Free Lords of the Deep by Kaitlyn O'Connor Page B

handsome, too, very well defined features, pleasing in form, very symmetrical—which points to an excellent gene pool.”
    She set the recorder aside when Damien came in bearing a tray. He settled it on the bed, giving her a quizzical look. Angie reddened, realizing she’d gotten so caught up in recording her thoughts she hadn’t thought to dash to the bathroom to dress the minute Miles left.
    It seemed a lame excuse even to her.
    After a moment of indecision, she decided to try to ignore her nudity and moved across the mattress to settle opposite Damien. His cock rose and looked at her with its one dark eye the moment she uncoiled. Disconcerted, she stared back at it. Damien grasped it, gritting his teeth as he trapped it beneath his thigh.
    She glanced at his face. Contrary to what she’d expected, however, he wasn’t leering at her. He appeared to be trying very hard to pretend he was oblivious both to her nakedness and his arousal.
    She settled with her legs together, wishing her hair was a little longer so that it actually covered her breasts.
    Once her discomfort had subsided a little and she’d managed to focus at least part of her attention on the food, it occurred to her to wonder about the situation. If, as she assumed, they didn’t wear clothes—and she thought she could assume that because they hadn’t put anything on and seemed comfortable with it—how did they usually handle arousal? Did the poor males go around with erections all the time?
    She would’ve been more inclined to think they must, being males and constantly exposed to naked females, except that she realized that neither Damien nor Miles had behaved in a lascivious manner. They didn’t seem to be particularly uncomfortable about it—maybe a little but not as if they were acutely embarrassed—but they certainly didn’t seem to be trying to bring on their erections to impress her or anything.
    Of course she was impressed—maybe a little intimidated at the size of them—though it was something of a relief that they didn’t seem to get a lot bigger when aroused, just harder.
    Was their ‘problem’ because they were particularly interested in her? Or was it just the circumstances?
    Maybe their own women wore at least some clothing, and it was just the men that didn’t? If that was the case, though, why hadn’t they provided her with anything to wear? They’d provided everything else she needed.
    And, if the females did wear clothing, did they cover up everything? Just the top? Or just the bottom? Maybe they didn’t worry about the bottom—if their lower bodies were like the males, maybe it wasn’t that noticeable?
    Or maybe they covered their lower bodies and didn’t worry about the breasts like some more primitive tribes in the world did?
    As hard as he was pretending not to notice, Damien seemed fascinated by her breasts, though. She didn’t quite know what to think about that. As breasts went, she couldn’t consider them particularly impressive. In anything, she thought they were a little on the small side.
    Maybe that was it, she thought a little indignantly? He wasn’t used to seeing women with such small breasts?
    She tamped that bit of insecurity. All of their women wouldn’t have large breasts, she was sure. If people came in all shapes and sizes, then it stood to reason these beings would, too.
    There was a problem, she discovered, with eating naked aside from the hygienic aspects, or lack thereof. She dripped—something—all over her breasts and belly. She didn’t know what it was, but she felt the splats of three juicy drops right on her boobs, one dead center of her chest, and one on either breast. Damien paused with his own food halfway to his mouth as if he’d suddenly gone catatonic.
    She supposed they didn’t have slobs.
    Damien swallowed convulsively several times, his gaze following the slow glide of the juices down her body. One drop scaled the slope of her right globe, rolled over the pink bud, and