“What can you mean?” I ask, not sure how that translation makes sense.

“I’ll show you.” She grins and prowls forward to straddle me. Mesmerized, I drop my hands to the side and watch. With her hand she directs my cock, first grinding it against the folds of her cunt. Her wet slit slides up and down, coating my cock with her juices. I groan and let my head lull back to rest on the seat of the couch behind me. As I open my eyes again, I see the glorious sight of her lifting up and sinking down over my cock.

Tight, slippery, and perfect, her pink slit sucks in my length. Oh, it has been too long since I last felt this clasping warmth. She begins moving over me, and I wonder whether my heart has stopped beating. Her hips make circles that edge me close to my climax in moments. She is mewling with her own pleasure as well, rocking herself back and forth in a dizzying rhythm.

I feel a familiar spark inside, something that is becoming all too common in my life—the instincts that take over. My hormones are spiking, driving me to thrust up in harmony with Ella’s movements. The squeal I hear as a result encourages me further. I grip her hips and pump up into her pussy, slamming her hard. Her expression slackens and she groans as I take control from beneath her. She is coming, but I don’t stop bouncing her up and down on my cock.

At this angle, I can see everything—the clenching of her abdomen as she comes, the creamy juices she’s left on my cock as it slaps in and out of her, and the way her tongue limply wags in her mouth as she screams. It is sheer sensory overload. I follow her climax with my own, spilling my seed inside her as she clutches down on me and pants.

I hold her to my chest as we both recover from our orgasms. I feel shell-shocked.

“That,” she says with a pleased giggle, “Was cowgirl style.”

“You’ll have to explain the misleading nomenclature,” I sigh. “But I will admit that was quite amazing. You should demonstrate the canine version. For scientific study, of course.”

OceanofPDF.com

Chapter 20

ELLA

A week later, Kila and I have perfected every sex position known to man (and perhaps a few of our own invention). He spends every night at my apartment. I’m positively glowing with joy from all the orgasms. I’m baking cookies for the fun of it and distributing them around the office like a well-fucked fairy. Kila pays attention to everything, and I mean everything. I’ve never had a more attentive lover. I’ve never known a man to study ways to please me in his spare time, but Kila walked up to me one morning and interrogated me on the G-spot.

“Why have you not brought this up?” he demanded, showing me an infographic on his tap-pad from a defunct fashion magazine’s website. “I’d like to discuss this erogenous zone. Theoretically, I find it fascinating.”

He then proceeded to make his interest not-so-theoretical, and finger fucked me to his heart’s content. Every day we come to work more like honeymooning lovers, meanwhile Pakka and the team watch us like Puritans sure we’ll burst into flame for our fornicating ways.

It’s Monday, and after a weekend of pure bliss, Kila and I are reluctant to be parted. Today is the day the Kar’Kali have been anxiously awaiting all month. The Alliance’s top chip surgeon is finally on site and ready to remove the malfunctioning hormone suppressors.

“Kila is going first, but we will all have them out by the end of the week. One surgery per day,” Pakka explains to me while Kila is getting strapped into a gurney and covered in weird little wires.

“How do I know you’re not gonna slip in some new chip without telling him and he’ll be zombie Kila?” I demand. The panic I feel as they prep Kila for surgery is not entirely rational, but I can’t help but imagine the worst-case scenarios. This surgeon is supposed to be the absolute top of the line guy, but I imagine it only takes the slip of a hand and my baby is a vegetable. That is if he’s even using his hand. Do these high-tech surgeons just operate a machine that does it for them?

Pakka has an odd look on his face, one I haven’t seen on him before. “Ella,” he stutters. “Is your opinion of me so low that you think I would lie to you and trick Kila into something against his will?”

Are his feelings actually hurt right now?

“I don’t know what a zombie is,” he says, frown deepening. “But I suppose that it is derogatory. Is that your true opinion of the rest of us?”

“No,” I breathe out immediately. “No, Pakka. I don’t… I don’t know what you’re capable of, I’ll admit that. I know you said to Kila that you’d fix him and he’d thank you for it. But I also want you to know that I realize that in your mind everything you’re doing to antagonize Kila is out of love for him. You think you know what’s right and what’s going to make him happy in the long term. You want to force that on him because you care for him.”

“So… you do realize I am right?” He draws his eyebrows together, hopeful.

“No! Just because you care about him and your intentions are good— That doesn’t mean you’re right. You don’t know what’s best for Kila. Only he can decide that. He doesn’t want the suppressor anymore. I can only imagine how happy he’ll be when that chip is out of his head for good,” I say.

“Yes,” he admits sadly.

“Then will you give up this craziness and just let him be free of this? I know he still wants to work on the project. He wants to make it for the other survivors, and for you guys.” I sigh and move in to touch Pakka’s shoulder. When I glance back at the gurney, Kila has turned his head to watch me. Our eyes meet, and he smiles at me.

Pakka shakes his head, but surprises me by saying, “Yes, yes… I believe this has been a doomed effort on my part since the beginning. I hope you realize that I have every respect for you. I admire you. But the death of our people is not the end of our laws, the end of our culture… At least, I had hoped it would not be.”

“When Kila told me the story of why the Kar’Kali began suppressing your natural hormone responses, he really emphasized the fact that it was an adaptation to the Azza invasion. Is that how you see it as well?”

“Certainly,” he agrees.

“Then maybe it’s time to adapt again. Have you ever considered that?”

He becomes pensive and turns to stare across the way to the gurney and the others gathered around Kila. Finally, he closes his eyes and says, “Perhaps, Ella. Perhaps.”

Mori beckons us over to them, and we stall our talk to join them. “He’s ready to go,” Mori tells us. “We’re going to wheel him down.

Kila is grinning, boyish and bright-eyed. It’s adorable, ridiculous combined with the skinny tubes protruding from his forehead via dot-sized orange stickers. “Give me a kiss, my perfect mate. As humans say— for good luck.”

We usually hide our affection from the other Kar’Kali, but I cannot help myself from diving into his lips. His arms twine around me, gently stroking over me. When we break apart, his eyes flicker over my face rapidly, as if memorizing each detail.

“Good luck,” I whisper. “Catch you on the flip side.”

His perplexed smile is the last sight I enjoy before Mori and Kiva wheel him out of the lab. Vala trails them, lifting his phone to his ear before slamming the door behind.

Pakka immediately turns back to me. “Now, our conversation…”

“What else is there to say? We’re in a bit of a stalemate,” I say, making my way back to my computer to check on some emails I need to respond to. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish some things up so everything’s done by the time Kila comes out of there.”

“A deal,” he blurts, following me to my desk. “I do not know what stale mate means but I can guess. And I’d like to propose a deal.”