Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
And I never leave my house if I can help it.
So when I find a deathly-ill cat alien on my living room floor, I do what any sensible human woman would do. I put a stun-stick to his jock and demand answers.
He should be scared. Terrified. So why is this idiot flirting with me?
This novella features a skittish weapon-loving heroine, a hero who loves her just as she is, and vibes. Just vibes. Enjoy!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
One
JRRRU
Oh no.
She didn’t.
I scrub at my face, heading out to the barn the moment the faintest whiff of noli catches me on the breeze. The scent is like a slap in the face—and a hand on the cock. It’s been a long day of work for me, since there was an issue with the waste removal system in Port and the custodians needed help with repairs. I should have known that those repairs would involve someone crawling through a sewer line to find the break, and that that particular person would be me. Praxiians get all the shit jobs here, but I tell myself that it’s because I’ve got experience with metalwork and repairs, whereas the custodians are just military guys. Even so, I’m ready to relax after a grueling, smelly day. I’ve had two showers and a bunch of credits added to my account as thanks, but now I just want to get back to my bunk—as in, Hrrrusek and Chelsea’s couch—and relax for a while.
And that isn’t happening, it seems. Not with noli in the air.
I stagger out to the barn, wheezing and breathing through my mouth. Right after we moved in, Hrrrusek confided to me that his mate bought a vial of noli. Every praxiian knows what noli is. It’s a perfume made from flowers, and for some reason, it makes my race go absolutely wild with a mating frenzy. Or so I’ve heard. I didn’t believe it myself, but Hrrrusek said that the sex was crazy and that the smell of the noli lingered in the air. There’s a root that smells foul that’s supposed to cancel out the effects of a lot of poisons—something with a long, unpronounceable name in three star systems but is referred to as “null root.” As a “just in case,” I bought a handful of dried null roots, since I figure they’ll do the job if I ever need them, and I put them in the barn.
Today, it seems, I need the null root. Badly.
My cock is aching and stiff, pressing against the front of my trou as if it wants to burst free. I’ve never been so instantly hard. It’s a little keffing alarming, and something tells me that my hand won’t solve the problem. I shove past the snorting, snuffling meat-stock in their stalls, groaning when my pulse starts to throb, centered right between my thighs. “I didn’t even keffing go inside,” I mutter to myself. “How is that shit so potent?”
Pushing aside one particularly nosy animal, I grab my emergency kit and thump down onto a bale of hay, pulling the kit into my lap. Panting, I shove aside the sack of credits I have stashed, along with my blaster and a change of clothes. Doing odd contract jobs for the last seven years has taught me that you always have a getaway stash, in case one of the jobs isn’t on the up-and-up. Even though Risda III is quiet and pastoral, old habits die hard.
At the bottom of the kit I find the plas-container of the dried null roots. I rip it open and shove the first finger-sized one into my mouth.
“Oh. Oh kef, that’s disgusting,” I groan aloud. My mouth fills with water at the acrid taste and I want nothing more than to spit it out. Instead, I force myself to keep chewing, determined to suffer through. “The cure is keffing worse than the cause.”
I choke down the first root and then rub my hand over my cock. Still throbbing and hard. Maybe I need another. Maybe noli is so potent that I need lots of null root. The thought makes me queasy, but I pull out another and chomp on it with grim determination.
“Even worse the second time around,” I grumble to the animal nosing me. The meat-stock tries to eat my root and I push her nose away. “Trust me, you do not want this.”
I chew and chew, fighting the urge to gag. When I’ve got the last of the root choked down, I pull up my data pad and comm my brother.
No answer.
Not surprising, considering he’s probably balls-deep into his pretty little mate. Chelsea is a nice enough human, friendly and full of laughter, but there’s a wild streak to her that’s not my favorite. Hrrrusek loves her with all his heart, though, and I’m content that he’s so happy. It was probably Chelsea’s idea to break out the noli and Hrrrusek went right along with it, because he gets intense sex for the next…six? eight? hours.
Actually, it might be longer. I don’t know how long noli lasts.
I glance down at my still-hard cock. “Go down, you.” When it doesn’t respond, I stare at the roots in my hand. “I hope I don’t have to eat all of these keffing things.”
My stomach gives a queasy roil and my throat works, trying to keep down the contents of my stomach. That’s not good. Not good at all. Maybe the way the null root works is that it makes you so sick that you can’t possibly think about mating? The guy at the general store swore to me that this stuff worked…but he was avian, not praxiian.