Page 72 of My Wild Pet

Gabriel holds eye contact, no doubt trying to work out why I’m crying but am saying I still want to have sex with him. Ilean in and kiss him. Then I begin to move my hips rhythmically against his.

He needs no more incentive. He begins slowly moving in and out of me again, but taking his time now and maintaining eye contact with me as I fight the urge to close my eyes and be lost in this moment.

“More,” I tell him desperately. “I need more, Gabriel.”

As he increases his speed, we now move as one, our hips in tandem as he finishes releasing into me. Then he slowly lowers himself to his side, gently taking me with him.

Kissing my shoulder he says, “I want to lick you between your legs, but…”

“But?” I’m thinking he doesn’t want to lick his own semen which might be understandable.

“My first real sexual experiences were here as a pet and directed by Imperial men. I don’t know if that’s what human women like and I want to get it right for you, Briar. This is about us being human together. I don’t want to love you like an Imperial man or even worse a human pet. Teach me how to love you like a human man.”

His words break my heart. I hold him close to me and run my hand through his wavy brown hair. “Gabriel, you’re an excellent human lover. If you were on Earth now, no one would ever guess that you hadn’t always lived there and made love like a man.”

Now it’s his turn to cry. I don’t stop caressing his hair. I still have nightmares from my own abduction so I understand. But my experience is nothing compared to his decade long imprisonment here. I can’t imagine how he must feel and I feel inadequate that all I can offer him is my body and my sympathy.

When his emotions run their course, he begins kissing my neck, my cheeks, then his lips brush mine with a quiet desperation, as though he’s afraid I’ll vanish the moment heblinks. I savor the warmth of his mouth, the press of his body, but I can sense his unease.

“Suis-je encore un homme? Ou est-ce que j’agis comme… eux?” His eyes shine with a suggestion of fear. I don’t know what he’s saying, but he sounds lost. I don’t want to ruin the moment by asking, ‘What?’ so I just hope he’ll realize he wasn’t speaking English.

I cradle his face, my thumb stroking the line of his jaw, my fingers caressing his well-groomed beard assuming that this is still about his insecurities of not being human enough. “You’re every bit as human as I am,” I murmur, my own heart pounding. “Nothing about you is alien. Not this.” I guide his hand to rest over my heartbeat. “You feel that? It’s real, and it beats for you Gabriel.”

“J’ai tellement peur d’avoir tout oublié… My life before captivity, before they trained me to act a certain way.” He bites his lip, shaking his head. “I worry I can’t remember how to be a man, not just a—pet.”

A pang of sorrow tugs at me. “Gabriel,” I say, drawing him close until our foreheads touch, “I’ve never seen you as a pet, only a man in a bad situation.”

“Merci, ma chérie,” he whispers, eyes closing in a rush of relief. Slowly, he begins to kiss me again.

It’s such a simple act, two humans reveling in a stolen moment of freedom, but for us, it’s everything.

“Je t’aime, Briar.” The French phrase is ironically one of the only sentences I know in French.

“I love you, too,” I whisper, holding him tight.

He replies by kissing my chin, my neck, then my shoulders and then takes my breast and sucks on my nipple, while his other hand cups my other breast, kneading it in his palm.

“I want to taste you; I don’t know if this is what human men want as well? But I can’t stop myself.”

“They do,” I assure him. “If they like a woman they do.”

“Good,” he says kissing his way down to my belly and then my abdomen. “I need this from you,” he says in between kisses. “I have to.”

I lean back with anticipation as he settles himself between my legs. Then he begins circling my clit with his hot tongue and I already feel my body begin to open to him in a way that’s different than sex. As if I’m allowing him this pleasure of tasting me, of bringing me to orgasm.

Gabriel is apt at cunnilingus more than any man on Earth I was ever with, but I would never tell him that. The last thing he wants to hear is that Aefre trained him well in this too. And for a moment, I feel guilty, as this lie is for my own pleasure.

But soon I can’t think about anything. Gabriel has my body on a thin wire, just holding me steady on the verge of an ultimate climax.

From between my legs he says, “Tell me you want me to make you orgasm like this.”

“Gabriel, please make me come by licking my pussy,” I breathe out the words, almost unable to speak.

“Merci, ma chérie,” he says quickly and then within seconds has my body writhing against his mouth and hands. Pulling the orgasm through my body with expertise until I have nothing left to give and am completely sated. Afterward, he kisses his way back up to my mouth, aftershocks still coursing through my body and he holds me close to him, caressing my hair.

I look over to make sure Gabriel’s still awake and then ask, “Tell me about this Gael the Returner. Fifi told you about him, right?”

He nods against my naked body. “After we won the Championships last year. She wanted to find him.”

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