Clonely You (Sunrise Cantina #2)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

MICHAELA

I can admit when I was wrong, and I was wrong about today. My mood is light as we hold hands in the air-sled, heading back to my house. It was nice to go into town and have a meal. It was nice to spend time with Aithar in public, eating junk food and talking about nothing. It was busier in Port than I’d expected it to be, and for some reason, I found that soothing. Maybe because it’s making me realize that there’s room for more than one dairy farm in the area.

Plus, I bet I can sell my buttermilk to Simone, the woman with the baking stall. To be honest, I would just give it to her if she asked, simply because it wouldn’t be going to waste. Pouring all that buttermilk down the drain because I can’t think of anything to do with it never sits right with me. Perhaps Simone can give me a few baking recipes, too.

Either way, going out filled my mind with ideas, and it feels like a good thing.

Aithar parks the sled in the designated spot in front of my house, and I don’t even care that he ignores the marked guide lines. Normally it’d make me twitch, but today I barely notice it. I’m not even dreading the mess waiting inside the house. I feel mellow and content and the weight of Aithar’s hand in mine has a lot to do with it.

He glances over at me, a little smile curving his mouth. “Was I right about today?”

I pretend to be offended. “I’m not going to tell you that. Your head will get too big.”

“W-what?” His free hand goes to the top of his head, touching the thick black cap of hair there. He looks confused.

“It’s a saying,” I clarify, doing my best not to giggle. “Your head size is not actually going to increase. It’s just that we say something like that when you get too cocky.”

He gets that bashful look on his face that he does when he’s embarrassed, and one of his pointed ears twitches. “Humans have such funny sayings.”

“We use a lot of different words to say things when I guess we should just say what we mean.” I give his hand a squeeze. “We’re not good at being direct or saying thank you.”

His smile grows bigger. “Is that your way of thanking me for today?”

“Maybe.”

Aithar’s expression turns crafty, and he lifts our joined hands to his mouth and kisses my skin. “But today is not over yet.”

“Oh no?” I feign innocence but my heart is pounding wildly. I haven’t forgotten that he promised to give me a dozen orgasms or something along those lines. It’s been so long since I’ve given in to pleasure for myself. When I feel the need to get a release, mine are always quick and efficient and usually managed in the shower. It’s about as sexy as cracking my knuckles. But playing with Aithar—kissing him, rubbing against him, making him come—has reminded me that I can take pleasure from things, too. That I like receiving as much as I like giving.

Aithar releases my hand. He reaches out and I think he’s going to brush a lock of hair behind my ear, as he sometimes does. Instead, he twines his fingers in my curls and pulls me close so he can kiss me. It’s the first time Aithar has reached for me instead of waiting for me to kiss him, and I’m shocked at the intensity of it.

Just as quickly as he kissed me, he pulls away again. “Today is not over,” he repeats. “Are you ready for more?”

I nod. It feels as if we’ve been building up to this all along. Our last month of teasing has led up to this flip in control, where he takes the lead, and I finally let him. I’m nervous, but more than anything, I’m excited.

And I’m aroused. Because I love kissing Aithar. I love the taste of his lips. I love the scent of his skin. I love his hard muscles and lean frame and the eager way he approaches life. With everything he does, he gives ten thousand percent. Who wouldn’t want that in their lover? “I’m ready. Let’s keep going.”

“I’m glad you said that, my heart, because I brought something.” Aithar gives me another smile and reaches into the back of the air-sled. A moment later, he produces a long, vivid blue cord, the width of my thumb.

My mouth goes dry. “What’s that for?”

“I’m going to tie your hands to the bed so you cannot lead as we touch. All you can do is enjoy.” His eyes are heated, even as he searches my face. “Is this acceptable?”

I stare at it, wondering how my sweet Aithar has gone from kissing to tying me up so quickly. Did someone else give him this idea? Or did he come up with this on his own because I made him immobilize his hands when we fooled around that first time? Is this just a turnabout? “Rope, huh?”

He nods. “The softest I could find. If you are afraid of the rope, we do not have to use it?—”

“I’m not afraid,” I interrupt. “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

His smile grows broader. “You are bossy when we are affectionate. I wanted to ensure that I could make this about you and not have you turn it around upon me.”

“You think I would do that?” I scoff, teasing. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“It sounds exactly like you, my delightful dairymaid.” He jiggles the handful of rope at me. “I know you well. But I also want this to be pleasurable for you and if tying you up fills you with fear, then we will not.”

