AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He stands and faces me, anger and frustration in his fiery gaze. Then suddenly, he starts to laugh. Not just laugh, but guffaw. I watch in amazement as he doubles up and emits a loud roar of laughter. Then he pulls me to him, and plants kisses all over my face while trying to get his laughter under control. Eventually he manages to pant, “My love, you are going to make an admirable mate.”
“I’m not a sure thing, Kirimor.”
“Oh yes you are. I will make sure of it. I am never going to let you slip through my fingers, precious, precious Melinda.” Then he captures my lips and kisses me. We don’t come up for air for a long, long time. Our naked bodies press to each other, his hard cock nudging my lower abdomen, letting me know just how much he wants me.
He pulls away with a loud grunt. “We need to stop, or so help me Taya, I will not be able to control myself.”
We stand, breaths heaving, trying to regain our composure. Eventually, he puts a hand out and says, “Come to bed.” He pulls down the coverlet and I get in, followed closely by him. He draws me to him, letting his tail wrap itself around my waist. “Sleep, my love.”
After all the excitement of the day, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep, but surprisingly, I do.
Chapter 27
Wyatt
The next forty-eight hours after my drone flight with Dwight are manically busy as I put together the program and recruit my artistic troupe for our first set of shows off planet. My communicator is never far from me as I make calls, take meetings, calculate budgets and find the funding I need to pull this project together. I feel energized and have a renewed sense of purpose. It reminds me of the high I used to get in the early part of my business career, before the art of the deal lost its shine in all the stress it induced.
So far, I have fifteen dancers signed up, a dozen Shakesperian actors, a small orchestra of musicians and a maybe from Ricky Charles’s people. Costumes and sets are being prepared and packed. But there is one important thing I need to finalize—our transport.
Martha Reynolds arrived this morning aboard a Venorian cargo ship. We had a brief conversation before she headed off to Colorado to visit her family. And now, I am awaiting a knock on my door from the ship’s owner and commander. In actual fact, the cargo ship is the property of various Venorian investors, but chief among these investors are the Lor clan, Treylor’s family. Her father, Senlor, owns shares, as does her uncle, Stalor, and his only daughter, Rivlor, who is also the commander of the ship. Rivlor has agreed to meet me today and discuss business arrangements.
The doorbell rings and I sprint over to open it, breathless with excitement and anticipation. I stop dead in my tracks and stare at the person in front of me. Venorians are a larger race than humans, with tall, broad bodies and bronze-colored skin. The one who stands at my door is a veritable Amazon, perhaps six feet two in height. Long, powerful legs are encased in loose silky pants tied at the waist in a knot. A bare midriff displays taut abdominals, above which a short olive-colored tunic hugs the contours of ample, rounded breasts. My gaze travels up to meet large eyes the color of honey in a face framed by burnished gold tresses.
“Well, are you going to invite me in?” she asks in a deep, melodious voice.
“I—yes, of course. Come in.”
I step back from the door to allow her in. “Rivlor?”
“That is me. And you are Wyatt.”
She comes forward for the traditional Venorian greeting. Looking into my eyes, she places a hand to my cheek and brings her forehead to meet mine. A moment later, she steps back and barks out a laugh. Her eyes twinkle with merriment.
I flush with dismay. Of course, she’s read my mind. One can control one’s words and actions, but not one’s thoughts. With hands on hips, she chuckles, “I am strikingly attractive. You are quite right to think so. And you…” She examines me from head to toe. “You are somewhat cute.”
“Somewhat cute?”
“In that male Human way.”
“Perhaps you’ve heard the human term, ‘damned with faint praise’?”
She bursts out laughing. “No, but I like it! I am sorry. I do not mean to belittle you. Let us shake hands the Human way and begin our business.”
She puts out her hand and I shake it. “Welcome, Rivlor. Can I get you something to drink?”
“You have Coca Cola? I have developed a liking for it.”
I smile. “Yes I do. Come with me.”
I head toward the kitchen, Rivlor on my heels. Opening the fridge, I take out a bottle of Coke. “Would you like lemon with it?”
She considers a moment, then nods. “Yes, please.”
I take out a bowl of sliced lemons and place a sliver into a tall glass, then pour the Coke on top. She watches it in delight as it fizzes. I fix my own drink and hand her the Coke. “There you go. How about we go sit in my study, then we can talk business.”
She follows me, looking curiously around her as we go. When we pass by a montage of photos on the corridor wall, she stops and examines it. They are mostly photographs of Melinda and me over the years, as well as snaps of our extended families. She points a finger at a photo taken on our honeymoon. “It is her? The mate you wish to be with again?”
“How much has Martha told you about me?”
