Stud (8 page)

For a fleeting moment, he’d thought she was going down on him again, and Tarq had to swallow his disappointment before he spoke. “Don’t worry, it, um, does that. Women like the way it feels and it pushes the
snard
in the right direction. Sorry, I-I guess I should have warned you.”

Lucy chuckled merrily. “Obviously I should have read the directions first so I’d know what to expect. I mean, I haven’t even been with a human male before, but I’m pretty sure they don’t do that.”

“No, they don’t—actually, there are several things about us that are different.” Differences which were significant enough to send a genocidal maniac rampaging after them. “Zetithian women need lots of… encouragement.”

Lucy laughed even harder. “So, you’re saying that Terran girls are easy?”

Tarq had yet to encounter a human female that wasn’t, but he was pretty sure it would be unwise to admit it at this point. “I wouldn’t say that,” he replied cautiously, “but they
are
more enthusiastic.”

“And do you
like
enthusiasm in a woman?” She sounded almost coy, and her crooked little smile intrigued him, prompting him to grin back at her.

“I
love
enthusiasm.”

“Ah, then that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you want to go again. You can smell my enthusiasm.”

“Yes, but I also want to be sure you get your money’s worth.”

Her face fell and her voice went flat. “I thought you did this for free.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Force of habit. I
used
to do it for money, but not anymore. What I meant was that I want you to…” Tarq stopped. He’d done okay up to now, but she was too smart for him and had backed him right into a corner. There was no way he could finish that sentence without sounding cocky or callous. There was nothing to do but admit it. “Look, Lucy, I’m not very smart. I say stupid things all the time. Please don’t hold it against me.”

“I won’t,” she said, “but I—oh, never mind. Just forget it.”

Tarq had no idea what it was he was supposed to forget, but he knew that fucking her into a
laetralance
stupor was probably the best way out of this predicament—just as it was with most awkward situations that involved women.
When
in
doubt, just shut up and purr
. Tarq couldn’t recall who had given him that piece of advice, but it had always served him well, and sex was the one thing he was good at.

He took her hand—the hand that still lingered on his penis—and kissed it, threading his fingers through hers. A lock of her hair hid her face from him, and, purring softly, he tucked it behind her ear. “Kiss me and tell me I’m forgiven.”

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Sighing, she sank down onto his chest as he let go of her hand to wrap her in his arms. “And you’re a lot smarter than you think.” Her lips were warm and welcoming as she pressed them to his mouth, her tongue seeking entrance.

Tarq had sense enough not to argue. She could think whatever she liked as long as she kissed him like that—like he was worthy of her, like she truly loved him, and would be with him always. Her body covered him, enveloping him with desire as her legs slid down on either side of his own. Curling his hips up, his cock found her entrance, and the heat of her core drew him in. He rocked against her slowly, blissfully, as his hands lost themselves in her hair and his lips bathed her with kisses. Her soft moans of pleasure lured him on, and he could feel her complete surrender. When she reached her first climax, he stopped all movement, delighting in the firm squeeze of her inner muscles on his rigid cock. Then, as her body relaxed, he swept his hands down her back, cupping her bottom as he rolled over with her.

Still ensconced in her liquid core, he picked up the rhythm again, feeling closer to heaven with each slow, deliberate thrust and withdrawal. Her hair was fanned out in dark waves, providing a sharp contrast to the white of the sheets and the fairness of her skin. With her eyes half-closed and lips softly parted, he let the sounds she made with each pinnacle she reached wash over him, pulling him under and drowning him in ecstasy.

When his own release came at last, he not only felt the joy rushing through his body, but saw it in her eyes, eyes that were looking at him and
only
him—nothing else.

Lucy had a feeling that if she woke up the next morning without him, she wouldn’t live through the day. Why, why,
why
had she done this? It was hopeless. She could have his children, but she could never have someone like Tarq. It was a complete and utter impossibility. She wasn’t meant for the kind of happiness he could give her—whether he was stupid or not—and she didn’t believe that he was, not for one moment. She needed to strengthen her resolve to get through this—as she had done with so many rough times in her life.

