Page 39 of Clonely You

Oh. That shouldn’t surprise me, but somehow it does. It makes sense given his innocence, yet somehow it didn’t occur to me that the a’ani were a race of only male clones. How very…sad. “I didn’t realize.”

He shrugs and reaches for me, his hands skimming down my arms as he looks me over. “Some a’ani only love other males because those are the bodies they are familiar with and appreciate, but kef me, I love all your differences.” His gaze goes to my breasts, his lips parting and his expression hazy before he catches himself. “I want to explore all of you with my mouth. I want to bury my face in all this soft-looking skin of yours and just lose myself.”

I chuckle, relieved that he is so enamored. My body isn’t perfect—I could pick apart my flaws—but I love that he’s enthused. I’ll ignore the dimples in my thighs and the stretch marks and just appreciate myself for the goddess I am. I run my fingers lightly over the pointed tip of one bright red ear. “You’re welcome to plant your face anywhere and everywhere. You sure you want me tied up?”

His gaze flicks up to mine. “Oh yes. I remember our word, too. I think if we do not use the ties, you’ll take charge and I truly want to pleasure you, my everything.”

He’s ridiculous with the nicknames.

I…love them, though. I cross my arms dramatically over my wrists. “All right, then. How do you want me?”

Aithar jumps to his feet, all purpose, and I take a quick step back. A moment later, he steers me toward the bed, and I sit down on the edge while he retrieves the rope we’d left on the other side of the room. I lift my feet and pose myself on the bed, arms above my head and my thighs together and angled slightly to the side so I don’t look like a body on a slab. I’m sure I’m overthinking my posture, but considering I’ve overthought everything up to this point, it seems like typical Michaela.

My alien boyfriend sits down on the edge of the bed again and laces the rope through the metal slats of my headboard, and I notice his hands are shaking. That show of his nerves makes me lose some of the frantic edge on my thoughts. “You know I’m anxious, right?”

He looks up at me, his lips quirking in a sheepish grin. “You do not need to fear anything in my hands, my succulent human. I will take good care of you.”

“I know you will. I’m still anxious, though. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with any man. And this is different than our playing.”

His fingers move over the ropes, gently looping one over my wrist and then the other. His actions are so careful, so precise. He’s doing his best to ensure that I always remain comfortable. “It is very different than our ‘playing,’ as you call it. After today, if you still wish to see more of me, I would like for us to not call it ‘playing’ or ‘fooling.’ To me it is no play or foolishness. It is me adoring my mate. It is me pleasuring her. I would not downplay it for anything.”

I hadn’t realized my choice of words bothered him, but it’s clear from his somber tone that he’s thought about this a lot. “All right,” I say softly. “If we go through with this and we still want to look each other in the eye, we’ll rethink our relationship.”

“You will rethink,” he corrects, his tone sweet. “I have said from day one that I am madly in love with you.” His handsmooths over the ropes and I realize he’s knotted them while we’ve been talking. “Give it a tug?”

I do as he asks, testing the makeshift bonds. “They seem fine.”

“And you cannot move your hands?”

I shake my head.

“Not even if I do this?” He glides his knuckles along the inside of my arm, watching my face.

I squirm, suddenly ticklish. “Still trapped.”

“Or this?” He boldly caresses one breast and strokes his thumb over the tip, and fire shoots right to my belly.

Breath explodes out of me, and I shake my head.

“And you remember our word?”

“Buttermilk,” I whisper.

“And you’re mine? And you’ll let me take control and give you all the pleasure you deserve?” His eyes are heated and intense as he continues to cup my breast, his thumb moving back and forth over my now-stiff nipple.

I manage a shaky nod.

“Good, because I’m going to touch you all over until you come.”

“You should know I’m nervous, and if I’m nervous, it makes it that much harder for me to orgasm.”

“I’m not worried.”

Well, that makes one of us. I just don’t want to disappoint him. It’s our first time together like this and if he can’t make me come, I could shatter his ego. It could destroy any intimacy we have.

No pressure.

“You’re thinking too much,” he tells me, moving in close so he can lightly kiss my lips. “Stop it. Just enjoy yourself.”

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