she is very proud of her work to produce it. It’s not her fault that the smell is appalling to me. As we go into the barn, we head toward the back, where there is a large crank on one end of a wall, and what looks like barrel after barrel lined up in a row along the wall with a large stick protruding from the center of the barrel. Michaela grabs a large, clean bowl, large enough for her to curl up inside, and she hands it to me.

“You hold this and I’ll scoop the butter.”

I do so obediently, following her as she lifts the lid on the first barrel and the smell of dairy overwhelms me. I flinch, my throat working as she uses a scoop to pull strange, rancid-looking yellow bits out of a watery goop. “What is all this?”

“This is butter before it gets salted.” She gestures at the liquid. “That’s buttermilk.”

“I see.” I do not see but it seems polite to respond.

She glances over at me as she scoops another huge plop of “butter” into the bowl. “Do you want me to explain how it works? I’m kinda proud of my method.”

“I would love that, actually.” Anything that will get me more of her smoky, delightful voice.

Michaela launches into her explanation. How when she first arrived on Risda III, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to raise cattle. She was interested in a farm but disliked the thought of animals sold to be meat. “It reminded me too much of the life I had just escaped.”

She’d been missing the comforts of home, and wondered if she could re-create them here. She purchased some milk from the store and recalled reading in a book that it could be churned and made into butter, and so she experimented with it before eventually having success. After that, she requested that she be given a farm with dairy-stock, animals bred to continue producing milk even after their calves had grown.

“But then I got my first batch of milk and I realized how much work it was to churn butter. And to sell it at a larger scale was a lot of work.” She straightens and makes a churning motion with her arms. “If I was going to make money on my farm, I’d have to figure something out. I talked with one of the women in town that does odd projects and she helped me construct this.” Michaela gestures proudly at the wall. “If I turn this one crank, it pistons the plunger in twenty different barrels and makes enough butter that I can sell the profits at the store. I sell the buttermilk, too, but people are less interested in that. I’m trying to think of a product I can make that will use the buttermilk up so it doesn’t go to waste.”

“We can always ask the other humans if they have any ideas. Ruthie or Ruth-Ann or even Lady Ruth might know a suggestion.”

“Sure.” She scoops the last of the butter out of the first barrel and moves on to the next, pulling the lid off.

“You can ask when you inquire about bounty hunters.”

“Mmm. I’ll hold off on that for another day or two, I think.” She glances over at me as she begins to scoop butter out of the new barrel and into my bowl. “I don’t want them to think I’m using you.”

My heart freezes in my chest. “You promised to use me.”

Michaela straightens, a sheen of sweat on her face that makes her look shiny and even more beautiful. “Not like that, Aithar. I meant using you for the contacts with the bounty hunter. I want them to think we’re the real deal for a while. It’s not fair to you otherwise.”

Again, she puts me ahead of herself. I’m humbled at her generous nature. “You are the kindest, most understanding?—”

“I’m still using you for sex.”

“—generous, incredible, alluring, sensual?—”

She puts a finger on my lips to silence me. “Let’s finish up with the butter before we go down that path, all right?”

“Very well,” I reply against her finger and give it a tiny kiss. Just because I can.

For the next hour, Michaela scoops butter out of the barrels and pours the remaining fluid—the buttermilk—into a cold vat. She rinses out the churns, then rinses the butter and salts it before slapping piles of it into rectangular molds and putting the molds into a refrigerated storage chamber. By the time we’re done, I have a great appreciation for all the work she goes through to make butter. She is sweaty and tired, and her stomach growls loud enough for me to hear as we head toward her house. As I mostly followed her around and carried things, I am not as sweaty and fatigued as she is.

We head inside and she glances at the lavatory and her kitchen. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.” She lifts her tunic from under her overalls and sniffs it. “And I reek. This is not an auspicious start to our date.”

“It’s my fault. I came over too early and made you rush.” I don’t apologize, because I wanted to be with her more than anything. I hurried to get here and I’d probably do it again, just because I can be near her. “Would you like to shower while I make food?”

The look she gives me is sheer surprise. “You’d make dinner?”

“I can make noodles with veg, if you don’t mind eating something plain.”

She grabs the front of my tunic and pulls me down for a kiss of gratitude. “You are amazing and I would love that.”

