Page 8 of His Little Sapphire

I stiffen at the mention of another man as I pull her long tresses out of the water to drape over the counter and lean her neck against the edge of the basin. “Who’s Zack?” I growl, wishing I didn’t sound quite so jealous.

I’m picturing a boyfriend, or shit, a husband. What if she’s married? I know the club doesn’t permit entrance to married females who simply want to catch a glimpse of one of us. It’s too risky.

The arrangement we have with several governing bodies on Earth doesn’t allow us to swoop in and take unwilling mates. It’s the reason we aren’t permitted to leave the club and every guest is vetted and signs a release when they enter.

But my Little girl isn’t a guest. She was here to clean the building after hours. The reminder makes me cringe inside. She won’t ever be cleaning anything again.

The poor little thing is exhausted. Her nails are chipped and ragged. Her eyes are sunk with dark circles under them. She has small bruises all over from working so hard.

Christine is still covering as much of herself as she can while she blinks at me. “The club manager. I promised him I wouldn’t let anyone see me. I swore I would be able to work for him without fear of being chosen, leaving him without a cleaning staff.”

Ah right. Zack. I’ve met him several times. My jealously prevented me from remembering the manager’s name. Nevertheless, I still have a concern. “Is Zack your husband?”

Her eyes widen again, and she gasps. “Goodness no. He’s my boss. He would never date someone like me.”

I lift both my brows as I reach for the body wash. “What does that mean, Little one?” I start with her neck, rubbing my fingers over her skin with what I hope is enough pressure to help calm her but not too much to make her wince.

My sweet Little girl sighs, her eyes closing partly. She likes my touch. She hasn’t answered me though. No matter how much education we receive about the way of humans, there are subtleties we can’t possibly learn ahead of our arrival.

“Tell Papi what you mean,” I encourage.

She looks at me as I switch to washing her small feet. I’m mesmerized by every inch of her, even the parts she’s trying so hard to conceal. She’s so much smaller than I imagined. Granted, even by human standards, I know she’s smaller than average, but no matter who I had ended up claiming, they would have been dwarfed by me.

“What doesPapimean?” she asks, still ignoring my question.

“It’s what Little girls call their mates on my planet. It’s a term of endearment. I think that’s what you call it on Earth.” I finish with her feet and ease my hand up her leg, gripping her knee when I reach it as I meet her gaze again. “Answer my questions, Baby girl.”

She frowns. “About Zack?”

“Yes. Stop avoiding me. Why wouldn’t Zack claim you if he wanted?”

She frowns deeper. “For one thing, men don’tclaimwomen on Earth, Strogan.”

“Papi,” I correct her.

She bites her lip and stares at me before releasing it and continuing, “It’s kind of barbaric. We have free will on Earth. We choose who we want to be with.” She licks her lips. “I mean most of us do.”

I nod. I’m aware of this. Human males don’t have the help of a quill to guide their intended mate and force her to accept his will. It’s odd to me. No wonder humans fail to maintain their commitments. They have no permanent bonds. I feel sorry for them.

I release her knee and reach for one of her hands, tugging it from her breast to lift it to my lips.

She stares at me, mouth open, eyes wide, pulse racing as I suckle her middle finger, twirl my tongue around it, and hold it captive to pierce it slightly deeper than earlier. This time, I let a different substance enter her body. Not just the bonding serum. Not just the sedative. I give her a dose of aphrodisiac to help guide her into accepting and craving my touch.

She gasps. “Papi…” That word is musical coming from her lips, and my cock hardens. I can’t believe I’ve found my soulmate. I can’t believe she’s here in my arms, naked in my apartment, looking at me with wide eyes.

Even though her pussy is under the water and her thighs are clenched tight, I can smell her essence, her arousal. I love that she didn’t try too hard to tug her hand out of my grasp. So much so that I quickly switch fingers, hold her gaze, and suckle her pointer next.

She never looks away. She watches me as I flick my tongue over the tip in a suggestive way, wanting more than anything to do the same to the tight little rosebuds she’s trying so hard to conceal and the little nub I know is between her legs.

Her lips part, and she pants, squirming. “Why do you keep doing that?” she murmurs.

I smile. “It binds you to me, Baby girl.”

She wiggles. “I feel weird.”

“That’s normal. You’ll get used to it.” I lift her arm over her head, grasping it with my other hand.

She gasps and whimpers, arching her chest delightfully, water splashing over the sides of the basin. I don’t care about the mess. I love watching her succumb to me.

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