An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Ellora’s Cavemen: Flavors of Ecstasy II ISBN 9781419919886 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Celtic Rhythm © 2009 Ari Thatcher For the King’s Pleasure © 2009 Cara Carnes Hell to Pay © 2009 Kimberly Dean The Proper Wife © 2009 Janne Lewis Touch of Lust © 2009 Liddy Midnight With Sword and Salt © 2009 BJ McCall Editorial Team: Raelene Gorlinsky, Meghan Conrad, Mary Moran, Briana St. James, Denise Powers Cover design by Darrell King Electronic book Publication June 2009 Trade paperback Publication June 2009 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
ELLORA’S CAVEMEN: FLAVORS OF ECSTASY II Celtic Rhythm By Ari Thatcher
For the King’s Pleasure By Cara Carnes
Hell to Pay
By Kimberly Dean
The Proper Wife By Janne Lewis
Touch of Lust
By Liddy Midnight
With Sword and Salt By B.J. McCall
CELTIC RHYTHM Ari Thatcher
Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Playboy: Playboy Enterprises International, Inc.
Ari Thatcher
Chapter One Cait caught a glimpse of a man’s brawny calf beneath a kilt as it crossed the opening of the entertainment tent, disappearing from her view. She changed her course and ducked between the vendor booths to enter the tent. She’d heard the music but the responsible angel on her shoulder told her to ignore it and get back to work. She could play later. Her wilder alter ego on her other shoulder, the one with the fairy tattoo on her ass and pierced bellybutton, argued that seeing who owned such a well-formed calf wasn’t playing. Running her fingers up the inside of that calf, exploring the planes of the thigh above it, fondling what was surely a hard ass, that would be playing. Stepping inside the tent, she let her eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Her tartan skirt caressed her legs as she swayed with the song. She searched the space for the elusive owner of that leg. Onstage, Irish bagpipes wailed a march. The lead musician’s kilt displayed bony, pale knees. She kept looking. A gray-haired, middle-aged man, short and round-bellied, stood on the stage near the piper with a bodhran drum cradled at his side. He rocked the tipper against the skin, coaxing song from the instrument. She didn’t waste her time checking him out. Another drummer moved through the crowd. His bearing demanded her attention, not to mention his height, noticeably taller than the line of people standing at the edge of the space. He carried a large side drum hanging by a strap around his neck, and he beat out the marching meter as he wound his way through the large crowd. She felt the music as if his drum controlled the pulse of her heart. The man’s long chestnut hair fell in waves almost to his waist, moving in the breeze that snuck in through the tent flaps. His white peasant shirt was open in a vee to mid-chest and tucked into his knee-length kilt. His tartan proclaimed he was a Ferguson. Cait couldn’t take her eyes off his body, the way it moved, the way it filled his clothes. His sleeves fit tight against his muscled forearms as he swung the drumsticks. He worked the crowd, smiling, nodding, pausing in front of some. His arms kept the beat as if by rote. He turned her way, met her look and licked his lips. With the barest of grins, he nodded. Her heart fluttered and she clamped her legs together, even knowing no one could see the sudden dampness that tongue had caused. Wool skirts served a purpose after all. The drummer turned his head toward the front of the crowd and played on, stopping before an awestruck boy of two or three. The boy’s gaze locked on the moving sticks, entranced. The drummer knelt and set the drum down in front of the boy, pounded a few beats and offered the sticks to the child.
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The child picked up the sticks and bonked the drumhead, his grin spreading. His eyes never left the instrument. Cait’s chest tightened. This Celtic drum god liked children, too. He was too good to be true. She forced her lungs to fill and blew the air out through pursed lips as she left the tent. Lily awaited her in their booth. She’d only left to find a restroom, but her heart led her to the tent where the pipe and drum band played. She loved traditional Celtic music, one of her favorite parts of being a vendor at Scottish Highland Games around the western states. A good, strong drumbeat was the hottest part of music. It didn’t really matter what type of drum, as long as the pulse came through hard and constant and driven. When the drummer was a hottie to boot, well, who needed more? As she wandered through booths of genealogy books and kilts, Cait adjusted the McLaird tartan draped over her shoulder and tugged the pewter brooch back into place. Sometimes her clothes had a mind of their own, shifting as she walked. Although still spring, the sun gave a good imitation of later in the year. A single shopper looked through Lily’s painted silk scarves hanging on a rack at the front of their display. The day was young and she had noticed quite a crowd circling the games field where players warmed up for the log toss. Shoppers would wander by in between games. Cait’s business partner looked up from the scarf she was painting. “Any good booths?” Lily asked. “The usual. There were some fairy statues in one that I’ll go back and look at later.” She straightened the business card holder and flyers that advertised their website and inspected each of the tables that edged the booth. “There’s a new band, though. Later, when they’re done playing, I’ll go check out their CDs.” Lily glanced up again, studying Cait, who lowered herself into the empty chair. “I’m sure they have someone manning their merchandise table while they’re playing.” “Oh, yeah, I guess so,” she answered, watching an older couple walk past. “That band must be something special. Most of the ones we’ve seen at these smaller games have men on the scrawny side and women just the opposite. What’s their name?” Cait sat up straight, eyes popping wide. “I forgot to ask! Well, I guess I’ll have to wait until they’re done so I can find them in their booth. That’d be quicker than flipping through the CDs in all the booths, looking for a photo.” “Ah, so there is something that distinguishes these guys. It didn’t occur to you to check the schedule to find their name? He must be fine!” “Like something from a historical novel. Long wavy hair, fantastic legs, perfect smile…”
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“Sounds like it’s my turn to see the sights.” Lily cleaned her paintbrush and snapped the lid closed on her dyes. She reached under the table for her purse and rose. “I’ll be back.” The customer came over with her purchases and Cait tallied the transaction. She was too far from the entertainment tent to hear the live music, so when the woman left she reached under the table for their portable CD player. She chose a disc from the case and popped it in, adjusting the volume so as not to scare off any potential buyers. Pipes wailed through the small speakers and drums pulsed in from behind. An Irish didgeridoo joined in for an odd but hypnotic combination. Her eyes closed and she swayed in her chair, just feeling the heartbeat of the song. Her fingers tapped on her thigh in accompaniment. Her mind wandered far from the booth, far from the park, out of the city. She was no longer in central California. She was in the Highlands, surrounded by green hills and craggy rocks pointing to the heavens. Mist rose from a loch in the valley below as the sun threatened to climb past the horizon. She stood on the steps of a thatch-roofed cottage, searching the road for her man. He was past due home. In her fantasy, movement drew her eye to the bend in the road. A figure approached. He was still too far away to be certain. Was it him? She held her breath, willing it so. She whispered a prayer. “Please, let it be him—” A very American male voice responded, “And who would that be?” Cait gasped, pulled back to reality, and opened her eyes. “It’s you!” “You were praying for me? I have to admit, that’s a first.” He stood bold as life before her, his thick brown hair tossed back over his broad shoulders, the loose waves looking windblown and wild. Without his drum in the way, she could imagine the flat abdomen where his shirt tucked into the tartan kilt. A simple silver pin held the fabric closed on one side. She wondered how ripped his abs were, and if his pecs were also well defined. “Ah, no, I was…” She cleared her throat and looked for a plausible excuse. I was having this fantasy, you see, that we lived in a tiny cottage on the side of a hill in Scotland… Right. Damn, he looked even younger close up. He probably felt pity for the middle-aged woman who fantasized in the middle of the day. With any luck, he’d assume she had someone else, someone closer to her own age, on her mind. She stood and moved to a table full of hand-dyed silk camisoles. “So, what can I help you find? A top or a nightgown for your girlfriend?” She held up a purple and lime green gown with lace insets in a Y down the center, draping it over her clothes. His brow rose and he reached out a hand, fingering the delicate fabric where it rested between her breasts. “That must feel amazing on.” Cait’s heart rate sped up. “Mmm, yes, in a cold room, slipping into one of these is like sliding an ice cube over your skin. It’s a very sensual fabric. For both parties. Do
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you know her color preferences?” She turned back to the stack of folded gowns, laying an assortment of choices across the front of the table. He closed in behind her, trapping her against the table’s edge, and leaned forward. His warmth seeped through her thin blouse, outlining where their bodies touched. He spoke above her ear. “It’s too bad you don’t have a booth for trying these on.” She froze and pretended she didn’t hope he was suggesting she model a nightgown, but she didn’t move away. Her butt pressed into his groin, where she could feel his interest growing. “Is your girlfriend here? I suppose I could let her take one to the ladies’ room and try it on. Seeing as how you are performing here and all.” His hand rested on her shoulder, sliding between her tartan and blouse, stroking a path along her bra strap. “I was hoping you would model for me.”
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Chapter Two She laughed—she couldn’t help herself. She turned to look up at him, the mood broken. “Lily put you up to this, right?” “Put me up to what? Who’s Lily?” “My partner. Short, curvy brunette. She went to the tent to hear you guys play after I mentioned hearing you.” “We finished our set just after you left.” He’d noticed her leave? And here he was. The fluttering in her chest warred with tingling sensations lower, each trying to gain her notice. What should she say? She was so out of practice. Flirt with him, woman! He toyed with her braid, pulling it forward over her shoulder, running his fingers down the long plait. When the back of his hand brushed over her nipple, it tightened, all of her senses focused on his touch. She imagined him stroking the blonde tip of her braid over her naked breast and gasped at the heat that shot through her. Say something, she chided. “I, uh, enjoyed y-your music.” “Did you now?” he asked, reaching for her neck. He slid his thumb over her pulse point. “I like the rhythm you’re keeping.” He leaned down and stole her breath as his lips pressed against hers. Her moan sounded distant to her ears. She grabbed the front of his shirt in both hands, stretched up to increase the contact with his mouth and sucked in his lower lip. She wanted more, much more, than just his kiss. Her tongue slipped between his lips to find his, to dance deep within his mouth. His hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her closer. Her fingers, caught between the crush of their bodies, felt his nipples harden and she toyed with the nubs. Reality hit her in a flash. What if her customers saw her making out in her tent? Way to lose sales. She forced herself to push him away and cleared her throat, trying to get her heart rate back to normal. She glanced toward the front of the booth, grateful for the display of dresses hanging across the front. “I shouldn’t be doing this here.” “Where can we go?” He closed the distance again but kept his hands to himself. He was breathing hard. “No, I mean, I’m here for work, this is my business.” “Believe me, I mean business…” “Look, I’m flattered, really. With all the groupies or roadies or whatever you call the girls who throw their panties onstage, I’m sure you have your pick of younger, more beautiful women.”
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His laugh filled the small space and bounced off the ceiling tarp. “I think you have me confused with Tim McGraw. He’s a bit older, shorter hair, but he’s no match for my stamina.” He ran his fingers over his scalp, fisting a ponytail before letting his hair fall down his back. “Look, I seem to have given you the wrong impression—” “Isn’t that my line?” she asked, giggling. “No, seriously. I don’t run around these events hooking up with women.” “Likewise. It’s been a long time since I, uh, hooked up with a stranger.” Like never! He looked so earnest but, really, why would a sexy guy like him be interested in a woman her age when he had scores of twenty-somethings to pick from? At this distance, she could see laugh lines around his eyes and a stray gray whisker or three in his stubble, so she guessed him to be in his early thirties, a good fifteen years her junior. He’s young enough to want kids, if he wants anything more than a one-nighter. He won’t want a woman leaving her childbearing years. If he offered, would she agree to one night? She’d never slept with anyone on the first date. God, after that bone-melting kiss she was considering it. Was participating in casual sex a symptom of a midlife crisis? He was talking to her. She tried to focus, but a breeze brought his earthy shampoo scent under her nose. Damn, he smelled good. Better than brownies baking. She needed a taste of him. “…tonight?” “Tonight?” What had he asked? “Yes. Our final set ends at nine and we pack up. We’re staying in the bus here, overnight. I can meet you at the vendors’ gate around ten. We can go for ice cream.” “Ice cream.” “I promise to limit myself to one, so I’ll be safe to drive. I drove up separately from the bus, so I have a vehicle.” “Um, yeah, that sounds good.” An ice cream parlor seemed a safe place to go. How much sex could they have in a restaurant booth? She shivered at the thought of forbidden fondling under the table. She’d need a triple-scoop sundae to keep her cool tonight. “Great, I’ll see you then. Oh, my friends call me Jake, by the way.” “I’m Cait.” “I’d better get back and sign CDs before the guys send out Security. We’ll be playing again at three and seven, if you want to come listen.” He smiled, looking like a shy kid and nothing like the man who had just been seducing her. “I’ll see when I can get away,” she said. He bent and kissed her cheek, turned and left. The rack of Lily’s scarves blocked him from her view and she fought the urge to watch him walk away. He was wearing a loose kilt, for Pete’s sake. It wasn’t like she could check out his ass. He had such a solid
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build, his ass had to be tight. She’d love to grab a handful of cheek while kissing him, wrapping a leg around him and claiming him as her own. She laughed aloud. She needed to quit reading erotica, she was imagining things she’d never have the chance to try out.
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Chapter Three Jake dreaded spending the next few hours signing CDs. Normally he enjoyed it almost as much as playing. Seeing that magical light in the eyes of new fans, people who had never heard the music of their ancestors, made him grateful for the gift of rhythm he’d been born with. He never got distracted. When he played, he was focused. Celtic rhythms poured from his soul through his arms and onto the drumhead. Primal and sensual, he hoped some of the essence of his passion drummed its way into the listener’s being. Now his mind was on anything but music. He couldn’t explain what happened when he looked up during that set and saw Cait. Talk about primal. Eros shot an arrow straight to his cock. Thank God for large, heavy drums and loose kilts. He expected that sort of reaction when playing at rock concerts. Bouncing breasts beneath thin tank tops would get a rise out of a dead man, and he was far from death. But the setting at the Games was so different. Families gathered here to teach the kids about their ancestry. What was it about Cait that was so different? One minute he was teaching a toddler to love the sticks, the next he’s thinking of fucking. Damn, the thought of her was as good as her touch. He needed to go watch the amateur stone throw, give himself a good laugh. Get his mind back on the events of the day. He didn’t need to spend the afternoon wondering why the hell he had asked her out. He didn’t do casual. Lately he didn’t do anyone, not in the six months since he and Meg had called things off. But that didn’t make him desperate. Cait was not a closing-time indiscretion. She was hot. Maybe her maturity was what made her different, the fullness of her curves. She didn’t have the wan, empty look of a woman who starved herself at the banquet of life. He wanted more than just a snack at that banquet. Pete sat at their table outside the tent, selling their t-shirts and CDs. Sunglasses hid his eyes but the grin that spread across his face said enough. “What?” Jake snapped. “Nothin’. I ain’t saying nothin’.” Pete’s grin got even wider. Jeff glanced up from signing a CD. He snickered. “That shade of lipstick clashes with your kilt, dude.” The two of them broke out laughing. Jake swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, picked up a pair of sticks and began drumming on the back of a chair.
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Cait folded the nightgowns she had shown Jake. She held a lace-trimmed garment at arm’s length, then draped it down her front. She owned a different gown for each night of the week, all hand-painted with silk dyes, although none with the lace insets. Her cockatiel was the only one who saw her at night, at least in the last year, and wearing lace that revealed her breasts when sleeping alone seemed trashy. “Look what I got,” called Lily as she breezed into the booth, tossing her purse into her folding chair. She pulled a plastic jewel case out of a bag. “Beggarman Thief, they’re the band you saw. They autographed it for me. Well, all except for one of the drummers. He’d gone off somewhere.” Cait took the case from her friend and looked at the cover. The five members stood in traditional Scottish garb, instruments held at their sides. Four names were scrawled across their images. Jake alone had none. What was I thinking? She had made a date with a musician. A young one. She was just too tame to consider romance with a man like him. If she were looking for a man, she should find one with a responsible daytime job. She had to get out of going on this date. She could just not show up at the gate later. She doubted he would come by her booth in the morning if she stood him up. And it wasn’t likely they would run into each other at any other events through the summer, if she avoided the music tent. What was most unlikely was the chance of her standing someone up without an explanation. That usually involved an embarrassing, apologetic phone call in which she tried to cover every possible objection her date might come up with. That alone was probably why no one called to ask her out anymore. Word had gotten around. “They’ll be playing again at three if you want to hear them live,” Cait said, handing the CD back to Lily. “Oh, did you pick up a schedule of the entertainment acts? When are the Irish dancers going to perform? I wanted to catch them.” “I don’t know. I just heard the schedule for Beggarman Thief.” She looked away before her right eye could begin to twitch. Lily had known her too long and she didn’t want to confess to making out in the booth like a couple of kids. She reached under the back table and took out the beading she brought to work on. “Are you sure you don’t want to watch them? I’ll cover the booth again while you go.” Her eye twitched again and she was glad she had her back to Lily. “No, that’s okay. I can catch them at seven after we close.” Traffic got heavier as the afternoon wore on and sales were good. As dusk approached, the women packed the remaining merchandise to store in their motor home overnight. They bought warm lamb pasties and cold ale and sat at open tables with other vendors after the public had been chased out of the area for the night.
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Cait felt a large, warm hand on her back as she sipped her ale. Rich, brown hair spilling around her shoulder announced Jake’s presence before he spoke low in her ear. “Counting the minutes.” “Jake, hi. Have you met my business partner? Lily, this is Jake from Beggarman Thief.” “Hey,” Lily responded, looking from Cait to the drummer, her grin widening. “Lily.” He smiled and nodded before turning back to Cait. “I can’t stay. We’re about to play the final set tonight. I saw you here and just had to say hi. I’ll talk to you later.” His palm burned an imprint on her back as it trailed across her shoulders and he was gone. Cait studied the lamb chunks and peas on her fork before shoving the large mouthful in, rendering her unable to talk, at least for the moment. She poked at her food, keeping her eyes down. “You have to tell me sometime, you know.” She sighed and washed the pasty down with ale. The cold drink did nothing to cool her flaming cheeks. “He stopped by the tent while you were out this afternoon.” “The sexy drummer of the featured band came by our booth and you didn’t tell me? What else aren’t you telling me? Did he buy one of my dresses for his girlfriend?” “No, he wasn’t looking to buy. He was looking for me.” “No way!” “Yes, way. What, am I that far over the hill that it is unbelievable that a hunk would be looking for me?” She realized she still found it mind-boggling. Why should Lily accept it if she couldn’t? “I didn’t mean it that way. You’re not that old. It’s just, no one has ever…well, I guess they have. But you’ve never—” “I still haven’t.” Lily set down her fork and leaned her elbows on the table. Her brown eyes glittered. “What did he want?” “He asked me to go out after they finish playing tonight.” “You’d better have said yes!” “I said I’d go out with him. But I shouldn’t have.” Cait tugged at a tendril that tickled her jawline. A battle warred in her thoughts. She wanted this man more than anything she’d wanted since, well, since she got her first car. Yet dating him, or any man she met on the road, was breaking a cardinal rule. She wasn’t into casual sex. Lily played with her food before taking a deep breath. “What made you say yes?” “I think the kiss did it.” “He kissed you? You let a man kiss you here at the Highland Games?” “In our booth, no less! God, what was I thinking?” She pressed her palm against the side of her face.
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“You have to go out with him. You have to say yes to whatever he asks.” Cait sat back in the metal chair. “Whatever he asks? Are you nuts? I don’t know this guy. I don’t want to be president of his groupies.” “When was the last time you kissed a total stranger?” “That would be…never.” “How did his kiss make you feel?” She glanced around to see the nearby tables were empty. “Damn…hot, wet, horny. It was such a kiss.” “Yes. Whatever he asks, you say yes.” “I can’t, Lily. You know me better than that.” Her young friend nodded with a sly smile. “Yeah, I know you and I know this guy is different. You deserve a break from the flock of accountants and video store managers who keep sniffing at your heels.” Cait retorted with a frustrated grunt and put her napkin on her plate. Maybe she needed this. She needed to let go and have rabid animal sex with a guy who wasn’t going to show up at a parent-teacher meeting. No excuses, no apologies. Live in the moment. Music filtered across the grounds, coming from the direction of the tent. Lily cocked her head. “That’s his band.” “I guess we should go watch.” She stood up so fast she knocked her chair over. She hoped Lily didn’t see the flush rushing over her cheeks as she bent to right the chair. They tossed their plastic dishes in the trash can and hurried toward the tent. Beggarman Thief was in full swing when the women arrived. A man she hadn’t noticed earlier in the day sat at a drum set onstage. The gray-haired guy played the big marching snare and sang. The piper held a giant animal horn to his lips. It stretched phallic-like toward the floor. Jake was on the far side of the stage, a bodhran tucked in his arm. The crowd clapped and stomped to the beat, with a voice or two singing along with Pete on the chorus. Jake kept an ear on the crowd and an ear on the guys, listening for cues. The crowd was larger than either of the earlier sets and promised a good night. His head tilted over his drum, his hair safely behind his shoulder. His wrist rocked, filling out the background of the tune. The energy in the room changed when Jeff set down his horn and began clapping his hands over his head. The audience followed suit, with a few dozen people hopping to their feet and bouncing to the beat. As Pete started singing, Jake again bent his head over the bodhran while he searched the crowd for a certain blonde. He locked eyes with her right away. His smile spread just a fraction and his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. She’d let her hair down from the braid and she
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wore one of those little shirts that felt ice cold when it slid over his skin. His hands kept the rhythm that the other guys played, but he was eager to pump up the pace. He wanted to be alone with Cait, to taste her skin and suckle on those breasts she tried so hard to hide. The song ended and he traded instruments with Lou, strapping on the large side drum. As Pete picked up his bagpipes, he announced a clan fight song. Jake pounded the marching beat. The pipes joined in and one by one the other men began to play. Jake stepped down from the low stage and moved into the audience. He saw an older couple swaying in their seats and marched their way. Cait stood the edge of the group, her arms folded around her like a barrier he had to break down. She ran hot and cold; he wasn’t sure what to make of her. At least she wasn’t lukewarm. She had passion. He could see it in more than the flaming highlights of her golden hair. It shone deep in her eyes when she looked at him and wavered in her gasping breath when they kissed. He would find a way to turn off that cold tap. He couldn’t explain why, but it became his mission for the night. She had to experience the heat he knew they would create together. He chose a wandering route but his destination was clear in his mind. His solo was coming up and he timed his arrival in front of Cait. The warm flush that spread over her body when Jake stopped in front of her wasn’t caused by the closeness of the crowd. He looked like a proud warrior standing as he did, legs planted as if he owned the space in front of her. He pounded the drumhead with both sticks simultaneously and the other players went still. The crowd hung on the moment of silence and he struck again. The rhythm was a slow, pagan tempo, like a heartbeat. His sticks bounced. He relaxed his grip to an almost lazy hold. She’d heard the singer say this was a battle song, but to Cait it became a fertility rite, tribal drum rolls stirring the village to a frenzy. Jake struck a triplet and a few offbeat notes, breaking the mood, then pounded both sticks at once, a hard beat. And again. He increased the speed gradually, tossing in a few backbeats but keeping the drive hard. Her breathing kept pace. The crowd clapped along with the primal pulse, following his lead. He added strikes between the beats, building the tension. The rhythm went faster, building, the urgency increasing, the crowd cheering until his left stick kept the rhythm while the right one battled nonstop. The clapping around him reached a frenzy point. Sweat trickled down his forehead. He kept his eyes on Cait as he played, driving the throbbing waves deep into her. Cait’s eyes narrowed as she focused on his face. She’d always loved percussion, but never had it felt like this. Her lips parted as her breath came in little gasps. He was making love to her with the whole crowd watching. 17
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He brought both arms down one sudden, final stroke, then lifted his sticks in the air. The pipes wailed behind Jake, and the other drums picked up the beat. He continued to hold her captive with his gaze. She stood still, no longer breathing, then he grinned and winked. Striking up the march, he turned and continued through the crowd. Cait slumped against the man standing behind her.
