“Exactly. Malik needed you to help him break free. Trust me on that.” Zara’s stomach rumbled loudly, breaking into our conversation as if there was some kind of wild animal in the room with us.
She blushed, as if that was the most scandalous thing about her body. Or, perhaps, because she did not want me to infer anything about her needs from her last comment.
While I wanted to remain abed and fuck her back into exhaustion, Zara required food. So did I for what I wished to do to her. I also didn’t wish to speak further of my family troubles.
I pushed back the covers, climbed from the bed. “Come, I shall feed you.” I went to a closet where I knew the customary Trion clothing I’d left behind was freshly laundered and orderly. I tugged on a pair of loose pants and was tying the string at the waist when Zara appeared in the doorway. Naked save for the rings in her nipples, the chain between them and the small bar in her navel.
My cock tented my pants, and Zara’s eyes as she watched it happen didn’t help. I growled, randomly grabbed a shirt and tossed it at her. “Your body is a taunt, gara. However, your hunger must be satiated first.”
“You’ll fuck me after I’ve been fed then?” she asked, her head lost beneath the fabric as she put it on. It hung loosely on her and almost to her knees, covering her with more modesty than most Trion dresses. The outline of her nipples, the rings and chain couldn’t be missed.
Fark.
“Come,” I said, leading her downstairs and to the kitchen. It was vast, with stone floors, large counter surfaces and the most technologically advanced cooking equipment.
She stood and stared. “I thought you only used that weird machine.”
I went to the food storage, opened the door. Filled with prepared meals. I had to hope that whomever replenished it ate what would have otherwise spoiled. “That is in space. Here on Trion, there are kitchens. Food is cooked.”
“By you or a chef?” she wondered.
I looked at her around the door frame. “A chef, of course. What rich person cooks?” I asked, my words so laced with sarcasm she couldn’t miss it.
“Got it,” she said, looking away. “I’ll stop poking the bear.”
I frowned, not sure what that meant. “There are many meal options to choose from. Shall I choose a variety for you to try?”
“Yes, please.”
I took various items and placed them on the table then retrieved serving utensils and glasses of water to drink.
I directed her to sit then settled myself across from her.
She touched a container, pulled her hand back. “It’s warm. I expected it to be chilled.”
I tipped my head toward the food storage. “It is cold within; however, the container begins to warm it once it is removed. I trust they will be all heated appropriately by now.”
Taking off the lids of each, she peeked at the food, then tasted a little bit of each. I watched her as she ate, quickly learning the Trion foods she liked and the ones she truly enjoyed. I ate my favorite dish, one I hadn’t had since I’d been on-planet last. We didn’t speak other than when I pointed out what she was eating, how it was cooked, and the spices involved. When she was full, she set her cutlery down, wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“I think I’m going to like Trion food. Perhaps that was why I was matched to the planet.” Her smile was bright and her eyes alive with teasing. She was fed and rested and… not her usual feisty self. Although this was the first time she was either fed or rested as well as not in danger.
“That is not the only reason. Trion culture satisfies your other cravings as well.”
My cock stirred again at the idea of spreading her out across the table and tasting her. There was time. We had yet to hear from Zenos although with the way time bended between Trion and other places in the universe, I expected it anytime.
“What other cravings?”
So she chose to be coy. She had not been so reserved while riding my cock. “Your need to surrender, to feel safe. To let go. You hunger to be conquered, gara.”
Zara blushed, bit her lip. “No. It wasn’t like that. I’m not like that.”
I arched a brow. “Really? Then it wasn’t your pussy that dripped at my command?”
Her mouth opened, and she stared at me wide eyed. As if while she was brutally honest and straightforward with many things, her sexuality was not one of them. I crooked my finger, beckoning her to me. She swallowed hard but stood and came around the table.
I turned and parted my knees, so she could stand between. “Gara—”
“Zara,” she countered.
“No one has called you an endearment before? Is that why you are so against it?”
She pursed her lips. “An endearment means there is a connection, something special between two people. We don’t have that.”
I stifled a smile, for I knew she’d perhaps knee me in the balls for it. She was good at denying herself, at avoiding what was right in front of her. Me. Of this… chemistry we had.
“Zara, gara, you do not feel the connection?” I set my hands on her thighs, slid the soft fabric of the shirt she wore--my shirt--up. Higher and higher.
She didn’t move. Fark, she didn’t even breathe. She could step back at any time, but she didn’t. My touch was something she wanted, the anticipation of what I’d do next was something she craved.
The air was still, the sun warm through the windows. The house was silent except for our breathing. No one was chasing us. No one was shooting at us. No one needed us. We were free to explore what this was between us.
I cupped her pussy, felt her desire. Her heat. She startled but didn’t move away. Her eyes flared. “Do you know what
