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I make him take breaks, too, because Zakoar will work himself for hours on end over a single project, and I know how much it can fatigue him. So I wear a slave circlet at my neck that has his name printed on it, and even if it's a collar, I know it's for my own safety. No one will dare touch me if I wear something proclaiming that I belong to Zakoar, and I make sure to keep that collar on display at all times, wearing my hair up to ensure my neck is clearly visible. Zakoar is highly respected in the station. I see dangerous-looking syndicate men—men who terrify me at the sight of them—nod in acknowledgement of Zakoar. They don't harass me, even though I recognize more than a few from my cantina days. It's like now that I'm with Zakoar, I'm absolutely off-limits. It doesn't matter that I'm human. I'm untouchable when I'm wearing his collar.
For someone like me, who's been groped far more times than I can possibly count, it's exhilarating. I’ve never felt safe on Three Nebulas Station before, but I absolutely feel safe now.
I’ve seen so much of the station in the last few weeks, too. Once Zakoar saw how much I loved just visiting the bazaar, he’s made it his personal goal to drag me everywhere in the station to show me everything. I’ve watched enormous ships float feather-light through space onto the docks. I’ve seen museums and terrariums and there was even a food festival on the bazaar floor one day, and we tasted everything. I have so many dresses now that I won’t possibly be able to take them all with me to Risda when I go, but Zakoar always buys me more. He likes my smile, he tells me.
I’ve got a lot more reasons to smile now that I’m with him.
Even after a month of being with him, the sex is still incredible and as intense as the first day, I muse, as I take inventory of a box full of metallic bolts that look as if they’ve been recently pried from their homes. There’s supposed to be seven hundred and forty-two here, so I’m pulling each one out, examining it to make sure it isn’t stripped, and then adding it to the “good” pile. Zakoar’s in the med-bay, tuning up someone’s malfunctioning arm. Tikosa’s out front as he always is. I glance back through the glass over at Zakoar. I happen to pick the same moment he does to look over at me and he casts me a heated look that promises desk sex the moment the customer leaves.
We’ve had a lot of desk sex in the last month, too.
Just thinking about it makes my thighs squeeze tight, my pussy clenching on nothing. It’s going to have plenty shortly. Zakoar’s always a little turned on by the time a client leaves, and I’m always happy to accommodate. Our sex gets better and better every time. Zakoar’s so familiar with my body now that he knows just where to touch me to make me wild with need. He’s no longer reluctant to let me look at him when we make love, either, which makes me happy. Just yesterday, he pinned me against the wall in the bathroom and fucked the hell out of me while we stared into each other’s eyes and I came so damn hard I thought my body would never uncurl.
I shift in my seat, getting more turned on by the minute. I glance over at Zakoar through the glass again. He’s almost done—maybe five or ten minutes—and then he’ll be free to do as he pleases. I turn back to my task and count a little faster, sorting the bad bolts into a small pile so they can be excluded from the inventory.
There’s a knock at the office door, and Tikosa sticks his head in. “Are we expecting a delivery today?”
“From Haal Ui Station?” I ask, getting to my feet. “There’s a box of synthetic tendons he’s waiting on.” The shipment got delayed when the pirates bringing it were detained by authorities, but it got moved to another ship with the right bribes and Zakoar’s been impatiently waiting for it. Some of the limbs he has in storage need to be rebuilt with the synth-tendons and it’s holding everything up.
“That’s it. I’ll pay the fee, then.” He disappears again, closing the door behind him, and I watch through the peephole as Tikosa counts out the credits and pays the two alarming-looking pirates with the small crate. Some of the people Zakoar deals with are rather unsavory, and at those times, I make myself scarce. I might feel safe, but I’m also not stupid.
Once the deal is done and the pirates gone, Tikosa brings the crate into the back office. It’s sealed and coded to Zakoar’s signature, so we can’t open it. I smile at Tikosa as he sets the crate down. “Zakoar’s going to be so pleased.”
