More Than a Man (13 page)

“It is to me.” He hugged her and stroked her
back. “Go to sleep, baby. You had a long day.”

“So did you,” she yawned.

“Then I’ll sleep, too.”

For some reason, she found that comforting.
That, along with the heat of his body and the soothing rhythm of
his hands tracing her spine, lulled her toward sleep. Despite
everything, it had been a good day. She’d gotten Aya.

Chapter Seven

Aya slept on his stomach, one arm flung over
a pillow and the other folded beneath his head. Early sunlight
filtered through the window shades, illuminating his shoulder,
casting his hip in shadow. Even in sleep, he possessed a power of
presence. She'd had little opportunity to observe him without being
observed in turn so she was happy to simply rest and watch now.

His intensity...part of her prayed her
responsiveness to him would fade, that she'd regain some sense of
herself before much more time passed. Another part of her feared
the fade. Aya had clearly set out to conquer her. What would happen
when he decided he'd won whatever battle he believed he needed to
fight? He wouldn't leave. No, she didn't fear he'd leave her alone.
Without her to sponsor his status as a manufactured citizen, he
would be recalled and recycled. So, he wouldn't leave, but would he
still want her? Despite the high success rate of Manporium unions,
failures happened. Aya wasn't a droid, he was a man. He'd been
given all the psychological and emotional tools any natural-born
human possessed. Manporium technology allowed the physical
differences, but the basic brain was still human. Now that he'd
been released into the world, he would continue to grow in response
to stimulii.

He wouldn't leave, but would he cheat? The
prospect stabbed painfully behind her breastbone.

Aya sprang from dead-sleep beside her to a
crouch on the floor. Startled by his sudden movement, she bolted
upright and stared at him. Expression fierce and wild, caught half
between a dream and waking, he scanned the bedroom before focusing
on her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! What's wrong with you?" Cautiously
scooting to the edge, she reached for his biceps. "You just woke up
and leapt like a...something. Post traumatic stress syndrome
soldier coming out of a nightmare.
Omideity
. Did they stuff
you full of a soldier's memories?"

"You made a noise like you were hurt." He
blew out a breath and scrubbed both hands over the back of his
head.

“I had an…uncomfortable thought.” She
swallowed. Aya’s voice was gravelly from sleep. This was the first
time she’d heard the rumble of morning conversation from him. It
should have been a sexy and playful conversation but she’d ruined
that with her uncertainty and paranoia.

“Uncomfortable how?” Instead of rejoining her
on the bed, he settled on the floor with his knees raised, feet
planted firmly. The position defined his muscular inner thighs and
drew her attention to his groin. Black hair cushioned his penis,
which was thick and long even at rest. His testicles lay loose
against his body. Already, new craving for him heated her face and
throat. She forced her eyes higher, only to stutter over her own
breath when she encountered his ridged abdomen and the round black
marks of his tentacle entry points. Buttons, she realized. On a
gingerbread man, they would have represented the buttons of the
man’s shirt or coat, little black licorice nubs meant to be nibbled
and savored. She’d made such a mess of him that day at the
Manporium.

“Your eyes always look starved,” he said.

She snapped her attention to his face.
“Sorry. I can’t seem to stop staring at you.”

He held her gaze. “The feeling is mutual but
irrelevant right now. Tell me what’s wrong. You’re worried about
something.”

“I…it’s stupid.” And she was naked, a little
chilly in the temperature-controlled room. She’d lowered the temp
in the middle of the night because Aya raised the heat in her bed.
With him on the floor and her without pajamas, the cold returned.
Shivering, she gathered the blankets close. He didn’t react to the
temperature beyond the tightening of his nipples. She forced her
gaze from his chest.

“It’s stupid,” she repeated. “I don’t really
want to talk about it. Will you come back to bed?”

“I don’t think so. You have a very
self-damaging habit of spinning motives inside your head and
assigning them without seeing things from another perspective.” His
lips quirked. “It’s endearing but at the same time frustrating as
hell. What motives did you assign me while I slept? Am I going to
do something horrible in the near future?”

