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Chapter Eleven

G race

I’m just about asleep when Tyree quietly opens the bathroom door. He has a plush gold towel slung low over his hips. The picture of his burnished skin in the faint light peeking through the crack under the door propels me into full wakefulness.

I’ve noticed I’ll get blind to how handsome he is because I’ve been around him all day, and then I’ll catch a glimpse of him from an odd angle and my breath will catch in my throat from the sheer force of how attractive he is.

My sleepiness slips away, and I swallow hard, aware of sensual warmth flowing through my veins. He stalks over to me with the grace of a big cat. He’s so masculine as he leans down and protectively makes sure I’m thoroughly covered.

“Need a treatment?” he whispers.

“Well...yes. But maybe of a different sort.” I give him a lazy smile, flirtatious and full of promise. It’s an easy thing to do knowing we can’t act on our impulses with cameras watching our every move.

We don’t want to blow our cover that I’m not really the galaxy’s premier musician traveling with a cadre of hard-assed gladiators. It wouldn’t be safe for them to know we’re just a ragtag bunch of runaway slaves on the lam from the most vicious cartel in the known universe.

“I have an idea,” he whispers. “Trust me?”

I nod.

He lies on his pallet, which is right next to my bed. I see him shift under the covers, then throw his towel on the floor. Knowing he’s lying inches from me, completely nude makes my stomach tighten in need. My thoughts arrow back to the night we shared a shower and so much more in my bedroom. My clit quivers as I visualize a photo album of pictures from that encounter. I studiously avoid thinking of the terror I experienced when I thought we’d be imprisoned and separated. Nor do I want to think about his sweet proclamation that I’m his truemate—there’ll be time to deal with that when we’re back on the Warrior .

I feel something odd, like a presence in my mind. I pull my thoughts from my pulsing nether regions to my head and pay attention. This is nothing like the calm feeling he pushes at me to reduce my anxiety. This is...fuller, more connected.

Can you hear me, Grace?

I’m startled, and a little afraid. Yes?

Sorry I couldn’t explain this to you before I began, but there was no opportunity. I have some very...interesting ideas I thought we could explore. You in your bed, me in my pathetic little pallet on the floor. But I have to make certain you’re comfortable with this. It’s pretty...intimate.

He’s in my mind. A frisson of panic bolts up my spine. Can you read my thoughts?

I haven’t always had this ability. I’m still figuring things out. What I do to calm you, that’s basically step one. What I want to do right now is step two. It allows us to talk, for me to hear the thoughts you push at me, but I’m not rummaging around in there. Step three would be what I did with Captain Gren a few times, I read his thoughts. Trust me, it was like bathing in sewage. The sadistic pictures that ran through his mind gave me nightmares. Step four would be what I did to him the day we overthrew the ship. I crawled into his mind and made him do things.

You have to know I would never do that to you, Grace. I wouldn’t read your thoughts. I would never force you to do anything or think anything. I respect you too much.

Funny, I believe him. The Tyree I know would never violate my privacy.

Okay. On Earth, we have the concept of safewords. If one person says the word, the other immediately stops what they’re doing. I’d be comfortable if we could do that.

Absolutely, Grace. What’s your word?

Red.

All right. Are you ready to do this?

Yes. I have no idea what’s coming, but I trust Tyree completely, and I’m aroused wondering what he’s going to do next.

Take two fingertips and slide them across your lips. Gently, so soft you can barely feel them.

I do this. Instantly my thoughts are completely on this feeling. It’s so gentle it tickles, but it ramps up my arousal. I’m fully focused on this sensation.

What are you feeling?

It instantly dawns on me how intimate this is going to be. I’m going to have to share my feelings—not something I’m used to. I want to do this though; I want to share myself with him. I don’t want to hold back anymore. In that concert hall, I just did the bravest thing I’ve ever done in my life. Why not be courageous now?

It tickles in a sensual way. I tell him. It brings my awareness to my lips. Also to other places on my body.

What other places? The tone of his voice in my head commands a response. For some reason, I like this tone.

My clit. This is harder than I thought it would be.

Do it again.

Okay.

Now the slightest bit harder.

Okay.

What do you feel?

Alive. Sensual. Sexual. The beginnings of need.

Need for what?