He thinks tying me up makes me afraid? Oh, this darling, innocent man. “It’s not fear I’m feeling right now, babe. Ropes are…exciting.” Just thinking about being tied down and utterly helpless while Aithar ravishes me is making my pulse throb directly between my thighs. “As long as we have a safe word, that is. A word we can say and we will both stop immediately, no questions asked.”

Aithar nods. “Very wise. I think that is an excellent idea. What word shall we use? ‘Stop’?”

I take one of the ends of the rope in my hand and stroke it. Like he said, it’s soft against the skin, but sturdy. It’s good for this kind of thing. “Humans pick an absurd word so when you hear it in the middle of a heated moment, it stands out more. How about ‘buttermilk’?”

He snorts, amusement written across his broad features. “Thinking of buttermilk will indeed make me pause. Just imagining humans drinking it makes my appetite curdle.”

“Okay then,” I breathe, clasping my hands in my lap. I’m both nervous and aroused at the same time. “Let’s do this.”

Aithar stares at me, hard, and makes a little growling sound in his throat that surprises me. “Hearing you say that makes me want to kiss you all over right now, but I will save that for inside. Once the ropes are on and you cannot put your hands on me and sweetly demand that you work my cock instead.”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all,” I say, breathless. It’s exactly what I do. It’s exactly my playbook for this last month. But it’s not my fault he’s so delightful to play with. I just love seeing his expression when I drive him to the edge.

He opens the door to the air-sled and hops out, jogging over to my side to get my door for me. It takes me a moment to realize that yes, we’re truly doing this. We’re going inside to have sex, and I’m not going to be able to put my hands on him for the first time since we’ve met. A nervous, excited quiver starts in my belly.

I barely notice the mess in my living room or in the kitchen as we race inside together, hand in hand. It’s harder for me to ignore the hastily discarded clothing tossed onto my bed from when I dressed earlier today to go out. My bed isn’t made, so it doesn’t hurt too much when Aithar rips the messy covers away and tosses them onto the floor. In fact, it makes me hot.

For some reason, I find that incredibly sexy.

“Lie down,” he commands, in a very un-Aithar tone.

Another erotic little shiver ripples through me. “Shouldn’t I get undressed first? Take my shoes off?”

“Then undress for me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, the rope in one hand, and gestures at me with the other. “I will watch.”

It’s nothing I haven’t said to him before. Haven’t I cooed at him as I rubbed the milker (our favorite sex toy) all over his bright red, bare chest? Haven’t I teased him over every inch of his tattooed body and admired every pore? But it’s turned around this time and this is his first time seeing me naked. And while I’ve seen several men naked—both alien and human—this is probably the first time he’s seeing a woman naked, if he’s as sheltered as he’s indicated.

I’m confident in my body, but I’m also certain that I probably look different than most other alien females. Humans tend to be shorter, and our bodies aren’t as lean. My thighs are thick and rounded and my tits, while not huge, are perky and prominent. I’ve seen the blue alien women—the mesakkah—and they are as elegant as they are lean and lithe.

It occurs to me to point out the differences in my body from those women, but after a moment’s hesitation, I change my mind. I’m not apologizing for who I am. I throw my head back and straighten my shoulders, toying with the auto-fastener at my belt. I’m wearing a serviceable tunic-dress yoked at the waist, so there’s not much to take off. “Have you seen a lot of naked women, Aithar?”

“Never.” He rubs his hands on his thighs, his eyes bright as he watches me. “I am very enthusiastic about seeing one now, though.”

I undo my belt and toss it aside and kick off my shoes. They’re little more than hard-soled slippers, made for walking instead of farm work, and for a moment I wish I had some sexy high heels to make my legs look long and appealing. Ah well. I slip off my dress before I can think too hard about it, leaving me only in my bra and panties. They’re functional instead of sexy, and both are worn as they’re not garments typically made by aliens for their slender women. There’s a dressmaker here in town and you have to request them from her, and she’s always in high demand, so I wear mine until they’re falling off. I carefully remove the last of my garments and fold them, then stand in front of Aithar in all my naked glory.

The grin on his face has faded, replaced by a more solemn expression. As I gaze at him, he rubs his mouth.

“Good?” I ask, hoping for some sort of comment. Not that I want to hear “you have love handles” or anything like that, but a response of some kind would be nice.

“Very good,” he manages after a moment, and clears his throat. “You are…stunning. Your legs, your skin, your curves, all of it. Just…stunning.”

I stand a little taller at that and take a step toward him. “Do I look like the women of your kind?”

