Cutlass

Klow-ee had that warm glow again as we left the hotel. The flush of her skin, the way the rush of blood darkened her neck and cheeks, was attractive, to say the least. Though I still wasn’t sure what I’d done to garner such a reaction. Something about the turn of words the translation core provided obviously excited her. I could smell it, see it, practically taste it—I just couldn’t figure out the cause of it. My translations had been off before, especially with a new language such as this Earth’s Een-gllisch, and the lack of proper communication could be entirely too frustrating. As it was right then.

But, really, I couldn’t complain. My cock was hard, my senses firing on full blast to monitor the lovely female at my side, and my esehhnce happy. Not yet crooning, but in tune with Klow-ee’s. This might be a good match, after all. Perhaps Hohddshoun wouldn’t need to die.

We had walked a short distance when Klow-ee turned suddenly and smiled at me with a look of joy on her face. I stood stunned for a moment, unable to pay attention to the fact that she was speaking. She took every ounce of my cognitive function away from me. Her beauty radiated in a completely arousing way. Her eyes bright and attentive, her smile wide and excited. A total trap for my senses. I wanted to stay in her presence, to absorb some of that happiness. To bask in the light of that expression.

I wanted this little human in ways that were far too carnal for being in public.

Her smile faltered, though, when I didn’t answer her. I nearly kicked myself—I’d totally lost focus and missed the conversation.

“My regrets,” I said with a small nod of my head and slight baring of my teeth. “Your smile distracted me. What did you say?”

Her head tilted, a wary sort of look in her eyes. My prey back on guard. “I asked if you liked scee-fued.”

The translator core worked out the unknown word in record speed, not that it helped much. Scee-fued didn’t quite translate. The core filled my mind with images of various sorts—from small critters with multiple legs scuttling across the ground to large creatures with no legs, black eyes, and sharp teeth. Now those intrigued me. Great beasts who ruled the waterways on this planet would be a hard-fought prey, it seemed. I understood from my cultural training that I wouldn’t necessarily be hunting my own food here, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the spoils of someone else’s hunt.

“I’m curious about this scee-fued,” I said. “I’ll try it.”

With a shrug of her delicate shoulder, Klow-ee led us into a building with many tables and people all around. The volume of the chatter, the press of bodies in the cramped space, made the hunter in me nervous. I inched closer to Klow-ee, wanting to hold her sweet body against me. To keep her safe amid the chaos around us. To use physical connection to ground any worries she had. But Klow-ee didn’t seem worried. She stood tall and calm in the crowd of humans. Brave, my little female was.

Looking around, I catalogued the various ways males and females interacted. All the computer-led cultural training in the world was no match for immersive education. Everywhere, couples stood together, some talking loudly while others silently looked at the communication devices they held. Still others touched and bared their teeth, obviously enjoying their partner. Those were the ones I watched the most, the ones I would imitate. They would be my teachers.

I leaned closer to Klow-ee, ready to initiate the communication required to woo, but before I could say anything, a male approached her. A human male.

“Table for two?” The male’s smile dropped when he saw me, and his steps faltered. There was even a bit of a nervous warble to his voice that denoted him as prey instead of predator. Good.

“Please,” Klow-ee said, sounding happy and relaxed in front of this other male. Perhaps not a direct threat, then. I followed Klow-ee as the male led her across the space.

“I used to come here a lot when I was younger,” Klow-ee said as we sat at a table in the middle of the room.

“This is close to where you grew?”

“No, but my mom worked downtown, so we’d sometimes end up here on a weekend. This place was her favorite.” Her smile and her eyes dimmed. I reached across the table and grabbed her hand, ignoring Ampetheia’s advice to let her touch first. The look on Klow-ee’s face meant she needed comfort, and I would be the male to offer it.

“Why are you sad?”

She didn’t even bare her teeth at me as she wove her fingers through mine. “My mom passed away a number of years ago. It’s…still hard.”

Passed away… The translator showed pictures of dirt and containers, which didn’t make sense. But then it showed other pictures. Ones of mourning and grief. Of fallen warriors and family. Of loss.

I knew loss well. Too well. “I am sorry your mother fell. There is no greater pain than losing someone close to you.”

Her eyes locked on mine. “You’re a kind man, Cutlass.”

I wasn’t a man at all, not in the human sense, but she would learn that soon enough.

Klow-ee ordered something called tiil-ah-peeahh when the human male came to the table, and I chose to order the same. The idea that this place would bring the beast to me appealed. I didn’t want to trek far from Klow-ee, but I still enjoyed the spoils of a good hunt. I’d been a machinist, a fixer, for many seasons, but I’d hunted with Hohddshoun and the others when opportunities to take a break from the ship came up. Taking down prey on the inhospitable moons of Xouthhgros had been one of my favorite things to do with the other males of my ship.

