The Safety of Nowhere Page 3

  That brought a new expression to his face, another survey of the room, this time with something that looked like anticipation.

  “Are you still hungry?”

  He shook his head, inclined his torso slightly. “Thank you for an excellent meal.”

  Eyeing his empty plate with satisfaction, Dinah put the food away and wondered what else she could do for him. She glanced toward the small bag in the corner. Maybe she should be a lady and give the man his clothes. But better yet…

  “How about a shower?”

  The offer captured his attention. “Are you coming with me?”

  Dinah dared a look at the smooth muscled limbs in front of her, imagining him wet and sudsy.

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  His only answer was a “what do you think?” lowering of brows.

  “Okay,” she said. “Let’s do it.”

  Dinah rose and led the way. She put her robe back on the hook and started the rain shower. Really it was just a tiled corner of the room with holes that spilled hot water from the ceiling. Whatever it was, it was wonderful; her second-favorite thing after the tub. Malcolm stepped under the stream immediately, sighing deeply with the pleasure. His eyes were closed, his back was turned, and Dinah used the time to get out of her clothes.

  She’d heard Bods found all women equally attractive. Hard to fathom, but all evidence said it was true. If any woman had left the Body House disappointed, it hadn’t made the news. Instead, all shapes and sizes came back looking like they’d spent a summer on Capri.

  For an Earth man’s taste, Dinah knew she wasn’t bad. A tomboy, sure, but she had big brown eyes, jiggly tits, long hair, smooth skin—plenty to attract a man. Too much if you factored in how little she wanted attention in this town. She stepped under the stream, and instantly he turned toward her, smiling with a very sensual appreciation.

  That frank admiration, combined with the sensation of the water, had Dinah’s skin rising in gooseflesh. Her nipples hardened to hypersensitized points. “Is it too hot?” she asked.

  “It’s good.”

  It was good. She’d always loved a tiny sting of heat when she was in the shower. Malcolm’s muscles bunched and twitched as he enjoyed the water. His proximity under the downpour had her teetering into a sensual red zone, his tempting skin a tide pulling her in. She wanted to molest him, stroke his cock, and help him work out any lingering trauma.

  “Let me wash your back,” she said. He turned without a word. Dinah lathered up her hands and ran them over his broad shoulders, working her way down to the base of his spine. She had to look to find the scars. Three small incisions, slightly paler than the rest of him. On a whim she pressed her face into them, kissed him there. He straightened and grew still, but Dinah didn’t stop. She pressed her fingers to the scar to hold the kiss in place.

  He tipped his head back, and she uncapped her shampoo. Backs were one thing, hair he could wash on his own, but if he didn’t mind her doing it, she wouldn’t stop—the feel of her own soapy hands along his skin was much too good. To reach his scalp, she had to rise on tiptoes, her pubis bouncing lightly on his buttocks. In time, she got it done, pausing only briefly when she felt the hard ridge on the left side of his head. They’d drilled a hole to let the swelling down. He might have died. How terrible would that have been?

  When he turned back to her, she saw he was aroused. His cock looked hardened to the nth degree, tensely swaying in an upward arc. The heat in his expression hit her like the bright lights of a train. Dinah stood there blinking, ready to be smashed to smithereens.

  He slid one arm behind her back; the other he hooked underneath her ass, and she was up against him, straddling his body. His skin was slippery and warm, his strength absolutely mesmerizing. And she was hugging him. Hugging him which felt as good as anything she’d ever done.

  “Tell me what you want.” He pressed his mouth against her ear, the whisper firm and coaxing. She’d noticed his voice earlier too, a low, faintly consoling sound she would love to get used to.

  As for what she wanted, Dinah felt a rush of images that had no words. “I thought you Bods knew everything instinctively without anyone telling you.”

  “We’re trained to observe well, it’s true.”

  “Observe me then.”

  His gaze ran down her body, and she felt it like a touch. “You want too many different things,” he said, a hint of pain in his expression. “You want to know I want you.” There he paused, brows quirking upward. “Ironic, since I can’t remember ever being closer to the edge.”

