Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I’m confident in my body, but I’m also certain that I probably look different than most other alien females. Humans tend to be shorter, and our bodies aren’t as lean. My thighs are thick and rounded and my tits, while not huge, are perky and prominent. I’ve seen the blue alien women—the mesakkah—and they are as elegant as they are lean and lithe.
It occurs to me to point out the differences in my body from those women, but after a moment’s hesitation, I change my mind. I’m not apologizing for who I am. I throw my head back and straighten my shoulders, toying with the auto-fastener at my belt. I’m wearing a serviceable tunic-dress yoked at the waist, so there’s not much to take off. “Have you seen a lot of naked women, Aithar?”
“Never.” He rubs his hands on his thighs, his eyes bright as he watches me. “I am very enthusiastic about seeing one now, though.”
I undo my belt and toss it aside and kick off my shoes. They’re little more than hard-soled slippers, made for walking instead of farm work, and for a moment I wish I had some sexy high heels to make my legs look long and appealing. Ah well. I slip off my dress before I can think too hard about it, leaving me only in my bra and panties. They’re functional instead of sexy, and both are worn as they’re not garments typically made by aliens for their slender women. There’s a dressmaker here in town and you have to request them from her, and she’s always in high demand, so I wear mine until they’re falling off. I carefully remove the last of my garments and fold them, then stand in front of Aithar in all my naked glory.
The grin on his face has faded, replaced by a more solemn expression. As I gaze at him, he rubs his mouth.
“Good?” I ask, hoping for some sort of comment. Not that I want to hear “you have love handles” or anything like that, but a response of some kind would be nice.
“Very good,” he manages after a moment, and clears his throat. “You are…stunning. Your legs, your skin, your curves, all of it. Just…stunning.”
I stand a little taller at that and take a step toward him. “Do I look like the women of your kind?”
“There are no a’ani women. Only males are cloned because we are considered sturdier workers.”
Oh. That shouldn’t surprise me, but somehow it does. It makes sense given his innocence, yet somehow it didn’t occur to me that the a’ani were a race of only male clones. How very…sad. “I didn’t realize.”
He shrugs and reaches for me, his hands skimming down my arms as he looks me over. “Some a’ani only love other males because those are the bodies they are familiar with and appreciate, but kef me, I love all your differences.” His gaze goes to my breasts, his lips parting and his expression hazy before he catches himself. “I want to explore all of you with my mouth. I want to bury my face in all this soft-looking skin of yours and just lose myself.”
I chuckle, relieved that he is so enamored. My body isn’t perfect—I could pick apart my flaws—but I love that he’s enthused. I’ll ignore the dimples in my thighs and the stretch marks and just appreciate myself for the goddess I am. I run my fingers lightly over the pointed tip of one bright red ear. “You’re welcome to plant your face anywhere and everywhere. You sure you want me tied up?”
His gaze flicks up to mine. “Oh yes. I remember our word, too. I think if we do not use the ties, you’ll take charge and I truly want to pleasure you, my everything.”
He’s ridiculous with the nicknames.
I…love them, though. I cross my arms dramatically over my wrists. “All right, then. How do you want me?”
Aithar jumps to his feet, all purpose, and I take a quick step back. A moment later, he steers me toward the bed, and I sit down on the edge while he retrieves the rope we’d left on the other side of the room. I lift my feet and pose myself on the bed, arms above my head and my thighs together and angled slightly to the side so I don’t look like a body on a slab. I’m sure I’m overthinking my posture, but considering I’ve overthought everything up to this point, it seems like typical Michaela.
My alien boyfriend sits down on the edge of the bed again and laces the rope through the metal slats of my headboard, and I notice his hands are shaking. That show of his nerves makes me lose some of the frantic edge on my thoughts. “You know I’m anxious, right?”
He looks up at me, his lips quirking in a sheepish grin. “You do not need to fear anything in my hands, my succulent human. I will take good care of you.”