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“Perfect,” I manage. “You were perfect.”
Jrrru groans again, the sound half-purr. “I have to stop now or I’m going to insist on things I shouldn’t.”
That thrills me. I want him to ask for things he shouldn’t. I want him to demand them. But…that would mean coming inside and I get a little shiver of fear again, because inside is safe and mine. I nod, stroking my fingers through his orangey fur. “All right.”
“I just need you to understand that I want to go as slow as you need, Tabitha.” He strokes my cheek with the backs of his knuckles. When I nod, he continues. “But…I also need to paint your door or I’m going to crawl out of my skin.”
Paint my door…?
Oh.
He wants to mark me as his. As claimed. Even after kisses and reassurance, he still needs this.
And maybe I’m feeling a little bold anyhow, because I tell him, “I’ll let you as long as I get to watch.”
Jrrru sucks in a breath. His lips part and his purring grows louder, even as he rubs and nuzzles his face against mine. His voice is a near growl when he speaks. “I would love that.”
I’m breathless with excitement as he releases me and takes a step back. He unbuckles his pants—his trou as the aliens call it—and I watch as he pulls out the thick bulge that isn’t quite hidden by the fabric. He’s enormous, shaped very similar to a human man except in size, the head tapered. His balls have the same orangey fur as the rest of him, which should be hilarious but isn’t. The fur on his belly thickens as it leads to his groin, and so it’s a little jolting to see his cock is completely hairless and the same shade as the insides of his ears—a velvety sort of beige-pink. He wraps one hand around his shaft, stroking it, and as he does, I notice what look like little scars dotting his length in the moonlight. “What happened?”
“Eh?” He glances up at me, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
I gesture at his length. “You have scars.”
“Oh.” His tail twitches. “We’re born with barbs. They’re removed for the comfort of our future mates.”
Barbs. Good lord.
But then he gives his cock a stroke, staring right at me, and I forget all about barbs and everything else. “Can I…?”
I nod.
Jrrru strokes his cock again, squeezing hard with each flex of his hand, and he puts his other on the door, bracing himself. This should be the strangest moment of my life—my alien boyfriend with his hand braced on my door, jerking his cock as he gazes at me. And yet I find it erotic instead. It’s like he’s showing me just how interested he is, how committed he is to claiming me.
When he comes, it’s with a sudden intense spurt of his release that sprays all over my door and I gasp at the sight. Heat floods through my veins, and when he breathes my name and steps forward to let the drips hit the door panel, I ache.
I don’t think things between us can go back to the way they were before this moment.
I’m not sure I’d ever want them to, either. And I know when I close my eyes tonight, I’m going to see that moment of sheer pleasure on Jrrru’s face as he comes.
Eleven
TABITHA
The vet’s assistant, Mycrul, shows up promptly in the morning. He’s just as ugly and big as his vid image that was sent to me, and his expression is impatient and somewhat unpleasant. I don’t know what race of alien he is, but there’s something about him that reminds me a bit of Jrrru. The nose, perhaps. Or the tail.
If Mycrul is intimidating, the woman he brings with him is not. The human is small, short of frame and delicate, too. Her face is dominated by dark, heavy brows and a big nose, and she reminds me of a determined bird. She immediately greets me with a hand out, her expression bright. “Hi! I’m Mina, Mycrul’s mate. When he told me he was coming out here and you usually didn’t have visitors, I thought I’d bring myself along. I don’t want anyone taking out my husband while he tries to do his job.”
I nod, taking her hand in mine, and try not to think about all the weapons I have stashed just behind the front door, or the fact that my stun-stick is humming and ready to go just in case.
As Mina puts a hand to her eyes, shielding them from the morning sunlight, Mycrul goes to the sled and pulls out what looks like a toolbox. He hitches a belt onto his hips and then turns, pointing.
“Mycrul’s going out to check the machines,” she explains as her mate turns and heads out towards my barn. “He’s not much for small talk.”