I’m stunned by the quick smack of her lips against mine and give her a dazed smile as she heads off to the lavatory. To her, that kiss was nothing. To me, it was a delight and made this entire day worth the waiting. I practically float to the kitchen and dig through her pantry, looking for the standard noodles that every ship’s mess has. A quick check of her refrigerator shows a variety of fresh mushrooms and some greens, and I chop them up while the noodles soak.

Michaela emerges from the shower in a cloud of soap and humidity. She wears a purple bonnet of some kind over her curls to prevent them from getting wet and has an equally purple bath-sheet wrapped around her body…and nothing else. She pads over to my side, practically naked, and leans against my shoulder. “Smells amazing.”

“Yes, you do,” I blurt out.

She giggles. “Not me, you clown. The food.”

“I would rather taste you than noodles,” I continue eagerly. “Is that bad?”

With a pat on my arm, Michaela just smiles. “Patience, my sweet Aithar. Patience. You’ll get your turn soon enough. How about you serve up food while I get dressed?”

“Of course.” I watch her as she saunters to her bedroom, unable to look away. I am entranced by the sway of her hips, the rolling gait of her body as she moves. Has any female ever walked with such grace? Such sheer sensuality? How is it that she makes walking across the room sexy? My mouth goes dry.

Patience. Patience.

I serve up two bowls and set them on her table, along with fresh cups of tea, and I sit and wait. I admit to myself that I’m nervous. After we eat, what will she do with me? I’ve never been used for sex before. How does one proceed? How do I let her know if I have boundaries? Do I even have boundaries? I doubt I do, but I suspect she might and I need to know them.

When Michaela returns from her room, she wears a simple, comfortable gown and no shoes. I’m dying to examine her charming bare feet, but I suspect that might be unwelcome. Her thick, curly hair is pulled up and clipped away from her neck, and she looks relaxed and soft as she joins me at the table. She lifts a cup of tea and smells it, her eyes closing with appreciation. “You made all this? It looks great.”

I want to please you. I want you to smile at me. I want you to exclaim over my food and fall madly in love with me and I will happily make you noodles every day of my existence. I think all these things and say none of them. “Enjoy.”

We eat and as we eat, I watch her. She does not use sticks but the human “fork” for her utensil and twirls it in the noodles before lifting a skein of it to her mouth. I eat, too, but I do not notice the taste of it. My focus is entirely on Michaela. We talk, of course. We talk about butter, and the flavors she is going to try when she gets supplies. She asks me about the cantina and what I plan to do. She asks me about the ship and about Lady Ruth and Lord Straik and how they came to be married. She asks more questions than she answers, but I am happy to let her control the conversation. Once we are both done with our food, I take the bowls and head to the kitchen to clean them.

Michaela trails after me, surprised. “You didn’t leave a mess in the kitchen.”

“Should I have? I thought it would be rude.” I’d cleaned the kitchen as I worked, and now I wonder if I have made a misstep of some kind. “Is it a human custom to leave a mess behind after cooking? I do not mean to insult. Ruthie said that some humans belch to show their appreciation for food, but I did not do that either. Should I belch for my own food? It seems presumptuous.” I’m growing worried that I’ve affronted her when that is the last thing I want. No wonder no one wishes to date me. I am offending them.

Michaela puts a hand on my chest. “Whoa there, calm down, Aithar.” She smiles up at me, and my anxiety melts away. “You don’t need to burp, and you don’t need to apologize. I was just surprised that you were cleaning up after yourself. I didn’t expect it, but it’s nice to see.”

Why would she not expect it? “I am your guest. That means I do not impose.”

Her smile grows broader. “You really are too much.”

“I am trying not to be,” I tell her earnestly. “If you need me to change?—”

“Do not change a thing. If women don’t like how enthusiastic you are, that’s their problem.” Her finger trails down the front of my tunic, her fingertip hot against my bare skin. “I like your enthusiasm.”

“Kef me, I’m so glad.”

She chuckles at my relief. “Though maybe just wear your own clothes next time. This doesn’t seem very comfortable.” With pinched fingers, she shakes the fabric against my chest. “You’re showing a lot of male cleavage.”

