Cyborg's Secret Baby. Grace Goodwin
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me on my feet just long enough for me to pull the key from the front pocket of my shorts and unlock the door. The moment it swung open, he lifted me again. His shoulder was within reach this time, as if he’d gotten smaller on the walk, and I wondered what kind of crazy I was for thinking he’d been almost a foot taller in the store.
He kicked the door closed behind him, set me down on my feet, turned. “Lock it.”
I raised a brow but did as he said. It made me feel safer, which was just dumb. Nothing would get through him. And anything that could would have no problem with the flimsy wooden door.
His grunt was accompanied by a hint of a grin, and I saw the charming man—alien—I’d grown comfortable talking to every day in the shop. The shop… “Shit. We have to call the police. The owner. Oh, my God. I shouldn’t have left like that. She’s going to be freaked. And what if customers come in?”
Want some pecan praline with that dead body?
I covered my face with my hands. “Oh, my God. What am I going to do?”
Jorik reached for me, to stop my pacing. I faced him and he lifted his hands, as if to touch my face. But his glance strayed from my eyes to his palms and he cursed in that strange language again. “I will not touch you again with blood on my hands.”
Happy to focus on his problem instead of my own, I led him to the kitchen. The naughty part of me—the part full of ideas and wishful thinking—thought of taking him to the bathroom, stripping him naked, and squeezing together in my tiny shower. But that would involve a whole lot of skin and even more assumptions on my part.
Maybe the stare was just a normal, everyday look on an alien.
And maybe I was thinking this way because I’d almost died a few minutes ago. Maybe this was shock.
I watched as the most amazing, gorgeous hunk of male perfection I’d ever seen—in real life or digital—stripped out of his shirt in the middle of my tiny kitchen.
Definitely not shock. I wanted him. Had for a while. I thought about him all the time, wondered if he would appear in my shop every day, was ridiculously happy when he did.
He scrubbed his hands in my sink and he looked like what he was—foreign. I’d never had a man in this apartment, let alone one the size of Jorik. His head nearly reached the ceiling tiles and he had to duck under the one, ugly fluorescent light cover filled with half a dozen dead flies.
Embarrassing. But I hated flies, and I hated cleaning even more. By the time I left the ice cream shop spotless at the end of every shift, I just didn’t have the energy to drag out a ladder and tackle that kind of thing.
Besides. Chest. There was chest. And shoulders. And oh, my god, his back. Muscles on muscles. An ass so tight it looked like two bowling balls were hiding under his pants. No one’s ass could be that hard, could it? Every inch of me was soft, everything but my bones. The idea of anyone being that solid seemed surreal, and I reached out to touch…
I snatched my hand back. Nope.
“Jeez, what’s wrong with me?” I whispered to myself as I swung away, tucked my hand safely against my side and made my way back to the door. Suddenly, double checking the deadbolt seemed like an excellent distraction from the temptation currently in my kitchen.
He washed up, the smell of dish soap and what I could only think of as him. Dark. Musky. Wild.
Fighting the urge to make a damn fool of myself, I pressed my forehead to the cool door panel and tried to think rationally. I should call my boss, the owner. She was a nice woman in her sixties who had given me a break when I needed one. She paid well and she was fair, so I’d stayed. For three years. I should call her. She would worry. She would call the police. No doubt they’d be pounding on my door soon enough. There was a security camera system at the store, so they would be able to rewind the video and find out exactly what happened. They’d want my statement. And Jorik’s. We should take care of that. Like, now.
But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to even think about it. Like, ever. I wanted to press my naked breasts to Jorik’s back, bury my nose in his skin and breathe him in. I wanted to lick him up one side and down the other, kiss him, taste him, and ride his cock until I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to have mind-blowing, amazing sex with someone I was actually attracted to for the first time in my life. No fumbling hands. No lies. No manipulation. No games. Just raw animal lust.
And that was insane because all we’d done was talk. I’d hand him a new flavor of ice cream, we’d chat as he ate the cone, then he would leave. I knew little about him and it wasn’t like he was from Kansas or California. He was from another planet. What could we have in common? What made me interested in him? Oh yeah, he was hot and it seemed I had an inner sex fiend wanting to come out.
I wanted to be an animal, at least once in my life. I wanted to have the kind of kinky, hot sex I read about in my favorite books.
I wanted Jorik. Over me. Inside me. Touching me. Making me come until I couldn’t think at all.
3
Gabriela
“Are you all right?”
Jorik was right behind me. He didn’t touch me, but he was so close I could feel the heat radiating off him.
I nodded but continued to stare at the door. Afraid to move. Afraid if I turned around, I’d jump him. Or worse… he’d leave. They always left, in the end.
“Gabriela,” he said. “I must touch you.”
Oh god, that voice. Those words. Was I hearing things? He’d called me his female in the store. I’d heard that. Not my imagination. Right?
I closed my eyes and gently banged my forehead against the cool surface of the door. It had to be the stress. I was nowhere near hot enough for this gorgeous man—alien—to want me like that. I had long black hair. Straight. No curl. Boring. My skin was good, the Latino heritage from my parents making my clear brown skin my best feature. But after that? No. I was a solid ten sizes above fashionable and hadn’t been touched by a boy since high school.
Not that I didn’t have needs. My inner kink was alive and well—just lonely. It’s just that taking a spin with B-O-B—my battery activated boyfriend—a couple times a week was a lot easier than having my heart broken over and over… and over. “Maybe you should go, Jorik. I don’t think—I…”
“Please, Gabriela. I need to touch you.”
“What do you mean?” Not hallucinating. He’d actually…
He leaned down, the fan of his breath a warm caress on my neck. “You are so beautiful, Gabriela. So soft. I can’t hold back any longer. I must feel you beneath my fingers. My lips. Learn every inch of you. What pleases you, what makes you whimper.”
He kissed my cheek, bending way, way down to do it. Holy shit, he was huge. I wondered if his cock was as big as the rest of him.
“Writhe.”
Goose bumps broke out on my skin. His voice. God. It was so deep, it rumbled through my chest. My nipples were hard as rocks, pressing against my bra.
“Beg.”
“Jorik,” I said.
“My beast can’t hold back any longer. We must have you.”
My panties were ruined, just because of his words. His inner beast was about to be introduced to mine—except she was half-starved and very fucking naughty.
“Yes,” I whispered, still afraid to turn around.
That didn’t deter him, for his hands went to my waist as his mouth settled on my neck, kissing, licking, sucking at that