Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 111(@200wpm)___ 88(@250wpm)___ 74(@300wpm)
Satisfied with my appearance, I run to the door and fling it open, this time catching Hrrrusek before he can knock. He pauses at the sight of me, and then breaks into a grin. It’s fang-filled and alien given his catlike mouth, but I also find it so sexy that my pussy practically clenches at the sight. “Trying to catch me in the act again?” he purrs at me, and his gaze dips to my tits. “You look…fantastic.”
Oh man, he’s totally getting laid tonight. I grin at him, full of excitement for our date. “Nope, just happy to see you. Wanna come in?”
He steps inside and offers me a bottle. “I didn’t know what to bring for a date, but one of the custodians told me humans like this stuff. It’s made from berries, I think. I told them you were a monster that drinks your tea cold and coated with sweetener, so who knew what kind of freakish things you liked to drink.”
Oh god, he’s teasing me. It’s the cutest. His tail flicks back and forth when he does, though, as if to punctuate his speech, and I’m in danger of just staring up at him with sheer adoration and a hussy-like dose of need written all over my face. “You brought me wine?”
“If that’s what this is, yes.” His voice drops to a low sexy note as he holds the bottle out to me, and when he does, it adds a thrumming note that makes me clench in all the best places. “Did I do good?”
“Amazing,” I tell him. “I’d reward you with a kiss but then we’d probably burn dinner because I’d have you on the floor right after that.”
He blinks, absorbing my words. “And…this is a problem?”
For me it’s not. But I did go to all the trouble of making a fresh dinner for a change. Normally I just make one particular thing for myself on the weekend and then eat it all week long, since there’s only me to feed. It was rather nice to cook for someone, though. “Do you like meat pie? The meat is a bird, though, not meat-stock.”
Hrrrusek’s eyes brighten and his nostrils twitch. “Is that the delicious thing I smell? I haven’t had real meat in keffing months.”
“Lucky for you I got a full bird, then.” I’ve had it sitting in the freezer waiting for a special occasion, and this feels pretty special to me.
He pats his solid wall of stomach. “I could eat.”
I could eat him alive, he’s so stinking cute.
The meat pie turns out delicious, and Hrrrusek can pack away the food. We end up having zero leftovers and he drags a claw around the edge of the dish to get the last bits of crust up. I don’t mind, because it’s a pleasure to cook for someone other than myself. We nurse cups of hot tea afterward and I wish I’d baked cookies or something, because I suspect he’d eat them, too.
And all the while, we chat about nothing in particular, and it’s absolutely lovely.
I tell him all about growing up in the city but how after my parents divorced, my dad would take me fishing on the weekends. It was our time, heading out to the lake at sunrise and catching whatever we could. It’s why I’m so fond of fishing now, I think, because it reminds me of simpler times. I tell him about the biggest fish I’ve ever caught (the size of my arm) and what I use for bait.
Hrrrusek grew up on a station that orbited Praxii (his people’s home planet) with his older half-brother Jrrru and his mother, who was his lone parent. Neither father was in the picture, and so they worked odd jobs and followed their mother as she went from station to station with welding contracts. When they were old enough, they took on the family trade and now they work together. He tells me horror stories of projects they got wrong, and the time Jrrru accidentally welded his mech suit to the hull of a ship he was repairing, and the frantic rescue that ensued.
By the time we’re done with our tea, the hour is getting late and my face hurts from smiling so much. Hrrrusek is easy to talk to, and I love hearing his stories. He’s great company and I’m sad when he looks at the bottom of his tea cup and sighs. “I guess we should call it soon. It’s getting late.”
“I’m going fishing in the morning,” I offer, tracing a casual finger on the couch cushion between us. He’s seated on one end of my low sofa, and I’m on the other, and he’s so big and warm and pleasant that I’m hating even this small distance between us. “Setting out before dawn. Want to come with me?”