Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
"I've decided to say no," I say softly.
It's quiet for a long moment, and then Azar settles on the bed, in the shadows. "I'm disappointed, but I will honor your wishes." He sighs heavily and then lies down in the bed next to me. "Do let me know if you change your mind. I'm most curious to see what a cunt tastes like. It must be good if so many males are eager to go between a female's thighs that way, and you know I love a delicious flavor."
I lie down, staring up at the ceiling, unable to look over at him. That did not go as I expected. I thought he'd get angry, lose his shit, threaten me…but nope. Just a vague disappointment. "Pussy tastes like…well, it tastes warm and a little salty. Not acidic like a man's cum."
He sucks in a breath. "I…see."
I wait for the tension to rise in the room. For him to demand me to spread my legs and let him between them. Maybe I'm sick in the head because just the thought of him demanding to service me is weirdly arousing.
I really must be lonely.
I keep thinking about Azar's offer for the next several days. I water my sad little rosebush and putter around my clinic, but things have been rather quiet. Azar has been bolstering the militia's ranks and giving them clothes and food, so not only have they been growing, but they're more loyal by the day. People just want a full belly, a roof over their heads, and to know that they matter, he told me at dinner one night. Maybe he's not wrong. He's started a program for the adult unwed women in the fort. They're in a different part of the barracks and guarded by some of the men. They're given food and clothes, and in exchange they help scavenge.
There's water for everyone. There's never enough food to go around, but I'm trying to think of solutions to that particular problem. Things are looking up, though.
Azar is a good leader. Maybe he's not the kindest or gentlest one, but I've been in Fort Dallas for over five years now and my clinic has never been so quiet. I finger one of the yellow leaves on my plant, dismayed that it seems to be wilting even as the fort thrives.
Maybe I need to quit holding a grudge against him. He said his people don't have mates. I'm not sure how they reproduce if that's the case, but it's pretty clear to me that if Azar isn't a virgin, he's inexperienced. He doesn't know how to woo someone with pretty words or gentle touches. He just knows how to be a leader. He knows how to rule.
And I'm really, really lonely. And horny. Now that he's brought up going down on me, no strings attached, I can't stop thinking about it. I have erotic daydreams as I sit in my clinic and do inventory. I lie in bed at night next to him, hoping he'll roll over and ask again. Or that he'll just drop a hand between my thighs and start exploring.
He never does, though. As quickly as he brought it up, he's dropped it again.
Here I thought he'd be the one unable to move past it and instead it's me. I'm obsessing.
Azar is particularly charming one night at dinner, and it fills me with an odd yearning. He tells me a story about a meeting he had with a nomad band that showed up and tried to strong-arm some of the scavengers on duty. He'd gotten word of it and sent a dragon out to scare the nomads away, and instead they'd asked to join the fort. "We'll have to watch over them carefully," he says as he nibbles at a slice of peach cobbler. "But as long as they're obedient and willing to play by the fort's rules, it makes sense to benevolently invite them in. Embrace your enemy, as my people say. It makes it easier to plant the blade between his shoulders."
"We have a similar saying," I admit, smiling. I nod at his plate. It's his second piece of cobbler, and Azar normally doesn't ask for seconds. "You like that?"
The smile he gives me is downright boyish. "I love fruit. It's so sweet and refreshing. We don't have anything like it back home, and it seems I cannot get enough of it here. I like a lot of your foods, but the ones with fruit are my favorites." He smiles down at his nearly empty second plate. "It makes me want to lick it clean."
Heat floods through me at his words. I imagine those strong, golden lips brushing over my skin. I imagine his tongue snaking out to taste me. I imagine a host of filthy, filthy things. Swallowing hard, I take a small bite of my own dessert and push it away. I can't do this. I can't. I need to either cast the idea aside completely or meet it head-on.