***** When the band quit for the night, Cait walked Lily back to their motor home, giving Jake time to stow his gear. “So, what’d you think?” she asked. “They are fantastic. I hope they are scheduled to be at more of the shows we’re doing this year. They really work the crowd well.” More of the shows. She stood a real chance of running into him after this weekend. She couldn’t have sex with a man she would see again, unless she was in a relationship. “I can’t do this.” “Do what? It’s only ice cream, you said. What else were you planning?” “Well, not planning. But he’s so sexy, I can’t help but wonder…” “How he’d be between the sheets?” “No chance of that happening. Neither of us has a private suite.” She pointed in the direction of her motor home just ahead. “I can get lost for a few hours,” Lily offered. “Where will you go? And how will you get there? We don’t have a car, just the beast.” Lily shrugged, looking around the parking lot at the people sitting in camp chairs outside their tent trailers and motor homes. “I can find company. Have a beer or three.” “I’m not doing that to you. We’re not in college and this isn’t a dorm.” She unlocked the door and hooked it open, flicking on the interior light. Lily followed her inside. “Well, you didn’t want a one-nighter, so it looks like fate has ensured you can’t have one.” “Right. This is a good thing.” She took a step toward the tiny john. “Cait, look at me.” She turned, frowning. “Wow, you really want this guy.” Lily shook her head, her lips pulled in a faint smile. She shrugged. “How do I tell if I want him, or just want relief from the sexual drought I am in?” “Dr. Lily prescribes that you have sex with him and see if it cures the drought or leaves you wanting more.” 18
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Chapter Four Jake trotted past the last two cars and a minivan in the row, then slowed to a casual pace when he stepped out in the clear. He didn’t want to look eager. When he saw a small figure at the gate, he fought the urge to smooth a hand over his pulled-back hair. She turned his way. He was still too far to see her face, even with the lights throughout the lot. “Hey, are you ready to go?” Stupid question, she was standing there waiting. He took her in from her flat, casual shoes, the tight jeans riding low on her hips, the slight curve of her stomach, and on up to her icy purple shirt peeking out from under a knitted wrap. He tucked her fingers inside his elbow and wrapped his hand over hers. Her fingers were cold. “Are you warm enough?” “Yes,” she answered. “It’s a lovely night to be outside.” He glanced down at her as he led her to his truck. “Yes, it’s beautiful.” He sounded like a lovesick sap. He tried to focus on intelligent conversation but could only remember the feel of her in his arms. He dug his keys from his pocket, intentionally poking one into his thigh to distract his brain from the hard-on he felt threatening to pitch a tent. His hands on Cait’s waist, he lifted her into the truck. He went around and climbed in, starting the engine. Fallout Boy blasted out of the speakers before he turned down the volume. “Sorry ’bout that.” “No problem. I do the same, crank it up when I’m alone.” The overhead light caught the russet tones of her hair, which hung in loose waves over her shoulders. He reached out and pulled it free from the seat belt as she settled in. She glanced up as if startled. “Thanks.” “I couldn’t keep my hand away from your hair.” They made small talk on the short drive to the ice cream shop, which was mostly empty at that hour of the evening. He allowed Cait to order first. “I’ll have a small chocolate with caramel and brownie bits.” His brows rose at her choice, and he ordered his usual vanilla with strawberries. They sat in a booth in the back. He watched her eat. She drew the spoon from her mouth, her eyes closed and her head tilted back, baring her throat. “Mmmm, that’s heaven,” she said. He smiled and ate another spoonful.
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Cait tilted her dish, chasing a brownie bit onto her spoon. She glanced up and caught him watching. Smiling, she looked back at her dessert. He enjoyed seeing how she dug into the ice cream. She ate unselfconsciously and with obvious enjoyment. She caught him staring again. “What?” “Nothing.” “Am I making a pig of myself?” She spooned a small bite between her lips. The temptation was too much. He reached across and wiped a bit of caramel from the corner of her mouth, then sucked his finger clean. “That is good.” Cait stopped chewing, her eyes on the finger between his lips. He took his time drawing it out. She dropped her gaze and took another mouthful. “So, why ice cream?” she asked. “Why not?” “Most guys go for drinks.” “And what does that tell you about a person? Other than that he’s a drunk. Ice cream tells all.” “How? By what toppings we put on it?” She glanced down at his simple combination. “In part. Sometimes a simple choice is just a taste preference, not a fear of calories. The real test is how a person eats it.” He spooned a large bite into his mouth and swirled the flavors on his tongue, relishing the texture of the berries as the ice cream melted. Cait licked the caramel off her spoon then chewed the brownie chunk in her mouth, her eyes glued to his lips. He couldn’t help himself, he ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. He would rather lean over and lick hers, but reminded himself they were in a family restaurant. Her eyelids dropped. Was she focused on the flavors in her mouth or a fantasy of her own? “A person who savors his food is usually very sensual. He’s more sensitive to touch, especially in the more delicate areas, like below the ear or behind the knee. He is more reactive to smells, and the taste of skin.” “And you learned this while playing drums at Celtic events?” Her smile teased. “You can learn a lot, observing people. But no, I can’t judge how reactive a person is in bed by watching them listen to the band.” Her brows drew together. He replayed his last sentence in his head. Shit, he sounded like he’d fucked half the women in the audience to reach his conclusions! “I actually read about the food thing in Playboy.” “Oh right, they do have articles in that magazine.” The corner of her mouth lifted just enough to reassure him. He hadn’t lost her.
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He set his spoon down after eating the last of the melted ice cream in the dish. Leaning back, he watched Cait finish, her tongue making sure to get the bit that clung to the corner of her mouth. Imagining that tongue trailing down below his navel did him in. With a groan, he adjusted his jeans and stretched out his legs. “So what does vanilla ice cream and strawberries tell me about you? It seems, I don’t know, so plain.” “To some, maybe. I know what I like and I would just as soon have plenty of what I want than throw in something that might upset the balance.” “And my bowl of indulgence? I can’t wait to hear what you think of me from this rich bowl.” He smiled. “You got the small, which shows your sensible side battles with the part of you that enjoys all the pleasures life has to offer.” He must have struck close to home, as she pushed her bowl aside. “You must be tired after such a long day.” “No, not really. Just a few sets. We’ve had longer days in the studio. I get tired of sitting.” “Then let’s move around.” She reached down for her purse. He led her outside and glanced around the shopping center. Most of the businesses were closed. He wasn’t ready to take Cait back, but wandering around here wasn’t smart. He drove them back to the park and pulled into the vendors’ area. Pointing across a small creek, he said, “It looks like that section of the park isn’t closed off. Would you like to walk a bit?” She agreed and tugged her shawl closer as she slid from the truck.
***** Cait looked up at Jake as he drew her to his side when they cleared the parked vehicles. She felt fragile beside him, her head barely reaching his shoulder. He smiled down at her then looked away. “Are you warm enough?” he asked. “Yes, as long as we keep moving.” Cold rose from the grass beside the sidewalk. With his arm around her shoulder, her body generated plenty of heat. She longed to feel his hands all over, warming her. They strolled deeper into the park. No one else was around, although she could hear voices behind them as vendors kept themselves entertained in the parking lot. She tried to think of something to say, something other than are you going to kiss me? Everything that came to mind sounded like she was looking for long term. She bit her lip in thought, then spoke. “How long have you been playing at events like this?”
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“About ten years, three with this group of guys. I haven’t seen you at the games before.” “We’ve only hit a few a year for the past two years. Lily has a website where she sells most of our clothing. We thought it would be fun to actually meet the people who wore our clothes.” A large oak tree sprawled over the path ahead and Jake pulled her under its branches. Speckled moonlight filtered through the branches, adding a magical mood. He leaned against the tree and drew her into his arms. She looked up, waiting, wanting. Kiss me. Touch me. He smelled so good, so male. He studied her, then lowered his head. She stretched to meet his mouth, sucking in his lower lip. He tasted of strawberries. His moan vibrated through her, stirring odd sensations deep within that awakened her senses. She rose on her toes for more, winding a hand around his neck, stroking the breadth of his shoulders. He nibbled at her lips, his tongue trailed from corner to corner. His hands slid under her shawl and caressed her back, setting her skin on fire. “Your skin is even softer than the silk,” he said. She loosened the shawl and let it drop, wanting no barriers between them. “You’ll get cold,” he warned. “Not unless you stop.” His thumb worked around her side, brushing against her breast, tracing circles in the flesh there. She turned into his hand, her nipple seeking attention. He was taking it slow, gently toying with her needs, and she wanted fast and hard. She leaned into him when his palm cupped her breast, a mewl escaping her lips. She arched her back, rolled her hips against his erection. “Tell me,” he urged. He planted quick kisses at the corner of her eye and across her cheek. “Tell me what you want.” “I want you,” she whispered against his neck. She traced the cords there with her tongue. Jake’s hand slipped under her camisole, stroking her stomach on his way higher. “You want this?” “Yes,” she gasped as his fingers slid inside her lacy strapless bra. Heat flashed through her, her desire growing, burning her to the core. Her leg wrapped around his. He lifted her shirt and tugged at her bra, freeing her breasts to the mercy of his tongue. It flicked her nipple before his lips sucked her deep into his mouth. She moaned, biting her lip to try to be quiet. “Oh, God, that’s good.” “Yes, it is.” Her hands kept exploring his planes and ridges, unable to get enough of the touch, outlining the tense muscles along his ribs, stroking the flatness above the waist of his jeans. Her fingers found the wisps of hair below his navel and followed the short path to the button on his fly. 22
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She hesitated only a moment, then held her breath as she stroked the hard length of his cock through his jeans and cupped it. His sharp intake of breath brought a hot, wet surge between her legs. She’d never reacted like that to her partner’s arousal, and the feeling was heady. She made him hard. She gave him need. Her lips found his and she drove her tongue inside. His met hers with a darting dance, then he pulled back. “Let me hear it.” “Touch me,” she begged. She didn’t know what to say, how to ask. She was used to just letting her partner do what felt good. It had always been enough before, but not tonight. Her hand swept down his back to cup his firm ass cheek. She tugged him closer. She ached with need and tried to tell him with her body. He fumbled with the button on her jeans before she felt the zipper loosen. He pushed her jeans down and slipped his hand inside her panties. His finger played with her curls, slipping lower to probe her wetness. “Damn, you’re on fire.” He continued to stroke her, to tease the hard nub. As his finger slid past her opening, she shifted, trying to drive him inside. She whimpered when he pulled his hand away. “What do you want, Cait?” “I want you inside me.” She looked up into his eyes, hooded in the darkness. He kissed her again, hard, wet, his tongue driving into her mouth with the rhythm she sought. In and out. His finger returned to her pussy and matched the pulsing beat. She rocked on his hand, trying to drive him deeper. A second finger slipped inside, filling her. The palm of his hand pressed hard against her mound. She whimpered, needing more. “I need you inside me.” “Say it, Cait.” “Fuck me!” Her hands tugged at his jeans, fumbling with the button and fly. His cock pressed against the zipper, popping free as his jeans fell. She wrapped her fingers around him, measuring the length of him, pushing his briefs out of the way. She kicked off her jeans and shoved down her panties. Jake turned, pressing her back toward the tree, his arm between her and the rough bark. She spread her legs, ready. His hand cupped her pussy, fingers sliding inside. He bent his knees, lowering his erection between her legs, teasing her by stroking without entering. “Oh fuck,” he moaned and stood back up. “Yes, please,” she begged. “No, I can’t.” “Yes, you can,” she pleaded, reaching down to guide him. “No, I don’t have any protection.” “Oh. Yeah.” What had she been thinking? She was always the one to insist on it.
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He leaned an arm on the tree above her head, planting kisses in her hair. “I told you, I don’t hook up at these things. I don’t carry a condom with me.” She sighed, her skin cooling in the night air. “Wait! I think I have one.” God, which was more embarrassing, the fact that she had one in her purse, or how long it had been there? She snagged the strap of her bag from beneath the pile of her clothes and lifted it, pawing through the contents. “It’s been in here forever, I don’t know if it’s even any good. Do these things expire?” She rambled on to cover her embarrassment. Here she was, standing half naked under a tree in the middle of a park in the dark, an incredibly gorgeous hunk of a man in front of her with his pants down and his cock at full attention. She wasn’t a kid anymore. Second and third thoughts filled her mind as she kept digging. At last she felt the foil edge of the packet. Her cheeks flamed as she handed it to him. “It’s at least a year old, but it should still be okay.” He tore the packet open and held the condom out to her. “You put it on me.” She glanced at the little white circle, then back at him. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He kissed the corner of her mouth. Cait took a deep breath. Nothing was wrong. She was having sex with a man who really desired her, an exciting man who could choose his partner and he chose her. She reached up and took the condom. “Nothing is wrong, now. So, show me how badly you want me.” She lifted her arms to his shoulders and offered herself to him. His grin spread and he growled, taking a mouthful of her swollen breast, milking it with his tongue. He moved to her other breast, giving it the same attention. She couldn’t wait any longer. She pulled back and reached for his cock, wrapping her hand around it. She ran her thumb over the tip, spreading the drops of moisture there. Her fingers tightened as she stroked him, and she felt him grow harder. Reaching down, she cupped his balls, weighing each, then she knelt before him. She heard him suck in his breath as she brought her lips to the tip of his erection. She teased her fingers around his girth then grasped him and squeezed. Her tongue reached out hesitantly at first, tasting the pearl on the head. The slightly salty evidence of his excitement was an aphrodisiac, building her confidence. He desires me. She licked again with the breadth of her tongue, then followed the ridge around the head of his cock. Jake’s raspy breaths emboldened Cait and she sucked the length of him between her lips. Her hand on his balls felt them lift as his dick jumped. Taking her time, she let herself explore the feel of his smooth skin and rough hair, his hardness that increased as she played. She was in control. She set the pace. With one hand toying with the rough hair on his balls, she allowed the other to slip over his thigh and follow his hip around to cup his ass cheek. She pushed him deeper
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into her mouth, taking all the length she could handle. Slowly she drew back, opening her lips and teasing him with the tip of her tongue. She circled, caressed, then focused her attention on the slit. Jake forced himself to stand still, his hands threading through the thickness of Cait’s hair, fighting the urge to both hold her in place and lift her up to where he could thrust his cock inside her pussy. He groaned when her tongue pushed into his slit, he and felt her lips tighten on him. Damn, she was going to finish him before he got started doing half the things he planned to do to her! He reached under her arms and pulled her up, but she slipped free of his grasp. “Wait…” He felt the condom being rolled on his cock, her hand stroking and stoking the fire in him before she looked up. “Okay.” A wave of shyness washed over Cait as she looked into Jake’s eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly and he leaned down, capturing her mouth. She moaned, her tongue tangling with his, and pressed her breasts against him. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, trying to deepen the kiss even more. His lips withdrew then he cupped her buttocks and lifted her, pulling her legs around him. She reached down and pushed him inside, gasping at the size of him as he filled her. He froze, pulled out almost completely, then drove in deep. The slick walls of her pussy sucked Jake’s cock in, her inner muscles milking him. She was so wet. He longed to taste her juices but was getting too close to erupting to stop. His balls tightened and he knew he needed to come soon. His breath came faster, panting in her ear. He whispered her name with a groan, driving harder, deeper. Goose bumps traveled down her neck. She felt the quickening in her clit and gasped, tiny moans escaping her lips. His thumb reached between her legs and found her hard nub, plucking it with each drive of his hips. The pulsing need spread inside her, her nipples stimulated by the roughness of his shirt. She drew her breasts against him with each thrust, riding him hard, reveling in the flames building there. Cait clenched her legs around his hips, pulling him still deeper, wanting all of him. She writhed against his thumb, feeling her hot core melting. She cried out. Jake pumped harder, pinching her nipple, kissing a trail across the top of her head. “That’s it, come with me.” His other hand grasped her ass, his fingers slick with her juices. “Oh God, yes.” She felt a knot growing in her clit, a desperate need. She needed to come. Now. Arching her back, she let go. “Oh God!” He moaned as he let go inside her. He continued to stroke in and out as his body tensed. He held her tight against him, his hips rocking once, twice more. Finally his head dropped down to rest on hers. “Damn, woman. You are perfect.”
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Chapter Five Cait rolled out of bed and shut off her alarm. She heard Lily stirring on the other side of the curtain. The previous night came back to her and she smiled, pressing her fingers to her lips. She hoped Jake would stop by before he left. After dressing and drinking her coffee, she stepped outside. A folded piece of paper was taped to the outside of the door. She opened it and read. Cait, we got called to New York to sub for another band. Had to leave early. I’ll call you. Jake Her stomach tightened. At least he’d left a note. How did he plan to call? They hadn’t exchanged phone numbers and her home phone was listed under the business name. That was probably just a nice blow-off. I’ll call. Yet they never did. “What’s that?” Lily asked from inside. “A note from Jake. They are gone.” “They weren’t on the schedule to play today. I am surprised they didn’t pull out last night after they played.” “Jake had his own truck here, so the others might have left right away.” Lily stepped out of the motor home and reached back inside for a tote, which she handed to Cait. “Were you supposed to see him today?” “He said something about finding me before he left. We left it vague.” She sighed as they neared the vendor’s gate. “But I wasn’t wanting anything more than right now.” She repeated the words in her head, to make sure they sunk in. All she had wanted was one freeing night of animal sex, so what did it matter that he left town immediately afterward? She kept the mantra going right on up until they packed up for the weekend and took down the canopy. By that time she was too tired to worry about a man, and she still had the two-hour drive back home to deal with. Lily sang softly along with the radio and Cait kept her thoughts on the weekend traffic. Pulling into her driveway, she parked off to the side and nudged Lily awake. “I’ll unpack in the morning,” she told her partner and handed her the cash box so she could update their sales records. Lily yawned. “I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know the score.” “’Kay.” “And you call me immediately when you hear from the drummer!” “’Kay,” she said again. She locked the front door behind her after watching to be sure Lily got off all right. Tossing her purse in the overstuffed chair in the living room,
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she kept on moving down the hall to her room. She didn’t even bother with lights until she reached the bathroom, where she flipped the switch just before turning on the shower. After washing away the grit from sitting outdoors all day, she wrapped her hair in a towel and walked naked into the bedroom. She put on a fuchsia silk gown and stretched out on the sage green comforter, propping her pillows against the headboard. She turned on the lamp. And it hit her. Lying there alone in her bed, loneliness smothered her, pressing down on her, making it impossible to breathe. Her eyes welled and she blinked, looking up at the ceiling. “You got what you wanted, animal sex with no strings.” She didn’t believe it this time, just as she hadn’t all day. “Let it go.” He wasn’t worth tears. As she pictured him in his kilt, she realized she didn’t regret having sex with Jake. She was sorry she wouldn’t be able to do it again. She thought about checking the band’s website to see where he’d be playing. She could go watch him play, ask him to meet her afterward. She could, but she knew she wouldn’t. It rang too much like the groupie she was afraid of becoming. As she swallowed past the lump in her chest, she knew she needed to do something to soothe the ache of being alone tonight. Rolling out of bed, she picked up the towel that had fallen from her hair and tossed it onto a chair. Then she headed to the kitchen and her dear friends, Ben and Jerry. She kept a pint of brownie fudge ripple on hand just for occasions like this. Walking back down the hall, ice cream container in one hand and spoon in the other, she realized the answering machine was beeping from her office. While she wouldn’t hear his voice, maybe hearing that of a friend would fill her emptiness. The first two calls were solicitors that she deleted after a few words. On the third, Jake’s voice filled the room. “Hey, Cait, we made it to New York. I’ll call you tonight.” He’d called. How did he get her number? Before she had a chance to think about it, the phone rang. Her hand hovered over it for a moment before picking it up. “Hello?” “Hi, it’s Jake. Did I wake you?” “No, I hadn’t gotten to sleep yet.” “Good. I was sorry to miss you earlier but I didn’t know your cell number.” “How did you get this one?” “I picked up your business card in your booth.” “Oh, okay.” “I wasn’t sure that you’d go out with me and wasn’t going to miss out on a second chance.”