Noelle shrugged and looked away. “I don’t
know you very well. You’ve told me you are what I wanted you to be,
but nothing is that straightforward. All the psych exams, all the
lists, how everything’s interpreted and actually developed—I want
you but I don’t know you. You and I aren’t doing this the way I did
it with…the way I did it before.”

“You’re worried because our relationship
isn’t following the set of steps you outlined in advance. Because I
tasted your pussy before I tasted your coffee. Because…” He trailed
off, prompting her to finish the sentence.

But her brain had stopped functioning,
sidetracked by the reminder of their first meeting. Yesterday.
Deity, less than twenty-four hours earlier. This time yesterday, he
was only a promise and a receipt in her ‘fone.

He was still so much undefined possibility,
but he was also much, much more than she asked for. Her anxiety
wasn’t about his potential for infidelity. No, she feared his
potential, period. What if she couldn’t help him be everything he
wanted to be?

In an instant, she knew the reality of her
mother’s fear. Noelle hid herself away because she wasn’t the ideal
daughter. Not like Joy, who had been created from deliberately
chosen traits. In hiding, she erected a wall between herself and
her mother. Vivian couldn’t see through the wall, she could only
guess at the person on the other side.

“Baby, you have to talk to me, not yourself.”
Aya’s voice dragged her out of her head. He knelt in front of her,
big hands framing her face, gentle fingers stroking her cheeks. She
was crying.

A self-deprecating comment rolled onto her
tongue. Staring into his concerned eyes, she swallowed the words.
Honesty, not defensiveness. She drew a shaky breath. “Do you think
my mother lays awake wondering whether she’s enough for me?”

His eyebrows drew together. “Is that what
you’ve been doing this morning? Doubting yourself?”

She didn’t answer. Saying “yes” would be
redundant and she wasn’t sure she could manage anything more
articulate than a croak.

His sigh ruffled her hair. He climbed onto
the bed and propped his shoulders against the padded headboard.
“Come here.”

In her parents’ bathroom, she’d bristled at
the exact same command. Now she was grateful for it. Holding the
sheet to her breasts, she crawled up beside him. Aya touched her
hip, guiding her to sit astride his thighs. The sheet caught
between her legs and kept them from skin on skin contact. She rose
up and reached to move the cloth but he forestalled her, capturing
her hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“Look at me,” he said. Noelle pressed her
lips together and met his eyes. He held her gaze. “I want to know
everything about you right now. I came to awareness wanting to know
you. I couldn’t look in your eyes fast enough. You want the same
thing, to know me for a lifetime within a few hours.”

She exhaled. “When I met my first husbands,
we spent a great deal of time talking. We didn’t sleep together at
first. There was so much to be done. Meeting my family, receiving
well-wishes from friends, figuring out who wanted what side of the
bed and who needed the shower first. They had jobs immediately.
Friends they’d made in holding at Manporium. It was very
different—both times—than it is with you.”

“I surprised you,” he said. “Put you off
balance and on the defensive.”

“You caught me unprepared.”

“I won’t apologize for that. Where would we
be right now if you’d had time to put on a mask?” Aya’s hands
spanned her waist. He pulled her forward, physically mirroring her
emotional unsteadiness. Noelle tumbled against his chest, his
nipple rings hard between them. Lowering his head, he whispered in
her ear. “We wouldn’t be here, would we? You smelling like me and
trusting me to tell you we’re going to be just fine.”

“You don’t give me much choice. You’re
so…intense.” She rubbed her nose in the hollow of his throat.

“I’ve limited use of your hands, not use of
your mind. You have a choice between believing in me and not
believing in me. What’s it going to be, Noelle?”

“I want to believe in you.”

“You didn’t hesitate,” he said.

“No. I know what I want out of us.” She
traced the strong angle of his jaw. “I didn’t want our first time
waking up beside each other to be so melodramatic.”

He chuckled. “What did you want instead?”

“Mmm, we-e-e-l-l-l-l…” Grateful for the
chance to lighten the mood, she gave him a small grin. “I wouldn’t
have objected to you waking up and snuggling your morning erection
against my butt.”

He palmed her buttocks and squeezed. “While
that would have been a very pleasant way to wake up, I’m happy with
the natural course of events. If I had to choose between learning
about your heart and learning about your body, I’d choose your
heart.”

