My cock stirred needily as I stared at the white expanse of her lower back. What would she look like, without a tail and without clothing? I’d seen the illustrations of the naked human women in the book provided by Tasha. But I wanted to know what Jolene looked like.
Only Jolene.
“I actually think this is helping!” she said excitedly, flexing her fingers, shiny with the salve. It was hard to tell with the purple sheen, but it seemed like the skin on her hands was not so red now. “This is great to know. It could make a great moisturizer or diaper balm for Baby Girl! Can we make more and preserve it beyond the growing season?”
Beyond the growing season. She spoke so easily of staying here with me, into winter and beyond. My insides lurched, as if something vital had come unfastened.
“Yes,” I replied in a clipped tone. “I have a freezer in the cellar.”
“Perfect!” She sighed. “I swear, this stuff is magic!” Her head moved, her eyes catching mine with something that almost looked like shyness. “I know I just said you didn’t have to, but… Would you? You know. Put some on my back.” Her mouth twisted, as if it were uncomfortable to ask this tiny thing of me, even though I was the reason for her discomfort in the first place.
I showed her my wet hand meaningfully. “What else did you think I was going to do with this?”
“OK, well. You’re kind of just standing there.”
I huffed out a harsh breath, unwilling to tell her that I’d been waylaid by lustful thoughts of her tailless backside.
“It’s because all your hair is in the way,” I muttered, throwing the lie between us like a shield.
“Oh! Sorry. Can you please move it? My hands are all gloppy.” She rested her elbows on the table and wiggled her shiny fingers.
I hesitated, heat lodging in my throat. The act felt bizarrely intimate. Which was probably a stupid thing to think, considering I’d just fisted her hair outside to get a look at her back. But here, in the quiet of the kitchen, with her bare skin before me and the bright strands of her hair looking so invitingly soft and warm, it was different.
But I wouldn’t leave her in discomfort just because I was suddenly caught up by some combination of dread and desire over something as simple as her hair. With my clean hand, I gently gathered it all up and pushed it forward over her left shoulder.
Her back was not as red as her hands had been. The sheet I’d put between the hay and her for the night had had at least some mitigating effect. But I still seethed at the sight of the red splotches and scratches there, inflaming her.
Tasha’s book had not mentioned much about human skin besides the need for sun protection. I did not realize it could be so sensitive. So reactive.
What else would it react to?
Much of the salve I’d had on my fingers had absorbed into my own hide. I gathered more on my fingers, bringing the cool, creamy gel of it to the angriest places of redness between her shoulder blades. When I touched her, her shoulders tensed in response.
“Does that hurt?” By the empire, what had I done now? I’d been as gentle as possible.
“No,” she said quickly, a rush of shivering breath. “Please don’t stop.”
I felt her words in my cock.
There is nowhere else I should have ended up but here,I lamented in stony silence.I am a perverted failure of the highest order.
Getting hard by touching a patient in distress. It was absolutely unthinkable!
But she is not just a patient,whispered a seductive voice.She wants to marry you.
For now.
I focused on the task at hand, doing my best not to listen to Jolene’s pretty little sighs of contentment as I worked. They distracted me, because they aroused me. And a Zabrian male of honour – a doctor no less! – would submit to no perversions when there was medicine to administer.
Her skin was so warm, heating the gel. So intoxicatingly smooth. More than once, a sick desire to lick the salve from her spine intruded upon my disordered mind.
I wanted to get this done with quickly.
I wanted to do it forever. Have her body still before me, her sighs shifting the air as I touched her.
“There,” I said, the bowl of salve nearly emptied and the skin on her back notably soothed. I realized then that I was still caressing her, brushing my knuckles along the back of her neck. I hurriedly stepped away and made a show of turning on the tap at full pressure, loudly washing my hands. “You will need to put on clean clothes that have not been contaminated by the irritant,” I shouted over the sound of the water.
She said something in reply. Very quietly. Even with my excellent Zabrian hearing, I could not make out the words over the tap. Hands dripping, I slammed the tap down.
