Alien in the Family

his eyes follow me. It was official; this was an outfit for the ages.
    “Yes, so Mister Reynolds said. We have the entire restaurant booked. So, we’ll order what for you?”
    Alfred was a great father. I wondered if Martini had managed to realize that yet. “We’ll both start with borscht. Tell Nana Sadie it’s not as good as hers but it’s close. We’ll both take iced tea.”
    “Jeffrey, you like borscht?”
    “Right.”
    Alfred was laughing silently. “Wonderful. Well, see you two in an hour. Or so.” Alfred went to the door. “Son? Jeffrey? I’ll just let myself out.”
    “Right.”
    Alfred was chuckling as he left. The door shut, and Martini was out of the robe and on me. There were advantages to hyperspeed. We didn’t get to the bed or even leave the room. He had me up against the wall with my legs wrapped around his waist in moments. The lingerie was all easy access and he had it opened and was inside me within another moment.
    He was out of control, but it was flattering—and arousing. His thrusts were hard, fast, and frantic, as if he couldn’t get enough of me quickly enough. His mouth ravaged my neck, specifically the spots that made me howl.
    His body was moving so fast inside me that my orgasm felt like it came out of nowhere—one moment being pounded by a sex god, the next screaming from sexual fulfillment of the highest order.
    I triggered him and he bit my neck, which spiked my orgasm higher. Any time this happened I felt like I would faint, and this time was no exception. The room spun, and I held onto him as our bodies’ spasms continued unabated.
    Finally things slowed back to normal, and Martini let me slide down his body and back to the floor. I nuzzled his chest. “So, I should return this?”
    He laughed and slung me gently over his shoulder. “Sure.” He nipped my behind, and I giggled as he carried me into the bedroom. “As soon as I’ve made love to you in it for another year, year and a half, why not?”
    “I love how you think.”

CHAPTER 43

    IN AN HOUR, GIVE OR TAKE, I brushed my hair and marveled at how this dress hid wrinkles. I’d already felt the money spent was more than worth it, but it was nice not to have to change into something else.
    Martini had his standard suit on, but because I’d begged, he was just carrying the jacket, and he had the shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest and the sleeves rolled up to about midforearm. Wasn’t my fault that this was the second time he’d had to dress. He looked too good to pass up the first time. Only the clock prevented me from insisting he looked too good the second time, too.
    I took another look in the mirror. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to go have dinner with your parents dressed like this?”
    “Sure, why not?”
    “It’s kind of . . .”
    “Totally sexy?” Martini was grinning.
    “Um, yeah. I mean, it’s a little much for dinner with the folks, isn’t it?”
    “My dad picked everything up for me, and he saw you in it before. He didn’t seem to mind, and I can promise you he wasn’t upset, I’d have noticed.”
    I doubted that, based on Martini’s reactions when he’d first seen me in it, but I kept this to myself. “Maybe we should stop and find some kind of wrap or something.”
    “Nah.” Martini draped his jacket around me. “How’s that?”
    It seemed workable; it was black, the dress was black, why not? I really put the jacket on and rolled up the sleeves. “I’m bringing the eighties back, I think. All I need is a fedora.”
    “Mmmm, let’s be sure to pick that up sometime soon.”
    It didn’t really say, “completing the ensemble,” but under the circumstances, I took my purse along. The hell with a handbag—the last time I’d tried that I’d been chased through the Arizona desert by sociopaths. I took the Poofs along as well. I didn’t know what else to do with them, and I figured they needed to eat.
    I was heading for the door when Martini grabbed my arm. “Baby, wait a minute.”
    I turned around. He had a funny look on his face. “Jeff, are you okay?”
    “Yeah.” He drew me over to the couch and sat us down. I took my purse off and put it on the table—it didn’t seem that this was going to be quick. “I just wanted to . . . ask you something.” He looked nervous and worried, so, despite my best efforts, I got nervous and worried.
    “Okay. What’s wrong?” My throat felt tight. Had I done something?
    He stroked my face. “No, baby, you