“Do humans only kiss at weddings and funerals?” The question crawled up my throat before I had a hope of calling it back.

“Funerals?” Cherry whispered. Her eyes looked unfocused, the dark parts in the centre larger than before.

“Is kissing merely ceremonial?” I ground out.

“Oh, no.” Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment as my thumbs circled her nipples once more. Her breathing turned arousingly ragged, and it took her a moment to begin speaking again. “No, humans do it all the time. Whenever they want.”

Oh. Maybe that was good. Good that kissing was not so formal or ritualistic. Maybe I would not offend her human sensibilities too much if I-

“I want to put my tongue inside you.”

Instantly, I froze. Had I actually just said that? I was meant to be keeping all my depraved desires buried where pretty Cherry would not see them. But here I was, so soon after she’d arrived, my control already unravelling like the frayed ends of too-old rope.

Surely, now, she would run from me. She would not even last the thirty days. She would –

She moaned and threw her arms around my neck. She tugged me so hard that my hat tumbled to the floor and my head was forced into sudden descent. When her mouth touched mine, it was not with the swift stiffness I experienced at our wedding. No, this time her lips were a hot caress, wet and wanting. Her mouth opened, and her fingers slid up into my hair. The soaked and silken tip of her tongue touched mine at the exact moment that her fingertips came into contact with the sensitive, healing edges of my ears.

It was also at that exact moment that I climaxed, my sac swelling and my cock shooting seed into the tight clutches of my trousers. I groaned into Cherry’s mouth as pleasure ripped through me, my hands spasming against her breasts, my hips rocking helplessly against her bare belly.

Disgraceful. I had no experience with females, but even I knew that a male was supposed to erupt inside her, not thrusting foolishly against her, soaking his clothing just because she’d been kind enough to let him touch his unworthy tongue to hers. My cock pounded like a second heart, twitching and continuing to give hot little spurts in time to Cherry’s breathing.

“Silar,” she panted, tearing her mouth from mine. “Did you just…”

“I’ll let you get back to your bath. Water should be warmer now.”

“Silar…”

“I won’t interrupt you again.”

17CHERRY

Iwas starting to get used to Silar’s rapid departures, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. I watched his retreating figure through the window and let out a frustrated breath. Having him touch me, his hands on my skin, his hips hitching against me had been… explosive. I was sure he felt it too, based on what I was certain had been a spontaneous alien orgasm… Or at least something big happening in the vicinity of his trousers.

But then he’d just disappeared. Again.

Clearly, communication is not my husband’s strong point.

Except for…

I want to put my tongue inside you.

You couldn’t get much clearer communication than that. There had been a broken sort of hunger in his voice when he’d said it. An honesty so raw and ragged that had made me want to give him everything.

I’d been close to coming myself.

I was, even now. Shakily, I dipped my fingers between my legs and I gasped at the molten wetness I found there. I leaned back against the wall, pressing my other hand over my breast in a pale imitation of Silar’s callous-roughened grip.

Stroking my clit in fast, firm motions, I came almost as fast as Silar had.

The orgasm did little to clear my head or help my mood. If anything, afterwards I just felt… gloomy. The room was too empty, the air too still.

I was probably an absolute dumbass for thinking it, for feeling it, but…

I missed Silar.

Well, he clearly wasn’t missing me, considering just how fast he’d hightailed it the hell out of here. It was pointless to get all up in my feelings about this situation. I needed to get back to looking at this as a more distant, formal arrangement. I was here to escape Magnus’ crime organization and to help Silar out with whatever it was he wanted me to do. I wasn’t here to catch feelings, especially if those feelings could have the undesired effect of pushing Silar away from me.

What if, one of these times after I kissed him, he walked away and he never came back?

My throat pinched painfully. I tore off my top and splashed back into the tub, sloshing water over my face so I could pretend the moisture wasn’t from tears. The water was lukewarm now. Not exactly pleasant, but better than before. I finished washing, using some of the soap and shampoo I’d brought with me, and sat stewing in the water for far too long.

Silar didn’t come back.

Doesn’t matter, I told myself as I dried off and dressed in new clothes.

Doesn’t matter, I repeated as I laundered my pyjamas, hung them to dry outside, made use of the outhouse, and ate a late brunch alone.

“Doesn’t matter,” I muttered aloud when night began to fall and Silar still hadn’t come in.

“What doesn’t matter?”

“Oh!” I whirled in the kitchen to find Silar standing in the doorway, his huge figure blocking the last of sunset’s rays, turning him into a velvety shadow. “I didn’t hear you!”

“You were banging the logs around and muttering to yourself,” he told me. “Probably hindered your hearing.”

I flushed, because he was right. I’d been shoving some logs into the oven and none-too-gently, either.

“What doesn’t matter?” asked the shadow that was my husband. Suddenly, his eyes glowed.

“Oh. Nothing. Never mind,” I said, embarrassed by how annoyed I’d been all day. How hurt.

Those white eyes remained on me for a long moment before he grunted and turned away.

Oh, great. Now he’s leaving again.

Except he didn’t. He didn’t walk away but just turned to grab something behind him, hoisting a very large object into the air. When it became clear he wanted to bring it inside, I hurried forward to grab the door and hold it open for him.

Silar turned the object in his hands and brought it sideways through the doorway. Then he put it down on its wooden legs where it was illuminated by the dregs of dusk and the light of the fire.

“The table! You’re already finished with it?”

“Chair’s done too,” he said, already heading back outside, presumably to grab it. He came back a moment later, placing a brand-new chair down at the table.

I should not feel so happy about a table and a chair, I scolded myself as I grinned and ran into the bedroom for the other chair. But I just couldn’t help it. Yes, Silar may have bolted earlier. But he’d finished the table, which meant he still wanted to sit and take his meals with me. That had to count for something. Didn’t it?

“I would have brought that,” Silar said, coming towards me as I carried the older chair into the kitchen.

“It’s alright,” I said brightly. “I’m stronger than I look.” I chucked down the chair then patted its back. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Aren’t you going to sit down?” I patted the chair again. “I’ve been wanting to get another look at your ears, anyway.”

The mention of ears sent Silar stiffening. I remembered brushing my fingers against them as we kissed. Touching them when his whole body had lurched against mine with the force of his involuntary climax.

“I won’t touch them!” I added on a hasty breath.

Silar hesitated, then, as if realizing he could not outrun his wife’s stubborn resolve, he came around the table and sat down, removing his hat. As promised, I didn’t touch him, even though I really wanted to. Not even necessarily in a sexual way. I just… wanted to touch him. Stroke the aqua glory of his long hair. Massage the tense muscles at his shoulders until they loosened. Just like before, he was shirtless, though I noticed with a squeeze of satisfaction that he was wearing new trousers.