Page 5 of When She's Stuffed
"I have strong hands," I blurt out. Then I want to kick myself. Why did I say such a fool thing?
"Yes, you do." Pamela touches my arm again. I can't tell if she's flattering me or teasing me for saying such silliness. "And I enjoyed working alongside you. You're easy to talk to."
Is...this a trap? Did one of the guards tell her how I feel? They all know I'm wildly obsessed with the pretty human cook, that I've scheduled my work shifts to match hers, that I covet her smiles and laughter. It amuses them to watch me get flustered every time she looks in my direction. "I...thank you?"
She chuckles, the sound so caressing she might as well brush my sac with her bare hand. "Why would you thank me? We're friends."
Friends. I do believe I hate that word. "Yes," I manage, voice thick. "Friends."
I say nothing else as we continue to put away the food. The kitchen still smells delicious, of braised veg and warm spices, and I'm briefly envious of the va'Rin family and their feast, so carefully made by Pamela. I have nutrition bars back in the barracks, and if I feel the need for something different, I can always make myself a comforting bowl of noodles. It's not as if I'd want to eat the bird anyhow.
"Well, now that we've tidied all that, we've room to work," Pamela tells me. She bustles across the kitchen and opens an oven that I did not realize was still on. The moment she opens it, wave after wave of delicious scents fill the kitchen. Withprotective gloves covering her hands, she pulls out a casserole dish, then another. A pie. Another pie. An enormous tureen full of what looks like the savoriest noodles I've ever seen.
I'm in awe, my mouth watering. "Did you forget to feed Lord and Lady va'Rin some of the prepared food?"
To my surprise, she gives me a rather shy look. "Actually, I made this for you. I wanted to celebrate the holiday and thought that I'd celebrate with you. There's no one else I'd rather spend the day with, and I wanted to make sure that you'd enjoy the food. So I made a feast with you in mind."
She did all of this under my nose and I had no idea. We'd made so much food over the day that I hadn't realized that all of it was not appearing on the table. I stare at the bounty of delicious-smelling meals, all made without the cheeses and meats that humans love. These are mesakkah foods, right down to the fried leaves and piles of roasted tubers lightly coated in oil and pepper.
She did this for me.
Because she wanted to spend time with me. Because she is thankful for me.
I pull her close and press my mouth to hers. She makes a startled sound, and for a moment, I wonder if I am kissing wrong. It is not something mesakkah do, but I have dreamed of this day for months now, and I have prepared. There is a human guide to lovemaking calledOutlander, and I borrowed it one afternoon when I saw it left on Lady va'Rin's sewing table. I had the computer scan it in and read the text to me through my data pad, as I cannot read the human tongue.
It was very enlightening. I studied the mating passages in that book a great many times, preparing for the day that I might need to impress Pamela with my skills. I paid very close attention to how the male in the guide touched the female.
Trying to remember it with my lips upon Pamela's is very difficult, though. She is so...soft. So yielding yet sweet. I groan despite my efforts to remain in control. It occurs to me that I did not ask for permission first, and I should have. I lift my head?—
She whimpers and pulls me back down, her lips on mine once more. That is all the permission I need. Ravenous, I kiss her again, enjoying the mash of lips together, the press of my mouth to hers, sometimes hard, sometimes soft. I remember in the book that tongues were used, and I brush mine against the parting of her lips.
Pamela moans. Her hands twist in my uniform, and she's kissing me back, her tongue rubbing along mine. It is the greatest sensation in the world, and my mind goes blank. I forget about the holiday, I forget about confessing my feelings to her. I forget about everything but the sensation of her mouth, her lips, her tongue, her taste.
"Toghar," she pants between kisses. "W-what is this?"
"This is me kissing you," I tell her. She's talking, and that means she's no longer focusing on my kisses. It means I need to kiss her more, to make her as lost to pleasure as I am. "Can I touch you more?"
She gives me a startled look and then nods. "If you'd like to."
I put my hands on her arse and heft her onto the counter. Pamela makes a squeak of protest, her hands fluttering onto my shoulders, but I remember how to do this next part. I listened to this particular passage of the book a great many times, and I know there is a special spot between her thighs that is the center of her pleasure. I push her skirts up, moving my hand between her legs until I encounter a strange garment covering the mound of her cunt. Odd. She makes another noise of surprise but doesn't push me aside. Instead, she spreads her legs a little wider.
The fabric between her legs is damp with arousal, and I rub my thumb over it, watching her reaction. She puts her hand over her mouth to stifle the sounds she makes, her eyes wide. I drag my fingers over the patch of fabric, moving slowly back and forth, outlining the cleft under it. "Should I stop?"
She shakes her head.
"I'm going to touch you under the fabric," I tell her.
"Sh-should we be doing this in the kitchen?" She's breathless with need.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No."
"Then, yes. We do this in the kitchen." I move the band of the fabric to the side, exposing the tuft of hair covering her cunt. The heat of her is palpable, and this time, instead of stroking the fabric, I stroke her. The soft skin, the cleft, everything. Her pupils dilate, eyes becoming hazy with arousal. She's so beautiful like this, her cheeks flushed red, her lips parted as she watches me. I drag my finger through her wetness, tuned in to her reaction. The book stated there was a spot between her thighs, surrounded by her folds, but it eludes me.
"The food," she breathes. "What about?—"
Then, I find it.