I glance down with a rueful smile. “It’s odd to have so much room up top and for my trou to fit so tight that I’m losing circulation.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Michaela hooks her finger into the front of my tunic and gives me a teasing look. “Come with me.”

I let her lead me across the room, back to the dining table. She kicks one of the chairs out and indicates that I should sit. When I do, she presses my hands against each arm of the chair. “Can you keep those there?”

“I can.”

“Can you keep them there no matter what ?”

A prickle of excitement shoots up my spine. “Are you going to start using me for sex now, Michaela?”

She presses her fingers to my lips. “Shh. And maybe don’t say it like that. We’re just fooling around. That’s what humans call it. Nothing serious, just a bit of mutual enjoyment.”

“Fooling around,” I echo, though I’m not keen on the term. It doesn’t sound serious enough for what I feel. “I am yours to fool around.”

“I know.” She hitches her long dress up her thighs and to my great surprise, straddles me on the chair. Her weight settles on my thighs, the heat of her immediately noticeable. She drapes her arms around my neck and leans in. “I’m going to be in charge tonight.”

I nod, not trusting my voice. As far as I’m concerned, she can be in charge every night. Every day, too.

“I thought about tying you up again, but I figured maybe we’d just test your self-control instead.” Her hand trails down my arm. “I’m going to play with you for a while. Consider it my apology for the other day.”

“The…other…day?” I ask, in a lust-filled haze.

“When I kidnapped you.”

How thoughtful. “I wasn’t in danger at any time. I can handle myself.”

It’s clear she doesn’t believe me, but I don’t want to belabor the situation. Not when she’s doing such interesting things with her fingers. They dance across my chest, distracting me from the heated heft of her body pressing against my thighs. I’m fascinated by her nearness. This close, her scent is a marvel, and when she leans in to brush her lips over mine, I all but sigh with pleasure.

“I like touching you,” she murmurs. “I forgot how nice it is to touch another person.”

“You can touch me as much as you like. I enjoy it.”

“Have you been touched much in the past?”

“Almost never.” An a’ani is considered more functional than anything. We are slaves, meant to work without complaint and cause as little trouble as possible. Touching was never a requirement, especially when we were heavily medicated to the point that emotions did not matter. But now that I am free of all of that, I imagine a life where Michaela touches me constantly…and I like it. “No woman has shown enough interest in me to touch me.”

“Fools. All of them. I’ll have to make up all the times you should have been touched.”

“Please do.”

Her fingers lightly trail up my neck, her expression curious. “I know human erogenous zones but I’m curious if aliens have the same ones.”

“There’s one way to find out.”

She chuckles. “I like the way you think. Is your equipment the same, too? I’m not judging, but I’m also not into jump scares. Just let me know what to expect in advance.”

It’s not something I considered. “I…have a cock?”

“A normal-size one?”

“What is normal?” I have asked an excellent question, and I realize I also have the perfect solution. “Shall I show you?”

She arches a brow. “I’ll be the one unwrapping any packages.” Her fingertips move over my lips. “I’m setting the pace, remember?”

As if I could forget. Her pace is constantly on my mind, given that she is straddling me and making me ache with all kinds of needs. “Set away. I shall follow your lead.”

Michaela gives me a sultry little smile. She leans in and brushes her lips over mine in the lightest of kisses, and when I groan low in my throat, her smile grows broader. She kisses me again, just as delicately. And again. And again. She peppers my face with a dozen tiny kisses, each one only making me eager for more. When her mouth moves over mine again, I want to scream with frustration when she makes the kiss brief.

“More,” I growl.

“Patience. We’ll get to the good stuff.”

“It is all good stuff. I want more kisses.” I’m panting as I demand it. “Just kisses are fine with me. But I need your mouth, Michaela.”

She hums as if considering it, and her hands cup my face. She gazes into my eyes, studying my features, and lowers her mouth to mine again and kisses me once more, this time as long and hard as I’d been burning for. It’s as sweet as I remember from yesterday, her lips warm and firm, yet achingly soft at the same time. Her tongue teases against mine and I’m utterly captivated, lost in that delicate touch.

Michaela kisses me a second time, just as thoroughly as the first. Her hands rake through my shorn hair, messing up Ruthie’s attempts at making me “rugged.” I don’t care—I love Michaela’s touch. I want to lean into every caress, and when she pulls back after kissing me again, I make a ragged sound of protest.