“There are no a’ani women. Only males are cloned because we are considered sturdier workers.”

Oh. That shouldn’t surprise me, but somehow it does. It makes sense given his innocence, yet somehow it didn’t occur to me that the a’ani were a race of only male clones. How very…sad. “I didn’t realize.”

He shrugs and reaches for me, his hands skimming down my arms as he looks me over. “Some a’ani only love other males because those are the bodies they are familiar with and appreciate, but kef me, I love all your differences.” His gaze goes to my breasts, his lips parting and his expression hazy before he catches himself. “I want to explore all of you with my mouth. I want to bury my face in all this soft-looking skin of yours and just lose myself.”

I chuckle, relieved that he is so enamored. My body isn’t perfect—I could pick apart my flaws—but I love that he’s enthused. I’ll ignore the dimples in my thighs and the stretch marks and just appreciate myself for the goddess I am. I run my fingers lightly over the pointed tip of one bright red ear. “You’re welcome to plant your face anywhere and everywhere. You sure you want me tied up?”

His gaze flicks up to mine. “Oh yes. I remember our word, too. I think if we do not use the ties, you’ll take charge and I truly want to pleasure you, my everything.”

He’s ridiculous with the nicknames.

I…love them, though. I cross my arms dramatically over my wrists. “All right, then. How do you want me?”

Aithar jumps to his feet, all purpose, and I take a quick step back. A moment later, he steers me toward the bed, and I sit down on the edge while he retrieves the rope we’d left on the other side of the room. I lift my feet and pose myself on the bed, arms above my head and my thighs together and angled slightly to the side so I don’t look like a body on a slab. I’m sure I’m overthinking my posture, but considering I’ve overthought everything up to this point, it seems like typical Michaela.

My alien boyfriend sits down on the edge of the bed again and laces the rope through the metal slats of my headboard, and I notice his hands are shaking. That show of his nerves makes me lose some of the frantic edge on my thoughts. “You know I’m anxious, right?”

He looks up at me, his lips quirking in a sheepish grin. “You do not need to fear anything in my hands, my succulent human. I will take good care of you.”

“I know you will. I’m still anxious, though. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with any man. And this is different than our playing.”

His fingers move over the ropes, gently looping one over my wrist and then the other. His actions are so careful, so precise. He’s doing his best to ensure that I always remain comfortable. “It is very different than our ‘playing,’ as you call it. After today, if you still wish to see more of me, I would like for us to not call it ‘playing’ or ‘fooling.’ To me it is no play or foolishness. It is me adoring my mate. It is me pleasuring her. I would not downplay it for anything.”

I hadn’t realized my choice of words bothered him, but it’s clear from his somber tone that he’s thought about this a lot. “All right,” I say softly. “If we go through with this and we still want to look each other in the eye, we’ll rethink our relationship.”

“You will rethink,” he corrects, his tone sweet. “I have said from day one that I am madly in love with you.” His hand smooths over the ropes and I realize he’s knotted them while we’ve been talking. “Give it a tug?”

I do as he asks, testing the makeshift bonds. “They seem fine.”

“And you cannot move your hands?”

I shake my head.

“Not even if I do this?” He glides his knuckles along the inside of my arm, watching my face.

I squirm, suddenly ticklish. “Still trapped.”

“Or this?” He boldly caresses one breast and strokes his thumb over the tip, and fire shoots right to my belly.

Breath explodes out of me, and I shake my head.

“And you remember our word?”

“Buttermilk,” I whisper.

“And you’re mine? And you’ll let me take control and give you all the pleasure you deserve?” His eyes are heated and intense as he continues to cup my breast, his thumb moving back and forth over my now-stiff nipple.

I manage a shaky nod.

“Good, because I’m going to touch you all over until you come.”

“You should know I’m nervous, and if I’m nervous, it makes it that much harder for me to orgasm.”

“I’m not worried.”

Well, that makes one of us. I just don’t want to disappoint him. It’s our first time together like this and if he can’t make me come, I could shatter his ego. It could destroy any intimacy we have.

No pressure.

“You’re thinking too much,” he tells me, moving in close so he can lightly kiss my lips. “Stop it. Just enjoy yourself.”

Like it’s that easy? I make a face at him. “Oh sure. Now that you’ve said that, I’ll definitely just turn my brain right around and?—”

My words end in a squeak as he leans over and kisses the underside of my bare arm. I had no idea I was that sensitive there, but his kiss sends shockwaves through me.