Strengthen her resolve? That wasn’t how she’d coped in the past. She coped with it all by putting it firmly out of her mind. The loneliness and despair of her school days. The knowledge that her life had never changed. The fear that it would go on as before. Tarq was her salvation but not her reward. Having his
children
would be her reward. She needed to remember that.

But as he lay with his head pillowed on her breast—just this once—Lucy allowed herself to dream of a neat, spacious house with gaily striped awnings, sitting beneath a brilliant blue sky on the edge of town, kept fresh by the ocean breeze. Children playing in the yard; the boys climbing olive trees; and the girls laughing as they sat whispering in the shade. A sun-drenched porch with potted flowers blooming in profusion. Braided rugs on the floor, fragrant herbs drying above the kitchen window, dinner cooking on the stove, and Tarq coming home. Home to the one who loved him and would show him how much in the bed they shared—and in everything they did together, everything she did for him and he for her.

Caught up in her fantasy, Lucy didn’t notice her tears until they trickled toward her ears. With an aching heart, she inclined her head to kiss his golden hair and inhale his scent. Memories had a tendency to fade with time; would she remember this in the years to come? Suddenly, a reprieve came to her in the form of another memory. Tarq tended to father sons—he’d said as much in his advertisement—and those sons would undoubtedly resemble him in many ways. She would always have them to keep Tarq’s memory from fading completely. Perhaps she could also have a photograph, or a lock of his hair, to keep for herself.

This ache in her heart wouldn’t last forever. Eventually the pain would ease and she would only remember the good things, not the fact that she would never see him again. Yes, that was the way to view it—the way that wouldn’t hurt.

Tarq shifted, purring in his sleep. He seemed content to be with her now, but it wouldn’t last. He was a drifter, the type who would move on to the next woman without a backward glance. And she would let him do it. She wouldn’t beg, wouldn’t weep, wouldn’t cling to him beseechingly. She would be strong. Other women had done it before her, and she was no different from any of them. He would forget her more quickly than some, or perhaps remember her longer than others. But she would never be more than a brief stop in a tiny fishing village on Talus Five. On distant worlds other women would call him, would conceive his offspring, and be satisfied. She would do the same.

***

As she’d anticipated, Tarq’s presence was no more permanent than a dream. Dawn came and Lucy arose from her bed—alone. He was right to do it, but waking up with him would have been such a treat. Perhaps on the last night… but, no. She couldn’t risk his safety in that manner. Her father’s fury at finding Tarq in her bed, along with the knowledge that she was actually trying to conceive his children, would be intense. No, this whole thing had to be kept a secret—hopefully until Tarq had left Talus Five. She wanted there to be no possibility of repercussions against Tarq. Ever. Pregnancies weren’t obvious for months, even when a woman was carrying triplets. Morning sickness would be easy enough to explain away—or hidden. Her clothing wasn’t revealing and could be altered. Yes, she could keep it a secret for a very long time.

Then there was the other part of her plan. She could leave Reltan and head to Yalka long before any symptoms appeared, and if she left ahead of Tarq, that would divert suspicion from him even more. That way, it wouldn’t seem as though she had followed him, if anyone ever made the connection to begin with. She wouldn’t put it past Jublansk to arrive at the truth, but doubted that she would ever pass that information on to Lucy’s father. The satisfaction of knowing that her salad dressing recipe was a mystery to him would be nothing in comparison to keeping Lucy’s whereabouts a secret.

Dressing quickly, she went into the kitchen with a smile on her face.

A smile that caught her sister’s immediate attention. “What are you so happy about?” Reba grumbled.

“It’s a-a beautiful day,” Lucy improvised.

Reba let out a derisive snort. “Just like every other day. The weather never changes around here. Always the same, unless it rains.”