  Is that true? Something in his eyes made her heart beat so fast she had to dip her chin to keep air moving through her tightening throat.

  “You want to love me back to health and be consumed by me and torture me and come until you faint. Five thousand different things, and I’m not at my best, so try to focus if you can.”

  Dinah would have laughed, or even clapped if she could breathe. It was a pretty accurate description and convincing proof that Bods were truly physiopathic—like telepathic except they read bodies and not thoughts. At least one thing she’d read had turned out to be true. It made her wonder what else a Backusian male could do. “Maybe we should start with you,” she said. “Don’t you want anything?”

  “I want everything.” His arms tightened around her. She believed him. He was leering quite convincingly. “Just tell me where to start.”

  “Here.” She kissed him, and the touch of his tongue made her too hungry to care about the items on the menu—any kind of sex would hit the spot. He pressed her back against the heated tiles, and she ran her palms over the muscles in his shoulders. Poor man. Thrilling man. His body was both hard and soft, dipping, swelling into sexy patterns. He pressed his head into her neck and licked along her collarbone until she writhed and wanted and then…it was happening again. Too much.

  Dinah’s heart was racing so fast that she couldn’t catch her breath. Feeling took a vicious turn inside her until all her senses flew out of control. When the panic reached her throat, she pushed at him to let her go.

  He did so almost instantly, taking great care to return her to her feet. She quickly turned her face and body from him, palms and forehead pressed against the tiles while she fought to calm herself.

  “Easy,” he said softly. “You’ll be fine. Just close your eyes and let it pass.” He hooked two of his fingers under hers. That tiny bit of contact helped so much she calmed enough to look at him.

  “Shit.” His huge erection was deflating. Dinah almost cried. This shouldn’t still be happening. She’d been married. She was thirty now.

  His fingers hooked a little tighter, tugged against her hand. “Tell me what went wrong.”

  She rolled her eyes at her bad luck, at life. “My body has some weird sexual glitch. I get turned on, and things go whoosh. Way too much stimulation all at once. Then I just can’t handle it. I want to, but I can’t. It’s like trying to make toast in a forest fire, if that makes any sense. Just give me a second to settle down.”

  It would take more than a second. It would take some drinks and total darkness. That, or they could power through and hope she didn’t faint or pop a vein. Or else…she looked at him.

  “Do you ever play games?” That was just her lead-in. She figured she would have to tell him what she meant by that.

  But she’d been wrong. Malcolm understood. She saw it in the slow spread of his lips, the speculative lowering of his lids. He nodded thoughtfully and leaned back on his heels.

  “A game,” he said. “Why not?”

  Chapter Three

  “It’s a sex game.”

  “I thought it might be.”

  Dinah felt him watching as she plucked the items off Cy’s chest, piling them haphazardly beside her: penknife, school picture, the tiny ship he’d built. When she could, she opened up the trunk and looked inside. Loveplay. There it was. Dinah plucked the pink box from amid her other keepsakes and handed it to Malcolm. “Here
.”

  He took the offering, lifted the top off the box, and peered at all the objects Dinah knew by heart: a box of role-play cards, some naughty dice, a spinner with cartoons of sexual positions on it. A tacky heart-shaped blindfold and a bright red paddle. Would he think it was lame?

  She hoped not. Or rather, since it was completely lame, she hoped he’d be okay with that. Loveplay always occupied her mind enough to keep her body relatively stable.

  Last chance for sex. No pressure though. Dinah wanted very much to pull out of her sexual nosedive. To save face, sure. But also to get laid. It was cruel to wave sex with a hot alien in someone’s face and snatch it back again because it hurt. There was a painful tightening between her legs. The kind that meant she’d soon be ultrawet and sensitive as hell. He hadn’t even touched her pussy. Maybe when he did, she’d close down on him like a trap.

  He, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. Unworried and unhurried. In control.

  He opened up the box of cards and picked one, blue eyes flickering as he read.

  “What does it say?” She took a step toward him, and he shared the contents with her.