But what arrived at the table was not at all what I expected.

I scowled at the circular disk the male placed in front of me, my eyes locked on the slab of pale meat in the center. Where was the great beast? Why was this so…small?

“What’s wrong?” Klow-ee asked, holding a pronged weapon in one hand.

“Nothing.” I followed her lead again, grabbing the cold metal dagger. The translator threw Een-gllisch words at me. Apparently, the item was a forck. Odd word indeed.

“Do you not like it?” She used her pronged tool—her forck—to separate a chunk of flesh from the rest on her plate and brought it to her mouth. Aha, an eating utensil.

I stabbed the flesh with my forck and yanked a piece off, far less graceful than my companion. The meat was sweet and flaky against my tongue. Delicious. And without any effort expended. So odd, these humans, but so smart.

“I like it very much,” I said, going back for more pieces. “But I was just expecting something larger and with far more teeth.”

---

Chloe

I did my best to hold in the giggle threatening to escape. The language barrier was a bit more than I’d expected, but we were getting by just fine. Except for the whole eating you out thing. Lord, I needed to get him to stop saying that before I jumped him and showed him exactly what eating you out meant in my sex-driven culture.

Taco Tuesday…every day.

Cutlass dove into his dinner as if he enjoyed his food, and I definitely enjoyed the view and conversation we carried on throughout the meal. Still, in the back of my mind, my thoughts spun out of control. Dirty thoughts. Horrible, naughty, perfect thoughts. Maybe Plan B was the right choice now—the old dinner, drinks, and mattress dancing. Considering how attractive Cutlass was and how charming, I figured I should at least further evaluate the option. Plan A was out for sure. He was interesting enough for me to want to get to know him. Perhaps a Plan C—dinner, drinks, mattress dancing, and more. Maybe. I hadn’t really been thinking of more, but there was no denying I felt an attraction to Cutlass. Maybe more was just what I needed.

I almost started to sweat again. More was a bit terrifying. We had two weeks to decide on the more. Two weeks of being in a relationship with this man didn’t seem like a hardship.

That dating agency lady would be getting a lovely letter of recommendation if more happened.

When dessert came, Cutlass again looked a little lost.

“What is it?” I asked as I grabbed my fork.

He frowned, peering at the dessert as if it might jump up and bite him. “I don’t know. I assumed you did.”

I’d ordered a lava cake for the two of us, all dark, gooey, and warm, with ice cream melting on top and falling over the side. He’d told me to pick. Perhaps I’d chosen wrong.

He glanced up at me, a disgusted turn to his plump lips. “Why is it this cow-lor?”

His accent turned the word into an interesting bastardization of itself, but I understood what he meant. Though, really, in my world, not understanding why a dessert was brown was impossible. Almost afraid of the answer, I asked a question I’d never had to ask before.

“Do you not like chocolate?”

His eyes went a little unfocused, and his brow furrowed hard. “I don’t understand. What is chow-koe-lahte?”

It took me a solid ten seconds of staring to realize my mouth was hanging open. Did he just… How could he… Oh, that poor, poor man.

I kept my words steady and weighted as I stated the unbelievable truth. “You don’t know chocolate.”

“No, I don’t.”

That pensive, almost disgusted look on his face just wouldn’t do. I loaded my fork with a small bite of the best parts of the dessert and held it out for him.

“Try it.”

He glanced from the fork to me, his eyes questioning. “For you, Klow-ee.”

God, I loved the way he said my name. As did my pussy, but we’d get to that later. Chocolate took priority.

I held the fork, and his eyes held mine, infusing the moment with so much more intimacy than I’d expected. This was no simple bite. Oh, no, this was foreplay. And I was definitely down for that.

Not breaking the intense stare down, Cutlass slowly opened his mouth, giving me the green light to feed him. Trusting me, even. A fact I didn’t take lightly. His tongue darted out and his lips closed around my fork, his eyes still on mine. That intensity almost a physical thing. Intimate? Feeding him was downright sexual.

Cutlass held that searing look for about half a second once the dessert hit his tongue, but even he was no match for the angel that was chocolate. I could see the moment he registered the flavor. He closed his eyes as he chewed, moaning in pleasure.

Oh, holy hell.

“I like the feel of this on my tongue,” he murmured, looking at the dessert plate with far more interest than before. And me? I had pretty much jumped into the “screw dessert, let’s go back to the room” camp for the first time in my life. My legs shook and my body burned as I watched him. Jesus, I was going to implode from sexual desire, and all he’d done was try chocolate for the first time.

