Seven

A million things fly through Ajax’s expressive eyes. None of them are revulsion. He doesn’t hate the idea and might even be a little intrigued by it.

He shouldn’t. He’d be bound. Unable to fight back if I tried to do something he didn’t like. But then I catch myself mid-transposition and realize that’s all about me. I’m the one who would balk at being tied up. In reality, there is literally no chance a civilian could get her hands on material would actually render him a prisoner. More like he’d have to treat the bindings as a reminder to keep his hands away from me.

“Yes,” he rumbles, the fascination in his gaze deepening. “Show.”

What, like right now? We’re supposed to be going on a date. But I’m not opposed to skipping straight to the good stuff. Why beat around the bush when we both know this is the part we’d be working toward anyway.

“I, um, have some scarves. Let’s try that,” I suggest, my voice dropping into a realm more suited for a temptress. That is not me. I basically asked my husband to let me tie him up so I could kiss him without fear of being crushed. There’s no Fifty Shades vibe here in the slightest.

Except he follows me into the bedroom where I go to scare up the aforementioned scarves and suddenly, the whole concept gains some erotic teeth I was not prepared for. I’ve never had a man in this bedroom and I’m so very aware that I still don’t have one in here.

I have Ajax. My sweet, sometimes funny, always honorable alien. Who has needs that must be similar to a human man, which I am more than willing to try to fulfill—assuming we can get there.

Ajax glances around the bedroom curiously, taking in my purple comforter and framed picture of the Eiffel Tower above the headboard without comment. It’s a girly room and exactly what I wanted. I picked out everything with no apology since my last bedroom had been decorated without my say. And that’s more than enough time and energy spent devoted to the past.

My present sits down on the bed, watching me with unabashed interest. Oh right. This is the part where I get the scarves I’ve mentioned but have yet to produce. Procrastinating much?

I’m just so nervous. I mean, what if this doesn’t work? What if it does? How far can we take it and how far do I want it to go?

I find three scarves in my closet, one black, one royal blue and a plaid wool that I hope won’t be too scratchy. Theoretically, I just need one, but it’s possible I’ll need extra reinforcement.

The bent fork springs into my head. Who am I kidding? He could shred all three scarves into little pieces probably by blowing on them big bad wolf style. I toss the wool scarf and emerge from the closet with the black and blue scarves, one in each hand.

“I was thinking maybe we could try tying your wrists to the headboard?” I murmur.

Without a word, Ajax lays back on the bed, his hair dark and crisp against the pale purple pillowcases, and raises his arms, crossed at the wrist. “Brooklyn tie.”

My throat goes dry as his heavy-lidded gaze toys with mine. It’s full of promise and deliverance simultaneously. He’s not even bound yet and I’m already getting a little achy and squirmy at the visual. It’s no use pretending I’m not thoroughly caught up in this game, desperate to test this idea, desperate for it to be the magic solution I pray it is.

I crawl onto the mattress and kneel by his profoundly muscled torso. My bare knee grazes his shirt and even that is almost more contact than my overheated skin can handle, especially when he’s still watching me like that. Like he wants to devour me whole. I’m suddenly very interested in exactly how strong his tongue is and the ache between my legs blooms into a full on panty soaker.

My fingers shake as I thread the scarf around the nearest bedpost and then double wrap his wrists. In for a penny… The loop closes into a knot and it’s done. I have a bound alien in my bed who seems happy to pretend he’s at my complete mercy.

“Kiss,” he commands hoarsely and I have to amend that because it appears I’m at his mercy since all I can think about is obeying.

Fisting my hands, I put one on each side of his head to brace myself and lean down, feathering my lips across his. Eagerly, he tilts his chin up to catch me more firmly with his mouth. The kiss explodes, shattering my composure as I respond.

I can’t think when he’s kissing me. My brain dissolves and I’m nothing but sensation. Light. Heat. Spikes of pleasure. His tongue seeking mine, melding and stroking—but not too hard. I can sense him holding back. Throbbing beats under my skin, in my throat, in my chest.

I want to touch, but I can’t because of my position. Easy to fix. Rolling into his body, I align us, which shock of all shocks, works much better when we’re lying down than it does standing up. My legs are all tangled up with his, which might end up being a problem that I’ll have to deal with at some point because if his arms can crush me, odds are good his thighs might pose a similar threat.

But then I feel the evidence of his arousal against my stomach and I’m not worried about his legs anymore. Holy crap he feels big. Hard. Strong. I’m nearly delirious with need but not so much that I can’t take a half-second to fret about how that’s going to work.