Lucy felt that there was a lot to be said for clear blue skies and puffy clouds, but didn’t bother to argue. Reba was obviously waiting for her breakfast. Lucy began pulling out eggs, milk, and cheese, and was mixing up an omelet when it hit her that soon she wouldn’t be catering to Reba’s every whim—or her father’s—nor would she be listening to her mother’s incessant whining. This realization cheered her even more, and she went so far as to hum a happy little tune while she worked.

Her father came in, brusque and snarling as usual, and her mother followed, already complaining. “That table is perfectly hideous, Uther. We should replace it.”

Lucy kept smiling but was mentally rolling her eyes. Her mother had been saying the same thing every morning for the past month.

Today, however, her father growled a different response. “Go buy a new one, then, Tourelda! I’m sick of hearing about it.”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” Tourelda said piteously. “My poor nerves!”

Then
leave
him
, Lucy thought.
Go
someplace
quiet
where
we
won’t have to listen to you.
Why her mother had never done such a thing was beyond Lucy, though she knew Tourelda to be incapable of looking after herself, nor could she possibly earn a living. She was about as useless as an umbrella in a hurricane. Just why this trait had emerged, Lucy wasn’t sure, but not long after Reba was out of diapers, Tourelda had decided to take to her bed—or the sofa, or her velvet chaise—and rarely budged from them except for meals, leaving Lucy in charge of the household.

Though Tourelda often complained, she rarely interfered except to ensure that Reba was treated like the little princess she was and gave Lucy no assistance whatsoever. Lucy had never understood why, but thought it might be due to the fact that Reba was beautiful while Lucy was not. On the other hand, it might have been because Reba was worse than no help at all. If Tarq was stupid, then Reba was downright imbecilic—particularly when it came to anything that didn’t affect her directly.

But today, none of that bothered Lucy. It was as though she’d been given a sword and shield that made her impervious to their peevish anger, unwarranted pride, and blatant hedonism. She was free to laugh inwardly rather than wince, and it felt marvelous.

Glancing out the window, she noted that the sky was a clearer, more vibrant blue, the olive trees sparkled and danced in the morning sun, and the breeze stirring the crisp curtains felt particularly pleasant. In short, it was a perfect day to be alive. All the things that had been weighing her down simply didn’t matter anymore. She had yielded to the misery of the night before—the realization that her relationship with Tarq could only be temporary—and she now knew she could deal with it, along with any other obstacles in her path. The notion that the joy he had given her could carry over into the rest of her life had never occurred to her, but in addition to the promise of children, he had given her a precious gift—one she would cherish forever—whether she had a lock of his hair to carry with her or not.

Pouring a glass of the tea she’d brewed the night before, Lucy took a long drink, noting that even it seemed more refreshing than usual, and began buttering the toast and plating up the omelets with renewed efficiency. She enjoyed cooking—far more than waiting tables—and knew herself to be every bit as capable of running a restaurant kitchen as her father, perhaps even more so because she knew she could do it without screaming at the help. If her plans for independence had actually included the wherewithal to start her own establishment, she would have done it in a heartbeat; she might even provide her father with a bit of competition. Luring Jublansk away from him would probably put him out of business; her delectable bread was largely responsible for the loyalty of his clientele and was the one thing Lucy knew she would miss—though eating less of it would undoubtedly improve her figure.

With this heartening thought in mind, she sat down to breakfast, shielded from her family by an impenetrable aura of serenity. Was this what being the recipient of Tarq’s lovemaking did to a woman? Did he impart the same to every lady he consorted with? If so, then he had left more than children in his wake; he had left behind legions of highly contented women now empowered by the knowledge that they had been part of a truly remarkable event. An elite club, perhaps. One whose members shared more than the satisfaction of helping an endangered species to recover, but knew something that others didn’t—that making love with Tarq could, and would, change their lives for the better.