Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I hold up the wrapper that guided me. As my wrist-comm chirps telling me that I have reached my destination, I point to it next.
She waits.
I wait, too. Truly, have I ever seen a female as lovely as she is? The top of her head will barely reach my chin, but I find that height appealing. Her dark hair is thick and fluffy, full of coils, and her face is round and sweet, as round and sweet as the rest of her. She wears a simple tunic and a one-piece jumper with no sleeves over it, and the scent of old milk clings to her clothing, so faint that I doubt a human would pick it up with their watered-down senses. Underneath that scent is a sweeter one, her natural scent, and it makes my mouth water. Have I ever fallen in love so very quickly before?
Possibly. I grow smitten rather rapidly it seems.
It is just that humans are so adorable and clever. Is it so wrong to appreciate them? I would not act upon it, but there is no harm in simple appreciation. I try to decide what it is about her that appeals most. Her voice, I think. Her beauty is striking, but there is a rich smoothness to her voice and the way she says her words that draws me in.
The female arches a delicate brow at me. “You’re not talking. You’re just standing there.”
“It is because you are so beautiful,” I blurt out.
“Uh huh.”
Oh. Her smile fades a bit. I do not like that. I must fix this. Do I address her as “female” or woman”? What should I call her to honor her profession?
Aha—I remember now.
“I am not trying to make you uncomfortable, dairymaid. I find many humans attractive, but few are so lovely and appealing to my senses as you are.”
“Dairymaid?” She seems surprised by the term.
“Is it the wrong thing? I wish to honor your profession. What does one call a female milk farmer?”
“You can call me Michaela.”
I nod, feeling like a fool. Her tone has grown cool, as her expression has. “I have offended you. I apologize thoroughly. I have studied your tongue but I am still clumsy with your customs.”
Michaela—a lovely name!—considers me and shifts her weight on her feet, her stance changing. Her smile grows sweet and genuine, unfurling like a flower across her enchanting face. “Apology accepted. Don’t mind me, sweetheart. I was a little wary at first. You understand, me being a single woman alone in the big, bad universe.”
I am dumbfounded at her tone, rich and sultry and with a hint of teasing. Her voice feels like a caress, and my body fails me. I forget how to move, how to speak. I want to close my eyes and bask in her speech forever. “I do understand that humans must be careful. I would never harm you, Butter Farmer Michaela. In fact, if you ever need a protector, I shall be the first one to volunteer.” I blurt out the words with eagerness and then flinch backward. I am too forward. Always, always I am too forward, too eager to please. “If you like, of course.”
“That’s very sweet of you.” Her tone grows syrupy, her eyes heavy-lidded and sultry as she gazes on me. She moves forward and touches my arm. Briefly—oh so briefly—but I burn from that slight caress. “What did you come here for, protector?”
“May—may I have all your butter?”
She moves a little closer, and her scent fills my senses. Any closer and her breasts will surely touch my abdomen. The thought makes me dizzy. “I’m all out of butter at the moment, my darling. Perhaps you should come back later? We could…get to know each other.”
Get to know each other? That is what humans say when they wish to copulate. I do not know what I have done to receive this joy, but I am eager for it. “I would love to return and know you better.”
Michaela trails her finger down my front, and my cock, once dead to the universe, throbs in response. “Come back after dark? I’ll give you all the butter you could possibly want.”
I am thrilled.
CHAPTER
TWO
MICHAELA
The red alien man with the black tattoos on his hands finally leaves my house, and when I watch him disappear down the road and out of sight, I can breathe again.
Shit. Fuck. Shit and fuck.
I press a hand to my heart, willing it to stop fluttering in panic. He’s gone. He’s gone. I have time to come up with a plan.
Shit and fuck, I need a plan.
I can’t believe the guy that stole my sister just walked into my house.
I lean against the door, trying to compose my thoughts. It’s been two years since Rafaela was taken from my side. Rafaela and I were cleaning the marble floors in a fancy Homeworld mansion. We had recently been purchased together from the old female mesakkah we’d served for the last three years, and the new master’s wife was not thrilled at our acquisition. We did a lot of cleaning, and I scrubbed extra hard to try and get on her good side. It didn’t work.