“Yes,” I said, trying—and probably failing—to keep my voice steady and free from that lovely phone-sex vibe I knew would come out if I talked while aroused. “It’s my favorite.”

“It’s mine as well.”

I grinned at his almost boyish excitement. Couldn’t help myself. Now if only I could get my thoughts back into the PG arena.

---

After dinner and the sexiest dessert-sharing incident known to man, Cutlass once again proved the cultural differences between us were greater than just a few misspoken words.

“You need to write in the tip and sign, sir.”

Cutlass held the pen in his fist, like a weapon of some sort. “I apologize. I’m not fluent in your currency exchanges. Tip?”

The waiter damn near rolled his eyes, a fact that didn’t escape my notice. “Just sign on the line. The bill is being taken care of by an IGDA Corporation, but you have to decide the tip and approve the expense.”

Cutlass huffed, the sound a little deeper than expected. A little almost growly. God, that was hot.

“Does he have to sign, or can I?” I asked, already irritated with the guy hovering over Cutlass like some sort of watchdog.

“No, not him specific—”

“Great.” I grabbed the folio and pen from Cutlass, smiling to let him know I wasn’t mad. At least, not at him. “I’ll deal with this.”

Cutlass grunted and eyed the waiter hard, shooting daggers with a look. Also hot. Of course, everything about this man seemed to turn me on. It was as if I’d been given some sort of aphrodisiac along the way to the restaurant. Or I’d gone too long without sex and was ravenous for a little smack and tickle.

Probably the second.

I signed the bill with a flourish, putting my fuck-you-asshole in the curves of my name since I couldn’t say them. Well, I could, but that would be rude. What wasn’t rude was giving the guy a 10 percent tip. As a waitress, I tended to tip higher than most people because I knew how much the job sucked. But really, all the guy had to do was be nice. He’d failed when dealing with my date. No big tip for him.

“All set,” I said, smiling up at the waiter and handing him the closed folio. “You have a nice night now.”

He startled as if not expecting that. “You both as well.”

As soon as the guy disappeared across the room, I sighed. “Let’s go before he sees what I tipped him.”

“Why?” Cutlass stood and offered a hand to help me up. Such a gentleman.

“It’s no big deal, but I only tipped him 10 percent. He seems like the type to confront me about that.”

Cutlass moved to my shoulder, shooting a scowl across the crowded restaurant to where the waiter stood at a service station. “He won’t get close to you. But I need you to explain what a tip is.”

My God, he smelled good. I sort of wanted to roll around in that scent. And I might…later. Wait, what was the question?

“Um…oh, right. Tip. It’s like a bonus? You give servers a little extra for doing a good job.”

“And you gave him extra of your monies?”

“Technically, I didn’t, the IGDA did. But, yes.”

Cutlass huffed that growly sound again, sending a shiver straight down my spine. “He didn’t deserve it. I would have given you just the tip instead.”

Just…the tip. Yeah, my mind went there. “Hopefully, I’ll get more than the tip a little later.”

His confused expression only made him seem that much sexier.

Cutlass walked me out of the restaurant with his hand at my back. That move was such a guy thing to do, but I liked it. In fact, I sort of loved it. That contact made me feel safe and protected. Almost cherished.

Cutlass might be getting some tonight.

Maybe.

Okay, probably.

As we strolled back toward the hotel, another couple walked the same path about ten yards in front of us. They were leaning into one another, whispering, holding hands—obviously together. Cutlass watched them with a thoughtful look on his face. I watched him, wondering the whole time what he was thinking.

When the man leaned down to kiss the woman’s temple, Cutlass glanced at me instead. I smiled, hoping to be encouraging, and he reached for my hand. His skin was soft and warm, and a shiver flew up my spine at the contact. That touch was electric, intense, and the perfect end to such an amazing meal.

Yup. Probably getting laid.

We inched closer the longer we walked, me ending up pressed against his arm and him clinging to my hand when we finally made it to the room. The tension between us was luscious. I almost didn’t want to open the door or do anything to break that sort of anticipatory sensation. Almost. Because the idea of throwing him down on the hallway floor wasn’t as appealing as getting him naked behind closed doors.

Even my hussy self had some standards.

“Oh,” I said, reaching for my purse. “I don’t know if I have my card.”

“That’s fine.” Cutlass ran his palm over the lock, and the door clicked open. No card that I noticed…just his hand and the scent of ozone on the air. Like when he fixed the thermostat.

I was going to ask him about that, I really was, but the second we made it inside, Cutlass pushed me against the door, pinning me in place and making my pussy positively weep with joy.

“We’re alone, Klow-ee.” My name was a whisper on his tongue, a breath of longing and desire tinged with an accent I couldn’t place. Plus, he smelled like chocolate, a fact that made me want to taste every inch of him. So fucking arousing.