“We’re just going to kiss tonight,” she tells me, and strokes a finger along my jaw. “Unless I decide to do more.”

“Yes. Perfect. Wonderful. More kisses please.” I’m happy to give her whatever she needs. When her fingertip moves along my lower lip, I try to lick it in response. “Give me whatever you like. I will take all of it, and gladly.”

“I don’t want you to be disappointed if we go slow.”

How could I possibly be disappointed? She is straddling me, her body pressed to mine. Her lips have been on my face, her tongue in my mouth. None of this is disappointing in the slightest. “I have never been so happy in my life as I have been today, Michaela. We go with whatever speed makes you comfortable.”

“Mmm.” She considers this, and her expression grows playful. “That was just a test, and you passed with flying colors. You sure you don’t mind if I use you for my pleasure? No strings attached?”

“I wear no strings at all,” I pant, entranced by her sultry voice and the sly smile on her face.

“No, I meant that there’s no expectation of a relationship. It’s just us touching and enjoying.” Her hand moves to press over my heart. “I’m not ready for more.”

“You told me that.”

“I know.” She sits back, resting on my legs so she can look me in the eye. “I just need to be sure that we’re both in alignment with how we proceed. I don’t want you to get hurt if we fool around for a week or a month and then we go our separate ways.”

She truly does not get it, does she? “Michaela,” I say gently. “I am already in love with you. If you wished to take me as your mate in this very moment, I would be loyal and happy until the day I die. I will be hurt no matter how we part. But when I say that I am content with whatever you can give me, I mean it. I have no expectations other than that you will grow tired of my adoration, just as the others have.”

The human female gives me a wry look. “Well you can’t just throw that down. It feels like a challenge.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be so.”

“I know.” She shakes her head. “It’s fine. Let’s just enjoy our time together and try not to make this into something it isn’t, all right? It’s touching and enjoying. Nothing more.”

“Touching and enjoying,” I agree. “I am very much enjoying your touching.”

Her smile grows broader, and there’s a hint of relief on her elegant features. “Okay, great. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Same page,” I agree, though I have no idea what she means, because I am seated upon a chair, not a book.

It’s the right answer, though, because she kisses me again, leaving me breathless. Her hands roam over my body, and I clench the arms of the chair, both desperate to touch her and even more desperate to please her with my obedience.

“This is rather fun,” she tells me between kisses. “I like being in charge.”

“I love that you’re in charge.” It means that she controls how far we go. It means that I don’t have to impress her with my knowledge. I just have to let her set the pace and enjoy myself.

Michaela grins and nibbles along my jaw. Her hand slides down my chest, lower and lower, until she reaches my belt. I suck in a breath when she heads lower still and brushes her hand over my cock. It’s hard and raging, a tent of exquisite agony in my too-tight trou. “Can I take a look at this?”

“A-absolutely.” I’m tripping over my tongue at the thought of her touching me without the fabric between us.

She slides back on my thighs and her hand goes to my belt, tapping at the auto-fastener to activate it. The belt whirrs and sheaths itself inside the buckle, and the moment it loosens, I can breathe again. Didn’t realize just how tight my trou were. I take a deep lungful of air and relax, watching her expression as she loosens my clothing. Is she going to be repulsed by me? Does she have expectations that I will be built like some of the larger alien races? I hope not. I’m well-endowed for an a’ani…but I am still a’ani.

The fastener on my trou slides down and my cock springs free of its confines, protruding from the vee of my clothing. I watch as her eyes widen. She touches my cock, and when I hiss, she pulls the fabric free so she can see all of my length, including my sac.

“Well, now,” she murmurs.

I don’t know if that is good or bad. My hands clench on the arms of the chair. “Tell me I do not disappoint you.”

Her gaze flicks up to mine. “You absolutely do not disappoint me. You’re the perfect size and you don’t have any weird stuff going on, which I appreciate.”

Weird stuff? I’m not certain what she was expecting, but I’m glad that I please her. “If you want me to get piercings, I can?—”

“Hush. I like you just like you are. There’s no need to change for me.” Her fingers wrap around my shaft and she gives me the smallest squeeze. It’s the best sensation ever, and I nearly come in that moment. I clench every muscle in my body to keep from losing control.

