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)
You're, uh, pierced?
I imagine her gazing down at my cock, and in my dreams her expression is one of sheer pleasure. That she takes plas-film and covers my cock with it even as she kisses the head with her fascinating, pink-brown mouth…
Yeah, it doesn't take me long to come. Two quick tugs, and with Sophie's image in my mind, I'm done. When I'm finished, though, I'm left feeling vaguely ashamed. The real Sophie would never touch me like that. The real Sophie just wants to be left alone. I clean up using an old towel and then toss it into the incendiary chute. Adjusting myself, I head back into my main quarters.
Sophie's in my bed, of course, but she's not sleeping. She's curled on her side and stares off at nothing, her expression vaguely miserable. The carinoux's head is propped up on her hip, always nearby, but Sophie seems…distant. Sad.
She's probably worried I'm going to try and touch her. To ruin our fragile friendship. Swallowing hard, I open my mouth to say something clever, something witty…but nothing comes out. I can't think of a thing. All I can do is growl low in my throat, frustrated with myself.
She glances over at me, and her miserable expression doesn't let up. "Is everything all right?"
Fine, I want to snap. But…I imagine her expression growing sadder, and that tears at me. "Not really," I manage. I take a few steps forward, resting my hands on my worktable. Then…I see them. The books. And I know how to make her smile return. "Close your eyes."
Sophie sits up in bed, folding her legs. She gives me a curious look but does as I ask, her bandaged hands resting in her lap. The carinoux yawns and gives me a sleepy look, then goes back to sleep, shifting onto his belly and burrowing under the covers.
I wipe at my wet hands—I'm still damp everywhere and only half dressed—and take the books, then move toward the bed. I watch her as I do, noticing that she keeps her face turned toward me, listening to the sounds I make. She didn't protest at all when I asked her to close her eyes. She just…trusted me. It's a humbling realization. I hope I always have her trust.
I kneel down on the floor in front of where she's seated, my joints creaking loudly. Her brows furrow at that, but she keeps her eyes closed. "Sit with me," she murmurs, tilting her head and indicating the bed.
"Can't. Still wearing wet pants." Her cheeks flush, and I clear my throat. Stupid of me to remind her of that moment. I hold the books up. "Got something for you."
She opens her eyes and blinks at me, and I'm once again entranced at how lovely she is. Her gaze focuses on the objects in my hand, and she sucks in a breath. "Books?"
I nod.
"Are…are they in English?" There's so much hope in her eyes.
I feel like an idiot. English is a human language. I don't know what these are written in. I open one book to a random page and hold it up to her. "Can you read it?"
A sound like a squeal erupts from her. "I can!"
"Good." I close the book and hold the other one out. She nods, excitement shining in her eyes. I stack them both and hold them out to her, and then I realize she can't take them. Of course not. I'm a keffing idiot. "I'm glad," I manage. "I saw them and thought of you."
Sophie's face is so full of joy that it makes my heart stutter in my chest. "Oh, Jerrok. Thank you so much." She puts her bandaged hands on my face and reaches out and kisses my cheek. "Since I can't hug you."
I go completely still.
She does too, and it's clear she didn't realize what she was doing. Sophie's look of joy dies, and a second later, she bursts into tears. "I'm just making everything so much worse, aren't I?"
36
SOPHIE
"Why are you crying?" Jerrok demands, and his stilted, frustrated tone just makes me even more upset.
Why am I crying? He really has to ask that? I thought it was obvious—here I am, after I made our shower together uncomfortable, and then I forget everything in the face of a few books and kiss his cheek. I keep forgetting he's not human, that he won't grasp the concept of an affectionate kiss on the cheek. That I'm stomping all over his hygiene laws all over again. "I feel like I'm ruining things."
"Ruining things?" he echoes, baffled. "Ruining what?"
"I like you," I manage. "I don't want to ruin our friendship. A kiss on the cheek is just a bit of affection. It doesn't mean anything." I give him a pleading look. "And I keep running over your boundaries like they're not there. I'm sorry."