Deity. His words could be as sweet as his…she
deliberately aborted her train of thought, aware of the hot flush
warming her cheeks.

Aya quirked an eyebrow, astute eyes picking
up the change. “Where did your mind just wander off to?”

“Nowhere,” she said firmly, a soft lie
followed by a truthful, “I want to kiss you. Will you close your
eyes?”

“Eventually I’m going to come up with a
punishment to deal with your tendency toward lies.” Despite the
warning, he complied. Thick lashes lowered, hiding the compelling
shade of his irises and shielding her from his intent focus.

“I hope it involves spanking.” She gently
circled his neck with both hands, her thumbs aligned beneath his
Adam’s apple, and kissed him. His lips parted easily for her.
Noelle slipped away from the invitation to come deeper and instead
traced the shape of his lips with the tip of her tongue. He tilted
his head back for her, completely open. The tendons in his neck
stretched under her hands. Beneath her breasts, she could feel his
heart beating against her ribs.

She could kiss him like this forever,
sampling his lips, teasing herself with hints of his spicy-sweet
flavor. Aya demonstrated less patience. He licked her lips and
scouted into her mouth, touching his tongue to hers long enough to
draw her moan. When she tried to catch him and suck, he evaded,
luring her to be the aggressor. He didn’t have to resort to
trickery. As she sealed their mouths and sought his tongue, she
wondered where her uncertainty and shyness had gone. Wondered
whether she’d ever really had any at all with him.

Cool air and sure fingertips stroked her back
and she stopped wondering. Aya peeled the sheet from her and pulled
her tight to his chest, flattening her breasts and angling her
pelvis against his. Against her bottom, his cock stirred. Aya
gripped her thighs and spread them wider, forcing her sex to part.
His coarse pad of hair abraded her clit, too rough after so much
stimulation the night before.

She wrenched her mouth from his, dazed and
gasping, squirming to put space between them. Aya held her
mercilessly, eyes no longer closed. They glittered fiercely.

Noelle swallowed, every muscle jumping for
relief. She held herself still, tried not to create any friction.
“I’m too sensitive,” she managed. Her fingernails, she saw, gouged
little crescents beneath his collarbones.

“Too sensitive,” he repeated. Cupping her
hips, his fingertips pressing and spreading the cheeks of her
behind, he pushed down while lifting up. Again, his pubic hair
scraped her tender folds. Little darts of fire arrowed to the
spot.

“Yes,” she moaned, fighting his hold. Aya’s
biceps bulged as he pitted his strength against hers and won. She
didn’t gain a centimeter of relief.

“Poor sweet Noelle,” he whispered, his lips
on her skin. “I’ll let you up this time. But only because you’ve
got me thinking about my morning erection and your ass.”

He relaxed his grip and she shot up away from
him. His wicked laugh chased her.

“Don’t think you’re going to go far. I’m not
finished with you.”

She froze, poised above him, thighs splayed
across his lap. Her skin felt too tight, her lungs tighter. Drawing
a shaky breath, she tucked her chin close and focused on his chest.
His nipples, the rings pierced through. Her taste buds remembered
his flavor, candy underscored by metallic tang.

“There’s that hungry look again,” he
murmured. “I’ll feed you breakfast after.”

“After you…” Noelle stopped, mortified by her
raspy voice.

“Yeah, after I.” He kneaded her buttocks,
separated them and flexed his hips. His cock nudged into the
crevice. “Say it, Noelle. Say it out loud.”

“Deity.” She closed her eyes—but that was a
mistake. Without visual distraction, she
felt
.

“No gods, baby. Just me.” Thick fingers
dipped into her wetness from behind. He avoided her clit but her
sheath clenched anyway, fluttering invitation to his circling
fingertips.

“Just you,” she breathed. Yeah, just Aya.
There’d been others, men who attended to her body with deft skill
and confidence. Aya, though, tended to all of her, pushing at her
walls with the same determination with which he swept her wetness
back and pushed at her ass.

Shivering, she clutched his shoulders. She
could say it. His fingertip circled slowly, patiently. His cock
rose heavy and thick against her cheek, waiting. Noelle licked her
lips and whispered, “Fuck my ass. Breakfast. After you fuck my
ass.”