But then Michaela runs her fingers over the head of my cock. “No foreskin, hmm?”

I shrug. Don’t know what that is either. “Is it something you need?”

“It isn’t important. Was just curious.” She tickles a finger against the divot in the center of my cock. “Tell me what you like, Aithar.”

“You.”

Her throaty chuckle is the most delicious sound. “I meant, what kind of touches do you like?”

It would be impossible to choose. “Everything.”

One delicate brow goes up. “Any particular fantasies?”

“You touching me.”

Michaela giggles at that, shaking her head. “You are far too easy to please, Aithar.”

“Very easy.” In her hands, I want for nothing.

“Well, lucky for you, I have an idea.” She taps the head of my cock, sending a shiver up my spine, and gets off my lap.

I want to protest, because her abandoning me is not what I had in mind. “Where are you going?”

“To get something.” She casts a wicked look at me over her shoulder. “Be patient and stay right there. I’m coming back.”

Is she? Good. I shift my weight in the chair, impatient. After a bit of restless twitching, I decide to pull off my ridiculous tunic. It’s cut too low to be useful anyhow, and I want Michaela to be able to touch me all over. I sling it off over my head and ponder if I should remove my trou, too. That might be entirely too much naked flesh for her, so I opt to leave them on, even if I want nothing more than to get completely naked. I want to feel her when she sits on me again.

Michaela returns from the lavatory a moment later with a bottle in her hand. She gives it a demonstrative little shake and eyes me. “How do we feel about lotion?”

“My skin is not dry.”

“I don’t know, I touched you in a spot that’s hot and dry. It could use a little moisture.” And she leans in and trails a finger along the underside of my shaft.

My cock jerks in response, and I suck in a shocked breath. “You want to lotion my cock?”

“Lubricant feels good. Trust me.”

I know it does. I’ve greased up my own cock in the shower and shamefully jerked it until release, but I never imagined that Michaela would do such a thing for me. It seems as if it’s something that is entirely for my pleasure and not hers, but I don’t want to complain. Not if this is what she wants. “Is this…a normal thing between lovers?”

“Oh god, yes.” She chuckles, squeezing a dollop of lotion onto her hand before setting the bottle on the floor. I’m entranced as she rubs her hands together, smoothing the lotion over them in calm, certain strokes. Her fingers are long and elegant, and I’m fascinated at the wet gleam of them as she reaches for my cock. Then she hesitates before touching me. “You’re not going to come, are you?”

I groan, because I just might. “I do not want to, but I might not be able to help myself.”

“I can wait,” she says sweetly, and just rubs her slick hands together, watching me. “Tell me when you’re composed.”

That might be never. The sound her wet palms are making as they slide against one another is doing terrible things to my control. I close my eyes and concentrate on controlled breathing, of inhaling for five seconds, and exhaling. After a few rounds of this, I feel less like I’m going to burst, and manage a tight nod.

“Poor Aithar,” she murmurs, and she doesn’t sound as if she sympathizes with me at all. She sounds pleased with herself. “You are far too much fun to play with.”

“Am I?” I love her flattery. I love that I’m making this enjoyable for her…somehow. Even if it’s just doing as she asks and clutching desperately at the chair I’m seated in. “I want you to enjoy our time together, because I know I am. Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You’re sweet.” Michaela moves forward again, but she doesn’t touch me. She leans in and lightly kisses me.

Then those warm, slick hands of hers clasp my cock.

I suck in a breath at the sensation and manage to keep my control. Just barely. Nothing has ever felt so good. Even when I touch myself, it doesn’t compare to her slippery grip. Intense pleasure ripples over my body as she strokes my cock, getting it lubricated. I don’t see how anything can possibly be better than this?—

“How are you feeling?” She leans in and nips at my jaw even as she works my cock.

Am…am I supposed to be capable of answering? Is my brain supposed to be functioning? Because it is not. I can’t think of anything except for her touch, of the delicious skate of her fingers over my skin. Of her mouth, teasing against mine. “I…I…”

“Feeling good?” she asks again.

I manage a gasp.

