He didn’t know if she was referring to her unbinding or delaying their inaugural sex. It didn’t matter. “I’ll help you dress. So far, Lysa, I think things are going well between us.”
Her eyes sprung open. “I do hope so,” she whispered. “I really do.”
Chapter Three
“I’ll make you something to eat.”
He’d deposited Lysa on the bed, having virtually carried her from the medical centre. She’d gone cold, so he draped a blanket over her. “Don’t go to sleep, not until you’ve eaten.”
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I’m wiped out.”
“Understandable.” He prepared a bowl of reconstituted pasta. Unambitious in the kitchen, he lived off dried food, as did many given the restrictions on food importation. Several times, while he waited for the pasta to swell, he nudged her, preventing her from nodding off.
“Sit here.” He drew out a chair and she slumped onto it, her face almost ending up in the dish of steaming food.
She’d survived on similar fare during her transit and she ate without commenting, spooning mouthfuls in quick succession. During the meal, she opened her mouth to speak, then sealed it around the fork instead. He pursed his lips and wondered what it was she wanted to discuss with him. Something that required her to be awake and alert or else why did she hold back? At some point he’d interrogate her in more depth.
Seeing her so exhausted, by both her journey and the extensive medical, he stowed his impatience, but how long did he leave it before he insisted on taking her? She needed sleep and he couldn’t bring himself to fuck her in a state of fatigue. She exhibited a strange mix of fragility and boldness. She’d argued with him and the doctor, but submitted to each stage of the gruelling examination. The woman continued to be the enigma he’d spotted on her videos.
“I’ve something to show you.” He fetched the small bowl from the kitchen area and placed it in the middle of the table.
Lysa’s face lit up—her sleepy eyes widened and she smiled. “Are these fresh?” She picked a small tomato from the bowl.
“Yes.”
She bit into the fruit and smacked her lips. “So sweet. How do you have this here?”
“I’ll show you tomorrow.”
She puckered her lips. “Oh, that’s not fair.”
“You’ll have to be patient.” He collected up the dirty dishes. “Lie down on the bed and sleep.”
Lysa slid back the chair. “Sleep?”
“Yes. Once you’ve rested, then we’ll resume our familiarisation.”
She tugged at a lock of hair, yawning. “You won’t touch me, while I sleep?”
Blake sensed her air of caution, vulnerability. Why wasn’t she offering herself to him, stripping off her clothes ready to please him? Instead, she seemed unable or unwilling to comprehend her situation. She was to be his and his responsibility and her reticence confused him, it also made him hot for her.
“No.” He gritted his teeth as she turned away from him and his restless cock moved in his pants. “Keep your clothes on.” When they were married he’d forbid her coming to bed clothed, for now, he needed her covered.
While she slumbered, Blake lay next to her keeping a safe distance. She purred as she breathed—a soft low growl of contentment and her unruly hair lay sprawled about the pillow.
He tucked his hands behind his head and concentrated on other matters. He’d been granted a few days off work to help Lysa acclimatise to her new life on the colony. Once they’d ironed out any potential grievances, they would attend the adjudicator’s office and sign the necessary documents. A wedding of sorts with a few chosen words for vows and the seal of approval by the Corporation. Not exactly the most romantic of occasions, but miners didn’t marry Corporate wives for romance. Back on Earth, the few women who’d drifted in and out of Blake’s life had given him solace but no love, and he’d given up on the notion of romance.
When Blake arrived at Colony 14 he’d assumed he’d cope on his own. However, coming back to his pod at the end of a twelve hour shift with nobody to greet him picked apart his resolve. Listening to his friends chatter about how their wives kept them charged with sexual energy, he pined for some kind of respite from the humdrum of life. Loneliness gnawed at his soul and the temptation bubbled over after Yuri suggested his threesome. Did he look that desperate? He must have done, leering at the other wives as they strutted about with barely covered arses.
Such fantastic arses too. He’d seen them bent over, leaning over tables and he missed the feel of warm, pliable flesh in his hands. Those parties he’d attended introduced him to new adventures, things he’d not thought he would enjoy.
He’d witnessed naked bottoms on other, more solemn occasions, but those were not appealing to his eye. The last time, he’d walked out as the constable wielded his chosen implement on the poor woman, punishing her for breaking one of the Corporation’s numerous rules. The husband stood by, happy to watch as his wife wailed and protested until she went quiet. The constable was a brute. A man nobody cared to socialise with or even enquire as to his real name. Rumours were rife that the bully got up to more than beating the wives, but as yet, nobody had accused him outright of improprieties. Fear kept mouths shut.
Blake turned on to his side, repressing the desire to spoon about Lysa. What would she make of the constable? Would she be an upstanding wife and keep out of trouble, save him the bother of disciplining her? Part of him ached to keep her safe and under his control, ensuring she behaved as a good wife should to their hardworking husband. However, nobody else would lay a finger on her. If it came to it, he’d do the deed himself and spank her arse to a fiery red if it kept her out of the constable’s clutches.
The image did him no favours. He sprung off the bed and elected to have a shower with the spray setting on icy cold.
He returned to stand naked by the bed. Lysa stirred, her eyes flickered. She blinked under the lights, stretching her arms above her head. The moment she focussed on him, she jerked, scrambling into a sitting position, clutching her knees to her belly.