Okay, breathe. I tell myself it’s going to work fine, even though part of me is wondering how strong his hips are. It’s possible he could pile drive me into next week, but there’s only one way to find out.

It’s time to enjoy this experiment to its fullest.

I lose myself in his kiss again, levering my arm under his head to support it as I wrap him up in my embrace. He comes willingly, snuggling up against me as best he can with his wrists raised up over his head. It seems like it might be uncomfortable but he has yet to complain.

One of his knees nudges between mine and suddenly I’m riding his thigh. It is every bit as hard and firm as the rest of him. Pinpricks of heat spiral outward from my throbbing center and it’s magnificent. I need more.

“Ajax,” I murmur against his mouth to get his attention. “Are we okay? Is this good?”

He nods as his lips curve up against mine. “Good. Brooklyn good. More kiss. More touch.”

I have to smile myself as I thread my fingers through his hair, which has long since dried. I like it wet, which makes me think of all sorts of interesting scenarios involving water. His head tilts back into my hand as if he’s seeking more contact. I give it to him and from this position, it’s easy to see that he likes it. “Where would you like me to touch you?”

“All,” he commands, his voice as rumbly as always but the thread of sheer anticipation and hoarse pleasure thrills me in kind. “Need Brooklyn.”

That gets me more than just about anything else he’s ever said. If anyone has ever needed me before, they’ve kept it to themselves. I’m sure I’ve been turned on before as well but it feels bigger and stronger with Ajax. I’m finally with someone I can trust with my rawest, deepest places.

“I think…I need you too,” I whisper, and I’m not just talking about in the elemental sense. Ajax allows me to feel something other than frightened: alive. As if I’ve just woken up for the first time, and he’s the color in my world.

I sit up and unbind his hands, watching him carefully as I do.

“Just for a minute,” I warn him and the moment he’s free, I pull him half off the bed and strip him of his dark blue T-shirt that he’d donned in anticipation of our date.

My mouth goes dry and the scarf slips from my fingers. His torso is a horrible, beautiful mess of scars. It looks like he might have been wounded in battle and his gaze follows mine. With a fingertip he traces the pattern of corded flesh from near his heart down across his abdomen.

“Hurt.” This is followed by something in his native language and then he points to it again. “Brooklyn ugly?”

“What? No! Of course I don’t think you’re ugly.” To prove it, I follow his fingers to trace the scar. It does nothing to diminish his beauty. “You’re perfect.”

As I flatten my palm against his chest, he makes a noise of pleasure in his throat, which encourages me to keep exploring. He’s so warm under my fingertips, like hot stone and I can’t wait to feel it with more sensitive places on my body.

But before we get too far, I find the will to lift my hand from his chest and pick up the scarf, fluttering it in his direction. I wish it could be different. I’d like to let him explore me in the same fashion, but maybe this first time it’s not a good idea to leave him unbound.

He lies back and lets me tie him again, but it’s not like before. He’s restless and half-naked, and I’m so very aware of both. As I loop the final knot, he nips at my side, then nibbles along my ribs which, as it turns out, is an erogenous zone I was not aware of.

I suck in a breath as he lights me up inside with nothing more than a kiss to my chest. His approach to all of this is so unconventional. I’m an instant fan of it.

“I’m supposed to be touching you,” I remind him and my voice shatters as he works his way higher, mouthing my breast through my V-neck shirt and bra. Oh, yes, his tongue is indeed strong if he can get me so hot through layers of clothes.

“Touch,” he agrees and pulls away the fabric with his teeth, grazing the sensitive flesh beneath with his nose.

Apparently he doesn’t need his hands after all. My alien is certainly inventive when the occasion calls for it and I’m nothing if not curious what else his bound hands are going to force him to come up with.

But that can wait a minute. He’s still at my mercy and there’s more of him I have yet to see. Moving out of reach of his magic mouth, I find the button on his jeans and pop it. He watches me, his gaze hooded and dark. Once I have his jeans all undone, I pull. He lifts his hips obediently and with one good tug, they slide off along with whatever he wears underneath.

My God. Yeah, no. This is not going to work. His powerful thighs showcase a hard jutting length of flesh between them that will not fit into one single part of my body, no way. But my brain seems to be the only thing that clues in on this because my core goes tight and slick with need, begging for it.

Apparently I am going all the way.

