“You are mine, Marta,” he says as he pushes our lips together, and I feel his ass contract. He spills a hot wash of semen on my belly as he comes.
“Yours,” I agree, breathlessly.
The door to the bedroom opens slightly before hitting Raf’ere’s thigh. The meaty leg blocks it from opening any further.
“Your Grace?” Jens’i’s panicked voice floods in from around the door. “The medic, he’s here.”
“A moment, please.” Raf’ere doesn’t sound much better. He kisses my eyelids and rests his chin on top of my head, completely spent.
“We should have the medic check you over.” He pushes the door shut, lifts me off the wall, and cradles me in his arms as he walks us to the bed.
He lays me down gently, tucking me under a sheet, before crawling in right beside me. We’re sticky with each other’s release as we lie in some postcoital bliss.
He takes one of the blankets and rubs it over my chest before spreading it back over the bed.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Some scents I’d much rather be yours is all,” he sighs.
“You’re so weird.” I roll my eyes and turn into his chest.
“It was worth the wait,” he whispers to me, throwing his arm around my chest.
The wait?
“What in the fuck were you waiting for?” I’m confused.
“I was waiting…” He pauses like he can’t think of the right words. “I was waiting until you wanted me as badly as I wanted you. I wanted to prove to you I was worthy enough to fill you…that I could give you any pleasure you could need.”
“Word to the wise, you don’t need the toys. That sucker is the only sex toy I’ll ever need again.” It seems like overkill to have anything when his alien body couldn’t be designed better to get me off.
“It’s all yours,” he says, kissing me again. Our lips are sore from passion, but I don’t want to stop. I’ve waited long enough.
The door creaks open and a frantic Jens’i enters, followed by two strangely uniformed fi’len men.
“I must insist that we look over Marta, Your Grace,” he says sternly. As if there was any doubt about what we have just done, I know that as Jens’i’s nostrils flare, he’s fully aware of our fucking.
“Don’t f’teeing look at her,” Raf’ere growls, clutching me tightly.
The two men behind him avert their eyes from me, but cautiously walk toward the bed.
“Enough, Raf’ere, don’t be a dick. Can you guys give me a minute? I swear I’m alright,” I say as I sit up, clutching the sheet to my chest. “Jens’i, can you please grab my robe?”
He brings it to the bedside quickly and holds it out for me to slip into discreetly.
“I think everyone would appreciate it if I showered first.” I place a hand subconsciously over my stomach where the plush fabric sticks to my skin. “Have a seat,” I say to the strangers in the room.
Raf’ere stands to join me, his cock stillal denteand flushed. But he’s obviously not embarrassed. He grabs my elbow and leads me to the bathroom. Closing the door behind us, he activates the shower and I drop my robe.
Even though what just happened felt wonderful, it was fast and rough. My chest still burns, and a bruise forms on my back between my shoulder blades.
Reaching my hand gingerly over my shoulder to inspect it, the duke winces.
“I’m sorry, I think that might be my fault. I lost it when you wouldn’t wake up…I might have hit you a bit too hard.”
I flinch only slightly when my fingers graze the spot. I turn my head and can see the blooming purple and brown mark. The round bruise is slightly raised from where the blood has welled.
“Better bruised than dead,” I say with an awkward chuckle, but Raf’ere doesn’t find it amusing.