“Soft,” Aithar murmurs. “You always look so soft to me and now I know you really are. It’s going to be impossible keeping my hands off you after this.” He leans in and brushes his lips over my elbow and then travels back down toward my armpit. He avoids it (which I’m strangely grateful for, because I don’t find them erogenous) and moves to my quivering breasts, then presses a kiss atop each one.

I suck in a breath, and my body pulses in response. My breasts feel tight, and the throbbing between my thighs feels stronger. I’m fascinated as I watch him move over my body. He holds himself upright over me, his weight propped up on his hands as he gently kisses his way over my torso. He moves over my shoulders, across my breasts, plants light kisses atop the peak of each one, then moves back over to my other shoulder. The underside of each arm is given light nips, and he reaches up once to tug on the bonds, as if reminding me that they’re strong enough to keep me in place.

“Are you still all right?” he asks between kisses. “Still enjoying?”

I nod, because I truly am enjoying myself. It’s nice to let him worship me—because that’s what this is. Aithar has made it clear that there’s no part of me that he doesn’t adore, and he wants to kiss every bit of me, stretch marks and all. “You can keep going.”

“Excellent.” He kisses along my breast again, then moves a tickling path down to my belly button. “This is a navel, yes?”

“Yup.” I’ve learned through my own explorations that he doesn’t have one, which was unnerving the first time I saw it. Now I just think it’s fascinating. I can’t picture how a’ani are created if they have no navel, but I guess there’s no need for an umbilical cord if you’re just cloned in a tube. Thinking about it reminds me of how different we are in our backgrounds, and it just makes me ache to love him more, because someone should. He deserves to be loved with fire and intensity, because he has so much love of his own to give in return.

And…wait.

I guess I’m in love with Aithar. It’s another thought that didn’t occur to me until just now, but once it does, it seems like the most natural thing in the world. Of course I am. How could anyone not love this sweet, endearing man?

“What’s the most sensitive part of you?” he asks suddenly, lifting his head.

Shifting on the bed, I can feel my cheeks getting hot. “Two areas, really. My breasts are sensitive, and between my thighs—especially my clit.”

“Then I will focus my efforts there.” He lowers his head and nuzzles the tip of one breast, and I gasp at the jolt of pleasure it sends through me. “Like that?”

“Just like that,” I agree.

He plays with my breasts, nipping and licking and sucking until I’m squirming on the bed under him. He’s fascinated by the shape of them and how sensitive they are, and just when I think he’s done and will be moving on to another part of my body, he’s back there again. I’m squirming and panting by the time he kisses his way back down my navel and then heads lower this time.

Yes, yes please. This is what I need.

Aithar gets a confident, wicked grin on his face when he kisses his way down to the tuft of hair between my thighs. I spread my legs for him, making a needy sound as I do.

He kisses the inside of my thigh and heads toward my knee.

That tease . I cry out in frustration. “Wrong way.”

“Oh? I had no idea. I am new to all of this, you see.” The sparkle in his eyes tells me that he’s having fun, that he loves being in control. And I love it, too, but I’d love it even more if he would touch the parts of me that are throbbing with need.

“Then let me direct you.”

“No, that would be cheating.” He caresses my knee and kisses the inside of my thigh again. “You’ll just have to be patient.”

I make another pained sound. Patient. Right.

And yet I’m forced to be patient as he explores my legs, caressing my calf and thigh, touching me and stroking my skin. When he finally kisses the spot where my leg meets my sex, I whimper with hunger.

When he finally, finally kisses my pussy, I make the most needy sound I’ve ever heard come out of myself.

“You are very sensitive here,” he breathes, and I swear I can feel his breath on my skin. Then his mouth is on me, and he’s exploring and tasting, making appreciative sounds as he learns my body.

I have to bite my tongue, because I know if I tell him where to go and how to touch me, he’ll deliberately avoid following my instructions. I guide him with the sounds I make, crying out when his tongue moves over my clit. He makes a happy noise and focuses his attention there, until I’m panting and writhing on the bed. “You taste so good,” he tells me repeatedly. “My new favorite meal.”

An orgasm builds in my belly, quivering through me, and I rock my hips against his eager mouth until I come with a shriek, delighting and surprising myself.

So much for thinking I’d be too stressed to climax.

I collapse on the bed, panting, as he rests his cheek on the inside of my thigh. “You are so beautiful, my sweet dairymaid,” he murmurs, and instead of letting me recover, he casually drags his thumb over my clit and begins to tease it. “Can you come for me again?”

