Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135784 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 679(@200wpm)___ 543(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
I'm disappointed. I was hoping to see a look of delight on her pretty face. "It's not human stuff?"
"Oh, it is." She chuckles and flips the strange-looking gray square in her hand. "It's a video game cartridge. Not much use up here without an actual video game system." She holds it out to me to look at. "But it's fun to see."
I take it from her, but I'm not interested in examining it. My focus is solely on her, on watching her expression as she pulls out a small cloth pouch and giggles.
"What is it?" I ask.
"A purse!" Her smile grows even wider. "A really freaking hideous one, too." She smooths her fingers over what looks like a gaudy floral design. "Somewhere out there, there's a very angry grandma looking for her pocketbook."
"What's it for?"
Sophie grins over at me, undoing a fastening of some kind and opening the thing. "Empty. Figures." She shrugs and closes it again. "It's for holding keys, and your wallet, and your makeup, I guess. So you can have your stuff with you at all times."
"Make-up?"
"Cosmetics. Human women put powders and line their eyes and lips so we look more appealing."
"I don't think that's possible."
Sophie's eyes widen and her smile is as bright as a star. She leans forward and gives me another kiss on the cheek. I stay very still, not wanting to distract her. The press of her small mouth against my skin is…perfection. It's also over too soon. She gives me a shy look and turns back to the crate, picking through a few more things.
42
JERROK
The human things I've given her seem to be junk, for the most part. There's something called a “clock radio” and another flat disk called a record. There's a few paper photographs that she flips through, and a flimsy-looking paper book she calls a magazine that excites her. There are a few plastic things she calls “toys” and a dish. There's a “fork” and a bunch of black cables that seem to belong to nothing, and an old metal canister that she says once contained coffee. She sniffs it repeatedly, breathing in an earthy scent before sighing and looking over at me.
"Poor aliens. Someone thought they were getting treasures and instead, they got a box of yard sale junk."
"It displeases you?" I'm disappointed. I wanted her smile to go on for days.
Sophie straightens and touches my arm. "Not at all. Thank you, Jerrok. You're so sweet. This stuff is not a big deal back home, but it brings me a lot of memories to see it. It makes me happy." Her smile grows brighter and she shifts, moving ever so slightly closer to me. "And you're the best for thinking of me and showing it to me."
"I like to see you smile," I manage, my voice gruff.
"There's a few things in here we can use." She gestures at the dish, and I notice she's keeping the purse slung over her shoulder by a long strap. Her gaze darts over me again, scanning my face before landing on my mouth. "And you always make me smile."
My cock takes that as a cue to stiffen, and I fight back a groan.
She looks up at my brow, and then brushes a strand of the way. "Do you want me to braid this for you? To keep it out of your face?"
I shrug. "If you like."
She pats my knee and jumps to her feet. "Wait here. I've got a comb and some ties in my room."
I do as she says, touching my nearly dry hair. I didn't think about it as I climbed out of the shower. Just wrung it out to get the worst of the water out of it and left it alone. There's normally no one to care what I look like, and eventually when it gets too annoying, I just tie it back with a scarf or a rag. But if Sophie wants to fuss over me, she can.
The human returns a few moments later, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Turn in your seat and I'll get to work on you."
I do, presenting her with my back, and I feel her move onto the bench, on her knees. Her fingers move through my tangled, damp hair and she makes a small sound in her throat. "Your hair is very thick."
What do I say to that? "I'm mesakkah."
She chuckles, and the sound goes straight to my groin. "So you are." She leans closer, her breath whispering against my ear. "Tell me if I tug too hard."
I'm about to protest that there's nothing she can do that would bother me when she puts the comb in my hair and it feels like she's jerking my scalp off my head. "Kef me!"
"Oooo, sorry. You're tender-headed, aren't you? I'll go slower." She rubs her fingers against my shoulder in a small apology. A little giggle escapes her. "You big baby."