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Everything about him is amazing. It's not just the piercings on his cock, which hit me in all the right spots when he's deep inside me. It's not just his spur, though god knows that is certainly amazing and I've never come harder. Or when he wakes me up every morning with his mouth between my legs? Heaven. But…it's more than all that.
It's Jerrok, and the way he looks at me. It's the way he holds me when I come, and talks to me the entire time, letting me know that he's got me. It's the way he's always so very, very careful to make sure that we're facing each other, because he knows what triggers me. It's those things that I love. It's those moments that make me feel like the luckiest woman alive.
I could spend all day every day just with him, making love, scrapping, and hanging out.
Which is maybe why I'm so resentful when the Jabberwock arrives.
I try to hide my mutinous glare as the hatch opens and people pour out of the ship. It's a larger cruiser, one of the biggest ones I've seen for a private vessel. Jerrok makes pleased noises at the sight of it as it glides into the hangar. "Skater-class engine. Those are nice."
I nudge him. "Maybe if you ask politely you'll get to play with it."
He flashes me a surprisingly boyish grin, and my heart melts a little. However I feel about the Jabberwock being here, it's clear this is a pleasurable visit for Jerrok and I want to do my best to enjoy it. I adjust the cloak and cowl I'm wearing, the ooli mask over my features. Even though the crew of the Jabberwock are supposed to be safe, we don't want to take any chances. After all, they might have a surprise passenger, like Bethiah did. Jerrok explained to me that all pirates tend to take on the occasional passenger off the records, usually to make a quick credit or three, and a lot of them are escaped prisoners hiding out from prison systems and law enforcement.
I kind of hope they do have a passenger, because then maybe they won't stay long.
"Jerrok! You bucket of bolts!" The enormous male mesakkah bounding down the ramp spreads his arms, a wide grin on his face.
"Kivian," Jerrok says gravely in a subdued greeting.
Kivian is…not what I expected to see in a mesakkah corsair. I thought he'd be like the va Sithai brothers, who tend to wear ship uniforms and weapons holstered at their belts. They wear heavy boots and the emphasis is on durability, not fashion. Kivian…didn't get that memo. When he spreads his arms in welcome, his sleeves billow out and shimmer like something in an old 70s disco. His tunic is made of a fluttering silk with tons of ruffles at the neck, and his belt is jeweled and has not a single weapon on it. His boots are sparkly and encrusted with so many gems that I suspect they're worth more than Jerrok's junky old shuttle. Kivian's hair is short and in a flamboyant swoop over one eye, a wild contrast to Jerrok's tangled mane that he forgets to brush. The corsair captain would look utterly ridiculous with all that bling if he wasn't so huge and clearly muscled.
I want to move protectively closer to Jerrok, because that “bucket of bolts” comment irks me, but Jerrok is moving forward to greet Kivian, apparently unbothered by the other male's flashy greeting. They clasp forearms and Kivian peers at Jerrok as if in shock. "I didn't recognize you without all that dirt. What happened? Did the authorities swing by and hold you down? Force you to bathe?"
"Were they pretty authorities?" chimes in the big male behind him.
"Not funny, Tarekh," calls a sharp female voice, and there's the sound of a hand smacking an arm.
"Kinda funny," the one called Tarekh says, grinning. He's…hideous. That's the nicest way to put it. I've seen some scarred aliens, but this guy looks as if his strong mesakkah features got broken and then rearranged badly. His smile is friendly, though, and Jerrok greets him just as warmly as Kivian.
"I see you brought your brains with you," Jerrok says, gesturing at a small human female that steps forward.
Tarekh just howls with laughter, putting a big hand on the female's shoulder. "Cat said she wanted to see your station this time. We heard the va Sithai left a friend here, so we figured why not."
"Zoey's been talking about it non-stop," Cat says, pushing her way past the men. "Show her to me. I need to say hello."
Okay, Cat is apparently ballsy as hell. I blink in surprise as the tiny woman saunters up to me. She must be five foot, max, and maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet. She wears a port-fleet issued jumper, the patches removed off of it and replaced with floral embroidery, and she has a blaster slung on her hip that's as big as her arm. And she has freckles, which I haven't seen since I left Earth. She marches up to me and sizes me up, then turns back to the others. "I totally want an ooli mask. Where did you get that?" She looks over at me again and sticks her hand out. "By the way, I'm Catrin, Tarekh's mate. He's the big oaf in the back with the goofy smile."
