Alien Brides: Zeylan: 4 Sci-Fi Erotica Short Stories by Kyra Keys

Author:Kyra Keys [Keys, Kyra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: age gap, Interstellar fated mates, scifi alien love, interstellar brides program, older man younger woman, bondage, arranged marriage, syfy alien bride
Publisher: Kyra Keys
Published: 2021-08-23T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

In the morning, I wake up before Dean does and I creep out to the kitchen to see if there is anything resembling coffee. I pull on the dirty robe, and it gives me a nice slutty buzz, as if I’m doing the walk of shame to wander around the house in a robe with a crusty stain from my own juices.

I’m bent over digging in some kitchen drawers when a slap on my ass scares me.

I yelp. “Jesus!”

I straighten up, turn, and glare at an amused Dean.

“What are you looking for?”

I give him a mock scowl. “Anything that gives me caffeine. Do you know what coffee is?”

“Yes.” He tips open a cupboard right above my head and pulls out a glass jar containing something that resembles brown rice. Uh, I don’t even want to know what that is. My stomach turns slightly at the thought of whatever disgusting drink he might consider coffee and decide I shouldn’t be around when he makes it. I’ll sample the final product before deciding.

“Uh, I’m going to go get dressed.”

I hurry into the bedroom and open a couple of suitcases, digging around for anything acceptable. His lifestyle is less lavish than I expected, so most of my clothes will not be suitable. It’s possible the closet space and chest of drawers will be enough since I’ll be storing most of my dresses and finery.

I triumphantly snatch at a pair of blue jeans and a green t-shirt. I find a pair of white cotton knickers and a pink lace bra and add them to the pile. Deciding a quick shower is a good idea, I trudge into the bathroom and make quick work of my morning routine. When I’m done and dressed, the house smells suspiciously like coffee. Hm, it’s possible he’s right about it being coffee.

There is a mug waiting on the counter for me, but Dean isn’t in the room. I grab the coffee and head out the front door to sit on the porch. Dean is in the yard, talking to a burly biker-type dude. Intrigued, but not wanting to butt in, I sit on the bench on the porch and wait.

When I take a sip of the coffee, I’m pleasantly surprised. It tastes like a creamy latte and I wonder if he added any sort of milk to it, or if it always tastes like this. The more I sip, the more I can detect notes of caramel and an underlying smoky flavor. It’s an interesting blend, and I could see myself enjoying this drink every morning. I guess tomorrow I’ll have to watch him make it.

Dean and the man chat for a few, and twice it looks as if it’s about to get heated, but both men keep glancing my way and keeping themselves in check. Hoping he’ll tell me what this is about, I patiently wait for him to finish with the guy. When the rough guy leaves, Dean joins me on the bench.

“Friend of yours?” I attempt to sound casual, but I’m afraid my voice betrayed my curiosity.

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