“Quinn,” she breathed. “Answer me.”
“Elite Hunter. Raised on Everis. Good parents. I am the eldest and have six siblings. I have twenty-two nieces and nephews.” I turned my attention to her neck, kissing the soft skin there as I gave us both what we wanted. “Assigned to Battleship Karter and Section 437.” I ended with a kiss on her lips. I was not interesting. Not in the least.
“You have six siblings?” she asked. Out of everything I said, that was what she picked up on?
Nodding, I slid my thumb over her plump lower lip. I did not tell her there was a twelve-year age gap between myself and the youngest, nor that I had spent much of my youth chasing my younger brothers and sisters, bathing them, preparing food. Our family worked together, as a unit. I had chores. Lots of chores. And among them was caring for my younger family members. Protecting them. Keeping them out of trouble, away from danger.
I’d felt like a father when I was ten. I’d resisted the matching protocol because I was not ready to be a father again. I had come to terms with the fact that a female I was matched to might want children, but to be honest, if Niobe did not care to be a mother, I would be pleased. The need to be a parent had been worked out of me by the time I was fifteen.
“Yes, six. All younger. I’m thirty-eight and I waited until two years ago to be tested. While I love seeing all my siblings matched and happy and making lots of babies, I was content with just watching them.”
She looked away, bit her lip. “And now?”
“Now?” I wondered.
“You are from a large family. I assume you want a mate and lots of babies?”
I sensed this was a serious question, so I paused. Considered. “You said before you couldn’t give me what I wanted. You believe I want… what exactly?” Taking her chin between my fingers, I forced her to look at me.
“Babies. Lots of babies.”
I held her gaze and decided to be honest. “I do not care to have children.”
The relief in her eyes, the release of tension in her body gave me pause. “By your reaction, I assume you do not want to be a mother?”
She shook her head. “No. I’d be a terrible mother. I have no idea what a good one would be like. I’d have no idea where to start. And the truth is”—she bit her lower lip and stared up at me—“the truth is, I have no desire to have children. I could not lead at the academy and serve the Coalition as I like to do, if I had children to care for. I don’t want to be a mother. I never have.”
Based on what she’d told me of her childhood, it made sense. But I knew her, at least well enough to see that she’d be kind. Sweet. She’d be a good mother if she did have a child. But I respected her choice not to. I had no desire to be a father. I only wanted my mate to be happy, to feel whole. If that wholeness came from being a mother, I would acquiesce. But if not? Well, the possibility of having Niobe all to myself for the rest of our lives pleased me greatly.
I was staring at her lip, remembering the taste when she spoke again. “Besides, I’m thirty-six. What on earth is called an Old Maid. My biological clock isn’t really ticking anymore. My eggs are old and dried up.”
I had no idea what her clock was, or how eggs could be tired. I understood her age. Females older than she was had children. It wasn’t unheard of. But she didn’t want them. And she worried I would, that she would not give me what I wanted. That she wouldn’t be a good mate because of it.
My mate watched me intently, worry and pain in her eyes. Not acceptable. Not when everything about her made me content. No. More than content. Happy.
“I want you, Niobe. I do not want children. I have never wanted to be a father. I enjoy my nieces and nephews. Twenty-two of them are plenty of children for me. Niobe…” She looked at me. Really looked. “We would not have been matched if our intentions didn’t align.”
She must have known that, but doubted. Until now. “You really don’t want kids?”
Kids? Wasn’t that the Earth word for baby goats?
But judging by her earnest expression, she was referring to offspring, not agricultural animals. Perhaps this was more Earth slang.
“I do not want to be a father. All right?” I asked, smiling.
She smiled in reply. “Yes.”
I lifted my hips, pressed my cock into her. “We might not make a baby out of it, but we will fuck.”
“Good, because I… want more of you.”
“I know,” I replied smugly.
She rolled her eyes and I stood with her in my arms, walked the few feet to the bed and dropped her on it so she bounced, her legs flailing. I grabbed her ankles, pulled her to the bottom of the bed, dropped to my knees on the floor, then placed her feet nice and wide, on the soft surface.
“Quinn,” she murmured, coming up on her elbows and looking down her bare body at me.
This view, fuck. I’d never get tired of looking at her, legs spread, pussy wet and open, her soft belly, full breasts with tight nipples. The aroused look on her face.