  “An alien from outer space is staying at your home to learn about sex practices on Earth. Teach the visitor a lesson.”

  “You’re kidding,” Dinah said.

  He handed her the card and smiled. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

  “I’m the alien?” Seriously?

  Malcolm shrugged and said, “It’s my card.” Which it was. He sauntered to the center of the largest empty space she had, midway between bed and bathroom door. “Come here.” He pointed to the floor a foot in front of him, a touch of the villain in his eyes.

  Dinah thought this over. He was naked. Still completely gorgeous. She was in her robe again, with wet hair that was going to dry funny. Not a very glamorous playmate, but if he was okay with it, so was she. Slowly, she moved forward, facing him.

  “I understand you’re here to learn how people fuck on earth. Is that correct?” He folded his arms on his chest and gave her an assessing look. Not disappointed. Not impressed. At least that’s what she gathered from his slightly bored expression.

  “Yes,” said Dinah. What should her persona be? Robot? Rebel? Frightened bunny? Her natural reaction to his words and posture veered toward the latter, which was odd. But it was also fun.

  “Very well,” he said. “Get on your knees.”

  She blinked at him. He pointed coldly at the floor.

  Dinah knelt, but she didn’t know why. Unless a dude was basing his ideas on the crude digital porn they churned out at the start of the twenty-first century, this was not the way people fucked on earth. Malcolm pinched her chin between two fingers. He pressed his thumb against her mouth. “Open up.”

  She clamped her teeth shut, narrowing her eyes.

  “Tsk-tsk.” He wagged his finger in her face. “The woman does as she’s instructed. This is the central and most vital principle to sex on Earth. You’re about to learn that lesson well.”

  Outrageous. He was cheating like a bastard. Why bother picking cards if everything translated to a blowjob? His cock was rising right in front of her, and that distracted her from her objections. It was a good cock, and she wanted very much to suck it.

  Dinah shifted, spreading her knees slightly. Her pussy definitely wanted to comply. The rest of her was bristling. Or was that tingling? The whole thing was depraved, and it made her very hot.

  “Open up.” This time she let him force his thumb between her lips. He threaded his other hand through her hair and tugged. Dinah’s nipples tightened at the violation.

  “Now you suck.“ She looked at him, amazed. How had the man from breakfast become this? He was toying with her like he had the whole world in his clutches, exuding so much power Dinah’s subjugation barely registered in his hard eyes.

  “Don’t worry.” Malcolm voice too had gone deadly sweet. “I intend to show you what I’m after. For the moment, just relax and let yourself be used.”

  She did it. She relaxed and opened wide. He pushed the head of his cock past her lips and slipped it out again. He gave her just the tip for quite some time. Then it was three inches, then a little more. He kept the movements slow and shallow, almost nice—what one might call a gentlemanly face fuck.

  And it was good. Luxuriously good. He smelled like soap. The sharp taste of crushed rose petals layered over flesh. It made her hungry for the flavors lingering underneath. With her throat growing hot, she ran her tongue along his length and sucked.

  “Relax, I said.” He stopped her, pulling at her hair. When she’d gone still he moved his palms to her cheeks, forcing her to look into his eyes. “Don’t get clever. You’re the mouth I’m fucking. Nothing more.”

  Nothing more except a wet and trembling cunt, a psyche reeling at the way she was reacting to the game. He pushed his cock in deeper. She tensed a fraction at the thought of being gagged.

  “Open up,” he ordered. “Like you’re yawning. Ah.” He pulled her head back, showed her what he wanted. Then in and out again, a little deeper every time until she felt his flexing stomach muscles on her forehead and his cockhead down her throat so deep it brought tears to her eyes. He was rough with her, his movements jagged and uncaring, which she liked. Why did she like it?

  “Suck,” he said. “You clearly have a taste for cock, so use your tongue and hollow out those cheeks.”

  Dinah complied. She wanted to comply. He held her hair back from her face and leaned away to watch her service him. She sucked him eagerly and with abandon, let him feel the slip of her saliva and the faintest scrape of teeth.

