Page 38 of Clonely You

“I’m going to tie your hands to the bed so you cannot lead as we touch. All you can do is enjoy.” His eyes are heated, even as he searches my face. “Is this acceptable?”

I stare at it, wondering how my sweet Aithar has gone from kissing to tying me up so quickly. Did someone else give him this idea? Or did he come up with this on his own because I made him immobilize his hands when we fooled around that first time? Is this just a turnabout? “Rope, huh?”

He nods. “The softest I could find. If you are afraid of the rope, we do not have to use it?—”

“I’m not afraid,” I interrupt. “Just surprised me, that’s all.”

His smile grows broader. “You are bossy when we are affectionate. I wanted to ensure that I could make this about you and not have you turn it around upon me.”

“You think I would do that?” I scoff, teasing. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“It sounds exactly like you, my delightful dairymaid.” He jiggles the handful of rope at me. “I know you well. But I also want this to be pleasurable for you and if tying you up fills you with fear, then we will not.”

He thinks tying me up makes me afraid? Oh, this darling, innocent man. “It’s not fear I’m feeling right now, babe. Ropes are…exciting.” Just thinking about being tied down and utterly helpless while Aithar ravishes me is making my pulse throb directly between my thighs. “As long as we have a safe word, that is. A word we can say and we will both stop immediately, no questions asked.”

Aithar nods. “Very wise. I think that is an excellent idea. What word shall we use? ‘Stop’?”

I take one of the ends of the rope in my hand and stroke it. Like he said, it’s soft against the skin, but sturdy. It’s good for this kind of thing. “Humans pick an absurd word so when you hear it in the middle of a heated moment, it stands out more. How about ‘buttermilk’?”

He snorts, amusement written across his broad features. “Thinking of buttermilk will indeed make me pause. Just imagining humans drinking it makes my appetite curdle.”

“Okay then,” I breathe, clasping my hands in my lap. I’m both nervous and aroused at the same time. “Let’s do this.”

Aithar stares at me, hard, and makes a little growling sound in his throat that surprises me. “Hearing you say that makes me want to kiss you all over right now, but I will save that for inside. Once the ropes are on and you cannot put your hands on me and sweetly demand that you work my cock instead.”

“That doesn’t sound like me at all,” I say, breathless. It’s exactly what I do. It’s exactly my playbook for this last month. But it’s not my fault he’s so delightful to play with. I just love seeing his expression when I drive him to the edge.

He opens the door to the air-sled and hops out, jogging over to my side to get my door for me. It takes me a moment to realize that yes, we’re truly doing this. We’re going inside to have sex, and I’m not going to be able to put my hands on him for the first time since we’ve met. A nervous, excited quiver starts in my belly.

I barely notice the mess in my living room or in the kitchen as we race inside together, hand in hand. It’s harder for me to ignore the hastily discarded clothing tossed onto my bed from when I dressed earlier today to go out. My bed isn’t made, so it doesn’t hurt too much when Aithar rips the messy covers away and tosses them onto the floor. In fact, it makes me hot.

For some reason, I find that incredibly sexy.

“Lie down,” he commands, in a very un-Aithar tone.

Another erotic little shiver ripples through me. “Shouldn’t I get undressed first? Take my shoes off?”

“Then undress for me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, the rope in one hand, and gestures at me with the other. “I will watch.”

It’s nothing I haven’t said to him before. Haven’t I cooed at him as I rubbed the milker (our favorite sex toy) all over his bright red, bare chest? Haven’t I teased him over every inch of his tattooed body and admired every pore? But it’s turned around this time and this is his first time seeing me naked. And while I’ve seen several men naked—both alien and human—this is probably the first time he’s seeing a woman naked, if he’s as sheltered as he’s indicated.

I’m confident in my body, but I’m also certain that I probably look different than most other alien females. Humans tend to beshorter, and our bodies aren’t as lean. My thighs are thick and rounded and my tits, while not huge, are perky and prominent. I’ve seen the blue alien women—the mesakkah—and they are as elegant as they are lean and lithe.

It occurs to me to point out the differences in my body from those women, but after a moment’s hesitation, I change my mind. I’m not apologizing for who I am. I throw my head back and straighten my shoulders, toying with the auto-fastener at my belt. I’m wearing a serviceable tunic-dress yoked at the waist, so there’s not much to take off. “Have you seen a lot of naked women, Aithar?”

“Never.” He rubs his hands on his thighs, his eyes bright as he watches me. “I am very enthusiastic about seeing one now, though.”

I undo my belt and toss it aside and kick off my shoes. They’re little more than hard-soled slippers, made for walking instead of farm work, and for a moment I wish I had some sexy high heels to make my legs look long and appealing. Ah well. I slip off my dress before I can think too hard about it, leaving me only in my bra and panties. They’re functional instead of sexy, and both are worn as they’re not garments typically made by aliens for their slender women. There’s a dressmaker here in town and you have to request them from her, and she’s always in high demand, so I wear mine until they’re falling off. I carefully remove the last of my garments and fold them, then stand in front of Aithar in all my naked glory.

The grin on his face has faded, replaced by a more solemn expression. As I gaze at him, he rubs his mouth.

“Good?” I ask, hoping for some sort of comment. Not that I want to hear “you have love handles” or anything like that, but a response ofsomekind would be nice.

“Very good,” he manages after a moment, and clears his throat. “You are…stunning. Your legs, your skin, your curves, all of it. Just…stunning.”

I stand a little taller at that and take a step toward him. “Do I look like the women of your kind?”

“There are no a’ani women. Only males are cloned because we are considered sturdier workers.”

---