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Her heart lurched. He wanted to see her again. “I’m glad you thought of it. When I got your note, I figured…” “You figured I was blowing you off.” She heard his deep sigh and wished he were breathing in her ear. She carried the cordless handset with her and wandered back to her room. “Yeah. But I went into it last night knowing it was probably a one-time thing.” “Is that what you want?” Cait closed her eyes as she lay back on her pillows, gathering her nerve. “No, that’s not what I want.” “Tell me what you want, Cait.” “I want all the things we haven’t done yet. I want to taste you. I want to see your eyes when you explode inside me. I want it on top, from behind, in the bed, in the shower—” She took a deep breath, then a spoonful of ice cream. “Damn, woman, I wish I was there so we could start checking off that list.” “I wish you were here, too,” she said around a lump of chocolate. “Are you eating?” “Uh huh,” she admitted. “Ice cream.” “Let me guess, chocolate with chocolate sauce?” “No, brownie bits and ripples of fudge.” “Tell me how it tastes.” “It tastes like…” She savored another spoonful. “The chocolate ice cream melts and spreads its sweetness across my tongue. The brownies are rough, the opposite of the fudge. I like to eat it slowly, to get the most out of the flavors. It calms me, comforts me like a favorite chair.” “I can think of some ways to use that ice cream that wouldn’t calm you at all.” His voice grew husky over the phone. She turned out the light, stretching out on the sheets, her ice cream container still cupped in her hand. Jake sounded like he was already imagining what they would do together. She wanted to hear his fantasy, but had never had a relationship with the kind of man who’d indulge in phone sex. It had always been well planned out. Cait quieted her quivering stomach and took a deep breath. “Do tell.” “I’d start by taking a large bite of ice cream, then sucking your breast deep into my mouth. I’d roll the coldness around your nipple, stroking you with my tongue while the sweetness melts.” She gasped as her nipples tightened at his words. Her skin tingled, spreading down toward her belly. “Then I’d take another spoonful and drop it on the naked skin between your breasts, letting it melt. I’d follow the trail of melted ice cream with my tongue, licking you clean until I can taste your sweet flavor.”
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Her knee lifted on its own accord, bending out of the way as if opening herself to him. Her silky gown rose up her thigh, baring her pussy to the cool night air. She ate another bite of the chocolate melting in the container as she waited to see where he’d take her. “I’d let some puddle in your bellybutton and take my time sucking you dry. Then I’d tell you to spread your legs and reach down and open yourself to me.” She moved her other leg out to the side, knees wide, wishing he was there to see her, touch her. She set the ice cream down and one hand slipped down over the soft gown. She stroked the inside of her thigh, waiting. “With one small scoop, I’d press against your throbbing clit, cooling it off. The melted ice cream would trickle down between your lips, puddling inside you.” She shivered in anticipation, her clitoris twitching, needing to be touched. Her breathing became shallower. “When it had all melted, I would lick my way up your slit, slowly making sure to get all the cream. I’d do it again and again, just to be safe. Then I’d suck your clit into my mouth and tease the nub with the tip of my tongue, flicking it and feeling it get hard.” Cait’s hand dipped between her lower lips and spread the wetness up and down, following the path his tongue would take. She imagined him breathing on her, looking at her spread so wickedly on the bed. Her juices trickled down toward her anus and she slid a finger through the moisture and deep inside her pussy. “When you begin to moan and arch your back, I push my tongue deep inside you, finding you slick and hot with just a touch of sweetness from the ice cream that puddled there. I’d stroke you, deeper and deeper, as your pussy grips my tongue.” Her fingers pushed inside her and she could feel what he described, her body clenching and squeezing. She began to pant. “I’d reach down with my thumb and press against your clit and you rock your hips against my face. I’d keep stroking, licking, sucking, feeling the tension build in you, seeing your back arch. My thumb would flick that nub, pinching it as you started to come, sending you over the edge. Your sweet juices would fill my mouth and I would sip at your pussy until I’d tasted the last drop.” With the mention of her coming, she couldn’t hold back, and rocked against her hand as his words filled her ear. She heard his breaths coming faster and imagined him shooting into her as her pussy spasmed. She grunted as the waves passed over her, her mind going blank for a moment. Her muscles relaxed at last and she took a deep breath. Jake was silent on the other end and she prayed for him to say something, anything, to get her past the awkwardness of the moment. He groaned as if he was changing position, then spoke. “Yeah, we definitely need to get together again. Often.”
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She let out the breath she’d been holding. She wondered if he had come too, but was too embarrassed to ask. She’d known this man three days and had technically had sex with him twice already! And he was looking for more. Her heart beat faster again at the thought and she felt a little bolder. She noticed the carton of half-eaten ice cream sitting on the nightstand and picked it up. “Often sounds good.” Cait carried the container out to the kitchen and dumped it in the sink. She ran her palm over her gown, warming her hand. She turned to add Ben and Jerry to her grocery list on the fridge, but decided against it. She might not need it. “I’ll call you tomorrow and we can compare our calendars. We’re bound to have a weekend in common somewhere. Next time, we get a room.” She laughed, a warm glow spreading over her. “It’s a date.” “And this time,” Jake added, “I’ll bring a box of condoms. And some ice cream.” The End
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FOR THE KING’S PLEASURE Cara Carnes
Cara Carnes
Chapter One “If I swear to cut my cock off, will you call off this madness?” Ladarius rubbed his throbbing temples and closed his eyes. Never had so many bared breasts caused him such aggravation. “My King, you mustn’t say such things.” Ladarius glared at his trusted advisor. Only Laken could force the annoyance of finding a potential mate on him. It had been six years since his mate, future queen of the Daya pride, had died. But that wasn’t nearly enough time for his heart to heal from Veda’s murder. “I’d rather endure the castration ritual than this.” Bile had risen in his stomach each time they had led another line of women through the long, marbled room. He sighed and continued to toy with the fraying yellow and purple tassel. He’d waited for the right to fiddle with it for almost thirty years. At least now his father wouldn’t clobber him upside the head for it. An ache radiated in his chest. He’d rather get knocked senseless than bear the loss of his wife and father. And now some worm who didn’t even have a right to dictate anything threatened his people if he didn’t find a woman. After all, custom didn’t allow a leader to go without a sexual partner for more than four years after the loss of his mate. What drivel. “The other advisors feel it is in our best interest to secure you a court-approved mate before King Mekhi discovers you have gone beyond your four-year mourning allowance. This is the last of the maidens in our quadrant.” He grimaced at the phrasing and shook his head dismissively at the line of twenty half-naked women before him. Ornamental beads designed to seduce covered the women’s nipples and bare pussies. For some reason, the costume failed to entice Ladarius. “Mekhi had better have more to do than peek into the bedrooms of us lower kings.” Ladarius closed his eyes as the guards approached to remove the women. Girls really. Each group over the past three days had gotten progressively younger, less experienced, more frightened. Three had erupted into tears stepping into the doorway. How the hell was he supposed to fuck someone who was terrified? Then again, his father had never given him lessons on screwing on command for the sake of the people. Apparently that was what was going to be necessary if he was to protect the crown. A disapproving frown crossed Laken’s aged face. The nervous tic in his jaw moved a patch of the man’s graying hair. Guilt ate Ladarius’ insides. Upsetting the one person who was like family to him didn’t bode well and seeing the pitying eyes of the royal
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servants across the room only made the matter worse. “Pick whichever one you wish. I do not care.” Ladarius stood quickly and began walking across the marbled floor. The heels of his boots clacked against the gold-flecked surface and drowned out the sound of the royal drums as he marched his way out of the large meeting room. Harried steps behind him filled his sensitized hearing along with labored breathing. Pausing in front of the door, he patiently waited for Laken to catch up with him. The older man never did know when to leave well enough alone. “Why is that not acceptable?” “It could be, my King, but…” Laken gasped a breath. His eyes darted to the three court guards on either side of the doorway. “Selecting someone is only good if she is used.” Ladarius fisted the ancient wooden handle and took a deep breath. Anger boiled within him, but he knew better than react. That was what had started this nightmare a month ago. Several advisors had been quick to point out his increased agitation and foul temperament. Everyone had immediately cited the cause as sexual frustration. “I’ll fuck the woman of your choosing before the royal council and any of our people who wish to watch. It is required, so it shall be.” Laken cleared his throat and whispered, “My King, I wish to mention that there are a couple of other options available to you.” “Such as?” The nervousness in the man’s voice made Ladarius’ skin crawl and his stomach knot. Whatever was racing through Laken’s mind could not be good. “There are quite a few rather fetching men who…” “Finish that and I will gut you like an animal and toss your remains to the wild beasts in the cages.” Outrage filled him, his brain reeled at the fact his trusted friend and advisor would entertain the idea of bringing men in for him. That would never happen in his palace. At least not for him. “Women only if I must deal with this nonsense in the first place, Laken.” Ladarius removed the royal robe and tossed it to one of the servants flittering nervously behind them. Rubbing his hand across his neck, he willed his thinning patience to last a few more moments. “Forgive me. I had to offer it to you. A byrna would perhaps be an ideal option.” The man’s hopefulness never ceased. Ladarius laughed softly hearing the last suggestion. He had forgotten about byrnas. The ancient line of their Ajika race ancestrally devoted to pleasuring the nobility was as revered as the rulers. Rumors circulated among the quadrants that many of the elite royal lines took advantage of the service, even if they had mates. Resentment spawned within him. The notion of taking pleasure from a byrna was distasteful, but at least he wouldn’t be sealing a woman to a loveless future. The nape of
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his neck still burned, as if missing the symbol of love that showed immediately on someone once they had been mated. It had faded within a year of Veda’s passing. “I don’t want one who every royal Ajika has fucked. Call me possessive, but I don’t. Even if she’s here for convenience, I cannot tolerate that within my castle.” Laken nodded as they both stepped out into the long corridor leading to the private sector of the royal court. “I have one in mind for you. She only serves one king or royal member every two years, and enforces a three-year rest period in between. Those are her personal rules.” Laughter tumbled out of him as he made his way down the long corridor. “That is priceless. A byrna with morals? I didn’t realize they were allowed to have them.” Censure crossed the older man’s face as he paused his hobbling. “My King, I must ask that you curtail such comments around the other servants. The byrnas are legendary amongst our people and highly revered for their sacrifice for the sake of us all.” “Sacrifice?” Unbelievable. The loose women had it made. Fortunes at their fingertips and the admiration of everyone. Not even all the sector kings could say that. “Clearly your father should have made you study Ajika history more.” The elderly man paused halfway down the passageway and cleared his throat. The temptation to forbid his entry to the private sector of the castle filled Ladarius, but his mother had taught him to be polite. He beckoned Laken forward and turned into his introspection chamber, sinking into the soft fisma-lined chair. The membranes moved to conform to his large frame, heat built under his weary muscles. “You spend too many hours on that vile resting surface,” Laken derisively stated. “No. This is heaven. I owe my dear Njoriun friend for gifting me with it.” Shutting his eyes, he allowed the device to coax the past week’s stress from him. “The byrna? Do you wish us to retain her services?” “What do you know of her?” Ladarius looked at the man and saw the twinkle in his eyes. “Don’t think you’ve won this battle.” Laken nodded and tucked his hands into his robe’s midnight blue material. “Her name is Sarina. She is a tenth-generation byrna who has become as legendary as her grandmother, Shatana.” A low whistle filled the room. “Well, then we must have her.” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “My King, you do not know the legend. That much is clear. Shatana saved the two northernmost quadrants from destroying one another. Rumor has it that they carry the blood of the ancients.” “If the kitchen maids have said so, then it must be true.” Resentment consumed Ladarius as he listened to the foolish rumors being spouted off as if they were oracle history in the making. “That is good. Perhaps her granddaughter would prefer to be king then.”
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The arched eyebrow on the older man’s face signaled that Ladarius’ use of sarcasm must come to an end. Soon. Even though Laken performed servant duties, the man was a member of the royal court. The man was the only one Ladarius could stand to have underfoot constantly. “Would you like Sarina’s services or not? I’m afraid she’s the most prized byrna, so I will have to move quickly and offer a very generous allotment to her.” The hopefulness in Laken’s cracking voice disgusted Ladarius the most. The fool really believed the glorified trollop could sate the raging need building in him. A room of byrnas couldn’t quench his lustful thoughts. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to forsake Veda. His heart seized at the thought of her. “We are the most powerful Ajika pride. We are Dayas. That alone should make her agree.”
***** Shatara paced the room, her anger increasing with each step. “What part of no do you not comprehend?” “But he is of the Daya pride! Do you realize this is the first time in the history of our people that anyone from that quadrant has ever asked for a byrna? Think of how legendary she will be. She must agree.” Shatara glared over at the young byrna-in-training. Farra was far too concerned with the notions of grandeur and prestige than she was servitude. She would never be sent on assignment if she didn’t learn the true purpose behind the calling. Empathy coursed through Shatara as she looked over at the drawn curtains cutting her eldest sister off from the world around her. Sarina didn’t care about becoming a legend right now. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces yet again and the threeyear period of self-induced seclusion had just begun. “Taking another assignment will not happen this soon. Emphasize that to that man outside. Sarina is not available.” Shatara sighed as the young woman scampered out in a rush of yellow and orange robes. The young byrna-in-training was too caught up in the glorious history of their grandmother and the eight other generations of women who had served as sexual companions for the most powerful men in Ajika history. Shatara and her two sisters were sick of living with the expectations their ancestors’ talents had created. Not that she had any practical experience. Just barely entering her twentieth year, she was still waiting for her first assignment. Sarina had said to choose carefully. She trusted her sister more than anyone. Farra poked her head back into the room, nervousness etched in her young face. “He refuses to leave until Sarina herself sees him.” Rage boiled in Shatara’s veins as she made her way through the large sleeping chamber and wound her way through the corridors to get to the common area court personnel waited in.
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The nerve. Undignified, pompous jackal. Shatara shoved the door open and heard three young byrna trainees jump in shock when it slammed against the thick oak walls. “Where is the demanding jackal?” Expressing emotions, especially outrage, was intolerable within many courts. As such, byrnas were expected to conduct themselves with meekness. Shatara lacked that quality. It was the main reason she had yet to be assigned. An elderly man turned across the room, his left eyebrow raised slightly in surprise at her uncivilized entry into the chamber. “I suppose I’m the jackal you are asking about. Who might you be?” “The one that has come to explain what no means since apparently you have no concept of it.” The man was slightly shorter than the towering men she was accustomed to dealing with, which led her to believe he was a member of the royal court itself rather than a mere guard. “Who are you?” She stepped forward and glared up at unwelcome intruder. Even though he was shorter, he still towered over her by a head and the look of amusement on his face only compounded the seething rage boiling in her veins. “I am Laken, from the Daya pride. I came on behalf of my King, who wishes to employ Sarina.” Shatara shook her head and turned slightly toward the entryway. The faint footsteps of the byrnas-in-training as they retreated filled her ears. None of them cared to see her or her sisters riled. Their anger was legendary in the large, secluded quarters they called home. “I understand from Farra that someone has refused on her behalf. I merely asked to speak with Sarina directly.” The impetuous man looked down at her with slightly narrowed black eyes. “And who might you be?” “The someone who said no. Apparently I needed to come here and deliver that refusal in person. Consider it delivered.” Shatara turned to leave. The dismissive gesture was deemed rude in most courts—not that she cared—but he deserved it. “I’m sure you can find your way out. You don’t want me to summon my guards, because they detest dealing with me when I’m pissed.” Shatara turned to leave, but the odious man seized her arm and spun her around. She pulled her arm away and glared at him. “That does not answer who you are. By what right do you refuse on Sarina’s behalf?” By what right? The man was a lunatic. Relief filled her when the door swung open and Harom entered with two guards. She had never been so grateful to see the older man who served as their protector. He ambled toward her and the abominable stranger with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Laken?”
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“Harom!” Shock and outrage swelled in her as the two men embraced like long-lost comrades. “My heart rejoices seeing my old brethren once again.” A sinking feeling entered Shatara as she stood near the two men in shocked silence. Unbelievable. How could Harom be friends with him? “What brings you to our pride?” Curiosity filled Harom’s voice as he motioned for the man to sit. Shatara shook her head and fisted her hands. Interrupting now would do no good. “I came to acquire Sarina’s services for my King, but this rather determined chit informed me that the byrna is not available. I must hear that from Sarina herself.” Harom smiled up at Shatara as she paced before the two men. Setting his broadsword down beside him, he withdrew a cloth and wiped sweat from his brow. “You must forgive me, my friend. These young changelings become more and more difficult to keep up with in training, especially with fifty pounds of armor on.” Laken rose and helped the man remove the heavy armor covering his torso. Guilt filled her when she realized she had been remiss in doing that herself. She had allowed her outrage and anger to consume her normally automatic responses. “You all need to use the newer, lighter alloy.” Harom laughed. “That would be wise, but our resources are limited and obtaining such a valuable commodity is next to impossible since we are in such a secluded region. The high King does not deem us worthy of such an investment at this time.” “You shouldn’t share our business with a stranger,” Shatara said as she sat on a high stool across from them. Wearing a path in the oak flooring would accomplish nothing short of the maid’s outrage at having to wax yet again this month. “Tell him to leave.” Harom looked over at Laken and cleared his throat. “Sarina has strict rules that govern when she is and isn’t available. I believe the calendar has been updated outside. Did you not see it?” “Yes.” Laken stood. “It clearly says she just returned from serving one of the princes of the Quara pride.” “Thus she is unavailable for three years from two sunrises ago.” Shatara allowed her punctuated words to emphasize her previous refusal. She crossed her arms before her and looked away from the two men. “This is an urgent matter, Harom.” “How so?” “We must get King Ladarius properly situated with a byrna of the highest caliber immediately. I must insist on your assistance in this matter.” Shatara heard the concern in the older man’s words and felt guilty for coming across so unreasonably. She hadn’t even offered another byrna to him. Of course, he’d have to wait a few days for one to be prepared.
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“Ladarius is king? What of his father? And his mate?” Harom asked, the concern apparent in the tone of his voice. Of course the man would know them since he was of that pride. “Both were murdered six years ago.” Shatara absorbed the information. Six years was far longer than the allowed mourning period and would explain the gravity of the man’s plight, but that didn’t change her sister’s availability. If anything, it guaranteed she wouldn’t be the one to go. Dealing with a man who had six years of sexual urges was bad enough, but having it compounded with the loss of a mate and the loss of a parent made the situation a hotbed of tension and emotions that Shatara refused to let her sister near. “Would one from this house be suitable since Sarina will be unavailable?” Harom asked. “Would Sarina not reconsider? It is for the King himself, not a member of his court. This will be the first time that the Daya pride has ever required a byrna. She would be the first, and likely only, to ever grace our lands.” Harom laughed. “Most byrnas would kill for such a prestigious placement, but I’m afraid Shatara here knows her sister better than anyone. Sarina requires time to prepare for a new placement after she has been with one person for a long period of time.” Silence enveloped the room as Laken nodded and looked over at Shatara. Her body shuddered as the man’s eyes roamed over her. The scrutiny seemed to penetrate the thin robe she wore. “I trust the reputation of this byrna house is what the King seeks?” “Its stellar history certainly plays a factor, as does Sarina’s selectiveness in whom she serves.” Unease continued to spread through her veins as Laken stared at her. “Shatara looks like her grandmother. I didn’t notice that earlier. It has been so long since those days.” Harom laughed. “Yes, it has. She has her spirit as well—a spitfire that will surely drive most royal court members crazy with lust or frustration.” “That will?” Laken stepped forward and cupped her face, moving it to the side. Shatara reached to slap his hand away, but Harom glared at her. “Has she not reached her time yet? She does look very young.” “She reached it last year, but Sarina and Shailyn have kept her locked away. They want her first paring to be a memorable one and preferably with a man who will have the same fire as she does.” Shatara pushed the man’s hand away from her. “Do you wish me to leave so you can continue to speak about me?” “That is not necessary. You will serve as my King’s byrna. It will be good for Ladarius to go toe-to-toe with someone with his unique,” the man paused and laughed, “personality.” “No.”
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“Shatara.” Harom moved to stand beside Laken. She knew her refusal was moot. If a king required a byrna and demanded one from their house, she was the only one immediately available. The longer she avoided the inevitable, the more likely the argument was to upset Sarina. Someone would eventually go and get her if Shatara continued to battle with the visitor and her sister didn’t need that. “Give me the evening to pack my belongings and I will return with you. I am sure your friend here can help you to a room.” “I’m afraid I will be unable to escort you myself. My garrison must move quickly and we have business to attend to that would be unsuitable for you to see.” Shatara nodded as the man made his way toward the exit. Trepidation filled her. Her first assignment. The rapid beating of her heart matched the heavy thoughts muddling her mind. She couldn’t fail and shame her house. She couldn’t.