Need to be kissed by you. Touched by you. I pause a moment, working up my nerve to say the total truth. Filled by you, Tyree .

I hear him suck in his breath. You are the sexiest being in the galaxy, Grace. My cock is hard as stone, just lying by your side. To hear you say that is sweet torture .

I hear him rustle under his covers, then... Move your hand slowly down your jaw. Caress your jawline, down the column of your throat, across your collarbones. Do it slowly, pretend it’s my hand. It’s my fingers exploring you, wanting to learn every hollow, every curve .

I do this, imagining his fingers traversing my skin in wonder. This causes my mundane body, this skin I’ve worn for twenty-six years, to be regarded with awe. As if I’ve only slipped into this physical form for the first time today. For a moment I wonder if this is what it was like for him to wake up a month ago in his current hulking form, wearing a huge, new body.

What do you feel, Grace?

I hear almost a rush in my ears, like a shiver with noise. It makes all my thoughts quiet down—except my focus on this—my body, what we’re doing.

Good. You are so good, Grace. You can say “red” at any time. Do you want to go farther?

Yes.

I hear a small sigh drift up from below me.

Take the tip of your tongue and trace the outline of your lips. First the top, then the bottom. He pauses for me to do this. What do you feel?

Shivers. Naughty. Expectant.

Good, Grace. Do you want to be naughty? Do you want what comes next to make you feel like a bad girl?

Do I? Is this a fantasy? Do I want to be naughty with Tyree?

I think I do. I can say red if I don’t.

Place your fingers on the back of your neck. Pretend they’re mine. Sift them through your hair. Gently. Be patient, like you have all the time in the galaxy. What do you feel?

Tingly. Like every cell above my neckline is more awake than it’s ever been. More fully alive.

You are so good to do this. To do just what I say. Do you want to do more of what I say?

I don’t need to think. I just answer. Yes .

Take your right hand and trail it down from the swell at the side of your breast to the curve of your waist, around your hip to below your knee. Take your time. What do you feel?

Liquid fire. Hot and cold. Shudders and warmth. Every cell is being turned from neutral to fully on—aware.

Do the same thing with your left hand.

I don’t know where I get the nerve to tell him how I feel without his question, but I offer, Every cell is on fire. My...clit is, too. And my core .

Grace, you are such a good girl. Do you like it when I call you a good girl?

Yes.

Then I want you to be a very good girl and dip both hands below the hem of your gown. With just your index fingers, I want you to lift the hem up. Slowly. Slowly. Let me imagine that white gown edging deliberately up toward your knees, past them, and now, even more slowly up your creamy thighs. Can you hear my heavy breathing, Grace? Do you know how aroused I am just imagining what your hands are doing? Do you want to know that my fist is curled around my cock? It’s kicking in my hand just thinking about you. Do you know that?

I can imagine that, Tyree. Your hand tight on your thick cock. Someday I would love to fully taste you there. To suck you all the way into my mouth. I hear his sharp intake of breath and the softest moan.

Did you hear me moan, Grace? I guarantee that in the next hoara I’m going to hear you moan. That’s a guarantee. Unless you say the word “red.”

My lips are sealed.

Good. Now slip your fingers higher up your thighs to your waist. Imagine my eyes on you. Imagine I’m looking at you right now. I am. I see your lovely pale skin. I see the blond hair at the apex of your thighs. What do you feel?

I’m embarrassed just thinking of it. And aroused. And a little part of me wants to open myself to you and show you all of me. I hear a heavy exhalation from him. I feel powerful knowing I have this effect on you, Tyree.

Do I have an effect on you, Grace?

Yes. I have a need building inside of me.

Good. Tell me about the need.

I first have to pay attention to the feeling. Then I have to determine a way to explain it. It’s tight. My awareness is keenly focused on swirling energy that pools at the tips of my breasts, the top of my cleft, my core. It feels...unfinished. Not quite pain, but not quite pleasure. It’s waiting for something...to be fulfilled.

What I just told him was harder than playing up on that stage tonight. I don’t know where I found the courage.

Thanks for sharing that with me, Grace. I can’t touch you tonight, but I will make sure you are fulfilled. Slip your fingers all the way up, so your gown is resting above your magnificent breasts.

Okay.

