Willing to slit my throat, perhaps!

When I came into the Pink Petal Suite, I wasn’t sure I would find her here. But there she was.

Ready.

I checked under the pillow in case she had stored a weapon there and then checked her person too, just in case. As good as mating with her would be, it wasn’t worth getting my throat slit over!

Never tempt fate—at least not twice over the same thing.

Now, I pressed my lips to hers, finding them soft. The whimper that came from them only spurred me on to greater depths of excitement.

I placed my hand on her bare knee and she stiffened beneath my touch. She attempted to pull back, but I pressed my lips onto her further and, eventually, very slowly, I began to feel a lessening of her resistance and an increase in her participation.

She pressed her lips against mine, but it felt robotic. My tongue danced around her lips, begging for entrance, and when finally she permitted it, I found her tongue inside her mouth, still and dormant, but as I caressed it, it too came to life.

I raised my hand to her waist, pulled up her shirt, and reached for the softness of her skin. When I pulled back just a couple of inches, enough to take in her whole face, and she mine, we looked each other over.

I saw in her face the same surprise I was wearing on mine. Surprise that she tasted so good, surprise that she was so willing.

I pressed forward, kissing her on her cheeks, nose, and lips. She opened herself to me.

She leaned back on the bed beneath me and pressed my weight on top of her—not all of it, as I didn’t want to crush the poor little thing—but enough for her to feel me. I ground my hard cock against her leg and she let out another groan of satisfaction.

Satisfaction.

Yes, I was certain that was what I would attain this week.

Then I became aware of something that had not occurred to me before. When I compared the seduction that oozed from the mate Ges had procured for me to how Camila was with me now, there was no competition for which turned me on more…

It was Camila.

And it was due to her being genuine.

Everything Akhi had done had been an act; from the clothes she wore, to the pose she adopted… all of it had been playing a role merely to lure me closer.

With Camila, there was none of that. She was real, genuine. I could reach out and touch her, knowing that everything she muttered or groaned or gasped was because of the effect I was having on her.

She was like me. Real, genuine. There was not an ounce of fakeness about her.

I reached under her shirt and began to pull it off over her head.

She waved a hand to stop me. My anger flicked into being and then immediately dissipated as she began unbuttoning her blouse instead.

Yes, I thought with a smile, of course. What was more real than not wanting to have her uniform destroyed—no matter how passionate the lovemaking?

As she unbuttoned her blouse from the top, I began from the bottom. I looked up at her and we watched each other as we undressed her before me.

She leaned back and I gently peeled the wrapping from her body. Her skin was smooth and without blemish, perfect. Her small breasts were pert and hard.

I lowered my lips to her skin and she gasped before I even touched her. I paused, looked up at her, and balanced my chin on her belly.

“I want you to enjoy this,” I said. “This doesn’t have to be all about me, although most of my species think that way. I want you to enjoy this. And if there is ever anything that we do or do not do that you like, just let me know.”

The smile erased the hard lines of her frown, replacing it with relief. She smiled at me and nodded. “Okay.”

And with that, she had given me permission.

Still, I couldn’t help but notice the situation of the deal we had made hanging over us, like a dark shadow. I kept batting it away as I lowered my lips to her skin and caressed her breasts, lapping at them.