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Chapter Two Shatara molded her body to the wall and held her breath. Insidious unease snaked through her veins at a blinding speed her anger couldn’t catch. She had expected a court liaison when she reached Daya land, but no one had been there to escort her. Because forces from other lands were prohibited, she’d endured the three days’ journey to the Daya palace herself. She had even managed to avoid an entire garrison of men that hadn’t worn the mark of Daya. And now some strange freak of nature was following her through the palace corridors. She had been cast aside in a dusty, cluttered room at the far end of the King’s private section. Forgotten. Breathe. She exhaled and peeked around the corner. Empty. A sigh of relief escaped her parted lips. Fingers clasped her forearm. Her scream pierced the air. Pounding her fists into the expanse of muscular flesh that appeared from behind her safety wall did nothing but accelerate her erratic heartbeats. “Unhand me, you oaf!” “You really are as feisty as Laken said,” the man laughed as he released her. She backed up slightly and gasped. Glistening sun-kissed skin captured her attention until radiant blue eyes lured her into their depths. Tall. Dark. Terrifyingly handsome. Men this tall were always guards. Not that she had met one quite this tall before, but she knew he was a royal protector. The sheen of sweat coating the hardest chest she had ever seen told her that. Royal court members refused to sweat. “Never touch me.” The man’s full lips curved upward in a mocking grin. “But examining the legendary byrna in our midst was to be my only amusement for the day. What am I to do now?” Shatara narrowed her eyes and allowed the sarcasm to drip between them. “You could spend it on your knees in the oracle chamber hoping that that byrna doesn’t demand your immediate castration.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward and braced his hands on the wall beside her. Fear surged through her. No. It wasn’t fear. It was lust. Hot and hungry, just like the man’s eyes as they moved slowly down her skin. “You think the King would take the side of a stranger over his own trusted people?” Shatara’s eyes narrowed. “With your king, I doubt it.” The man guffawed as he moved back slightly. “What is that supposed to mean?” “A real king would have provided me a full escort to the palace rather than making me trudge through unknown, treacherous terrain unguarded. A real king would have
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greeted me the moment I arrived. A real king would be spending time with me today before the ceremony this evening rather than cowering in his room like a scared child.” “Perhaps he finds the need of a byrna distasteful and is sickened by the thought of fucking something all the other royal members have sampled,” the man said. Anger flooded her, overpowering the lust infused with desire that had burrowed into her brain the moment the man appeared before her. “We’ll find out tonight what the king thinks of me.” The man’s fingers stroked her jaw, the barely discernable touch sent tingles racing across her skin. “I’m sure he’s looking quite forward to it.” “I doubt that.” Her pulse pounded, her heartbeat thrummed. “I didn’t expect immediate rejection.” He traced the contours of her lips, a flicker of desire sparkled in his eyes. “Perhaps he didn’t trust himself to wait until the ceremony. A beauty like you would be hard to resist. After all, you are his now. Only his. To use however he wishes. That would be a powerful realization for a man who’s been celibate for six years.” A shiver ran through her as she imagined the man before her being the man she belonged to. She would not be that fortunate. Remaining here with him any longer was dangerous, for her resolve and any hope she had of bonding with the King. Many royals would deem a discussion like this the ultimate betrayal. “I must go.” “No. Stay. Tell me of your journey,” the man said as he backed away slightly to offer her more personal space. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.” “It takes more than one man to incite fear within a byrna,” she commented as she stepped away from the wall. “I have many things to do before the ceremony and since the King thinks so little of me, I’m afraid that I must do them all by myself since no one was appointed to assist me.” Guilt crashed against Ladarius as he watched the enchanting beauty saunter away with more grace than he’d imagined possible. Her long, curly black hair flowed around her waist. His cock hardened as he remembered those haunting obsidian eyes that had flickered with hunger for him. And her mouth. Ladarius groaned, imagining the delights she’d provide. He had made every possible error. Some of them intentionally, others out of ignorance. And she was still here. He exhaled a sexually frustrated sigh and glanced behind him. “You can come out now. Spying doesn’t suit you.” “I suspected my intrusion would have been unwelcomed. You seemed rather,” Laken paused and cleared his throat, “preoccupied.” “Indeed.” Ladarius headed toward his private chambers, the sound of the older man quickly following filled his ears. “Why did you not tell me I had failed to hire servants for her?”
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Silence greeted his question as they entered the darkened antechamber. No response wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Guilt pressed down harder. “What is it?” “My King, I believe we had a discussion about that very thing a day before I went to retrieve her. You summarily dismissed any aide for the byrna whatsoever. I have held firm with that decision, even though I must confess the kitchen staff was less than willing to do the same.” Shock mixed with remorse. He remembered that conversation. Barely. “What does the kitchen staff have to do with this?” “I believe your words were ‘A byrna should be educated enough to prepare her own meals. Doing something that doesn’t require her to be flat on her back will be good for her.’ I’m afraid Nakaya found the notion rather offensive and has been dropping off her private daily ration of bread to Shatara.” Ladarius whirled around. “I never meant for the chit to go hungry. You shouldn’t take me so seriously.” He shook his head. “So now the elderly leader of my kitchen staff is going hungry as well?” Laken cleared his throat again and crossed his hands in front of his chest. “No, she kept the meat for herself.” “So Shatara has had one handful of grutru a day and that’s all?” “I’m sure she was diligent enough to get water or some liquid to drink. She hasn’t passed out yet, so I’d imagine she’s found a source, even though I’m not sure what that source could be since she’s locked away in your private area.” No doubt she’d found an unsuspecting guard to work her seductive charms on. Memories of her supple curves and the smell of her hair assailed Ladarius. His cock hardened. Someone had stocked her bathing chamber with quivoru-scented soaps. The sweet nectar always fired his blood. Not that he had needed enhancement with her. Wanting to fuck the byrna was unexpected. Tonight was a duty. A necessity. Enjoying it would be a betrayal to Veda. Guilt washed through him as he recalled the last public ceremony he mated in. Unlike the byrna tonight, his Veda had been innocent and terrified. Humiliated because of the voyeurism, she had needed consoling and calming before she could savor the orgasms he wrenched from her willing body. Would Shatara be the same? Ladarius suspected the woman thrived on the attention the ceremony afforded her. After all, she was one of the most coveted of her kind in all the lands, and her presence here had guaranteed that she would be the most prized after her dismissal. “How many will be in attendance?” “Full capacity at four hundred, my King.” Six long years of celibacy couldn’t prevent his duty. It wasn’t about what Ladarius the man wanted, but what the King was expected to do. For the sake of the Daya pride, he intended to fuck sweet Shatara so hard she was senseless afterward.
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***** Frenzied drums echoed through the large room. The crushing crowd continued to swell, the added body heat contributing to the sweltering temperature that had Shatara wishing for her private waters. Nervous knots twisted in her empty stomach which threatened to lose what little nourishment she had received. Do good and you will be rewarded. Shatara laughed as she recalled the first lesson Shailyn had instilled in her. There was no way either of her sisters ever dealt with these pangs though. The customary starvation of the byrna before her induction never happened with them. One day it wouldn’t with her either. At least it made it simple to remember this was a duty, not pleasure. Her heart beat in succession with the hastened tempo of the music. Adjusting the small strands of ornamental beads, Shatara hoped the King would find her attire suitable. She would have preferred the coloring to be Daya, but royal yellow would have to work. Thin purple veils provided the only privacy she would have. Staring into the center of the room, her pussy quivered at the realization this was really happened. Her time as a byrna was about to begin. Anticipation lunged in her veins. She hoped the King was handsome enough to enjoy. Just think about that guard. Shatara closed her eyes and dismissed the lustful fantasies whirling in her mind. The man from earlier was insufferable, powerful, unbelievable. One touch from him would have her ready. But he wouldn’t be the one touching her. Not that it mattered. Concentration and determination could see her through this. Her house was legendary for their ability to incite desire in any man, sate every need, satisfy the darkest urges. The sensual caress of the beads against her moist pussy increased in intensity as she made her way to the center of the room. It was clear the King wasn’t here yet, but the oracle was. Every gaze riveted to her as her bare feet touched the wood floor. The sheer veil she wore under the ornamental beading was moot, but it was a house tradition begun by her great-grandmother. Honor meant everything. Pride swelled within her as she stepped toward the altar where she would kneel before the King. Indiscernible whispers joined in a full chorus of auditory diversion to drown out the pounding drums. Palpable tension hung in the air, enforced by the crowd’s sexual frenzy. They were more eager for this ceremony than their King. The scents of quivoru and pine intermingled, wafting through her nostrils as she recalled her journey through the desolate woods of the Daya’s outer region. That was their mark. Each pride had one, but she had expected it to be floral like all the others. But their King had chosen the wood that made his lands the most coveted of them all. The choice was raw. Elemental. Would he be the same way?
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A hush fell over the crowd as a waft of cool air rushed through the room from the newly opened double doors. He had arrived. Her pulse pounded, her knees trembled as she knelt at the foot of the offering altar. Tendrils of anticipation beaded across her skin. Approaching footsteps thundered against the ancient wood flooring. Shatara maintained her eye contact with the base of the altar, even as the King approached. Chancing a glance at him before she offered her body to him was unfathomable, even though the naïve woman in her begged to know. Silence deafened her. A rustling of fabric and hastened footsteps away from the altar signaled that the King was in position. Her gaze continued to bore into the rich purple fabric inches away from where she knew the man who would be fucking her sat. The torturous wait for the ceremony to begin whipped her frayed nerves into a heady sexual anticipation. “My people, it is my honor to announce that one of the highly coveted byrnas of the legendary Froyu pride has a request of King Ladarius.” Her stomach recoiled. Pomp and circumstance always made her ill. Everyone here knew the truth. She had been summoned. Silence descended in the shrinking room. Claustrophobia threatened to reveal itself as people edged closer to the small emptied square in the center of the room. They all wanted a better view, a chance to gleam a peek at their King fucking a woman. The thin veil would do little to conceal what was about to happen. Shatara’s pulse raced. “You are a mighty leader. I wish to offer you my body as a sign of my faction’s continued allegiance to your noble causes. Will you please honor me by accepting the pleasure I offer?” Stand up. Walk the short distance to the enclosed bed and await his answer. That’s all she had to do. The simplicity of the act defied her brain, muddled with visions of the mighty guard she had seen earlier. Damn her body for fantasizing about another man at the most critical hour. Ladarius’ rigid cock pressed against the confining ceremonial robe he wore. Cinched tight to prevent premature parting, the thin material refused to expand. The byrna was focused, determined, dutiful. She had obediently averted her gaze, not once looking in his direction. Pleasure and anticipation shot through him. She would be surprised to discover the mauling guard she had fended off was the very man she was here to serve. Her refusal had enthralled him, instilled him with admiration. She was a bundle of fire he was going to enjoy fucking. The ornamental costume’s yellow beads barely maintained their position as she stood. His mouth watered, his tongue throbbed with a need to slide across her golden flesh. Her hips swayed seductively as her long, sensuous legs stepped up the two small steps of the bedding area. Duty be damned, he wanted to fuck her. 44
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Hard. And slow. Ladarius laughed as he waited for a few moments. Building sexual tension would help ease her nervousness. He’d have to be dead not to smell the woman’s apprehension. Not that he should care. She was a professional. A paid fuck. But he did care. And that unnerved him more than he’d expected. She was the means to an end. Keeping King Mekhi out of Daya land and away from his people was all that mattered. The obnoxious grand leader had been itching for any reason to tread where he was not welcomed. To seize control of the most powerful tribe and property of his kind. Ladarius stood, determined to perform his duty. Not that he needed any incentive. His cock ached with a need to fuck Shatara. The little byrna was going to sorely regret agreeing to be his.
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Chapter Three Shatara stared at the ceiling, the yellow and purple flecks dancing in the sparkling light doing nothing to distract her from the looming presence on the other side of the veil. Do not look. Not yet. The veil parted, an audible gasp raced across the room. Collective sighs filled her ears. Male laughter tumbled through the area. The interior had almost been enough to forget about them. Plush fisma-lined bedding swallowed the small space, the thin purple curtains cocooned her in a cozy, almost serene room. Until he had entered. She knew the time had arrived. The moment she had to accept her byrna heritage and pleasure the man before her, even if the woman inside her detested him. Shatara rose slightly and gasped. Shock exploded from each pore of her body, a burst of desire bulleted moisture between her legs. It was him. No. It could not be. He’s merely the appointed guard. But guards don’t participate in this ceremony, you dolt. Heat crept up her cheeks as he grinned and stepped into the small space, his huge body sucking what little free space there had been. “Hello again.” Amusement laced his words and fueled his movements as he straddled her. Shatara tamped back her surprise and the quick burst of anger. “You?” Ladarius’ fingers traced her lips. “And this time you’re all mine. But don’t worry— you can punch me with those little fists of yours if you want. I want you to have your pleasure as well.” A warm smile spread across his face as her pussy quivered. Awareness shot through her body, her nipples hardened. Shatara battled the surprise registering in her, determined to do her duty. Not that she expected it to be difficult. “So earlier was a game to you?” “Hardly.” His hand slid down her throat, her pulse raced. “Curiosity.” “You should have told me, my King.” Censure wrapped around each word. “Please, call me Ladarius.” Full lips curved into a sensuous grin. The man’s handsomeness had an unexpected effect on her, one she was grateful for. One she craved satisfying. Heated breath danced across her skin as his lips grazed her neck on an upward path toward her mouth. Anticipation sizzled within her. An obligation wasn’t supposed to feel this good, but she wasn’t about to argue with the building need.
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Shatara sighed into his mouth as it captured hers, the tentative kiss turning hard and demanding with one foray of her tongue across his lips. His fingers threaded through her hair, his knee positioned between her legs. Her sister had warned her to expect the King’s first mating with her to be primal, fast and demanding. The public setting created a tone of power. “I intend to fuck you hard, Shatara. It has been too long since I’ve had a woman in my arms.” Anger and resentment laced his words. “I didn’t want this.” “I know,” she whispered. Wrapping her arms around him, she nuzzled his neck and smiled up at him. “Show me what pleasures you.” A loud groan filled the room, his mouth captured hers. Shatara responded, allowing the hunger raging within her to burn out of control. He needed to see a need equal to his own, to know that she had the same angry desire to have him buried inside her. The drums continued to pound wildly, her heart beat in time to the music. His hands ripped the adornment beading, scattering the tattered remains within the room’s interior. She rose up slightly when he moved, savoring the slide of his fingers across her thighs as he removed the thin material covering her. Shatara ground against him, welcoming his weight when he settled between her legs. Ladarius’ eyes blazed with desire as he looked down at her. “Beautiful.” Pleasure coursed through her as he sucked a hardened nipple into the warmth of his mouth. His tongue licked and teased the nub until she thought the flames of desire lashing her body would consume her entirely. Closing her eyes, she ran her hands across Ladarius’ contoured back. The ceremony was a ritual designed to demonstrate the King’s virility. Nothing more. Even though she accepted that fact, she was grateful for the way his lips tasted her flesh and his hands memorized each inch of her body as they glided across her slickened skin. Admiration mixed with the overwhelming desire building in her. This was a man who didn’t care what people thought of his manhood. He had nothing to prove to them. The fact that he hadn’t thrust into her immediately upon entering the veiled area displayed his empathy for her. Ladarius rose slightly and removed his robe. Her hands slid down his chest as she stared into the fiery eyes peering down at her. A masculine groan pierced the air around them as she wound her fingers around his thick, long cock. “You throb with need, my King.” Ladarius kissed her, the savage intensity matched her pounding heartbeat. She gasped softly when his fingers entered her. “And you’re wet for me.” “Yes.” Her erratic breathing made responding almost impossible. “Are you always like this with the royals you service?” Derision punctuated his question as he took a hardened nipple into his mouth and sucked. “I wouldn’t know.” She gasped when his teeth scraped. “You are my first assignment.”
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His movements stilled, the nerve-racking silence awakening the unease in her stomach. Establishing eye contact wasn’t something she could do. She didn’t trust herself not to reveal her insecurity. How could she not be terrified that she wouldn’t satisfy him? What if he rejected her? The humiliation would be impossible to deal with. Never in her entire line had any of her relatives been turned away from an assignment. She refused to be the first. Digging her nails into his shoulders, she ground her pussy against his erect cock. “Why was I not told you were new?” His hands wound in her hair as he looked into her eyes. Shatara shrugged. “I suppose Laken considered it your preference.” “I would’ve demanded we spend an evening together alone so that I could ease your nervousness.” She could taste the guilt hanging in the air between them. Smiling, she ran her hands down his chest and pulled him toward her. “Pleasuring you is my only desire.” Shatara wasn’t born to be coy, but making such statements was in her training. In the fiber of what a byrna was meant to do. Her sisters would be far more astute and able to determine whether they were necessary. Ladarius laughed as his lips sucked on her earlobe. “Don’t ever be afraid to express yourself, Shatara. The little minx I met in the hall was far more entertaining than a fake byrna trying to fill my head with notions of grandeur.” She moistened her lips and slid her hands across his muscular chest. “You awoke lust in me that burns out of control. Only you can satisfy my need.” His mouth crushed hers, his arms wrapped her within his powerful embrace. She writhed against his hard body, savoring the way his cock nestled against her wet pussy. So close, yet not where she wanted it to be. Not where she needed it most. “I can’t wait any longer,” his deep voice whispered in her ear, “but I will make this up to you once we’re alone.” He pulled away slightly and trailed his fingers across her pussy. A jolt of awareness raced through her body. Her soft moan filled the room as he slid his fingers into her. She swallowed and looked up at his lust-filled eyes. Full lips curved into a grin as he positioned himself between her parted thighs, her heart raced as his cock pressed against her. Fantasy collided with reality as he thrust into her. Never had she imagined wanting the man she served that much. An uncomfortable pang coursed through her as he pressed into her. His loud, animalistic growl filled the room. The primal side of his nature had been awakened. Velvety desire, thick and rampant, flowed through her veins. She writhed under him, savored the feel of his thick member as he began moving inside her. Slow, full strokes cascaded pleasure through her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as his mouth seized hers.
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His lips were hard and demanding, she imagined them fraught with years of need. Hunger. The intensity excited her, reminding her of the countless nights she had yearned for this moment. Ladarius positioned her knees on his shoulders as his rhythmic fucking increased in tempo. The drums pounded their way into her lust-induced haze. Pleasure ricocheted through her body as she savored how good he felt buried inside her. Each time his cock left her, the urge to have him in her again consumed her. Her nails dug into his arms, her lungs fought for short gasps of air between the moans that echoed through the room. Shatara allowed her orgasm to envelop her and suppressed the urge to stifle her reaction. There would be no doubt that the King had fulfilled his duty to his people. The sound of his release filled her ears. Battling to get her breathing under control, she wrapped her arms around Ladarius as he nestled beside her, his hands at her waist to keep her close. Reality would pierce the euphoria she felt soon enough. Right now she wanted to enjoy him as a man, not a king. For now, she was a woman. Not a byrna. “You honor me with your gift,” he said, his lips grazing her cheek. Warmth crept up her face. “I didn’t know the ceremony could be so pleasurable. Your people should be proud to have such a virile leader.” Shatara’s heart pounded wildly in her chest. The admission tumbled out of her before she could mull it over. Ladarius grinned. “I’d gladly give my palace to whoever could make all those outside this veil disappear. Duty before pleasure, I’m afraid.” The statement resonated within her. She could empathize with his plight as King, having to put duty and honor before his own personal needs as a man. Pushing herself up slightly, Shatara steeled herself for the impending walk. The brief moment that would sully the most pleasurable experience she’d ever had. The drums slowed, the new rhythm complemented the hush that had fallen over the crowd. How long had they remained silent? How much had they managed to hear? She willed herself not to care, even though a part of her wanted to flee—race from the room with all haste. Back to the dingy room she had been stored in. Anywhere but here with all of them. “Shatara…” She held up her hand. “Later, my King.” He nodded, his lips thinned in a grim expression that matched the gloom settling in the pit of her stomach. “There is Daya business I must attend to.” She nodded. “As I would expect, my King.” “Ladarius.” Shatara stood and looked down at him, her nipples hardening as he perused her naked body. Using his given name personalized the assignment and she had learned from her sister’s heartbreaks to never do that. Turning from him while she still had the nerve, she parted the thin veneer and stepped out from the cocoon.
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Walk slowly and do not show emotion. The simple command repeated in her mind as onlookers erupted into high-pitched whistles and cheers for their King’s conquest. He had proven his worth as a formidable leader for their pride and restored the faith of the higher court. Determination coursed through her as she avoided eye contact and stood there—dutifully waiting until the drums ceased playing the royal song. Her knees trembled as the room fell into silence, all eyes on her glistening skin as she turned and waited for her order to leave. Laken would choose whether she’d fulfilled her role as byrna. If she had she could walk out with her head held high, her pride’s honor intact. Failure meant she would be forced to crawl. The man approached and she looked up, fear pumping through her veins. She could not have failed. A smile crossed the aged man’s face. “Your house has exceeded its reputation. On behalf of the Daya pride, King Ladarius accepts your service.”
***** “My King, I fear that if we do not restore corporal punishment for our mates we will be unable to maintain order. Too many have refused to accept their intendeds.” Whiny drivel. Ladarius kept his right hand over his mouth to conceal the contemptuous set of his lips as he listened to Rayko, the leader of the northwestern Daya sector. It wasn’t necessary to cut his eyes over to Laken to have the older man impart his renowned banter to the agitated group of men. “Unable to handle your women, Rayko?” Laughter erupted within the cramped meeting chamber. Ladarius remembered all the childhood days spent in the secret nook between the oak panels watching his father lead meetings such as this. But the awe that had once filled him was missing today, replaced by impatience. “Let’s get to the purpose of this meeting. Mekhi has infiltrated our lands.” “There is no proof of that,” Laken stated. “No one else would be foolish enough to kill guards along the southern border lands. And no one else is tainted with enough evil to slaughter an entire village.” Anger boiled through Ladarius’ veins as he looked around at the seven men in the room. Their fury matched his. No one harmed his people. Ever. “Find them and bring them to me.” “What reason would they have to penetrate our borders? He knows you do not wish his intrusion,” Cril said, the caution and fear in his voice emphasized by his jerky movements as he stood. “My sentries scoured the area for evidence of infiltration and found no one.” Agitation brimmed within the room. Speaking against the high King at any time was intolerable, but Ladarius didn’t care. “The slaughter that occurred in that village will be avenged. No one murders my people.”
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Unease crackled as unspent rage gushed through his body. Preventing a display of rage was difficult, but Ladarius could not lose control so shortly after the ceremony. His cock hardened. Shatara had surprised him. The image drawn in his mind of a jaded harlot had been far from the beautiful, naïve woman who had surrendered to his ministrations. And experienced her first time as a byrna in front of hundreds. Guilt ate away at him. Guilt for failing to keep his people safe from the high King and his reign of terror. Guilt for his mistreatment of Shatara before the ceremony. Guilt for not being with her right now instead of here discussing strategy. “The time has come to put an end to his terror,” Rayko stated firmly as he looked around the room, his angry pace taking him the length of the large chamber and back. “No. The remaining sectors’ kings must join us. We are the largest, richest land by far but their allegiance is paramount.” Ladarius stood. Any further conversation was moot. “The King has spoken. So it shall be,” Laken stated. Suppressing his audible sigh of relief, Ladarius turned and made his way out of the room. Pausing for anyone to catch up was not an option, nor was allowing the royal guards entry into his private chambers. The remainder of tonight had nothing to do with them.
