The Commander - A Sexy Alien Invasion Story.

Chapter 18 - Cara

Since she had no clothes, they returned to the base and Bastian's apartments. He carried her the entire way, teasing her spread legs with his dick until they were in sight of the base, and she begged him to stop.

If he made that sex-harness-carrier thing, she wouldn't survive it. The man was a menace. Buy the time the apartment was in sight, she was so drained from the excitement of trying to leave and multiple climaxes that she just wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep for five minutes.

Unfortunately, there was too much to do. Brenda and the others were counting on her. As soon as they opened the front door and her feet touched the floor, she asked for fresh clothes.

"You need nourishment," he told her, acting as if there was no reason to hurry.

"I ate already. Remember?"

"The mating has depleted you."

"I've gone longer without food." Cara held her hands over herself, watching his eyes sweep down then up, staying on her breasts exposed between the ruined flaps of the shirt. "I have plenty of curves."

"Perhaps. But you will keep those curves and more. I can see your ribs. You will no longer go without. Sit down."

Cara didn't want to sit. She felt like she was breaking a promise to Brenda. Promises were the only things that were hers, that she had true control over. They were important.

He didn't give her a chance to argue the point, just picked her up and sat her down back at the little table in the corner of his kitchen. It had two chairs shoved in a corner next to a double window covered with protective bomb film that darkened the room spread over it.

"How old is this friend of yours?"

"I don't know."

"Guess," he insisted.

"Why?"

"Must you argue about everything? Do I need to teach you how to have conversations with your mate? All the studies show that human females are good communicators. Why is my mate so terrible at it?" He mimicked the beleaguered male tone perfectly.

"Less than two days ago you were my enemy. Now I'm not sure what you are."

"Mate. I am your mate. Answer the question. How old is this Brenda? Older? Younger?"

Cara put her hands on the table. Was sitting really a good idea? She could sleep for two days, happily. She sighed before saying, "I don't know. Almost thirty?"

"And how long have you known her?"

"A couple years?"

"So, she is older than you and you have only been providing for her for a couple of years?"

"Providing for her?" What did he mean by that question? Since her father had left, Cara only had herself to provide for. Sometimes she helped Brenda, but she did not provide for a woman who was at least six years older than her and in decent health. Brenda might be pregnant, but she wasn't old or missing a limb like some of the other people kicked out of Springfield for non-compliance.

"You were the one getting food."

Cara had to think about it. She was. She always was. Even before Springfield, they became friends one day when Cara shared her lunch with Brenda because the boyfriend at the time had lost half her rations gambling. She waved her hand, unable to explain it all. "She needed help."

"Kitten. I have seen this pattern before. Let me explain it to you. It's called manipulation."

Cara sat back in her chair.