Chapter 11
The first time I go to Verit’s uptown apartment is a real culture shock. He invites me over for dinner, sending his driver to pick me up. His building is modern and clean cut, a puzzle of glass and chrome. After the doorman lets me in, I take the elevator to the penthouse as instructed. Upstairs, the elevator doors opens directly into Verit’s apartment.
“Ari? I’m in the kitchen,” Verit calls out as the elevator dings shut, and I follow his voice down the hall.
The kitchen is sparse, to say the least. There is a long counter with two bar stools tucked under it, but no appliances. No fridge, no stovetop, no microwave. Bizarrely, there is a panini press, which Verit is standing over.
“Hi,” I say cautiously, taking a seat and slinging my purse strap over the back of the bar stool. “Whatcha making?”
With a mischievous grin, Verit opens the press, and I immediately recognize the smell.
“Shut up,” I say, jaw dropping open. “Grilled fucking cheese?”
“Grilled fucking cheese,” he echoes with a chuckle.
“But… how?” I ask, still half-mute with surprise. “I haven’t been able to find cheese in years, at least not anything affordable.”
“I’m a very wealthy man, Ari, with endless connections,” Verit reminds me. “It was rather easy to acquire, once I decided I wanted it.”
Like me? The thought flits across my head for a split second, but I shove it away. I’m too genuinely ecstatic about this turn of events to start overthinking the circumstances.
“Where’s your bathroom? I have to wash my hands,” I ask, hoping my excuse to snoop isn’t too thinly veiled.
“Down the hall, to the left,” Verit says.
I follow his directions, mildly unsettled by the apartment’s decor, or rather lack thereof. It’s not as if the walls are totally barren, but the whole set up feels like it came directly out of a furniture catalogue. There’s nothing personal to it. Nothing particularly homey.
The bathroom is no exception, with deceivingly simple looking stand-ins for the typical bathroom components. I assume it’s K technology, marveling as I clean my skin with the hand-sanitizer-esque gel that emits from the “sink.” It’s awe-inspiring, but also bizarre within the confines of a distinctly human apartment.
“I told you you’d feel out of place here,” Verit says when I return, still gaping at my surroundings.
“I don’t want to, though,” I admit truthfully. I regularly wish that the Krinar weren’t so steadfast about not sharing their technology, as well as most of their culture and advances, with us mere mortals. I’d love to have a freaky toilet tube in my apartment. Still, Verit’s particular set-up is so sparse, it’s hard to imagine this ever feeling like a real home.
Verit flips a sandwich off the press and onto a plate, which he slides in front of me, where a glass of red wine already awaits. The bread is perfectly toasted, the cheese oozing out delectably. I pick up the sandwich, and immediately my fingers are deliciously buttery and greasy.
“Oh, wait,” I say, face falling with the treat inches away from my mouth. “I haven’t had dairy in so long, it’ll probably make me sick.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Verit says, cutting me off before I get more upset. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a nondescript silver cylinder, and waves it at me as if I’m supposed to know exactly what it is, before hiding it away again. “If you begin to feel even slightly ill, I can heal you immediately. Just enjoy this moment.”
And so I do. Verit doesn’t partake. I offer him a bite, but he turns it down, and I don’t press him further. The grilled cheese is even better than I remember, either because of the long wait and anticipation, or because Verit likely sprung for the highest quality ingredients, or both. I moan in delight at the rich flavor, and I can tell that it’s turning Verit on a bit, but I don’t care. Well, that’s not entirely true—I do care, and I like it.
I start licking my fingers clean when I’m done, thirstily drinking in the way he watches me. After a moment, he catches my wrist over the counter, bringing my hand to his lips. He pulls my middle finger into his mouth, gently teasing it with his tongue, then sucking on it hard. I gasp at the sensation, feeling moisture begin to gather between my legs. He does the same to my other four fingers, until I’m jelly in his hands.
“How about a tour?” I ask hoarsely, when I can’t take it any longer.
As Verit leads me straight to the bedroom, I desperately want to ask if he often has humans over, particularly women. Given how cagey he’s been about inviting me, and that he’s told me before that his past affairs with humans were all one night stands or very brief flings, it seems unlikely. But I know that if he confirms this, it will cement the fact that this is special, in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for.
The bedroom is unsurprisingly vacant, aside from a large, circular bed in the center of the room, which Verit quickly tosses me onto. I’m giggling when I land, but gasp when the mattress seems to move beneath me. The soft surface shifts under my weight, changing to fit my body perfectly, even as I adjust my position.
Before I can marvel for long, Verit is on top of me. He kisses me, hard, teeth pulling carelessly at my lips. One hand pins my wrists above my head, the other is on my breasts, my hips, my ass. With one swift move he spins me around, shoving me against the bed while kissing my neck. I moan in delight, and he pulls up my dress, groaning when his hands find no panties.
“You dirty slut,” he teases quietly into my ear, nibbling at the lobe, and I feel my sex burn with want.
“Fuck me,” I demand readily, pushing my bare ass against him. I can feel his erection through his jeans, rock hard for me.
“Tsk tsk,” he reprimands, moving his hand to cover my mouth. “It’s my turn tonight.”
I suck his middle finger into my mouth, mimicking his earlier ministrations, and he inhales sharply but doesn’t stop me. I work my tongue around the digit slowly, relishing his response. He kisses the side of my neck, his free hand teasing my clit, his hips grinding against me. The friction of his jeans against my bare skin pushes me to the edge, and I cry out, releasing Verit’s finger.
“Are you gonna come for me?” he asks, pushing his hand up under my dress, tugging roughly at my nipple. I nod desperately, moaning against the sheets. “That’s right, come for me Ari.”
And I do, crying out loudly, as Verit undoes his pants and rubs his cock against my ass. Still massaging my clit, he shoves into me, fast and hard. I gasp, once and then again as he pulls out and pushes in again, this time tantalizingly slowly.
“Oh, you’re dripping wet, kitten,” he says, pushing me harder into the bed. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“Your cock is so big,” I moan in return. When it’s my turn, I like him quiet, but he prefers it when I talk back. “Fuck me with your big cock, Verit.”
“You like that, don’t you?” he asks, pulling out and flipping me over. I wrap my legs around his waist, working my hardest to pull him closer, closer, deeper, deeper. “You like it rough, you like it dirty, filthy. You love it when I give you what no human man has given you before. Your pussy starts dripping every time I walk into the room, I don’t even have to touch you. Isn’t that right, Ariana?”
I nod vigorously, holding on desperately to his muscled arms as he drives me dangerously close to the edge again. I turn and bury my face into the pillow, but he grips my chin with one hand, forcing me to hold his gaze.
“Don’t fight it, baby girl,” he says softly, his amber eyes blazing. “Come for me, one more time.”
And so I do, over, and over, and over again, until I can’t remember a moment before this, and I can’t imagine a life after him.