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Chapter Four He found her exactly where he suspected she would be and the last place she should. In the pathetic excuse for quarters she had been tossed in because of his foul temper. Her soft, sun-kissed skin tempted his fingers as he admired her huddled body. The chilly air bit his skin as he removed his royal robe and covered the soft curves he had intended to memorize. Shatara’s eyes opened and she jumped slightly as she pulled the material against her shivering body. “Hi.” “You should be in my chambers.” Amusement surged in him when she glared. “I didn’t think you’d require my services, my King.” Ladarius looked around at the cluttered room. Discarded furniture littered the filthy room. Unused armor swallowed half the interior. “You should never have been brought to this room. It is where we store our unneeded—” He broke the comment off, seeing the brief flash of pain cross her face before she looked away. “You deserve better quarters than this.” “I can manage,” she commented as she stood and walked toward the other end of the room, her lips pursed. “Could you have someone remove the armor?” “I’ll have someone come and take it to be melted.” “Melted?” she asked incredulously. “My King has been begging King Mekhi for armor such as this. And you intend to melt it?” Ladarius shrugged his shoulders. “Then I’ll send it to your people. To your King. Mekhi pilfers it from us and hoards it to prevent anarchy.” “You speak very freely,” she said, amusement in her voice as her fingers slid across a chest plate. “Most would not dare do so.” “Then they are fools.” “Mekhi wishes to marry my sister,” she offered as she stepped closer. “So far each prince she has served has mysteriously died.” His skin heated when her palms ran across his chest. “If she’s half as lovely as you, I could see the need to kill any man who touched her.” Duty dictated he speak to her of his adversary’s obvious infatuation. But his cock demanded gratification. As if sensing his discomfort, Shatara’s hands worked to remove his restrictive garments. Ladarius seized her mouth, determined to burn the taste of her into his brain. The hesitant sweep of her tongue against his undid what little resolve he had to get her to
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his bed on the other end of the corridor. One day he’d get the little minx into his chambers, but not now. Fire. Shatara knew the fiery tendrils spawning inside her marked sexual attraction and the primal growl that filled the room expressed that his insides were branded with the same hungry need to mate. Her nails slid across his back, pulling him closer to her as she made her way back to the sleeping area. Not that she cared. He lifted her, she wound her legs around his waist and gasped as he mouthed a hardened nipple and sucked. Breathing became secondary to satisfying him. To sating her own desires. The waves of awareness lapping her insides were too new, too unexpected to control. Her pussy throbbed with the need to have him inside her again. A gasp escaped her parted lips as he pushed her against the cool wooden surface of the feeding surface. Her untouched bread fell to the floor as he pushed her back onto the long counter. Beams of gold flashed in his eyes as he looked down at her, his tongue licking its way down her stomach. Shatara clung to him as he parted her legs and lapped at her wet mound. The intimate act shocked her. She arched up to meet the welcomed ministrations as one hand gripped her waist and the other stroked her body. “Ladarius.” Hesitation and nervousness filled her barely audible voice. “Shh,” he said as he looked up at her. “Let me taste you.” Allowing her body to relax, she savored the feel of his hands on her thighs as his tongue thrust into her. Her lower body rose off the surface when his thumb massaged her clit. In all her training she had never expected a man’s attentions to consume her. Pleasure shot through her as her body convulsed, her orgasm spiraling as he rose to his full height and plunged his thick member inside her. Shatara’s pussy clenched his cock as he drove into her with a furious pace. Her hands ran down his chest and clutched at his arms as he cried out from his own release. “One of these days we will do this properly. In my chambers. In a bed,” he laughed as he moved a ringlet of her damp hair from her face. “Are you okay?” More than okay. Shatara didn’t trust herself to speak yet. Nodding, she allowed her breathing to steady and focused on anything but the fact that he was still inside her. Connected to her. She groaned inwardly as her pussy clenched his flaccid organ. He growled in her ear. “If you do that again, I’m afraid what will happen.” The last thing she expected was him to stay afterward, yet he made no attempt to leave after he pulled out of her. Instead, he lifted her up and took her to the seating area she had uncovered in the corner. “Why did you choose me as your first assignment?” 53
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“My sister wasn’t available.” Ladarius laughed softly. “No other byrnas were available?” “None were of our family, only of our house. Laken assured us they were unacceptable.” Silence filled the room as regret settled in her. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed serving you, because I have.” Warmth stained her cheeks. “You weren’t what I expected. Your honesty is quite,” he paused and smiled when she tensed slightly, “refreshing.” Shatara assessed the King through half-hooded eyes. “It surprises me a man as virile as you would require the use of a byrna.” Ladarius laughed. “It seems I was past my mourning time.” Sadness filled her as she took in the tapestries adorning the walls of the unused quarters. Hand-painted. Probably with the paints scattered across the floor in the corner. This room once carried a woman’s touch. His mate. Her fingers slid across his neck where his mating mark would have been. His pulse pounded under her caress as she stroked the six small scars that denoted his mourning period. “My heart is heavy for your loss. You must have really loved her to grieve for her so long.” His grip tightened on her thigh, his muscles stiffened and his jaw clenched. “I have a pride to care for. Their King was lost in the same attack that took Veda.” His father. “You are their King now, Ladarius.” She pulled his face so that he was forced to meet her gaze. “You are a mighty leader that your father’s spirit is proud of.” “You have no way of knowing that,” he said softly. The wistfulness she heard tugged at her insides. “I saw much of your lands during my journey and your people are well cared for and happy. That is a rare thing these days, given Mekhi’s reign of terror. You manage to keep his forces at bay when other lands cannot. For that alone you are legendary.” Ladarius laughed as he slid her off his lap and stood. Donning his garments, he turned. “He’s hardly at bay when his forces are within my lands and have yet to be found and held accountable for their slaughter of my people.” “Slaughter?” Trepidation filled her as she felt the rage pouring off him in waves as she sat. She had seen what she suspected were the high King’s men during her trek, but providing a location would prove impossible since she had been lost most of the time. “Someone infiltrated our southern border, killed the guards and slaughtered the nearby village. All that remains is smoldering ashes.” Nausea attacked her as she looked away. Murder of innocents was unheard of among their people—in any of the sectors. Women and children were too sacred, too valuable to be destroyed by an act of hatred or war. She shook her head, refusing to believe what she heard. Not even the demented high King could be that evil.
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Silence permeated the room as she thought of her options. A byrna wasn’t supposed to concern herself with matters of the royal court unless asked. He hadn’t asked. Then again, he had no way of knowing what she had seen on her way to him. She swallowed nervously. “I traveled through that area on my way here.” Ladarius came to her, his hands cupped her face as his lips grazed hers. “If I have not already done so, you have this man’s utmost apology for failing to send you proper guidance and protection, Shatara.” “After two days’ hard journey through your lands, my small store of rations were depleted and it was necessary to deviate from what I thought was the proper path to the palace. I was picking vegetation when I saw them—sentries with crimson and white insignias on their breastplates.” “Where?” Ladarius’ voice rose, in shock or in hopefulness. She couldn’t tell which. Discomfort spread through her arm when he squeezed it. “Where were you, Shatara?” “I do not know your lands. It was wooded, a couple of hours’ journey off the path I was taking, two days into your lands from my border.” That was all she could remember. He turned and retrieved his ceremonial robe and placed it around her shoulders. “Come with me.” “But I must dress suitably.” “They will see nothing with that on you,” he announced as he began pulling her out of the room. She tugged to remain where she was. “But it isn’t in good form for me to wear this robe.” “Form be damned,” he said as he briskly walked down the corridors. Shatara moved quickly behind him to keep pace since he refused to let go of her. “Will you at least slow your steps so that you don’t drag me?” she asked angrily. He stopped and she slammed into his hard body from behind. “Where are you taking me?” “To see Lord Cril. Since it’s his region you were in, he’d better know the area well enough to know where you were.” “This is madness. He has surely retired,” she stated emphatically as she noted the moonlight splaying through the viewing slits in the ceiling as they continued barreling down the winding corridors at a nauseating pace. Guards stood at attention at each new passageway, giving her hope it was the last one he would drag her barely covered body through. Yet they continued. How large was this palace? She sighed in relief when he came to a halt before a large set of double doors and thrust them open. “Do you not knock?” she asked in shock. He turned, his mouth curved upward in a hint of amusement. “In my own castle?” “Everyone deserves some privacy.”
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“Very well then,” he stated as they entered. “For your benefit, I will refrain from entering the inner bathing chamber without notice.” Shatara shook her head in disbelief as she pulled the robe together, conscious of her nudity underneath. To appear before any other member of royalty in such a manner was highly improper, particularly donning his ceremonial garments. “What is this?” a large man bellowed as he rose from his position atop a buxom brunette who was obviously a house servant. The woman gasped and sprang off the bed and knelt before Ladarius, her large breasts heaving. The man laughed and eyed Shatara. “Offering me use of your byrna so soon, Ladarius? Was she not the ride you expected?” “Watch that foul mouth or I’ll sever that organ you’re so proud of,” Ladarius threatened. “Dress and meet in chambers immediately. Retrieve the others as well. Do not make me wait.” Ladarius spun and paced out of the room, dragging Shatara with him as she sputtered in disbelief. “That’s all you intended? You could have sent a guard.” “Then he would have finished rutting between her legs first then wandered in. I do not wish for this urgent revelation to wait.” “It was days ago. Surely he is not in the same area any longer,” she commented as they began another grueling pace down corridors. She pulled her hand from his and halted in the hall. When he turned in annoyance at the delay she raised her eyebrow. “Do you always sprint down the corridors scowling and barking orders?” “When it suits me.” She folded her arms and looked around at the darkened corridors, faintly lit by sconces at the highest point of the ceiling. “Well, it does not suit me to do so. I shall find my way there at a normal pace. If I wished to exercise, I’d do so outdoors like any other sane person.” Ladarius approached her, his eyes darkened with lust as his hand caressed her cheek. “Such passion in you, little minx. Would you mate with me outdoors?” Shatara gasped at the unexpected question. “That would be improper.” “Have you ever allowed another to see your beauty, Shatara?” His voice was a low, growled question wrought with need as he pulled her into his arms and positioned her against the wall. She shivered at the question, her body responding immediately to his closeness as his erection rubbed against her slightly parted thighs. The thin material of his pants did little to detract from the arousal her body longed to satisfy. Her pussy throbbed with a need to feel him inside her once again. “No.” Ladarius’ hand slid under the robe, parting it slightly as he pinched a nipple and rolled it between his fingers. “I would make it enjoyable for you.” Undoubtedly he would. His breath mingled with hers as his other hand slid down her hip and across her thigh until his fingers grazed her wet pussy. A soft moan
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escaped her lips, but he still didn’t kiss her. She wanted to taste him. To feel him take her again. Grasping his shoulders, she pulled him to her fully and ran her tongue across his full lips. “It’s impolite to taunt me, my King. You know I hunger for your touch again. Your taste.” “I’m not known for my politeness.” Gyrating her lower body against his, she ran her hands down his chest. “We can work on that, I think.” Ladarius ran his hands through her long hair and tugged. “You never answered my question,” he stated as his fingers taunted the wet opening of her quivering mound. “Would you mate with me outdoors?” She knew she should say no, but the urge to say yes and surrender to him outweighed any nervousness she had. “Yes.” Closing her eyes, she savored the taste of his mouth, his tongue claiming hers as his fingers delved into her slickened folds. A loud cough punctuated the air, startling her. She gasped as Ladarius cursed and pulled her robe closed as he glared over his shoulder at Laken. “I was under the impression that meeting you called was now.” Shatara blushed as she glanced down the hall and saw all his lords watching with smirks on their faces— all except for the one they had interrupted, who simply raised his eyebrow at the irony of the scene that had unfolded. She looked up at Ladarius and saw the hint of a smile as he turned toward his men. Her duties damned, she was in deep trouble. Shatara could already feel her neck burning and her heart aching. She was falling for him. Hard.
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Chapter Five “How do we know King Mekhi didn’t send her here?” Rayko asked as he glared over at Shatara. Ladarius was torn between the urge to throttle the man for defaming a byrna he barely knew and the duty to weigh what had been asked. Truth was, he didn’t know. All he knew was that the throbbing he never thought to feel again had already begun in his neck. The realization both angered him and thrilled him. Who wouldn’t want to have a second chance at having a mate? A part of him wasn’t sure he was ready to let go of Veda. No. He was ready. He just didn’t want to forget her. Shatara was nothing like his previous mate. Shatara was high-spirited where Veda had been meek. To be fair, he didn’t know enough about the little byrna to be making such rash judgments. All he knew was he had agreed to her presence simply as the means to an end, with a pleasurable fuck or two for good measure. He hadn’t expected to have feelings for her. To crave her. To need her more than he needed the air in his lungs. Yet he did. Even now in the middle of the meeting chamber he couldn’t think clearly. Blood thundered to his cock at a quickening pace—hardening it for the slip of a woman standing toe-to-toe with the deadliest fighter of all his lords without qualm. “How dare you defile my reputation, and that of my pride! You have no idea how much power my sisters and I could wield, should we choose to.” Ladarius sighed. Threats by women were never tolerated. Fortunately Laken had already moved to stand behind the angered lord, clearly prepared to prevent the hit all the men had been anticipating. Neither he nor Ladarius believed in striking women, but Rayko certainly made no qualms about it. “You do not speak to a royal court member like that! I should teach you a lesson.” The man stepped forward, a hairsbreadth from the byrna. The mate within Ladarius growled, begging to be freed and deal with the threat to Shatara. But as King, he knew better. If she was to remain within his lands for any period of time, his men would have to form their own opinion and respect for her. One way or the other. He sat, glaring at Laken and the guards that were nervously standing nearby. He shouldn’t have brought her in here until he had spoken with the lords. It had been an impulsive decision. Not a single part of him had considered her a traitor. It simply wasn’t possible. To his surprise Shatara didn’t back down from the angered man. Instead she glared up at
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him and thrust her chin up in a dismissive manner. “Far better men than you have battled with me and lost. You don’t want to go down this road, whoever you are.” Rayko laughed. “King Ladarius may be fucking you but he holds his land above all else. You think he will choose your side over ours? I say you need to learn your place, byrna.” The man grabbed her arm. Ladarius stood, but sat back down in stunned silence as she responded. Shatara kneed Rayko between the legs with enough force to send the man to his knees howling in outrage. The men around him backed up, but Shatara stood her ground. “I do not care whether I have your King’s allegiance, or yours. I can guarantee that, should it come down to a choice between your pride and my house, every other royal within our lands would choose me. The blood of an Ajika elder courses through my veins. Never question my place!” Shatara kicked him once more then moved back, pacing angrily near the entryway to the meeting chamber. Ladarius smirked as he noticed many of his lords attempting to suppress their amused laughter. Never had a woman stood up to Rayko and the look of sheer shock on the man’s face was worth whatever cost. “Well,” Ladarius stated, “now that that is taken care of, let us get back to the matter at hand. I believe Shatara was going to try to detail where she saw Mekhi’s garrison.” Concern ate away at him, along with guilt, as he watched her battle for composure. Her body shuddered—whether in outrage or feminine upset he wasn’t sure. Either way, the man in him hated not being at her side. But unless she were officially his mate and bore his mark he had no right to do so. And that infuriated him. “I told you. Two days’ journey in from my sector’s border, in a wooded region off the path to your palace. That is all I know.” Her voice was quiet, resigned. His arms ached to console her. Duty be damned. He could at least do that. Standing, he made his way to the other end of the room and pulled her into his embrace. At first she stood, tense and unyielding. After a moment, her soft curves melded against his as he took a seat beside Laken and pulled her into his lap. “Perhaps if you recall some scenery or things around that area within the day you saw them, Lord Cril could identify more closely where you were.” Shatara looked at the man and nodded. “There was a large grove of basta, which is what I was picking, in the area along with a stream of some sort. I never saw it though, just heard it.” Ladarius looked over at the lord. The man nodded slightly. “That narrows it down to this area and this one. But that is a very large expanse of region, Ladarius, and his destination would vary greatly depending on which one it was.” “Anything else at all, Shatara?”
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Silence filled the room. His heart beat wildly as he hoped she could remember something more. Anything to lead his men to the right region and get rid of the threat of Mekhi in Daya land once and for all. Regardless of the outcome, Shatara’s statement about her lineage ensured that she’d never leave his side. It explained the fascination that Mekhi had with her sister and he wasn’t about to let Shatara become yet another fixation. Securing a connection to an ancient bloodline ensured a throne. “I met an older man along the way. He had a load of fisma he had brought back. He offered me shelter, but I refused because I could tell he barely had enough rations for himself. I can’t remember his name though.” “That has to be Clyx. He’s a good man. He resides here,” Cril said, pointing to an area on the map. “So, the men had to be here then. That would mean they’re actually passing through Daya land. But to where?” Shatara gasped as her eyes fixated on the map in the center of the table. “My sister. Shailyn should have arrived in the western sector by now to serve the King’s eldest son. He’s going for her,” she exclaimed in fear as she stood. “I must go and warn Harom. Or warn the King.” Ladarius pulled her back into his embrace. “We will take care of that. I’m sure the King wouldn’t let anything happen to her. And I know the prince wouldn’t if she’s anything like you.” The men around him laughed. “Let’s dispatch men within the area to ensure that is the case. Either way, we should offer our services to the King should he require them. Take whatever armor needed to him.” The men nodded and most left, accepting the nod of Ladarius’ head as an official dismissal. Lord Cril stood. “Your mate does the Daya tribe proud. She will make a good queen.” Shatara laughed softly. “I am merely a byrna, Lord.” “I think not,” the man said, a smile on his face as he stood and walked out. An awkward silence filled the room as Shatara looked around and realized she and Ladarius were alone. Her mind spun with the events of the past few hours. So much had happened. Shock still poured through her as she recalled how she had stood up to Lord Rayko. Concern gushed in her veins as she wondered what Ladarius would do about it. It was within his right to discipline her for it, even if she had the right to speak her mind. As a byrna she didn’t. She had forgotten where she was. This wasn’t her house. It wasn’t her pride, in her land, where her King would do whatever it took to keep her and her sisters safe for the sake of all Ajika. “So, what now?”
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“You did a great service for the Daya pride.” Shatara smiled as she stood up. “It seems I owe you a debt of gratitude for helping my sister. Why would you do such a thing when you do not even know her?” Hope filled her as she awaited his answer. It was too much to hope that it was because of her. After all, they hardly knew each other. Not that she felt that way. Already her entire body ached for him, throbbed with a need to be connected to him. “It’s a good opportunity for me to strengthen an alliance with another King. That is always a good thing.” Ladarius stood and her heart sank as she turned away hearing his response. It is what she had expected, but not what she had wanted to hear. “Regardless, I am eternally grateful. I’ll speak to my King once my assignment is over and bestow my wish that he express his gratitude.” Ladarius laughed. “How well do you know all these kings?” Shatara smiled. “Not as well as my sisters since I was sequestered a great deal, but I have met with them all at one point or another. Our house is often used as a neutral meeting ground for important meetings.” “It seems my father and I have done the Daya pride a great disservice remaining so sheltered from your house and all the other sectors.” Curiosity filled her as he made no move to leave the room and begin the long voyage down the winding corridors back to the private quarters. How long would her services be needed? Sadness filled her. What if he was about to dismiss her? She looked away, unable to handle the idea of losing him that quickly. “It’s my honor to service you and your people.” “Is that all this is to you? An assignment?” he asked softly as he pulled her back into his embrace from behind, his breath tickling the area of her neck that burned so badly. She hoped the mark didn’t appear too soon. “No.” The soft confession was ripped from her heart, her gut twisted into knots as she waited for him to respond. “I was hoping you’d stay here indefinitely.” “Indefinitely? Why?” Ladarius chuckled. “You really want to hear a full confession, don’t you?” Elation mixed with her raging desire as she ran her hands across his at her waist. “You wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?” “No. Perhaps after the way you dealt with Rayko you could show me and the other lords a thing or two.” “Are you going to punish me for that?” She turned to face him. “I know I was out of line, but I couldn’t contain my anger.” Ladarius lifted her chin so that her gaze met his. “You’ll always be free to express yourself to me and my people, Shatara. Already you have burned your way into my soul.”
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“And you mine.” Shatara didn’t wait for his mouth to seize hers. She rose up on her toes and pulled his head to her and kissed him. Ladarius laughed. “Laken will never let me live this down. He said you were perfect for me. He knew the moment you stood up to him.” Shatara rested her head against his chest as he hugged her to him. “And I knew you were perfect for me the moment I met you.” Ladarius lifted her and headed toward the door. She giggled. “It’s a long walk to carry me to your chambers.” “We’re not making it there, I’m afraid. I swear I do have chambers. One of these days my hunger for you will be sated enough to make it to a bed.”
