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She would tell him about her problem clients, like this young, cocksure bull, and he would tell her about the upcoming trip he’d need to take, the new contract he just landed, a new hire he needed to find. It wouldn’t matter what was happening outside their door, didn’t matter if the garage door at Lurielle’s house finally buckled under Khash’s misguided attempts at repair, didn’t matter if a herd of centaurs was marching up Main Street with their cocks on display. Nothing would matter except two of them, her body pressed to his front and her breath warm on his throat, his hands in her hair, and the soft chirp of her voice.
“And then—then!He finished with absolutely zero warning. Got some on my scrubs before I was able to get the nozzle on him.”
His eyes popped open, and he grinned. “You’re not trying to one-up me, are you? Because I got stuck with Stiff Grip Sally for two weeks, and I thought she circumcised me at one point.”
Her laughter spilled out from beneath the table, and that time it sounded like her — light and airy, as beautiful as her smile. He didn’t know why she previously sounded so heavy, but if she gave him a chance to get to know each other outside this place, it would make it his mission to keep her laughter as unencumbered and free as it was at that moment.
“Tell me if this is too much pressure, okay?”
The snug ring of her hand moved down his engorged shaft, pressing against his groin before her fingers stretched to cup his sac. He was unable to hold back his ground. She tugged gently on his balls, stretching each, pulling them away from his body. Her fingers kneaded the tender skin, rolling each one in her slickened palms before releasing them with a bounce.
“You’re perfect.”
Her fingertips walked back up the length of his shaft, tapping against his slit and the moisture that beaded there. She gathered his foreskin gently, letting it pool at the tip, stretched taut against his length. He was half expecting it when she worked a finger into the loose pucker, stroking the inside of the sheath, the pad of her finger dragging against the flare of his head. Even though a well-loved motion might be expected, the expectation didn’t diminish the pleasure, and he groaned as she continued to play with him that way, finally pulling back to expose the dome of his head to the open air.
He would have given his left arm and both of his horns to feel her tongue stroking where her fingers left off at that moment. That, too, was an action that could be undertaken from the comfort of the sofa in his living room. It would be too easy for her to pull his cock out while they were talking, stroking him to hardness before letting her tongue taste his tip, closing her perfect little cupid’s bow over it, and giving him a slow suck.
Or better still, sliding a hand down the front of her pants, working a thick finger between her thighs. He wanted to hear her tell him about her day as he coated himself in her slick, working two digits into her, as his thumb teased at her clit. He wanted to hear her breath hitch as she told the story about the premature erupting client, gasping over the description of her soiled scrubs, her voice breaking off when he began to pump his fingers in time with the circles of his thumb. His hips would be rocking up against her, his cock finding the friction it sought trapped between their bodies. Her head would drop back, story forgotten until she clenched around his fingers, pulsing through her climax until she melted against him like a pat of butter in the sun.
Her rest would be short-lived. In his mind’s eye, he could clearly envision her throwing a leg over him, straddling his wide hips. The first press of his fat cock to the lips of her sex would make her whine, but she would be a pro at taking him by then. She knew the way to shift her hips, working herself down the meat of him until she was fully seated, hands splayed on his chest, her eyes heavy-lidded as she began to move.
It would not take him long. He would already be too worked up from grinding against her, the breathy sounds of her pleasure still ringing in his ears as he met her, thrust for thrust. Rourke could almost feel her nails dragging against his hide, her hands braced against his belly as she rode him, and when he came, it would be with a deep groan with the shape of her name, his cock erupting inside her, filling her womb with his hot cream.
Does that feel good?
The light clicked on, the hydraulic arm of the milking machine blotting out his daydream as he came harder than he could remember having done in weeks, her little bird voice whispering the question to him as he went cross-eyed, emptying into her.
He was silent as she did her work beneath him, boneless against the bench and unable to move. He didn’t open his eyes until he heard the creak of the short staircase behind him, Violet coming up to his level for the very first time. It occurred to him that he was sprawled out on the milking bench bare ass naked from the waist down. This was the same way he would look if she approached him in his bed.
“I feel like I should’ve paid for that. I think you killed me.”
“You sure are bossy for a corpse.”
Rourke lifted his head at last, grinning back at her, pushing slowly to his hooves. He rubbed his face exhaustively, feeling as though he might be able to sleep for a year, preferably with her tucked beneath his arm. Violet said nothing as he redressed, but he could feel her eyes tracking his movements. It hit him with a pang, the thought of not seeing her for an entire week once more.
No. That ends right now. He had missed her hands on his body more than he could say, but more than that, he had missedher. He had missed her, and it was the first time he had missed anyone in two years. At long last, he knew what he wanted, and she was standing right in front of him.Preparation and decisive action.
“You know,” he began, slowly fastening his watch, “you see someone every week, you talk to them, they’re a part of your routine, your schedule. They become part of your life.” She had gone stock still before him, her eyes wide and unblinking. He swallowed, pushing on. “You share a certain level of intimacy with them. You miss them when they’re gone. You can almost convince yourself you know them because you start to fill in blanks on your own, but you neverreallyknow.”I missed you when you were gone; I’m talking about us. “Where were you?”
Her eyes had gone glassy, and a stone turned in his stomach.
“I . . . there was a death in the family.”
She turned away as he offered clumsy condolences, a small sniffle floating back to him. Rourke closed the distance she’d put between them, placing his hand on her back. A perfect fit, like a puzzle piece, her softness cradling his sharper edges. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned this evening, not at all what he had planned for, but preparation meant being prepared for any curveball fate might conspire to add to the mix, and being a good partner meant carrying the other when they were unable to walk.
“Hey, let’s get out of here; come grab a coffee with me. You can tell me about them.” His hand lifted as she turned, cradling her face in his palm.
Her eyes were still wide and bright with tears, but she did not pull away. He caught one of those tears, moving it with the pad of his thumb it tracked against her cheek. She was warm and soft and close enough to enfold in his arms . . . but they could start with coffee. His heart bounced when she nodded, fresh tears welling. This isn’t about you. Take her to the coffee shop, distract her from what she’s feeling, but nothing that happens tonight is about you.
“Go on then, punch out. I’ll get us a table. Probably going to need to flip over a booth of teenagers, but it’s fine; they’ll bounce.”
His nerves jangled as he moved across the parking lot, feeling simultaneously like he’d been saddled with two more legs and had no idea how to maneuver them and as though he might float away. Tonight was about her, but he couldn’t let things end on a question mark again. One way or another, he’d have an answer, at least for the interim, on what the future held for them both.
Chapter 9
“Yousaidyourgrandmotherwas human?”
Rourke smiled softly, unsurprised by the way she latched on to the commonality. “Mhm. She was from town, and my grandfather lived on the settlement. It’s pertinent to keep in mind that this is in the backwoods of the backwater middle of nowhere. They wound up having over three hundred acres of farmland. Reckon they decided they needed kids to work it. My parents built their house on one end of it, and my cousins lived on the other end.”
