AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What if I put my hand on your thigh?” I purr enticingly, and do just that.
He groans, closing his eyes. “I will still push you away.”
And he does.
Well now, he’s just being ridiculous and I’m still having fun. “What if I rub your cock…”
And I plant my hand between his thighs.
It’s strange, because at first, there’s nothing. It’s smooth like a Ken doll. But then, a split-second after I register this, something shoots out, like it’s emerging from his body. Oh. He must be a grower.
Then, a second bulge shoots out.
My drunken, flirty mind sobers instantly. Two bulges?
Two is not normal. I jerk away, giving him a wide-eyed look. Skarr just watches me, his eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.
I’m no longer playing, though. My brain has flipped to panic mode. He’s analien.
Twobulges.
I scramble to my feet and run for the hills.
ChapterEighteen
VIVI
When I open my eyes the next morning, I have a throbbing headache and a vague memory of the night before. I’m dimly aware that after leaving Skarr’s side, I raced back to camp, threw up near someone, and then crawled into a tent and slept against someone’s feet.
It’s shamefully embarrassing. I sit up, and I’m covered in sand, still wearing last night’s clothing. I really must have been sloshed. I put a hand to my forehead and wipe away more sand, and then grimace as more memories flood back.
Who did I puke on? It might have been Kyth. Then, I think I cried and belly-crawled to the tent. I look around, and I’m relieved that I’m not curled up with strangers but instead nestled against several of the other “clone” women I was rescued with. At least they’re familiar. I wipe at my mouth, the sour taste of fruit lingering at the back of my throat, and get to my feet. A rain of sand follows my movements, and I grimace.
I emerge from the tent to the sight of a lot of strangers. Everyone’s gathered around the fire again—well, not everyone, but quite a few people are—and someone’s handing out steaming bowls of warm breakfast. Everyone’s looking at me with a mixture of amusement and pity and I really want to just crawl away and hide and never come out again. Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying.
“Want breakfast?” a woman says, holding a bowl out to me.
Even though I’m hungry, I shake my head and shyly retreat a few steps. Taking the food means talking, and I just want to hide with my shame.
I kissed Skarr last night. Like really, really kissed. Like porn-levels kissed.
And it was fun.
And I groped him.
And he might have two dicks, but that might also be the alcohol talking.
“Oh no you don’t,” the woman says, smiling. She marches over to my side and puts an arm around my shoulders. “I know you’re shy, but you need food. And we don’t bite! Come sit for a bit and I promise we’ll leave you alone. You’re safe with us.”
She steers me back toward the fire, and I want to protest, but my stomach rumbles again, loud enough to be overheard. So much for that. I slump and let her guide me toward the group, though I feel wildly uncomfortable.
“My name is Callie,” she says, her voice cheerful. “My mate is M’tok. If you see the one with the big tall horns that looks like he’s about to start some shit? That’s him.” She says it with a touch of pride in her voice. “And my baby boy is M’cal but M’tok is watching him so I can take my turn making breakfast. You want some? I made it sweet, because I like it sweet.”
I thump into the seat she more or less drags me toward and give the others nearby an awkward smile. Callie—who has dark hair and a beautifully embroidered leather tunic covered with flowers—serves up a bowl, slaps a carved spoon into it, and then hands it to me. She gazes at me expectantly.
Right. I take a small mouthful. The texture is a little odd, a bit like a paste with a few larger chunks of what feel like seeds, but it’s sweet and reminds me of oatmeal, or maybe even grits. I nod, managing a smile. “’S good.”
“I know, right? Sweeter is better.” She gives an older black woman near the fire a smug look. “I tell them if they don’t like the way I make it,ellos no tienen que comerlo.”