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HELL TO PAY Kimberly Dean
Kimberly Dean
Chapter One It was too quiet. Cassidy Wilson looked up slowly from her flower garden, her ears going on the alert. A soft wind ruffled the leaves on the trees overhead and water from the lake lapped rhythmically against her little expanse of shore. It was all very pleasant and calming… And way too quiet. “Thunder?” Turning on her haunches, she let her gaze sweep the yard. Her heart sank when her energetic black Labrador was nowhere to be found. “Thunder!” Worried, she tossed her gardening gloves onto the porch and pushed herself to her feet. Ever since they’d moved into her grandparents’ old cabin on Summer Lake, her dog had become much too adventuresome. In the city he’d liked to stay close, but here the birds and rabbits provided excitement that he couldn’t seem to ignore. Just when she needed him to stay put… “Thunder, come back here!” Immediately, she went on the search. As much as the move had suited them both, there was still one drawback to their new living situation that she couldn’t fix. The neighbors. If he’d ended up on Long property again… “Oh God.” Her steps quickened. The Longs and the Wilsons were like oil and water, never to be mixed. Their families’ feud ranked right up there with the Hatfields and McCoys, only without guns… Well, at least lately. Unfortunately, it all went back to property rights. “Come on, puppy love.” Swiping her palms against her shorts, she headed down to the lake. She hoped he was there beyond the tree line, where she couldn’t see him. He liked to play with his reflection in the water, even though it startled him every time he got splashed. “Damn,” she swore when she got to the shore. Little ripples coursed across the lake’s surface, but the only visitor other than herself was a lone mallard duck. It swam lazily under the hot summer sun as a feeling of cold dread ran down her spine. There were only two other options, neither of which she liked. She turned slowly. Long property surrounded her on both sides. Which enemy should she face first? Without hesitation, she turned to her left. Randy Long, or Rancid as she tended to think of him, was the lesser of two evils. As loud and obnoxious as he was, his bark was
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worse than his bite. He’d tried his best to drag her into the seemingly endless feud, but she’d ignored all his huffing and puffing. His brother, though, wasn’t a man to be put off so easily. Something hot and dangerous fluttered inside Cassidy’s chest. It mixed with the dread, creating a feeling that was more than a little unsettling. Yes, Rancid first. Definitely Rancid. Her feet quickly navigated the winding path that trailed through the woods. On this side of her property, the tree line was nature made. The path was matted with fallen leaves and coursing vines. Still, someone had been using it… Longs crossing her property as a shortcut to one another, no doubt. Her lips flattened. And they’d been complaining about her dog. The path came to an end, opening up into Randy’s backyard, and she did a quick visual sweep. The space was three times the size of hers and ten times as ostentatious. A manicured garden, complete with a water-pouring statue of Cupid, stood at the back of the house. A pool afforded a picture-perfect view of the lake and, most importantly, a carefully manicured putting green stood between her and the pool house. Cassidy crossed her fingers. She prayed that her Lab hadn’t messed up that golfing green, although a devious little voice at the back of her mind thrilled at the idea. “Thunder!” she hissed. No thundering paws bounded over to greet her. Keeping as well-hidden as she could, she leaned forward to see past the tree on her right. No tails wagged and no tongues dangled out of a smiling mouth. Her toes curled in her flip-flops. She’d known she was hoping against hope. Stepping back into her hiding place, she took a moment. She’d only found her dog over here once. Every other time he’d gone on one of these little expeditions, he’d ended up in the last place she wanted him—the place where her knees went weak and her mouth went dry… That hot, dangerous dread flared higher in her chest and she knew without a doubt where her delinquent puppy was. Rafer Long’s back porch. “Oh damn.” A shaky breath passed her lips. Then another. She forced her legs to start moving again, even though they weren’t quite steady. She could deal with Randy. Rafer was another matter entirely. Once she crossed onto his property, the feud somehow became more real. All the friction borne by the generations before them seemed to heat whenever they came face-to-face. The distrust, the sensitivity, the rawness…it just all came to life. Maybe she could catch Thunder before he was spotted. And maybe this feud was a curse. She bit her lip. She’d tried to stay out of it, but she kept being thrust right into the fray. And primarily by her own pet. The traitor. 65
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The woods opened back up onto her property, but she didn’t even try another look. She was focused on the other set of trees that separated her from those who did not want her there—the trees that had been planted to keep her family out. She rubbed her stomach as it tightened. Silently, she headed down the path to the south and crossed onto Long property once again. The copse of trees was much smaller than that to her north and she crossed it much too quickly. Still, this time she didn’t try to hide. She stepped into the clearing and immediately felt her cheeks flare. Rafer Long was waiting for her. Watching and waiting… His body tensed the moment he saw her. Sitting on the deck next to him was her dog. “I’m sorry,” Cassidy blurted. Instinctively she hurried forward, wanting to stave off his anger. “He wasn’t leashed.” The cool voice whipped across the lawn, sending a chill over her skin. Or something like a chill… Only it was hotter. Hotter and, in its own way, invigorating. “I put in an invisible fence,” she explained quickly. “I don’t know why it’s not working.” “This is the third time this week.” “I know. I’m not sure how to contain him anymore. He seems to have found a way off the chain when I use it. I feel like I’m living with the Houdini of the canine world.” Rafer didn’t smile and she was rambling. The words just kept coming faster and quieter the more he watched her. Finally, they trailed off to nothing. They stared at each other, two on-edge combatants waiting for the other to make the first move. Sensing something at play, Thunder rolled onto his stomach. He’d been using Long’s deck as a scratching post for his back, oblivious to the fact that he wasn’t wanted there. Propping himself up, he smiled at her, panting with his pink tongue lolling carelessly. “I’m sorry if he bothered you,” Cassidy said quietly. In one smooth rolling motion, Rafer pushed himself to his feet. “He seems to be spending as much time over here as he is at his own home.” “I know.” Her heart took off like a racehorse as her enemy approached her. Tall and lean, he moved in a way that was just…sexual. Or menacing. There was such a fine line between the two. Like a tiger on the hunt, he had a lethal beauty that she couldn’t tear her gaze from. And God, he was beautiful. Dark-haired, blue-eyed and hard-muscled. “I’m beginning to think you send him over here intentionally,” he said, stalking towards her. “No! I swear.”
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“Are you trying to rile me, Cassidy?” Her mouth went dry. When he stopped, he was in her space. “Because it’s working.” Pinpricks caught her skin. “He just seems intent on exploring. Something over here must have caught his interest.” Something or someone… Razor blue eyes suddenly focused on her, seemingly peering into her soul, and her stomach dropped to somewhere around her feet. She knew she had always had a fascination for things that frightened her. Thunderstorms, horror movies, this man… “That doesn’t make it all right.” His voice had gotten even lower and raspier. Sexier. Embarrassment crept through her when her nipples tightened almost painfully. “I know. You’re right. I’ll keep a closer eye on him.” “Not good enough.” He stepped closer until their bodies nearly brushed. “I warned you,” he said quietly. “What did I tell you would happen if I found him on my land again?” His jaw was tense, a muscle throbbing way back under his ear. He radiated heat, frustration and aggression. And pure and utter temptation. “What did I tell you, Cass?” Every muscle in her body trembled. “There’d be hell to pay.” “That’s right.” His blue eyes flashed. “And the devil is here to collect.” His hand suddenly lifted, and Cassidy flinched. Something dark and heated passed across his face, yet he hesitated. When he moved again, there was no time for her to react. But instead of striking or shaking her, he did something entirely unexpected. He kissed her. His fingers curled around the nape of her neck and pulled her forward as his head came down. His lips settled on hers, hot and bold. The kiss was fast and frenzied, his lips searching out hers as his tongue pressed forward. His fingers tightened against the base of her skull, almost as if afraid she’d pull away before he got a taste of her. There was no danger of that. Cassidy was so shocked she couldn’t move. So confused, she didn’t realize she had the option of fight or flight. When his tongue rasped against hers, she didn’t try to struggle. She wanted to run even less. Pleasure consumed her, thick and warm. It clouded her head, pushing out all thoughts of suspicion or fear. He slowed down. His fingers gentled, caressing instead of restraining. A sound left the base of his throat as their tongues tangled and their lips meshed. The kiss was dangerous. Defiant. And delicious. 67
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When he pulled back, Cassidy could hardly breathe. Yet her lungs were expanding and contracting like an accordion. She stood frozen, staring blindly at his chest. His white Western-style shirt was halfway open, showing tanned skin stretched over hard muscles. Smooth, touchable skin… Her fingers curled. His head was still tilted down next to hers. His breaths brushed against her temple, hot and hitched. His cheek brushed against her hair, and her brain began firing fast. Rafer Long. Kissing her. Enemy. Trick. Her chin lifted and she found his blue eyes watching her. Watching and evaluating. The suspicion came back, dark and intense. The questions were on the tip of her tongue. “No,” he said sharply. “Don’t.” His lips covered hers again, roughly this time, some emotion she couldn’t identify coming through. He edged closer, his other hand catching her at the waist. Yanking her tank top out of the way, he spread his fingers against her lower back. Cassidy gasped. Fire ran from that touch. Heat circled her waist, crawling up to her breasts and creeping down her buttocks. He nudged her closer and their bodies connected. The fire became all-consuming. His chest was as hard as it looked, but warmer. Her nipples ached as they strained against the confines of her bra, wanting flesh-on-flesh contact. Down lower, something even harder pressed against her belly. Even if this was a trick, he was turned-on. And that little bit of knowledge let her enjoy what was happening. He might be trying to play her, acting on some strange new tactic, but he wasn’t immune to her. He liked what he was doing. So did she. Slowly, her arms lifted. Hesitantly, she ran her hands up his arms and over his shoulders. His muscles clenched wherever she touched, emboldening her. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, their bodies came flush. A groan sounded in her ears. “You make me so crazy,” he whispered. “This is crazy.” “Total insanity,” he agreed. The hand at her back ventured higher…then lower. It slid right under the denim of her low-riding shorts. The intrusion pulled the material tight against her abdomen. Still lower his touch slid, finally rounding about the curve of bottom. His thumb hooked around her thong and his fingers curled inwards, cupping her possessively.
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“Rafer,” Cassidy gasped. He shouldn’t… She shouldn’t let him… There wasn’t enough room for him there! The heavy seam of her shorts tucked up tight, sliding into her slit. The hard knot of material pressed against her clit, rubbing and insinuating itself until she was panting and wet. His mouth came down hard on hers again. “I like it when you say my name.” His pinky slid into that dark, hidden crease between her butt cheeks, and the touch made her come up on her toes. “Rafer!” Her breasts pressed flat against his chest and her fingers bit into his shoulders. “Oh yeah. Just like that.” He ran kisses down her neck and his teeth scraped against her collarbone. She shuddered as his other hand crawled under her tank top, searching for her bra. The tiny hooks couldn’t withstand his tugging for long. Cassidy couldn’t keep up. She hadn’t been prepared for this. A fight, yes. A sensual assault, no. She couldn’t believe he was touching her. It was all so fast. So hot and raw. And yet it all brought a frisson of fear. Why was he doing this? He hated her, hated her family. Yet when his hand slipped around and caught her breast snugly, she almost didn’t care. “Parading over here in this skimpy outfit,” he growled. “Not fair.” His thumb rubbed against her straining nipple, then flicked it hard. “Not fair at all, Wilson.” The world suddenly went dark. Cassidy struggled for breath as he yanked her top over her head. It went sailing across his yard, landing limply on the grass. Her bra went next, leaving her topless and vulnerable. Fighting for regular breaths, she crossed one arm over her chest. The other wrapped around his biceps, holding him back. She looked up at him, her lips feeling swollen. The soft breeze brushed over her exposed skin, making her even more aware of her exposure. “What are you doing?” “Making the biggest mistake of my life.” His chest worked nearly as hard as hers. Sometime during their clinch, his shirt had come all the way undone. His abs were cinched up, the six-pack tight and tanned. His shaggy hair had fallen forward, giving him a dangerous and untamed look. His eyes, though. They burned neon blue. She couldn’t look away. “Why?” “Because you’re you.” She wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but her nipples scraped against her palm and her forearm anyway. Her belly ached, the sensation intensifying the lower it went. That little knot of denim was driving her insane, never letting up on the sensitive
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bundle of nerves at the apex of her legs. As she stared at her family’s nemesis, his hand moved. It made her shorts rub even more intimately and she gasped. He pulled her inexorably forward. “Biggest. Mistake. Ever.” He bent down over her, kissing her breasts above the barricade of her arm. The muscles in his arm bunched, practically lifting her off her feet as he pulled her closer to his hungry mouth. Yet when his other hand went to her zipper, she flinched. “Wait. We can’t. This isn’t right. I don’t trust you.” She didn’t trust herself. Having sex with him would throw everything into chaos. More chaos. “Your body does,” he said. And it did. No matter what her mouth said, she wasn’t resisting. The way he held her off balance, she couldn’t do more than clutch at his arm. His other hand was free to roam—and wander it did. Quickly and with determination. Her zipper rasped down, and Cassidy let out a cry as his big, hot hand dove into the front of her shorts. It slid right under the flimsy barrier of her silk thong. His calloused fingers found her swollen clit and pinched gently. Her knees buckled. “Ohhh.” That was so much better than that hard knot of denim. She needed… Oh God. She needed… His thumb took over and his fingers slid deeper, riding along the same valley where the hard seam of her shorts had taken up residence. “Hot,” he said, his voice like gravel. His fingers stroked. “Wet.” She’d gotten wet the moment she’d stepped onto his land and found him waiting for her. His middle finger found her opening and pushed in. He groaned. “Tight.” Sensation flooded Cassidy, making her back arch. His finger was long and workhardened. It felt thick and tough as it swirled inside her. His mouth suddenly clamped down on her bared nipple, and she let out a cry that echoed over the empty lake. Two more fingers worked their way into her, their progress slow. She moaned as he slid his leg inside hers, widening her stance to help her accept him. “Too much,” she panted. “Better not be.” His words were ragged against her breast. “I’m bigger.” Shock rippled through her. Were they really going to do this? A Wilson and a Long? The world tilted as he suddenly lowered her to the ground, laying her flat on her back. Her hips lifted as he yanked her shorts off. 70
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He groaned when he saw her panties. “Have mercy.” Her thong was light blue, barely covering the brown curls dusting her mound. Yet all was visible with the way his hand was shoved underneath it, stretching the delicate material. His fingers were still doing lewd and wonderful things to her. “Still think we shouldn’t?” he whispered. “I… I…” He expected her to think? He tugged and tilted, and soon Cassidy found herself lying naked under the sun with her family’s longtime enemy crouched between her spread legs. Instinctively, she tried to hide herself, to pull her legs together. She couldn’t. They couldn’t. Rafer merely shook his head. His eyes were sharp, his jaw hard. His hair swung forward as he leveraged himself over her, looking down into her face as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of her. The pinch was still there, but so was the pleasure. It swamped her, dimming her fear of what she was doing…quieting the questioning voices in her head… “Let it happen,” he said. He kissed her again, his body hovering above hers. It was a sensual kiss, one meant for indoors on a darkened night, not outside under the bold sunshine. It made Cassidy quake and she reached for him. His lips followed the shivers, down her neck to her breasts. She arched as his tongue dragged across her nipple. “That’s right, Wilson. Let’s stop fighting.”
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Chapter Two His mouth laved at her breasts, licked across her stomach and nipped its way down her abdomen. Cassidy’s breaths came harder and faster as she clutched at his arms and shoulders. She stared at the sky, wondering how it could be so calm and lazy when her world was spinning out of control. “This is wrong,” she insisted. “No, Angel, it’s very, very right.” Her hips pumped, eager now for the thick penetration he was giving her, deep and hard. Her clit was so sensitive she could barely stand the brush of the pad of his thumb, yet he kept returning, rubbing and pressing until her thighs were taut and burning. “Come here, little trespasser.” His muscles were as strong as they were sexy. When he lifted her and draped her thighs over his shoulders, she realized how gentle he’d been with her. A shiver of fear ran up her spine, making her shoulders dig into the prickly grass. The blades tugged at her hair, capturing her and emphasizing her exposure and helplessness. “Don’t hurt me, Long.” His looked down at her through the vee of her spread legs. His brow pulled together, and he looked almost angry. Finally, he shook his head. “That’s not what this is about.” When his head lowered, she believed him. His tongue swept across her distended pussy lips, the bold stroke rasping against her nerve endings. She let out a sharp cry and twisted. His hands clamped down on her hips, keeping her still for his mouth. He licked her again, and she trembled so hard it shook them both. Splayed out as she was, Cassidy could do nothing but submit. And the intimacy was shocking. He took his time, learning what she liked and relishing the things that he did. Whenever she jerked or cried out, he went back for more, drawing out her pleasure. He had her lifted so high only her shoulders pressed against the ground. She spread her hands flat, curling her fingernails into the dirt to keep her balance. He had her at his mercy. And sweet mercy, he was taking advantage of it. “Damn, you wreck me,” he said roughly. His tongue licked and swirled. Dipped and teased. Yet when he began to suck and alternately plunge, Cassidy lost it. Her heels pressed into his back and her neck arched.
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He didn’t slow down and he didn’t let up. He ate at her harder, using his lips and teeth. He tongued her soft flesh until her pussy was squeezing and fluttering. “Ooooh,” she moaned. “Oh God!” She came. The orgasm just tackled her from out of the blue, sending her senses rolling. She felt Rafer’s fingers bite into her hips to keep her from bucking. Unable to stop herself, she pressed her pussy into his face, into the sensation that was destroying her. At long last, she toppled into completion. Limp, she let herself drape across her enemy’s shoulders. He could have done anything to her in that moment. Anything and she wouldn’t have stopped him. She heard the rasp of a zipper. Felt his hands wrap around her hips again. He lowered her down his body, keeping her legs lifted and pressed against his chest. Her eyes popped open when she felt the head of a thick, hot cock bump against her sensitive opening. Rafer Long’s bright blue gaze was concentrated on her face. “My turn.” He thrust, pushing in deep, spreading her wide. She arched hard, her calves grinding against on his strong shoulders. He’d warned her, but she hadn’t known…hadn’t dreamed… “Ah!” It was the angle. He was delving in too deeply. She couldn’t take him this way. Was this her punishment? Panic rushed through her and he stilled. Halfway inside her, he paused. His hands went to her breasts, molding and caressing her, pulling at her tight nipples. Cassidy groaned, undulating, trying to work herself off his thick cock. Or farther on… Soon, it wasn’t clear. Her body was working hard, her pussy clamping down on the invasion. Her breasts felt swollen and hot as he encouraged her, tempting her to do something she wasn’t sure she wanted. Their gazes connected. Suddenly, he pinched her nipples hard. The pain and electricity shot right down to her pussy, making her jolt. She surged upwards as he thrust forward…all the way…into her to the hilt. She let out a cry of pleasure, her toes pointing straight. He pulled back and pumped into her again. Dark pleasure swirled. She shouldn’t feel like this. The man didn’t care for her. He hated all that was hers. She shouldn’t put herself in his hands like this. Yet when his hands took her hips again and began to show her how to move, she took the tutelage quickly. ’Round and ’round he rolled her hips, grinding her tight sheath onto him. Holding her still, he plunged deep, pulled back and plunged again.
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With her legs tight against his ears, the fit was excruciatingly snug. Flesh dragged against wet flesh. Cassidy’s second orgasm came rushing at her hard. Fast. “Rafer,” she gasped. “Let it happen.” He thrust. He fucked. He was right there with her. “Oh… Oh!” “Cassidy!” Their bodies fought together, churning and rolling. When the pleasure crested, they arched. The sun beat down on them, drawing sweat out of their pores. Yet when they slowly slumped to the ground together, it was the soft wind that kissed their skin. Cassidy felt boneless, sated and worried. Rafer brushed a kiss against her temple. “Welcome to hell, Angel. I think I’m going to have to charge you interest.”
***** Rafer had no idea what he was doing as he carried Cassidy up the steps of his deck. A Wilson. In his home. He didn’t know why he was letting it happen. He just knew he wasn’t ready to let her go. He hadn’t intended for this to happen. He’d just wanted a kiss. He should have known he wouldn’t be able to stop there. She was like a fire in his blood. Ever since she’d moved in next door, he hadn’t been able to get his mind off her. She was so pretty, an angel’s face on a siren’s body. It was her gentle-natured personality, though, that had pushed him over the edge. He’d wondered if all that sweetness was an act… If that buzzard of a grandfather of hers had put her in that house to drive him slowly insane. He still wondered about that, especially with the way she and her dog kept prancing around in front of him. Tempting and teasing him. But she was sweet. No doubt about that now. Her voice was music to his ears when she called his name, her perfume an enticement to his nose. But her taste… Her kisses were addictive, her hard little nipples a treat. And her pussy… He could feast on her all day long. He couldn’t let her go now, not when he was afraid she’d never be back. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. Her dog ran into the house the moment he opened the back door, but Rafer didn’t care. He looked down at the woman he held as he crossed the threshold. She was naked in his arms, her pretty skin flushed pink. He felt his tired cock jump, not so tired after all. “I’m sick of the fighting.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “We’re not fighting now?”
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She had him there. “I’m not sure,” he confessed. He turned into his bedroom, and she looked around nervously. No whips or chains waited, yet her eyes were still full of suspicion when she looked at him again. That and wariness. He didn’t know how to allay her fear. He wasn’t certain about this himself. They were venturing into new territory here, yet he wasn’t going to stop. He wanted her. And he wanted her to want him. He carried her to the bed and laid her upon the unmade sheets. Still shy, she pulled them over her nakedness. When she looked at him, it was through the dark fringe of her lashes. “My grandfather warned me you were the worst of the bunch.” He paused as he pulled his shirt off his shoulders. “Yeah, well, your grandfather is one self-righteous bastard.” Her face fell, bright red slashes coloring her cheeks. With that, their tentative truce snapped. Rolling onto her side, she scooted for the far edge of the bed. Rafer kicked off his jeans and briefs and reached for her at the same time. He caught her around her waist and pulled her back to the center of the king-sized bed. She lashed out at him, kicking wildly as he climbed aboard with her. “I knew you were up to something.” With her still on her side, he caught her leg behind the knee and moved up close where she couldn’t strike him. Straddling her lower leg, he used his thigh to keep her upper leg bent. “What? Trying to seduce you? Hell, yeah. I’ll admit to that.” “Stay away from me.” “I can’t.” He hated the look of distrust in her eyes and the barely banked anger. He wasn’t using her. He was as caught up in this craziness as she was. He shook his head slowly. “I really can’t.” She tried to shift away again as he stroked her leg. Her thigh muscles were quivering as his fingers moved ever closer to her exposed pussy. With his thigh blocking her leg, she couldn’t escape his touch. Couldn’t roll away. Reaching down, she grabbed his wrist. “Don’t you touch…ah!” He gently ran his finger along her slit. Whatever her words, she was wet and plump. Hungry. Her pussy clamped down on his finger as he slid it inside her. “Damn you,” she groaned. She tried to rock away from him. Easily, he hooked his arm under her thigh, lifting her leg up and opening her wider. He pumped his finger into her, adding another once she adjusted to the penetration. When he moved up closer, her head jerked off the pillow and her lips parted in muted shock. Hard pleasure gripped him. She’d never taken a man this way, he could tell. She’d never taken a man the way he’d had her outside either.