“I’m gonna need you to answer, Aithar,” Michaela whispers against my skin. Her mouth glides over mine again, even as her hands tease along my shaft. “Because this is just the first part. We can stop here if you want, but I’d like to keep going.”

Oh, kef . “There is more than this?”

Michaela giggles, giving my cock a light squeeze before stroking down the shaft. “This is just the warm-up, babe.”

“I might die if it gets better than this,” I admit. “This exceeds my wildest dreams. You exceed my wildest dreams.”

“You’re sweet to say that,” she replies and kisses me again. “Now this next part is going to be a lot. But you’ll hold on through it because I need you to, all right?”

As if there is any choice? She owns me in body and soul. If she asked me to remove my own arm, I would start chewing on it right now. “I can manage.”

“Good. I’m going to get up again, but I’ll be right back.” She gives me another kiss full of promise. “I hope you’re having as much fun as I am.”

“I might be having so much fun that things will be over swiftly,” I call out behind her, and love that she laughs aloud at my response. It’s nice to be myself and not have to temper my eagerness for fear of being “too much” for the female I am trying to impress. Michaela knows that I am eager and enthusiastic and she has not seemed bothered by it. Rather, she’s expecting it from me.

It’s just one more reason that I am now completely and utterly devoted to her.

She crosses to the far side of the living room this time, and when she returns, she holds a metal object that it takes me a moment to recognize. I should have known it immediately—she trapped my finger in it. It’s one of the auto-milkers she uses for her dairy-stock. I must admit, at the sight of it and her intense expression, I’m a little disappointed. “You want to trap my fingers again?”

“Not your fingers.” Michaela teases the rounded end of it down my chest. “Think…lower.”

Oh.

OH .

Kef me. “You want to put that…on my cock?”

“I do. I saw how you looked at it.” She traces circles on my thigh with the end.

“How—how did I look at it?” I can’t recall, can’t think straight. I just remember that it sucked on my fingers, working them…and my sac tightens in response, a dribble of precum sliding down the head of my cock.

“Like you wanted to see what it’d feel like on your cock.”

“We can do that?”

“Only if you want to.” Her eyes gleam with excitement. “Do you?”

“Only if you want to.”

She taps the head of my cock with the milker. “Now that is a very good answer. Lucky for you, I do. Are you ready?”

I’m not sure that I’ll ever be prepared for such a thing, but I’m also wildly curious at this point. I nod.

Michaela taps a button on the side of it and the milker expands, a curved panel extending to add width to it. She climbs back onto my lap and faces me, and we both watch as she carefully fits the metal-and-plas sleeve over my cock. It’s a bit loose with the new expansion, but when she activates it, the milker shrinks down to fit itself snug around my cock.

And then it begins to work. It pumps my cock, trying to milk it like one of the animals in the barn, sucking and moving and?—

The breath explodes from my body. Sensation whirls through me and I barely manage to hold on to the arms of the chair as a climax flares through my system. I make a choked sound, but Michaela is right there, kissing me on the mouth, her lips hungry as she rocks against me and the milker works my cock with smooth, measured, sucking motions.

I come.

And I come again.

I’m almost certain I come a third time in quick succession. And all the while, Michaela is right there, cupping my face and touching my chest and telling me how much she loves this and how sexy she finds me. By the time she turns the milker off and pulls my cock free, there’s a puddle in my lap and I’m in a daze, my vision edged with black. I take deep, sucking breaths, utterly exhausted…and I’ve never felt better.

Michaela sits up and pulls my head against her breasts. “You were amazing, Aithar. Thank you for letting me play with you.”

“Can….can I touch you…now?” I ask, lungs heaving. I don’t know where I’ll find the strength. I just know that pleasuring her has somehow become one of the things I need most in the universe. If Michaela can give me that much pleasure, I want to return it.

But she just cradles my cheek and taps it lightly. “Not today, babe. I’m not ready.”

“That is probably best,” I admit. “I think I will have trouble moving after all that.”

She chuckles, running her hands through my hair. “It was fun though, wasn’t it?”

I make a hoarse sound that might be a laugh or a groan. “If I have more fun like that, I suspect it will kill me.”

Her laughter is sweet, as sweet as the caresses she lavishes upon me while I struggle to catch my breath. “Will you come over tomorrow, Aithar? Same time?”

Nothing would keep me away from her after today.