This is payback for all the times I teased him with the milker, I decide. When I made him come over and over again. It’s the sweetest sort of retaliation, though, and by the time he’s fingered me into two more climaxes, I whimper and beg for mercy.

“How many times can you come before it becomes uncomfortable for you, my sweetness?”

“I’m…almost…there…now,” I manage. “Can you just fuck me now, please?”

He gives a ragged groan, burying his face against my skin, and I realize how close he is to losing control himself. Aithar breathes hard for a few minutes, composing himself, and lifts his head. He’s flushed, skin sweaty, but there’s a look of joy on his face.

Joy…and his pupils are huge with arousal. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Absolutely.” I wriggle on the bed. “Right now, please. I’m aching for it.”

He nods, as if not trusting his voice, and carefully moves his big body over mine. He kisses me once, twice, and gets to his feet and strips his clothing off. There’s a wet spot on the front of his trou, and when he lowers them, his cock springs free, hard and aching and flushed a deep magenta red that tells me how needy he is. I moan at the sight of it, and when he moves back into the bed, I hook one leg around his hips and try to drag him forward.

This time, he doesn’t chastise me. He just kisses me again, hungrier than before. His hips rock against my pussy, dragging the heated, rigid length of him through my slick folds, and we both moan together.

“You feel so good,” I manage. “Keep going. It’ll feel even better.”

Aithar is silent, and I wonder if he’s holding his breath. He rocks against me again, and he shifts his weight, a hand slipping between us. He skims his fingers over my cleft, finds my entrance, and a moment later, he’s pressing his cock there. I make an encouraging sound, scarcely breathing myself as he enters me. I knew he was pleasantly large, but the feel of him is more than I expected.

It’s exquisite, and it eases that dull, empty ache inside me.

“Is this…right?” he asks, voice tight. “Do I feel right inside you?”

I’m reminded that it’s his first time, and I dig my heel into the small of his back, pressing him closer to me. “You feel amazing, Aithar. You’re filling me up so good.”

His head lowers and he thrusts into me, and the sound that wrenches from his throat makes my toes curl.

“Again,” I praise, because it doesn’t matter if I’m in charge now. We’re together. “Just like that.”

He strokes into me again, and when I nod encouragement, Aithar moves again. It takes a few moments to set up a rhythm between our bodies, but then we’re moving together, and everything feels incredible. I forget all about coaching him and lose myself in the sensation of coming together, of his cock driving into me, of his warm, heavy body moving over mine. I’m clenching again, moving towards another orgasm before I realize it, and when I whimper, Aithar braces himself and rocks faster and faster into my body, driving both of us to the edge.

This time, when I come, he’s scarcely a moment behind me, and I hear him grit out my name even as stars dance behind my eyes.

Dazed, I’m scarcely aware of our sweaty bodies twined together. I’m content to float in the aftermath, blissed out. At some point, Aithar tugs on the cord and frees my hands, and my arms slide around him. He pets my bare skin everywhere he can, rolling onto his side to take his weight off me and dragging me into his arms. He buries his face in my neck and inhales deeply.

“My Michaela….there are no words.” He holds me tightly, his mouth at the crook of my shoulder.

I stroke his short, short hair and smile to myself. “That was incredible.”

He grunts, proving that he does, indeed, have no words.

“You’re wonderful. Have I told you that lately?”

He shakes his head.

“Then I should do that more often.” He’s always telling me how incredible I am, and I need to do the same to prove to him that he means everything to me. Trailing my fingers across one broad tattooed shoulder, I sigh. “What now?”

Aithar lifts his head, studying my face. “Now I clean the kitchen because I promised I would not leave you a mess. Then I will return, and we’re going to talk about what is next for the two of us.”

I smile. “Because no more ‘fooling’?”

“No more,” he agrees. “I want you as my mate, Michaela. I adore you. I worship you. I would spend every day making you realize this. You are everything to me, but I must know how you feel, too. I would not push myself upon you, but…I cannot love in a vacuum. I need my love to be returned, or it will destroy both of us.”

I bite my lip. “What if I tell you that I love you and it terrifies me?”

He looks astonished. “Why?”

“Because I have someone to lose again.”

Aithar shakes his head. “You’re not losing me. You are gaining a mate. And we will find your sister and bring her home to you. This I promise.”

A knot wedges itself in my throat. “You make it all sound so easy.”

“That is because it doesn’t have to be hard, or complicated. Some things can be right without being difficult.” He leans in and kisses me again. “Do you trust me on that?”

Strangely enough, I do.