Key? What key?

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Ready and willing for more. Our noses touched as he lowered his face to mine. A slight nuzzle. Warm skin on warm skin. A total tease.

“I had a great time at dinner,” I whispered, letting my lips brush against his chin as I spoke. Cutlass moaned his agreement, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips. I wanted to feel that. Taste it. I wanted it so much.

“Klow-ee,” he murmured, the tone of his voice pure sex.

“Yes?” My eyes were heavy and almost closed, my desire something fierce and unrestrained.

“May I mate with your mouth?”

Ice bucket…thrown.

I recoiled, hitting my head on the door as I did. “Huh?”

Cutlass gave me that adorably confused look again. “I’d very much like to mate with your mouth.”

My thoughts scattered, my brain too foggy to put those words together properly. “Are you…asking for oral sex?”

His brow pulled down in what could only be confusion or frustration. Or both. “I don’t understand that term.”

“Oral sex. Fellatio. Blow job.”

“Blow…what? From the pictures I’ve seen, blowing doesn’t seem to come into play.”

Okay. Language barrier totally in the way. “Pictures? Of what?”

“Let me show you.” He pulled me closer, his movements slow and measured as if giving me the chance to refuse him. Looking at my lips the whole time.

“My mouth against yours. My hands” —Cutlass slid said hands to my ass and grabbed some serious booty— “here.”

I melted a bit. An ass-grab and a desire to kiss me? I was in.

“Oh, yeah?” An impressive package pressed against my hip, and I purposely arched into it. Teasing.

“Yes.” His nose nuzzled mine again. His lips so close. “May I?”

“Kiss,” I whispered, letting our lips brush. Sinking into the sparkling reality of being completely surrounded by this man.

He inhaled sharply. “Kiss?”

“That’s what it’s called. Not mouth-mating. Kissing.”

“Ah.” He leaned in, dragging his lips along my jaw. “May I kiss you, Klow-ee?”

Deep down, I’d like to say I did something suave and sensual, something awesome in response. That I said some damn sexy words and really played up the tension.

Nope.

I grabbed him around the neck and yanked the two of us together instead. Our lips met, and a fire exploded within me. Hot. He was so hot to the touch. So hard and muscular as he fell into my body. The door bit into my back, but I didn’t care. I had Cutlass against me, his mouth on mine, his cock pressing into my hip. A few bruises would totally be worth it.

Cutlass sucked on my bottom lip before plunging his tongue into my mouth. In a good way, not like a gag-reflex-initiator way. Tongues sliding together, breathing harder than if I was running a marathon—or so I assumed—I gave as good as I got. Moaning, grabbing, pulling, nibbling on that plump lower lip and all-out attacking his mouth with mine. Again, in a good way. Not like some sort of nasty kissing, openmouthed, licking-all-over-each-other’s-faces way. That wouldn’t be hot, and the moment with Cutlass was definitely—definitely—hot.

And Cutlass? He held his own. God, he was a good kisser. All heat and soft and pressure and small nibbles when he needed to break. I liked that. Liked him. Liked both a lot.

“Cutlass,” I groaned as I pushed myself away from the door. He followed my lead, allowing me to direct him toward the bed. The perfectly situated king bed.

God bless the IG Dating Agency for the brilliant plan of shoving us together in a hotel room with just one bed.

Cutlass totally let me direct the progression, which was good because he was big enough that I doubted I’d be able to move him without help. And when his knees hit the mattress, he sat down. Well, technically, he sort of fell. I wouldn’t call him out on that, though. He must have been so distracted by our awesome kisses he didn’t realize where I was leading him or what I had planned.

Yeah, that sounded like a good excuse.

Cutlass stared at me, looking all hot and bothered and only slightly confused, as if he hadn’t been prepared to stop with the kissing. His hair had lost some of that perfect wave, and his lips were even plumper. Sex-tousled, I’d call him. Soon-to-be sex-tousled, really.

“Plan B time.” I grinned before grabbing the bottom of my dress and dragging the fabric over my head, leaving me in the sheer and strappy shit I’d thrown on before dinner.

Way to think ahead, past me.

Cutlass’ eyes heated as he took me in, as he devoured me with just a look. As he licked his lips in what had to be anticipation. He ran a single finger along the lace of my panties, his eyes dark and hooded, his lips kiss-swollen. If a look could set a person on fire, I’d be burning. A lot.

I’d be ash.

“I don’t know what a plan B is,” he said, reaching for me. His warm hands circling my hips. “But I think I might like it.”

Oh, this poor, misguided man. “Trust me, you’ll love it. I’ll make sure of it.”