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And he liked that. He liked being her first. He liked showing her the sensual delights they could share if they just stopped butting heads. He lined his cock up, rubbing the tip against her wetness. He was full and hard again already, his balls drawn up tight. “You want me.” “No, I… I shouldn’t.” He pushed in a good inch, watching her opening expand to take him. She moaned and turned her face into the pillow. “You’ve been taunting me for weeks.” “Well, you’ve been doing everything you could to intimidate me,” she said, her voice higher, unsteady. He paused. “What do you mean?” “You watch me.” A shiver ran over his skin, and he leaned down close so his lips brushed her ear. “Because you want me to. Wear the pink bikini for me again tomorrow and I’ll watch you hard.” She closed her eyes, but groaned when his cock burrowed in farther. He traced the delicate shell of her ear with his nose. “You know which one I’m talking about—the one without the padding that shows off your pouty nipples.” Her breath hitched. “You… I can’t… They only get that way when…” She bit her lip. He hooked her leg over his forearm and reached higher to cup her breast. “When I’m watching you?” Her nipple poked into his palm, betraying her. “You want me,” he repeated. She shook her head, but once again didn’t deny it out loud. “You want me.” He pressed deeper, almost all the way in, and felt her pussy grip him tightly. Yet she still wouldn’t give in. Rafer waited with his heart pounding in his chest and his pulse throbbing in his temples. He knew she wanted this. She’d been toying with him for weeks, teasing him with a glimpse here and a seductive move there. Subconscious or not, she’d been trying to lure him in. But damn it, he wanted her conscious of her actions now. Conscious of her feelings. He needed her to admit them to herself. More so, he needed her to admit them to him. Yet as hard as she was breathing, she kept her face buried in the pillow. His chest felt heavy.
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“Okay.” Gritting his teeth, he slowly began to pull out. The glide was wet and snug. If anything, her pussy held him tighter, trying to keep him where he was. He’d almost pulled free when she moaned. “Noooo.” He stopped. “You want it? You want me? A Long?” She squeezed her eyes tight. “Yes.” His heart jumped and he slammed into her, finally completing the connection. She cried out, her hands fisting into the pillow, the sheets, whatever she could find. Rafer held himself deep. When she settled, he braced himself on one arm and began to rock his hips back and forth. He found a slow, deep rhythm he could keep up for a long, long time. He wanted her to feel him, to not get caught up in the raging firestorm that had burned them both the first time. He wanted her to know just who was fucking her, who was giving her pleasure. And realize he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. He lifted her leg higher, drawing her knee towards her chest. His fingers toyed with her nipples, giving them both the treatment they needed to keep them puckered and pink. Nosing aside a soft curl of hair, he whispered in her ear. “You make me want, too, Angel.” Her fingers curled into the pillow. “I love the way you look, so I watch you. I crave for you to talk to me, so I antagonize you until I can hear that sweet voice.” He nipped at her earlobe and she shivered. “But now I know how you feel.” He buried his cock deep. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop touching you.” She made a strained sound, but then turned her head and met him mouth to mouth. The kiss rocked Rafer all the way to his toes. He felt the last of her resistance drain out of her body and satisfaction coursed through him. Still, he kept his thrusts measured, going only as deep as she liked…deeper in increments as she adjusted to the position…harder as she started to clutch at him. Breathing heavily, he whispered into her ear. He told her sensual things, dirty things… When she came, her entire body clenched. Her eyes closed tightly and her nipples beaded hard. Her legs closed as her pussy clamped around him. He shut his eyes, holding on as she shook. When the storm passed, it took over him. Turning her onto her knees, he propped her hips up. Hard and deep, he hammered into her, taking her doggy style. The position let him go deeper than he’d been all day. He wanted to go as deep as her soul. “Ah, Rafer!” Moaning, her body flexed, pushing back towards him. “You are the devil.”
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He stroked his hands over her tight buttocks and up the straight line of her spine. When he wrapped himself around her, he finished it hard and fast. The orgasm knocked them both senseless and, together, they tumbled onto the mattress. The utter completion drained Rafer of any remaining anger, resentment or suspicion he had. Only one thought was in his mind as sleep took him under its gentle wing. If this was hell, he was going to be first in line to pay the ferryman.
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Chapter Three Much, much later, when Rafer woke up, Cassidy was still in his arms. His body spooned hers from behind, and his arm was wrapped around her possessively. Her hand covered his on her stomach, and her head lay on his pillow. She was awake, he could tell. But if she’d tried to leave, she hadn’t tried very hard. It made him relax for the first time all day. He’d been wound up, waiting for her to come visit, and then stressed she’d leave before he was ready. He sank into the mattress, soaking up the feel of her body against his. And she let him. They lay that way for a long while, comfortable in each other’s presence for the first time. The constant tension had eased and become something different. Needs had been slaked. Desires had been fulfilled. They’d return soon, stronger than ever, but for the moment the lull was peaceful. “Why does your family hate mine so much?” The question was quiet in the sunlit room. Quiet in the manner of an atomic bomb. It obliterated the easy, sated feeling that had consumed Rafer, yet there was no accusation in Cassidy’s voice. There wasn’t even a hint of malice. If anything, there was sadness. The hopelessness made his stomach drop. He didn’t want to talk about this. Not now. Not like this. “You’ll have to ask them.” “I want to hear it from you.” “Cass.” “Please?” The soft entreaty caught him square in the chest. When she asked him like that, how could he deny her? She’d trusted him with her body. Now she was trusting him to be honest with her. He let out a long breath. “How far back do you want me to go?” “The beginning. What started all this hate?” How could he explain a hundred years of war? The only way was to keep it simple. “Your great-grandfather—several times over—stole your piece of land from my greatgrandfather.” “I’ve heard that story. The way it’s told in my family, he won it in a game of poker.” “Yeah? Well, in mine, he cheated.” She rolled over to face him and the expression on her face was cloudy. She pulled the sheet up over herself, hiding her body from him. “Do you have proof?” “It was over a hundred years ago.”
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“And yet the land is still mine. If there was proof, don’t you think the Wilsons would have had to give it up a long time ago?” His eyes narrowed. She was cunning for a Wilson. “It’s such a tiny piece of land,” she argued. “Why the big drama?” He coughed. It was a little more than that. “Because it’s right smack dab in the middle of ours, Angel.” “So why did your great-grandfather—several times over—put it up for grabs in the first place? If it was so important, why bet it?” Cunning was right. He brushed his finger over her flushed cheek. “You’ve got me there.” “This feud is ridiculous,” she insisted. “To some,” he agreed. “Not to you.” His touch stilled. “How has it lasted for so long?” she pressed. “Why?” She didn’t know. She honestly didn’t know what had happened. The last of it, at least. Her innocence made him ache. “Because the land was just the start of it. From there, things got…worse. Some actions you just can’t take back.” Her brown gaze met his steadily. “You could let it go if you wanted to.” “No, I couldn’t.” “Why not?” He slowly pulled his touch away from her soft skin. “I tried once, but your family wouldn’t let me.” “Are you talking about my grandparents?” Just the mention of the older Wilsons caused a slow burn in Rafer’s gut. Yet Cassidy frowned. She was oblivious to the ugliness that existed between him and her grandfather. It brought out an unexpected protectiveness in him. He wanted to keep her that way, untouched and unhurt. “Let’s not talk about this.” She shifted uncomfortably. “How could you possibly fight with them? They’re elderly. Old. They couldn’t hurt anyone if they tried.” His jaw clenched. They’d hurt him and the strike had cut deep. Deeper than he’d let them see… Or had they? Hardin Wilson was just about the biggest, meanest son-of-abitch he knew. It wouldn’t be above the man to throw his own granddaughter at him just for spite. Would it? Rafer threw off the thought. “Just know I didn’t start it,” he said tightly. “Maybe not you, but what about your brother?” Her lips flattened. “He’s been trying to bully me ever since I got here.”
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“What?” She looked uneasy. “He’s constantly trying to a rise out of me. Like last week at the grocery store…” Rafer propped himself up onto his elbow. “What did he do?” She hesitated. “It’s not important.” “Tell me.” “He just said some things in front of Mrs. Cordray and Mrs. Carter. You know how those two are.” He knew. They were two of the biggest gossips in town. Cassidy shrugged. “I tried not to let him get to me, but he wouldn’t stop. I finally left and went back later.” The news didn’t sit well with Rafer. Not well at all. “Leave him to me.” Her brown eyes lifted. “You’d side with me over your brother?” He looked at her lying next to him, so soft and beautiful it hurt. Could he pick a Wilson over a Long in a fight? “He won’t bother you anymore.” She settled onto the pillow beside him, and they watched each other warily. When they weren’t touching, their truce was tentative. Shaky at best. “This scares me,” she admitted quietly. “I’d never hurt you, Cassidy.” “No, but there’s an anger in you. I can feel it. I… I don’t know if I can trust you.” He watched her for a good long time. “I don’t know if I can trust you, either.” “Then what are we doing here?” He wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing. He was going to follow this path until its conclusion, good or bad. The way that things usually ended up between the Wilsons and the Longs, though, had him reaching for her again. “Tempting fate, Angel.” He swept a hand up her side. “We’re tempting fate.”
***** Night was falling when Cassidy slipped from the bed. Rafer was sleeping soundly, flat on his back with the sheet dipping low. He was all tanned muscle and sinew. Temptation and the forbidden, all wrapped up in one. As tired and as tender as she was, her body hummed as she looked at him. Even in sleep, he was dangerous to her. Dangerous and fascinating. She still couldn’t believe she was here, in his bedroom. The den of the lion. Make no mistake about it. As wild as they’d gone on each other, she’d never forgotten who he was. Or maybe that was precisely why things had gotten so out of control. So intense. So decadent. They’d both been waiting for the other to turn.
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Yet they’d been powerless to fight their mutual attraction. She hadn’t wanted to fight. She still didn’t. He’d given her pleasure she’d never imagined…touched her in ways she never should have allowed… And she wouldn’t have changed a moment of it. Yet that didn’t mean she trusted him. Something had happened between him and her grandparents—something that had been bad enough to make them move from their home of forty years. Imagining what it might have been had her distressed. She didn’t want to betray her family. Yet he made her feel… She didn’t know what he made her feel. She couldn’t describe it, not in words, but it was powerful. Powerful enough to make her want to bury her head in the sand when it came to this whole rift. Troubled, she leaned down and swept up his shirt. She put it on and it hit her midthigh. She rolled up the sleeves, feeling sexy in his clothes and guilty for it. Hers were strewn around on his lawn for the whole world to see. Her cheeks heated. She needed to go get them. But she had to check on her pet first. She left the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her. “Thunder,” she whispered. Worried, she clicked her tongue. He was a good dog, and well trained, but he’d been trapped in the house with them for hours. She’d seen him come in with them, but then? He didn’t do well when bored. With no way to entertain himself, he could become inquisitive. He didn’t mean to be destructive, but he was bigger than the puppy he thought he still was. She didn’t know how Rafer would react if he’d caused a mess. When it came to her dog, her new lover seemed overly sensitive. She looked around uncertainly. She hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings when she’d arrived. She’d been…otherwise occupied. Feeling as if she were intruding, she tiptoed her way down the hallway. Dim rays from the setting sun glinted off the stainless steel appliances in the kitchen. It was well-equipped and tidy. And empty. Curiosity began to overtake her as she wandered past another bedroom. Unlike the gaudiness of his brother’s backyard, Rafer’s tastes seemed understated. His furniture was expensive, but for its quality, not its showiness. Just like the paintings on the walls. The artists weren’t famous, but they were local. He’d chosen these paintings not as something to impress visitors, but because he liked them. The same went for the photographs. She paused when she turned into the living room. Family pictures were grouped on the walls. Others were propped up on the built-in bookshelf by the fireplace. The setting sun lit them up like a spotlight and she trailed her fingers along the shelf edge as she inched past. The Longs didn’t look like monsters.
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There might be a few trolls in the bunch, but no monsters. She traced her toe up the back of her other calf as she stared at a picture of Rafer with Randy. His brother held a huge catfish just out of the reach of a happy spotted Dalmatian. The catch looked like a record one. Yet it was Rafer who caught her eye. Her heart squeezed. He was smiling. Happy and carefree. The wind was blowing through his hair and there was a light in his eyes. She’d never seen him like that. He was always so serious. So solemn and almost hostile. She stepped away, trailing her finger once more over the frame. The contrast bothered her. “Thunder, where are you?” She heard the soft whine of response and the thump of a tail against the hardwood floor. She turned, but the setting sun momentarily blinded her. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes. When they came into focus, she had to blink again. Thunder was sitting contentedly on the floor… With a bowl of food, water and toys. Dog toys. Confused, Cassidy could only stare. Her Lab gave another gnaw on a chew toy and it squeaked. His tail wagged happily and understanding hit her with all the subtlety of a two-by-four. “It’s not what you’re thinking.” Her head snapped to the side. Rafer stood in the doorway. He’d thrown on jeans, but not much else. His hair was mussed and a five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw, yet his eyes were sharp. He stood with one hand propped against the archway, the other trailing over his chest. Cassidy’s felt as if her heart was about to burst out of hers. “What is this?” He shrugged. “He’s over here a lot. I put out some things for him.” Her jaw dropped. “You yell at me, yet you put out the welcoming mat for him?” “I’ve never yelled at you.” “Snapped at, then. Chewed on a bit.” His eyes hardened. “He gets away from you too easily, Cassidy. You don’t know what could happen to him when he gets loose.” “You think I don’t know that?” Her hands fisted at her sides. “Why do you think I’ve tried, like, fifteen different ways to keep him safe?” A dark expression flittered across Rafer’s face, and his gaze jerked away. His hand slid down his stomach and his thumb anchored itself around the waist of his jeans. She was momentarily distracted by the mouthwatering sight, but only momentarily. “You’ve been playing with me this whole time.” The lump in her throat felt huge. The disappointment shouldn’t have been so painful. She’d known what she was getting into when she’d let him kiss her.
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Yet she’d hoped… “It hasn’t been a game,” he said gruffly. “None of this has been a game.” “No?” She took two quick steps forward. “You lure my dog over here so you can berate me for trespassing on your property. You play with my feelings and…take advantage. What would you call it?” His gaze flashed back to her. “What feelings?” She brushed the question aside and pointed at her dog. “You made me think you hated him.” “I didn’t mean—” A muscle ticced in his jaw. “I don’t hate him.” “Obviously. You bought toys for him, you lying son-of-a-bitch.” He pushed away from the wall and walked towards her slowly, all tightly bound energy and emotion. “If I was a bit…irritable…the first few times we met, I had a justified reason.” “What? Because I’m a Wilson?” “Yes,” he snapped. He raked a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you then. I thought… I thought maybe the old man sent you to rub salt in the wound.” “What wound?” His face twisted and he nudged a red ball out of his way with his bare foot. It wasn’t quite a kick, but Thunder dropped the squeak toy and looked up at him with baleful eyes. Cassidy felt a twinge of something other than anger. “What wound, Rafer?” That muscle in his jaw ticced faster, but she watched him steadily. He rubbed a hand over his heart. “I didn’t buy these things for Thunder.” It took her a moment to understand. When she did, she looked around quickly. “You have a dog?” In resignation, Rafer dropped to his haunches and turned the bowl of food. The name Lucy was printed on the side in block letters. “I did.” Did. As in past tense. Cassidy’s stomach squeezed and she instinctively looked at the fishing picture. The Dalmatian. Dread danced down her spine. “Oh no. What happened?” Rafer stayed on his haunches and reached out to scratch Thunder under the chin. She edged closer. “What happened to her?” He shook his head abruptly. “Please tell me.” He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Your grandfather killed her.”
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Chapter Four The air left Cassidy’s lungs as if he’d punched her. It couldn’t be. The feud was not that bad. Not that…vicious. Her grandfather could never, ever do such a thing. He was loving and patient. At least with her. Her knees wobbled and she gradually let them go. Kneeling down, she tentatively placed her hand on Rafer’s knee. His muscles tightened, but he didn’t pull away. Thunder whimpered, looking back and forth between the two of them. He could feel the tension in the air. Cassidy’s throat was so tight, she could barely speak. “How?” Rafer stared straight out the glass pane of the door towards the lake, not really seeing it. “He ran her down with his car. In cold blood, never looking back. That bastard never even stopped.” Roughly, he rubbed his hands across his face. “I know you had nothing to do with it. I’m sorry if I mistreated you, but the first time you came strolling over here…with this guy…” He glanced at Thunder, who was so anxious he was trying to insert himself between them. His body quivered as he licked at first her hand and then Rafer’s. Rafer wrapped his arm around the dog and patted him. “It gutted me.” “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “If I’d known…” She swallowed hard. There were too many thoughts rushing through her head. Guilt. Responsibility. She couldn’t defend her grandfather’s actions. What had made him do such a thing? He loved animals. She never would have imagined he’d hurt one…kill one…not even if it was an extended member of the Long family. Unless… Her hand tightened on Rafer’s knee. “When did this happen?” He let out a heavy breath and looked out at the lake again. “Not long ago.” “When? Exactly?” “Right before the chickenshit ran away.” He brushed a hand through his dark hair. “Sorry. A couple weeks, maybe a month before you moved in.” Her head whirled as she thought back, adding up the time. Suddenly, everything clicked into place and she felt tears press at her eyes. “I don’t think it was intentional.” Rafer’s jaw hardened, but he didn’t look at her. “He left because he knew I was going to kill him. He crossed the line. I know he hated when she barked at him in his boat, scaring off the fish. But still—”
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His voice cracked. “She was getting on in years, but she had a few good ones left in her.” Cassidy’s hand shook as she caught him by the chin. His whiskers rasped against her palm as she made him look her in the eye. “He didn’t run—not like you think. “Rafer, he checked himself and my grandmother into an assisted living center. We didn’t know why. We’d broached the subject before because my grandmother was finding it difficult to do simple things, but he’d always shut us down cold, saying he could take care of them both. Then one day, they moved without telling us why.” She gently ran her finger over her lover’s cheek. His jaw was tight and the muscles in his neck were strained. “My grandfather’s been broken ever since. We didn’t understand what happened. Until now.” He finally looked at her, his eyes hot. “It was an accident,” she said, her throat hurting. “A terrible one that could have been prevented. He obviously shouldn’t have been driving. We’re responsible for that, his family. Me.” He suddenly sat forward, his fingers tangling in her hair. “You are not responsible.” Her hands fell limply to her sides and Thunder nuzzled her worriedly. “I should have paid closer attention. I should have found public transit for them, a door-to-door service of some kind.” “You lived halfway across the state. Besides, he would have blown up his car before giving you the keys.” Her breath hitched. It was true. Her grandfather had always been a proud man. “He gave them to my sister. Just dropped them in her hand and walked away. That… That should have told me something was wrong.” “Cassidy, you couldn’t have known, not if he didn’t tell you.” She shook her head quickly. “I’m sorry. So sorry.” “Ah, Angel. Don’t cry.” Thunder was beyond concerned. He whimpered as he looked from one of them to the other. He pressed his nose against her cheek and gave her a comforting lick. It only made her hiccup harder. Rafer pushed himself to his feet. “Come on, boy. You need to go outside.” The door opened and double-clutched on the way shut. When it clicked, Rafer stood stiffly, staring out the glass panes. He braced himself against the doorjamb, watching the scene in front of him. Or maybe not. “It was my fault,” he said quietly. “She got away from me. She wasn’t supposed to be up by the road.” Cassidy looked up sharply, her breath catching.
