Page 27 of When She's Handy

I love that just watching her move around the room is enough to get my cock hard and aching for her, yet she was fine with us taking the time to wait.

No more waiting. She’s mine now. I put my hands on her hips and drag her down, pressing up as she does. She gasps, the movement seating me deep into her. I lift her up and then pull her back down on my cock once more. I take control of her movements, using her body and working her over my cock. She moans, her head falling forward as I shuttle into her. I can feel the tension in her frame, the tremble of her body as she builds toward her next climax. I slide her forward so my spur moves against her clit when I pull her down, and her cries become as frantic as I feel.

This time, when I come inside her, it feels like a claiming.

I hold her tight, my arms locking around her as we both struggle for breath. “Forever, Melody.”

CHAPTER

SIXTEEN

MELODY

I wake up the next morning and roll over in bed, reaching for Brux.

He’s not there.

I should have known it the moment I awoke, because my bed is narrow and his big body wasn’t taking up the majority of the space. There’s too much room for my limbs here without him. Even so, I touch the far side of the bed and it’s cold, and panic sets in.

He’s gone. He left me again.

A dish clanks in my kitchen, loud. There’s a quiet curse, and I roll over to see Brux moving around at the counter, his tail swaying ever so slightly as he stirs something.

He glances back at me, and his face falls. “Did I wake you? I was trying to make breakfast noodles.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him, and I can breathe again.

EPILOGUE

Months later

BRUX

“Here, take this with you,” my mate says as she rushes to my side. “I just made it.”

I watch, amused, as she loops a narrow belt over my thicker one that carries my tools. On the belt is a slender canister in a holster, her latest “creation” that she’s made for me. This is in addition to the jacket with the heating elements in it that she made so I don’t “freeze” as I do my rounds of the space port’s many docks.

“What’s this?” I ask, patient as she tinkers with the fit. Melody’s way to show she cares is to make you things. Things that you don’t necessarily need, but she likes to anticipate those needs for “just in case.” “Some sort of weapon?”

She scoffs. “It’s a drink container. It keeps your tea hot all day. I already filled it for you.”

“And why do I need that?” It’s adorable how she fusses.

“Because it’s cold outside and I don’t like that you have to walk around in the chill. And because I wanted to see if I could make one and I did. I also have a toaster that I need you to deliver for me, please. Can you stop by the boarding house and give it to a woman named Janet?”

“Janet,” I repeat, even as my mate races back to the far side of our house to get the toaster she’d worked on just last night. Well, until I’d distracted her with touches. She finished it this morning while I made breakfast.

Our new house is one of the tiny homesteads that dot the surrounding area of Port. Melody had initially declined getting a farm because she didn’t like the thought of taking care of animals and she doesn’t care to farm. Once we got together, however, her room in the boarding house felt too small for longer-term living. Now we’re on a farm with a refurbished air-sled. We’re a brief hop from town on the air sled, but when Melody goes into town, I take one of the bicycles and let her use the sled for hauling scrap. Our fields are nothing but grass, and if I look out the window, I’ll see the neighbor’s meat-stock grazing on our land. The woman who lives nearby pays us a stipend to let her stock use our fields, and it pays for our necessities.

Melody rushes forward with the toaster in hand, wrapped in a square of thick plas. She says it’s like a “present” when you wrap it up, and does so every time. She hands it over to me. “Who are you delivering this to?”

“Janet. Boarding house.”

She beams at me and reaches up to pat my cheek. “Perfect. And if you run into Eliza, tell her I’m still working on her commission. Don’t let her nag you.”

“I’ll be sure and scowl at her.”

“No you won’t. You’re too sweet.”

---