  Minutes passed in silent domination as he fucked her mouth, a steady sawing motion that was severing her ties with the rest of the world. It went on till her jaw ached and she fought for breath, the wood floor hard and cold on her bare knees. When she’d lost track of everything—herself, her world—he pulled out of her mouth and came.

  Hot semen hit her cheek and chin. She opened wide and caught some of his silky fluid on the tip of her distended tongue. Dinah wiped the residue of his orgasm from her chin onto his stomach and licked the tangy essence off his rippling skin.

  That accomplished, she looked up at him and held him in a long, unwavering stare. “You cheat.”

  His gaze met hers, unfaltering. “I play to win.”

  Dinah turned away from him and crawled onto the bed, pulling her robe around her. She was cold and shaky and undone by how hot that had been. He’d debased her, hadn’t he? But if it turned her on and left her shaking with a soaking pussy and an all-consuming need to fuck, how debasing could it really be? She liked being nothing but a mouth. She wished he would make her nothing but a cunt and fuck her hard and make her come without pausing to care or notice if and when she did.

  “It’s your turn.” He held out the box. She sat up long enough to pick a card and read it to herself.

  “What is it?”

  Dinah handed over the lackluster draw and centered herself on the bed.

  “Sleeping beauty?” He looked puzzled. No such fairy tale on Backus, obviously. “A witch has cast a spell on your beloved,” he murmured to himself. “Only a true lover’s kiss can bring her back to life.”

  She nodded. That was clear enough. Suddenly she liked the card. At least it would be easy for her. The lingering taste of cum and her humiliation had her intoxicated and lethargic, weighted down. Sunshine wheedled its way in through the gaps in the shades. Fairy tales and golden shards of sparkling light were a good mix. Dinah chucked the robe and lay down on the bed, settling back into her princess-style coma.

  Malcolm sat. For several minutes she could feel him hovering over her, doing nothing. He’d fit one hand into the curve between her waist and hip. His touch was light, and after several minutes the warm contact became agonizing and she had to work to keep from moving into it. Finally he stroked over her hip down to her thigh. Again the hovering presence. The long and agonizing pause.

 
; “I’m told a lover’s kiss will bring you life,” he whispered. “Where shall I kiss you, do you think?” He laid his hand against her cheek and brushed his thumb along her lips. She wanted very much to feel his mouth on hers, his breath, the wetness of his tongue. It didn’t happen. Malcolm slid his hand down to the tightening tip of her right breast and pulled up lightly with his thumb and forefinger. “I could kiss you here.” The gentle plucking motion felt so good she almost lost control and started writhing.

  Suddenly he slid two fingers into the wet slit between her legs. She’d never heard her pussy make a sound before, but that’s how wet she was, enough to splash around the smooth intrusion. “This is very moist and swollen, considering you’re in a coma. Are you having a nice dream?” He stroked with two thick fingers, deep, slow strokes from cunt to clit. “Should I kiss you here?” he asked.

  Yes. God yes.

  She kept her legs completely limp and let him push them open into a wide sprawl. He repositioned himself slowly. More pausing. Never any hurry. When he’d fit himself between her legs, he pulled her pussy lips open with one hand. “You’ve a very pretty cunt.” He blew against her clit, then turned his head and nibbled on her thigh. The teasing went on until all of her wanted him equally—every inch of flesh she had was vibrating toward him. “I’ll bet you’re very tasty too.” He licked into her a few times, drawing back to confirm, “I was right.”

  And there it was, her lover’s kiss.

  Thank God, because all of Dinah was awake. Eyes wide open. Legs opening wider. She was blinded by sunshine and the feel of his inventive tongue between her thighs.

  He licked in long, unwavering strokes, and when she twitched and sighed, he stopped to nibble at her outer lips and work his fingers deep inside. He brought her up into an airless lift of pleasure and somehow kept her there until she quivered, pressing closer to his mouth, and finally ground against him, moaning, begging. He obliged her with slow, steady licks. Both of them expanded into her orgasm when it came, he moaning his encouragement; she uttering soft, ecstatic cries. Together they rocked with the force of it, rustling the sheets.