Page 34 of Taken to Lemora
The laces will go up the sides, so there’s no reason for me to dawdle along his front…but I still peek. How could I not?
I’ve been introduced to hundreds of holographic representations of male genitalia — from Oroshi tentacles to Oosa orbs to Walrey stems to Niahhorru plated cocks to the glowing and ridged penises of the Voraxians — and I know how to stimulate all of them. His Lemoran anatomy is nothing new to me…but he’s almost fully erect now and his erection is the first one I’ve seen in real life. And, despite how rude he’s been, I can’t deny that his penis is stunning.And the spurs…
“You don’t need to hold so still. You can relax,” I say, only because I realize how stiff I am myself. Stiff and warm. Even though the material of my shift is breezy and thin, I’ve got goosebumps and the cold stone below my bare feet isn’t helping at all.
“I am relaxed,” he says through clenched teeth.
I don’t bother asking him again, but look away from the mass of his penis, which he’s somehow maneuvered down to follow the line of his left leg, though it looks painfully squished in the little of it that I saw in the gaping fabric around his waist.Lemoran males have four stones in their sack. Four. I want to taste all of them.
“There. What do you think?” I dust off my hands and go to the standing mirror beside the bed. I drag it over until it stands in front of Raingar and I watch him watch himself in it.
I try to focus on him. Just on his face and chest. Not on the painful-looking erection digging into the fabric of his pants, nor on the four stones I imagine hanging heavy beneath it, and definitely,definitelynot on the dual spurs that I know are there, but only enlarge to fill the female’s front and tighter, rear hole when the male is lodged deep inside of her. When he’s emptying…
I swallow hard.
Raingar’s face scrunches up. His mouth twists. He rubs his eyes. “Is that…is that my butt?”
I snort and press my fingertips to my lips, “Yeffa, clan chief Raingar. That is your behind.”
“Why does it look so…hard?”
I laugh louder this time, though it does nothing to soften the pressure in my gut. “You have a very muscular behind, my lord.”
“Your…your?! Pagh! Stop that.”
I grin, flex both hands and clasp my fingers tightly behind my back. Provoking him is fun. Too much fun. “So Raingar, do you likethe design?”
“Of course I like it. But I look like a male.”
“Did you wish to appear as a female? I can certainly make that happen for you…”
“Nob! Ohr…nob.” But his stone facade cracks. He grins and it’s a precious sighting. “I don’t wish to look like a female. I’m just not sure I like how provocative these pants are. It’s not like I’m trying to attract…” He pauses and it’s a profound sort of pause, one that fills me with questions. “Doyoulike the design of the pants?” He says, spearing me with his gaze and the weight of the silence that follows.
“Of course. I designed them.”
“Nob. I mean, do you like the way I look? In the pants. Not generally. Just in the pants.”
We stare at one another. I dare to smile. “Yeffa.” That’s all I say. I’m too apprehensive to say anything else. It feels like we’re dangling on a ledge but only one of us will fall. It will be me. He is clan chief. I was designed to take a beating.
“You do?”
“Yeffa. They accentuate your slim hips, your tight rear and your powerful thighs — all physical characteristics sure to attract your desired mate. Do you…do you have a mate in mind?” Ohr! Shrov! Xok! I curse in every language I can think of. Why did I say that?
“What? What! Nob! I don’t…you don’t…that’s preposterous!” He storms towards the door and then walks through it, leaving me standing there alone.
I don’t know why I feel so confused and flustered though. As if…there is something more to his words. Something that is mine.
I stand there uncertainly for another few moments, long enough for me to worry that Raingar might not be coming back. I’ve just taken my first step toward the door though when Raingar bursts back into the room in a flurry of heat and fury.
He’s breathing hard, his limbs nearly trembling, and one of his horns…it looks like more grey has flaked off in the last moments. I’m staring at it, but he doesn’t touch it. He just holds his arms out to his sides and glances at the heavy leather seat beneath the window.
“There,” he says.
“My Lord?” I say reflexively.
He growls, “There. That’s where you will oil my horns for me.”
An electric glow illuminates my belly. I try to quash it down, but it’s difficult and all my efforts just cause it to spiral lower. I nod. “I promise I will be professional.”