Thankfully, I never stopped taking my birth control pills and Charmaine gave me all sorts of medical records that show Ajax is clean. Which is good, because I did not think to stock up on condoms. Not that it would matter. He’d laugh if he saw regular human sized condoms.

Now that I have him naked, I’m not so sure where to start touching him. But fortunately, he was super clear about the instructions—touch everything. But there’s so much of him, so many interesting places that I hardly know where to start. He resolves that dilemma for me by nudging a knee into my hand, demanding my attention there. Since I can find nothing wrong with that as my next move, I smooth my spread palm up his thigh. The contours of his muscles feel like rock under my fingers. I keep going, running my hands up his body, stretching over him in order to reach up to his shoulders.

Ajax flexes his hips and it catches me off guard, knocking me flat against him. That works too. His smile is nothing short of naughty but that’s okay. I’m in the perfect position to torture him a little. I flex my own hips, grinding my center against his enormous erection. Stars explode where we’re nearly joined and I’ve had about enough of this game.

I sit up and pull off my blouse and bra since he can’t do it for me. I’m fine with that. This way, I have all the control. Nothing happens that I don’t want.

His gaze sweeps me, catching on the achy peaks of my nipples. He drinks me in, his expression growing heated. That’s lovely. It makes me feel beautiful, desirable and indescribably edgy. I want his mouth on my breasts. And if nothing else, tonight is teaching me how to manage that.

I make short work of stripping off the rest of my clothes and then throw a leg over Ajax’s hips, straddling him so that all of our good parts are aligned. Oh, God yes. That feels amazing and he agrees clearly. Breathless, I watch as bliss steals over his face and I’m swamped with the power of what I am able to do to him. For him.

My alien sweetheart has been brutalized on the battlefield. The evidence blooms from beneath my splayed thighs, forking across his torso. He’s been genetically modified so much that he can’t touch me, forcing him to make do with half of a love experience. Fierce determination courses through me. I will give him the intimacy he’s been denied thus far due to circumstances beyond his control. I will give us both that.

Hands splayed, I begin to explore his beautiful body, checking in often to get affirmation of how he likes to be touched. Which is basically any way. Not a shock. What’s shocking is how wild it makes me to be on top. I’m not an on-top kind of girl or at least I never was before. I’m a complete convert. I have free rein to pleasure my alien at will, and he rewards me with rumbly noises that vibrate my thighs.

“Brooklyn,” he mutters, his eyelids slamming shut as I lever down to kiss his scar, then keep going to slide my tongue down his wildly delicious erection.

“Right here, darling.” He tastes like nothing I’ve ever experienced before, salty, musky and crisp.

“Need.”

Yes, there’s a lot of that going around. “What do you need?”

“Brooklyn.” His voice slurs but I get the gist.

He needs me. I climb back astride and forget for a moment about the logistics. My alien is pleading with me to figure out a way to make this great for him no matter what and I will. His hard length slides into my wet heat a millimeter at a time and it’s gloriously tight and beautiful. I go slow because, well…I’m afraid he might split me open otherwise.

In reality, he’s already doing that, searing me from the inside out with his expressive gaze that gathers up pieces of me as we join. Hot, dense waves encompass my whole body and I ride him shamelessly, loving every moment, even the insignificant pain where he’s stretched me past the point of reasonableness. I embrace it because it means I’m alive. I’m with Ajax in the most basic, carnal sense and he’s branding me whether I like it or not.

I like it.

He groans his pleasure, writhing against the bindings. They hold. I know good and well that he could snap them without thinking twice and the fact that he’s tempering his strength successfully for me and my benefit cracks my heart in two.

Leaning forward, I capture his mouth in a kiss, swallowing his sighs. The new position is unbelievable and I clench in surprise, then again as the tension builds. Oh, God, he’s pumping his hips faster than I can take, and it’s driving me higher even as it hurts. I drop into a spiral of aching need that can only be fulfilled by one being in the whole universe.

When I crest the peak of bliss, Ajax is not far behind, crying out against my mouth as he comes inside me. The ripples of my orgasm sharpen. It’s so good that my eyes leak without my permission, raining tears down on his cheeks.

Without missing a beat, he pulls free of the binding and brushes away my tears with two fingers. I knew he was deliberately holding back. That yanks a few more drops loose.

“No cry, Brooklyn. Keep safe,” he promises.

“These are happy tears,” I inform him with a sniff. Besides, what am I supposed to say to that when he’s the least safe guy I’ve ever met?

After all, he stole my heart right out of my chest while both hands were tied above his head. What would he do for his next trick?