Take both hands and cup them below your breasts. Graze your hands from under your breasts to collar bones. Then back down and up again. Slowly.

My mouth is open now. I’m breathing in petite little gasps. My skin is on fire, Tyree. I wish these were your hands. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anything more desperately than your hands on me right this minute.

You will, though, Grace. By the end of this night, you’ll want many things more desperately than you do right now. Do you doubt that?

No, Tyree. I believe you.

Good girl. Now take the index finger of one hand and place it on the opposite nipple. Draw a line down your breast, through the valley between them and to the other peak. Just the pad of your fingertip. Just the slightest pressure. Back and forth. Until I tell you to stop.

Oh. So good.

Yes. Now use your fingernail. The point of your fingernail from peak to peak. Are your nipples straining to receive the touch?

Yes.

Do they want more?

Yes.

Stop. Just wait.

Oh. It hurts. I hurt with need.

Yes. That’s just what I want. I want you to hurt with need. Where does it hurt?

Between my legs.

I would be there right now. My head between your legs if there were no cameras in this room. But there are. I’m going to torture you tonight. Unless you say “red.”

My lips are still sealed.

Good girl. Take the thumb and forefinger of each hand and grasp your nipples. Good?

Yesss.

Tell me you’re imagining those are my fingers.

Yes.

Pluck the tips. Pluck them and twist them. Just like I did the other night. Just the way you like it.

I let out a tiny sigh.

You’re being naughty, Grace. You don’t want them to hear you, or do you? Would it make it more arousing to know someone is watching what you’re doing to yourself?

No. No. Only you. I wish you were watching.

So do I, Amara. I am watching, in my mind’s eye. Lick your fingers and your thumbs and go back to doing what you were doing. Plucking those beautiful pink nubs. Pulling and twisting them. Use one word to tell me how this feels.

Incredible.

Good. Imagine my mouth on you there. Imagine my teeth grazing you. I would start soft and then increase until it was almost too exquisitely hard to bear. Would you like that?

Yes.

Good. Keep touching yourself with your fingers. Raise your heels until they touch your bottom. What are you aware of?

My clit is pulsing. My core is clenching. I’m thinking of your fingers inside me the other night. Your cock inside me. I wish I could feel that again.

Good. I wish I could slip my fingers into your wet warmth. And my cock, Grace. I want my cock buried inside you, joining us together. That will happen again if you want. But not tonight. Now allow your knees to open outward until they touch the bed. I want you to do this slowly. I want you to imagine I’m on my knees in front of you. I’m looking at you. Admiring you. I want you to reveal yourself to me in the slowest tempo possible. Can you do that?

Yes.

I’ll describe it. I saw it the other night and the image is branded on my brain. Your folds are like the pink petals of a delicate flower. The bud at the top is juicy and plump. Engorged so that it can garner pleasure. I’m a male now, Grace. I don’t like to share. I would like to believe I will be the only male who will ever see that sight. The only male who will ever give you pleasure like that. Tonight I’ll watch in my mind’s eye as you give yourself that pleasure. Are your knees on the bed yet?

Yes.

Good. Take one or two fingers and dip them in your core—just the pads of your fingers. Tell me what you feel.

Wetness, Tyree. I’m sopping wet. I’m drenched for you. I’m pulsing down there. I can’t find any thoughts but these. I can only focus on my body, my skin, my need, and what you’re telling me to do.

Good, Grace. Because in a short while, I’m going to tell you to come. And you are going to do exactly that. You are going to come the modicum I tell you and not a moment before. Do you understand?

Yes.

Take those fingers, they should be saturated with your cream, and drag them up through your folds to your sensitive bud. Tell me what you feel.

Shaky. Needy. Desperate.

I’m going to make you feel more desperate, Grace. I’m going to make you so desperate you’ll beg for release. Are you willing to follow my instructions? To wait until I allow you to come?

Yes.

Good girl. Take those fingers and slip them down through your folds to where you’re flooded with your juices, then slide them up again and circle your bud. Now do it again. Are you good and wet?

Yes.

Do you wish it was my fingers, Grace?

Yes, Tyree. I can imagine it’s your fingers.

Do you wish my tongue was swirling around that little pink nub right now?

Yes. Oh my God, yes.

