Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“I did,” she admitted. “You’re, uh, very good at it.”
“Then maybe you won’t mind letting me do it again?” he rumbled softly.
Ducking his head, he kissed her again, this time more fully. Lucy moaned softly when she felt his hot tongue part her pussy lips as he took a leisurely taste of her trembling clit. When he looked up, his smile was wider and his eyes were half-lidded with lust.
“Mmm…already getting wet, my S’rentha. I love how much pussy honey you make for me.”
Lucy felt a tremble of pleasure go through her.
“I’m glad you like it,” she said shyly. “My ex never did.”
“He was a fool. I love licking and tasting you—worshipping you,” T’zaren growled. “I admit that when I first met you, I didn’t think you would make a good S’rentha. But now…”
“Now?” Lucy echoed him, her heart pounding. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
T’zaren looked thoughtful.
“Well now…I’m beginning to think I might have been hasty in my judgment,” he murmured. “In fact, I was hoping that once we get home from this mission we might…see each other more.”
Lucy raised an eyebrow at him.
“I thought you said we would part forever after we got the dimriel for the Mother Ship.”
“I did say that but maybe I was wrong,” T’zaren said. He looked up at her intently. “I have tried meeting other human women, but none of them made my Sen Stripe flare as you do, Lucille. Would you consider going with me on what your people call a ‘date’ when we get back to the Mother Ship?”
Lucy felt her heart give a wild leap. A feeling of overwhelming rightness suffused her entire body. It felt like everything they’d been through together had brought them to this point—to finding each other.
“Yes,” she said, smiling at him. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
“As would I,” T’zaren murmured, and turned his head to place another long, lingering kiss on her pussy. But just as he was spreading her puffy outer lips with his thumbs and beginning to lick her in earnest, a banging came on the door to their bed chamber and a voice—the same voice that had woken Lucy up a moment ago—began shouting through the thick wood.
“Get up! Get up! The two of you must get up!” the female voice begged again. There was the sound of a key turning in the lock and the door suddenly burst open to reveal the seamstress from the night before.
“What in the world?” Lucy exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the woman. “Why are you breaking into our room?”
“She’s back and the whole stronghold must be ready!”
The seamstress—the only female employee of Lady Twa’linda—rushed over to stand by the side of their bed. The poor woman looked extremely agitated—her brow was furrowed and her hands were twisted together in a trembling knot.
“What are you talking about?” Lucy asked, quickly covering herself with the furry bedspread. Yes the woman had seen her naked the day before, but she felt incredibly vulnerable lying here with T’zaren’s head between her legs.
“There is danger in the stronghold! The worst danger in fifteen cycles!” the seamstress—whose name Lucy had never gotten—exclaimed.
This seemed to get T’zaren’s attention for he sat up at once, a protective growl rising in his throat.
“What danger?” he demanded. “Is my Lady at risk?”
“She will be if she cannot act like a proper Dom’mesque,” the seamstress said. “And you must act the part of a proper manservant,” she added, pointing at T’zaren.
“What do you mean?” Lucy asked, frowning. “We’re already doing all those things.”
“Not like she’s going to want you to do them!” The seamstress continued wringing her hands. “Oh dear—I don’t wish either of you to die! It will upset Lady Twa’linda so much when she comes back. If she comes back!”
“Die? What are you talking about?” T’zaren demanded.
“And what do you mean ‘if’ Lady Twa’linda comes back?” Lucy asked, frowning. “Where did she go?”
“Oh, she’s still here but she’s been usurped!” The seamstress shook her head in agitation. “Look, none of that matters now. What matters is to get the two of you dressed properly so that you may appear in the Throne Room as a proper Dom’mesque and manservant.”
“What makes you think we’re not a proper Dom’mesque and manservant?” Lucy demanded.
“The way you act, of course! And the way you dress. Your ‘manservant’ has no collar on! And you speak to him almost as an equal,” the seamstress said. “I have sharp eyes and sharper ears—I know the two of you aren’t really what you present yourselves to be. And she will know too! Oh, you must do a better job of pretending or I fear she’ll put both of you to death!”
“Who is this she you keep talking about?” Lucy asked, completely bewildered. She couldn’t understand what the woman was going on and on about.