“No,” she says with a laugh. “I’m a bit of a nomad.”
“I don’t mind that.”
“You don’t mind that I’m a nomad? Why should you mind that?”
“I don’t know.”
She shakes her head at me and surges ahead.
I have to hurry to keep pace with her.
We reach the top, and not thirty seconds later, there's a loud whirring sound. A plane flies by real close, too close, and I flinch and duck down. Isabella doesn't pay me any attention, her eyes fixed on the plane. It comes back around for a second pass, and then, on the third pass, Isabella bends her knees and jumps.
She fucking jumps onto one of the wings of the plane. She walks across to the other wing and then jumps down a considerable distance.
Fuck me. What a daredevil! What a woman!
I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve meeting her, but I am so utterly captivated by everything that is Isabella that I’m going to go out of my ovian mind.
This is my punishment, I realize. Because Father knew what he was doing when he sent me here.
He wanted to give me a taste of freedom. He might even want me to find a woman to care about, to even possibly fall in love with. So far, Father hasn't kept any loving, happy couples apart.
With me, he will. He’ll make an exception. He’ll assign me to a certain woman, and he’ll force us to have sex, to be together for the rest of our lives. If he finds out that I’m unfaithful to her, he’ll have me killed.
In that moment of perfect clarity, I hate my Father. I hate him with every fiber of my being because I know him. I'm certain this is what he wants to do to me, and I can't have this. I won't have this.
Which means that no matter what happens, I can’t fall in love with Isabella or any other woman here.
My cock might already love her, though.
Fuck me. What am I going to do?
The plane is flying away now, and I watch after it, wishing it would come back, wanting to jump onto the wings as she had, wanting to hold onto the wings and let the plane fly me away from here.
I'm ruined. She ruined me. Somehow, a chance encounter has ruined me, and I'm done. Father's well on the way to winning because I know that if I stick around with Isabella long enough, I'll fall for her hard. I'll love her. Her personality meshes with mine. She's fun-loving and daring, and she knows how to make my cock happy.
Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me sideways.
Isabella turns over her shoulder and stares up at me, her dark eyes shining brightly. Now, her cheeks are flushed, enhancing her beauty. She’s thrilled by what she just did, and it’s not hard to know why. There’s a rush that comes from doing something dangerous, and it’s intoxicating.
She’s intoxicating.
Ovian. I’m so ovian fucked.
6
Isabella
Harrison gave me the time and place and the date, but he didn’t think I would be here. He didn’t think I would have the guts, and then when I told him that I signed up to do the military training session, he assumed I wouldn’t be there even more because he thought I was a shoo-in.
Yeah, well, I fucked that up, but I wasn’t going to fuck up this.
When Strol arrived and we had that marathon sex romp, I made sure to pay at least some attention to the time. I knew it was a bit of a risk to cook the meat, but I don’t prefer to eat anything raw except for fish. I like my meat hot, thank you very much, and yes, Kurian heat is perfect, thanks for asking.
Because of the military training session, I was afraid Harrison would change his mind and not take the detour, but he’s a good friend of mine, and he’s the one who dared me to attempt the feat in the first place. He told me to wait until the third pass, and I did, and when I jumped, time stood still. I thought I was flying. My feet land on the wing, and I race to the other wing and jump again.
Now, I’m really flying.
When I land, I just stand there, amazed at what I did. The rush that overwhelms me brings a tear to my eye, and I’m grateful that my back is to Strol. I wipe the tear away, and I regain my composure.
I turn around and stare up at the Kurian. He’s looking back down at me, and his expression is one of shock and admiration.
It’s an image I want to sear into my memory because no one has ever looked at me like that before. Most everyone I know thinks I’m crazy. They don’t understand me, and I don’t have it in me to break myself down into pieces that they can understand. I’m me, and if people can’t accept me for who I am, that’s their problem.
Already, I’m beginning to suspect that Strol isn’t like most. He’s cocky, to be sure, but I like cocky, even more so because I think I can put him into place if need be, but I’m not sure there will be a need for me to.
What the hell am I thinking? I already told him I’m a nomad, and even though he said he’s fine with that, what does that even mean? I’m not inviting him into my life. I didn’t even invite him into my bed. We used Mother Nature as our bed, and I still feel like I need to brush more dirt and pebbles from my back. I’ll probably be all black and bruised and have rug burns from sliding up and down on the terrain here from our session.
Yes, I know I don’t have a bed, so I couldn’t invite him into my bed, but that doesn’t change anything. He’s not to be in my bed.
Why not? There have