Good. I want you to allow your fingers to move just the way you like. The way that makes your hips thrust and grind. The way that makes you pant and yearn for release. And I don’t want you to come. Tell me when you’re desperate. More desperate than you’ve ever felt.

He’s quiet. There’s no noise in the room. No noise in my head. But I can still feel him here. He’s with me—waiting...listening. I can feel myself ramping up. Fire is sliding along my veins. My clit is throbbing and needy and yes, desperate, but not more desperate than it’s ever been. I tease myself to new heights. I dip my fingers in my core again. I’m saturated with my juices. My need is spiraling higher. I want to make noise, to moan, to grunt, to beg.

I glance down quickly and see that although my hand is circling furiously, the movement can’t be seen from above the covers. The eye in the sky could never detect what’s going on.

My hand is moving faster, my knees are pressing into the bed as if I’m opening myself to Tyree, even though he’s two fucking feet and a million miles away.

Tyree. Now. I’m desperate.

Good girl, Grace. Slow down for a moment. Do it for me.

Oh, don’t ask that.

I am asking, Amara. Slow down. Keep touching yourself, but less pressure and slower.

I’m beginning to hate you.

Are you saying “red”?

No!

Are you touching yourself slower and softer?

Yes.

What a good girl you are. I will definitely allow you to come, but not right now. I can hear your breathing slow. Still desperate?

Yes.

More desperate than you’ve ever been?

No.

Good. Tell me, Grace. When we’re off this dracking planet and we’re alone in a bedroom, what are you willing to do to thank me for letting you come?

Anything.

Get creative, Amara. Make me an offer .

Anything you want, Tyree.

Whisper to me, inside your head, Miss Grace. I know you’re shy. Keep touching yourself and tell me what you would do for this explosive orgasm I’m going to allow you to have.

I want you to take me, Tyree. Anywhere you want, any way you want. I can’t be more specific than that. Please. Please, can I come?

You can touch yourself the way you were before. Harder and faster.

I’m going to die. Can a person die from being too horny? Oh my God. I want to come so badly I feel like I’m going to come apart.

Please, Tyree. Please. Please.

Yes, Grace. I want you to come. Now!

And just like that, as if my body is a puppet that can perform on command I come with an orgasm that feels like rolling thunder. It begins heavily in my pelvis; every muscle contracting at once, allowing instant relief from the buildup of arousal, yet ramping it up even more. I have absolutely no control over the deep moan that explodes out of me. Tyree begins a loud coughing fit. Even in my bliss I know he’s covering for me, not wanting our “hosts” to hear the intimate noises of my sexual release.

I continue to ride the waves of my convulsive peaking as he coughs loudly. My thigh muscles are quivering, still spasming. My inner muscles are clenching, wishing they had something to clamp down on. My jaw tightens. My eyes are pressed shut so tightly tears are squeezing from the corners of my eyes. It takes long moments of aftershocks to come down.

Oh my God, Tyree. Oh my God. Thank you.

Thank you, Grace. That felt amazing to me, too. I’ll be back in a minima .

I know why he’s going to the bathroom. I don’t blame him. How could he have lived through that and not want release for himself?

As he rises from his pallet, he tells me, I’m going to slip out of your thoughts, Amara. You go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep tight. Know that you are well and truly cared for.

Tyree

My first thoughts upon awakening are of Grace...and last night. Gods, she is so feminine, so responsive. She was so open to me last night. It felt as though the barriers she always erects disappeared and I slipped behind her defenses for the first time. She’s never revealed her true self to me like that before.

I don’t care if she’s not the truemate I would have found on Larian. She’s the mate I want. There will be no other female I could ever desire the way I want her.

After my Transformation, I worried if I’d ever become legitimately masculine, or if I’d forever be in the limbo of confusion about who I truly am. I’m not confused anymore. I’m male. I may not ever be able to fight in the gladiator ring or master the chainsticks, but what happened between Grace and me last night proved everything I need to know. I want to protect my female, I want to ease her fears, and I want to breach her, enter her, give her ecstasy. I’m all male—and I want to be her male.

Drackhead woke before I did. He is hard, insistent, throbbing. Just thinking about her incendiary release makes me want one of my own. Time for another shower, and then I need to find her some food.