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“It was my fault,” he whispered. Quietly, she stood and moved in behind him. When he didn’t shift away, she wrapped her arms around him and leaned her forehead against his back. “It was nobody’s fault. It was an accident.” He let out a shuddering breath. “Does Thunder make it worse?” He shook his head. “Better.” Peeking around his muscled form, she watched as her dog trotted happily down to the lake. Unlike his brother’s property, Rafer’s backyard was all about nature. Grass, trees and flowers filled the yard all the way down to the beach. A top-of-the-line fishing boat floated next to the dock, waiting for those who wanted to venture out farther. The boat was the only true extravagance she saw, but it fit him. Fit his character. Which wasn’t so evil and foreboding after all. “He’s a happy dog,” he said quietly. She spread her hands wide on his stomach, loving the way the taut muscles quivered at her touch. She stroked him softly, gentling him. Soothing him. “Let’s stop the feud, Rafer.” “I don’t know if we can.” “We can stop it between us.” He sucked in a hard breath when she dipped her forefinger into his bellybutton. She pressed a kiss against the center of his shoulder blade and slowly stroked her hands downward. “We make better lovers than we do fighters.” He grunted when she cupped her hands over the front of his jeans. “That we do.” He started to turn, but she tightened her arms around him. “Let me do this.” He stopped when she squeezed his erection gently. It was growing and hardening underneath her palms. She let her fingers dance across him, learning his shape and size. The soreness between her legs pulsed. She loved the feel of him inside her. She loved the feel of him under her fingertips nearly as much. But this wasn’t about her. Leaving one hand over his zipper, she slid the other upwards. He’d taken the lead every other time they’d made love. He was a force of nature when it came to sex—or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to give her the chance to say no. She licked his spine. She wasn’t going to give him a chance either. “Let me make you feel better,” she whispered. Her fingers brushed across his chest, tracing the hard muscles and stopping when she found a nipple. She tweaked it, and he swore softly. His reaction nearly made her melt. To have this intense, powerful man as putty in her hands was so arousing, she got wet. 87
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She rubbed her cheek against his back as she caressed his chest over and over again. His head dropped as she rubbed his cock harder. She got bolder, squeezing and dipping lower to caress his balls through the denim. It wasn’t enough for either of them. Using both hands, she went for the button of his jeans. “What are you doing to me?” he rasped. She kissed the back of his arm. “I’m just paying my dues, Long.” He glanced over his shoulder at her sharply. “You don’t owe me anything.” “Then maybe I just want to be with you.” The zipper let go easily, spreading and dipping all at once. Their gazes held as her hand slid inside. His hot cock filled her palm and she pumped her fist around him experimentally. His eyes closed as his hips bucked hard. “Cassidy.” It was all the encouragement she needed. Letting go, she grabbed at his jeans, tugging them down. He started to help her, but went stone still when her hands settled on his ass. “Ah, Christ.” Reaching out, he braced himself against the doorjamb. Cassidy was nearly out of her head with arousal as she dropped to her knees behind him. He was long and lean, his muscles not bulky but strong as steel. His ass was just the same, taut and molded. Gently, she scraped her fingernails over the firm globes. His glutes jumped and she kissed them both in reward. She moved lower, licking the crease where ass met leg. His muscles clenched and didn’t turn loose. It was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She brushed her hands down his hamstrings, pushing the denim as she went. Finally, he stepped out of his jeans, naked as the day he was born. But he was all grown up now. She slid her fingertips down his calves, circled his ankles and started back up. He was breathing hard. “I’ve got to touch you.” “Not this time.” She stood. Hands shaking, she stripped out of his shirt and let it drop to the floor. When she stepped forward, his ass pressed against her stomach. Her pussy squeezed, the ache sharp and intense. She wrapped her arms around him and her breasts pressed flat against the slab of muscles along his back. He was hot, his skin supple. Her nipples beaded hard and she felt dampness drip onto her thighs. “This time is all about me touching you.” His hips jerked as she palmed his thick cock once again. She was ready this time, her other hand braced low on his abdomen. Determinedly she pumped up and all the way down. “Like this?” He was so big, she didn’t know if it was enough. His growl told her otherwise. “Just like that.” 88
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She rocked up onto her tiptoes and kissed the back of his neck. Then she began experimenting. He liked her touch. It didn’t seem to matter what she did, he asked for more. Soon the arm braced against the doorjamb was taking more and more of his weight. He leaned forward, panting hard, watching as she gave him a hand job. Beads of sweat popped up on Cassidy’s forehead as she worked him. She’d felt like a wanton when she’d dipped her fingers between her own legs, but her wetness made her fingers slide more silkily on him. She caressed his abdomen, feeling the crisp tangle of his pubic hair. His balls were drawn up tight. “Fuck,” he whispered when she cupped them gently. “I’m sorry. For everything.” “Don’t,” he said sharply. “Don’t be sorry. Be happy for this.” He caught the hand toying with his testicles and brought it to his heavy cock. It was straining upwards, hard and pulsing. She two-fisted him, pumping vigorously as she wrapped her entire body around him. He was thrusting hard. Sweat gathered between their bodies, making their skin slide hotly. Cassidy’s pussy was squeezing, searching… She wrapped her leg around his hip and his hand caught her thigh, holding her. She rocked against his leg as she brought him closer and closer to— He shouted. His body bowed and he ejaculated hard. The spray hit the glass window and covered her hands. It was the most beautiful, erotic thing Cassidy had ever experienced. For her to have brought him to that point… She rocked harder against him, grinding against his leg. She was so close. He suddenly reached back and caught her. He dragged her in front of him and lifted her. His thrust planted him all the way to his balls. “Ah!” she cried, her body arching backwards. He was still hard. Yet as hot and thick as he was, he held himself planted deep. With a shudder, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and held her tightly. “You’re too good to be true. After all the bad will…all the hurt feelings…” She wrapped her legs around his waist. God, she loved the feel of him inside her. And all around her. She pressed her breasts against his chest and gently slid her fingers through his dark hair. “On both sides.” He lifted his head and his look burned. “Do we even have a chance?” Her breath caught. More. He was asking for more from her than a forbidden, onenight stand. And she wanted to try.
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She knew it with a certainty that was as fierce as it was sudden. Her arms clenched around him. He wasn’t the bad guy here. Nobody was. Misunderstandings and longheld grudges had gotten in the way. She wasn’t going to let something that stupid keep them apart. Sinuously, she rolled her hips. The sensation made her groan. “Yes.” He cursed and his fingers bit into her ass. “Can we learn to trust each other?” She looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Need was clawing at her. If she didn’t already trust him, he’d never be able to make her feel like this. She pumped against him again, this time a bit more urgently. A bit more desperately. “I think we’ve made a good start on that.” His hips jumped once, but then held taut. “A Wilson and a Long?” She kissed him, pressing her tongue deep and grinding her aching nipples against his hot chest. “A Wilson and a Long.” Her fingers tugged at his hair and, suddenly, he was kissing her back. All that bucking and thrusting started again. Only this time he was inside her. Cassidy held on, arching and twisting as pleasure coursed through her. She was slick from wanting, aching from denying herself. And he filled her so perfectly. It didn’t take long. He took her hard and deep. His thick cock pistoned inside her pussy, increasing the pressure and heat until her fingernails bit into his shoulders. “Come for me, Angel. For me.” She came with a silent scream. Her legs tightened around his waist, and her heels dug into his butt. Yet the orgasm just kept building, rolling through her like waves. When the furor finally passed, she sagged against him, falling into his arms. When she opened her eyes, he was waiting for her. Waiting and watching… “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he said hoarsely. “Inside and out.” “Do you think we can start over?” she asked, her breath still ragged. Her touch gentled on his shoulders, softening the places where half-moons dented his skin. “Just be Rafer and Cassidy? Not a Long and a Wilson?” “No.” His blue eyes flashed. “I’m not changing one thing about this.” He kissed her firmly. “You’re still who you are, and I’m who I am. The feud just doesn’t apply,” he said against her lips. “Not to you and me.” The possibility thrilled her. Still… “Our families won’t like it.” “Fuck our families.” She blushed. With the way he was still embedded inside her, his words had a different meaning entirely. He smiled. “I mean forget our families.”
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Easing back, he leaned his shoulders against the wall. He took her weight easily, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. It was his smile, though, that caught Cassidy’s attention. She looked at it in wonder. Cupping her hands along his jaw, she traced his lips with her thumbs. If he’d looked at her like that the first day she’d come after Thunder, she would have stripped for him right then and there. Thunder. She glanced over her shoulder. The sun was low on the horizon, sending diamond shards of light off the surface of the lake. Her dog was right there, swatting at the bright spots and jerking away in surprise when he got splattered. She sighed. “We should bring him inside before he wanders off. And I need to get my clothes before fishermen like your brother see them.” “No chance of that.” She gestured to the lawn, embarrassed. Her tank top and shorts were spread a good fifteen feet apart, and her bra hung from a bush. She had no idea where her panties had gone. Rafer cleared his throat. “I meant Thunder.” She looked again to her dog and shook her head. “He’s gotten way too brave. I’m afraid he’ll wander out front.” Her head snapped around and she bit her lip. “Oh God. I’m sorry.” He gently pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “He won’t wander up to the road. Your invisible fence is working. It’s just a bit…uh, bigger.” She looked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about?” He actually looked sheepish. “In the interest of full disclosure, I might have expanded it.” Her jaw dropped. “To include your backyard? Rafer!” He wrapped her tighter in his arms. “Well, hell. You got me all confused and worked up, but then you stopped coming by.” “Because Thunder was staying put.” His blue eyes turned soft. “I wanted to see you. I wanted to talk to you.” “So you resorted to electronic deceit?” “Well, you wouldn’t give me the time of day otherwise. You’d turn the other way whenever we ran into each other in town.” “That’s because you were always glowering at me!” “Not glowering, Angel.” His eyes turned hot and sexy. No, not glowering at all.
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Cassidy felt him start to harden inside her once again. “You tricked me,” she said, trying not to give in too quickly. “Maybe. Yeah. For a good cause.” He smiled again. “You might have been the enemy, but you were gorgeous. Call it strategic negotiations.” “I think there are better words for it.” He watched her carefully. “What are you going to do about it, Wilson?” It was the smile that did her in. She took a deep breath, and they both shivered when her nipples brushed suggestively against his chest. “Oh Long,” she said softly. “There’s going to be hell to pay.” His blue eyes flared. “Promise?” She ground her hips harder and pulled her enemy lover closer for a kiss. “Hell to pay.”
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Janne Lewis
Chapter One Elizabeth lay in bed next to her husband and waited for him to snuff out the bedside candle. It had been three nights since he last reached for her and she hoped he would do so that night. She and Captain William Warren had been wed in Salem’s finest church four short months before, and she ached to do her duty to him as a proper wife. At last, Captain Warren turned to face her, the outline of his dear face faintly visible in the dim light thrown by the flickering hearth fire. He stretched his hand out to cup her breast and gently rubbed her nipple beneath her shift. He whispered his question. “Is it all right with you, Bet?” She whispered back, “Yes, Will.” He reached down under the bedcovers to her knees and slipped his hand under the hem of her shift. She loved the warmth of that hand, loved the feel of him as he slid it up her leg to her thigh then over to the soft skin of her belly. His hand rested on her belly a moment, as though he were preparing himself for what was to follow, then drifted down to the tightly curled hair between her legs. She parted her thighs. He touched her there, gently stroking her with one finger as if she were a fragile thing he feared breaking. She bit her lip to stifle a moan. “Are you ready for me, Bet?” Was she? Even after all these weeks of married life, she was not entirely sure what “ready” meant. “Yes, Will.” He pulled his own nightclothes up around his waist. His hard penis poked her leg. She fought the unladylike urge to touch it. The full weight of his body rested on her a moment, their bunched nightclothes at their waists, his penis pressed on the tender flesh between her legs. He reached down and pushed himself inside her. She felt such pleasure when he entered her that she wanted to cry out, but she kept a proper silence. Captain Warren rose up on his arms so as not to crush her and slowly rocked in and out of her. Her nipples rubbed against the fabric of her shift. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist but allowed herself only to open her legs wider, to bring him deeper. His breath quickened at this encouragement and he rode her harder. She struggled to keep silent, to keep her fingers from clutching his back, to smother the urges that commanded her body. All too soon, her husband stiffened. One more gasp, a loud grunt, and then he fell on her, spent. He lay like this a few moments, his breath ragged. He kissed her on the mouth. “My own sweet Bet,” he whispered.
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He rolled off her. Her thighs and the sheet beneath her were wet with his emission. Soon she heard deep, even breaths. He was asleep. Elizabeth straightened her shift. She could not sleep. She was restless, undone. She wanted to shake her husband awake, to demand something more from him, but she did not know what that more could be. It seemed like hours before sleep finally claimed her. In the morning, Captain Warren left early to see to his business at the wharf. Elizabeth roamed the parlor of her house. Her fingers trailed the fine wood of the furniture, the smooth surfaces of the porcelain Captain Warren had brought back from the Orient. She touched the soft cushions on the settee, ran her fingers along the fine fabric of the silk drapes. She tried all day to find pleasure in writing her letters and in keeping her household accounts. She mended linen, ordered foodstuffs, discussed cookery and cleaning with her servants. She tried to lose herself in her books, in her afternoon calls on her friends and neighbors. Nothing she did soothed her. She and Captain Warren dined that evening at the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Taylor on Chestnut Street. It was the Taylors who had introduced Miss Elizabeth Kendall to Captain William Warren on the captain’s return from his last long voyage. Elizabeth had liked the tall, broad-shouldered Captain Warren at once. His curly brown hair was cut short in the latest fashion and streaked with blond from his long days on the deck of his ship. His brown eyes shone with intelligence and good humor. He, in turn, let Mr. Taylor know that he greatly admired Miss Elizabeth Kendall’s pretty face, her slim build, her wit and learning. He did not mind that she was no longer young, being of the ripe age of twenty-six, nor did he mind that she was outspoken and opinionated, qualities that had driven off other suitors. He said he delighted in talking to her about poetry and art, the business of shipping, the joys of sailing. They had courted and married in a short time. Elizabeth had expected to be blissfully happy. She had been well educated by her late parents and had been schooled by her maiden aunts in all the things a lady needed to know to run a household and in the duties of a proper wife. Why then was she not content? After dinner, Elizabeth struggled to find a way to tell Mrs. Taylor that her expectations for an idyllic marriage had not been fulfilled. “I am sure the fault rests with me,” she told Mrs. Taylor. “Captain Warren is the best of husbands in all respects. Still, I feel…” her voice dropped, “unsatisfied.” “Remember that Captain Warren loves you, dear Elizabeth,” Mrs. Taylor advised. “Let him lead you and all will be well.” Elizabeth nodded politely but inside she was full of doubt. The captain had led her so far, and all was not well. Elizabeth and her husband traveled home in their carriage. Shrouds of cloud at times obscured the bright light of the moon. Captain Warren seemed distant as he handled the horses’ reins. 95
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“Is something troubling you, Captain Warren?” Elizabeth asked. “It is nothing, Mrs. Warren. Only, I am uneasy about unloading the cargo from the Pembroke. She is newly arrived from the West Indies and Mr. Taylor spoke of difficulties at the wharf with the new customs man.” “Let us go to there, then. I will not have you worry unnecessarily all night.” There was a great commotion on the wharf. A cart had over turned and spilled its contents. Captain Warren was forced to park the carriage on the edge of the wharf near a large cluster of barrels. “I do not like to leave you alone, but the wharf is no place for a lady,” Captain Warren said. He frowned, looking quickly from the wharf to Elizabeth. “I’ll be fine,” Elizabeth assured him. “Do not worry about me, Captain. I can scarcely be in any danger with you nearby.” Elizabeth watched men shouting and rushing about the busy wharf, but her attention was soon caught by noises from the other side of the carriage, like the grunting of an animal. She turned her head to find the source of the noise. In the dark she could make out only the dim outlines of the barrels. She moved closer to the carriage door. A man spoke. “You minx, you minx, I’ll have you.” A woman laughed in response. “Give me your titties, you slut, you beauty.” Elizabeth’s heart beat faster. She knew she should look no further. She knew she should leave the carriage and find Captain Warren. But before she could move, the clouds parted and the light of the moon illuminated her view. A woman with wild hair sat on the ground, leaning against a barrel, her legs sprawled open. Her dress was pulled down to her waist, her large breasts exposed. A man sat next to her, reaching for her breasts. She pushed his hands away. “Let me have a drink first, you old sod,” the woman said. She raised a bottle to her lips and took a deep swig. Then she poured some of the liquid from the bottle on her breasts. “Suck!” she commanded the man. He groaned and put his mouth to her breasts, lapping at them as if he were a dog. He licked her nipples, sucked them, bit them. “Such beauties,” the man said. He squeezed the woman’s breasts. Elizabeth held her breath, afraid they would see her watching them. She wanted them to stop. She wanted them to go on. She did not move. The woman laughed. She pushed the man away. “Is that all you want, old man, my titties? Don’t you want a bit of something else?” The woman lifted her skirt. Elizabeth could see the dark hair between her legs. 96
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The woman opened her legs wider and put both her hands between them. She stroked herself. “It’s ready for you, old man. Hot and wet. Wouldn’t you like to pay it a visit?” “I’ll crush you,” the man cried. “I’ll break you!” He fell on the woman. Inside the carriage, Elizabeth clutched her hands together. The man’s naked ass bucked and twisted. He ground himself against the woman. Her legs were up in the air, wide open. They shook with each of his thrusts. “You cunt, you whore, you beauty!” “Give it to me hard!” the woman demanded. “Harder, you old bastard!” She dug her nails into the man’s back, clawed him. “Yes, my beauty, yes!” The man pulled back and thrust forward. The woman put her feet on his shoulders. “Damn you!” the woman cried out. “Harder, Harder!” She screeched. Elizabeth put her right hand in her mouth to stifle her own moans. Surely, she thought, the men on the wharf must hear this. She glanced out the other side of the carriage. All the activity was at the far end of the wharf. She seemed to be the only witness to this debauchery. The woman’s legs wrapped tight around the man’s waist. Her hips thrust up against the man, faster and faster, as though they were partners in a violent dance. The man cried, “My beauty!” He collapsed on the woman. She laughed. The clouds covered the moon again and the couple was back in shadow. Elizabeth pressed her legs together, she squeezed her arms tight against her chest. There was a terrible ache inside her she did not know how to release. She heard the couple laughing and cursing as they made their way out of the barrels in the dark. In a few seconds Elizabeth heard footsteps coming close to the carriage. Captain Warren returned to her, full of news. She smiled and nodded in response though her heart was pounding. When they returned home, he kissed her lightly on the forehead and told her to go to bed without him. There was business he must attend to, a letter he must draft without delay. Elizabeth twisted in her bedclothes. She knew what she needed to satisfy her hunger. She wanted her husband to take her the way the man on the wharf took his woman. She wanted squeezing and sucking and biting and hard thrusts and animal groans. She did not want to be treated gently like a proper wife but to be ravaged like a whore. Elizabeth wished she could curse. She knew now what she needed, but she had no idea how to make it happen.
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Chapter Two Elizabeth lifted her heavy traveling skirt in her gloved hands and climbed into the waiting carriage. Captain Warren held the carriage door for her. When she was settled on the hard leather seat, he handed her the packages she was bringing to her cousin Mercy Smith and her new baby in Manchester. Then he leaned into the carriage, took her right hand and gave it a gentle kiss. “I will see you in a fortnight,” he told her. “Give my best wishes to Mrs. Smith. Safe travel and safe return, Mrs. Warren.” Elizabeth waved farewell to him. She caught the strap as the carriage rocked from side to side over Salem’s cobblestone streets. The coachman yelled curses at a farmer in his too-slow cart then immediately shouted an apology for his rude behavior to Mrs. Warren. Elizabeth did not mind his curses. For the last two days her own desire to let loose some very unladylike curses had not abated. She could not rid her mind of the images from the night at the wharf. The ache between her legs was now unbearable. The coachman stopped the carriage at a fishing village in the late afternoon. “Weather’s turning,” the coachman warned Elizabeth. “Storm’s coming. Perhaps we best find shelter here.” “Surely we can make it to Manchester,” Elizabeth answered him. “I don’t mind a bit of rough traveling.” In truth, she welcomed a storm to match the one in her heart and head. She thought a good stiff wind might blow these awful urges from her body. The sky darkened, the wind roared and the rain poured down, drenching the horses, the coachman and Elizabeth. The coachman and the horses struggled on in muck and mud. Elizabeth was often thrown to the side. At one bad point, the carriage nearly tipped over. The coachman straightened it but a tree had fallen and blocked the road entirely. The coachman apologized. They could turn back to the village or take the turnoff to the low road, but the low road might be swamped if the tide was high. “This is a true Nor’easter,” the coachman said, shouting to be heard above the wind. “Let us try the low road!” Elizabeth shouted back. They made good progress in the shelter of the trees but soon came to a low place where the pounding waves spread across the road. “It is as I feared,” the coachman cried. “We cannot wait for the tide to turn. There’s an inn a way back. Rough-like, but it will do for shelter.” “Yes,” Elizabeth said. “Any place that will get us out of the storm.” 98
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Elizabeth was greatly relieved when she spotted the feeble light of a lantern in the black night. The inn was indeed rough-like, a shabby house with one small common room. Three burly countrymen sat at the one table, their faces deep in large tankards. The innkeeper was a scrawny, near-deaf elderly man. He announced to Elizabeth and the coachman that a lady arrived by carriage not an hour before and was already in possession of the one bed in the room at the top of the stairs, but Elizabeth was welcome to sleep on the trundle on the floor. He assured her the room was dry and locked from the inside. The first lady did not want the key, but he was happy to give it to Elizabeth. The coachman would have to bunk in the barn with the other lady’s driver. The innkeeper lowered his voice, “It’s for your own good, man.” He indicated the three drinking men with his thumb. “This lot is not to be trusted.” The coachman gave Elizabeth a worried look. “Whatever you do, Mrs. Warren, don’t venture down the stairs at night,” He twisted his soaking cap in his hands. “Please, ma’am. Lock the door and stay inside.” “I will. You needn’t worry about me. I’ll stay in my room until daylight.” Elizabeth took a candle and started up the narrow stairs. One of the drinking men reached up and wrapped a hand around her ankle. “Don’t be so hasty, sweetheart.” He laughed. “Come and chat with us.” Elizabeth kicked the man’s hand away and hurried up the stairs. She pushed open the door and quickly locked it behind her. She could hear the men’s shouts and laughter below. Once the door was locked, she leaned against it, breathing heavily, but there were no noises of pursuit. She was safe here. She hung the key on the nail by the door. There was a candle burning in a lantern that hung from the ceiling. It threw enough light for Elizabeth to see that the one narrow bed was filled with the sleeping, sputtering body of a very large woman. Elizabeth could see her muddy boots sticking out from the other end of the quilt. There was a strong smell of liquor and sweat in the tiny room, but it was warm and dry. Elizabeth shivered. Her day dress was soaked. She untied her cloak and bonnet, pulled off her dress and removed her stays. She laid her wet garments on the back of the spindle chair and, clad only in her shift, slipped into the narrow trundle bed on the floor. She burrowed under the quilts, grateful to be out of the storm, locked safely away from the men downstairs. Elizabeth started awake. She had been dreaming she was on the wharf looking for Captain Warren. She had lost him amid a stack of barrels piled so high she couldn’t see the masts of the ships at anchor. In her dream, she had heard hammering. The room was dim and smelly. A man’s voice, slurred and coarse, yelled from the other side of the door.
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“Open up, sweetheart! Come out and play!” Elizabeth heard drunken laughter and pounding on the door. She clutched the quilt to her chest. There was an awful groan from the bed and the immense bulk of the woman staggered to her feet. She was as tall as Captain Warren and twice as stout. She stumbled to the door and answered the man’s pounding with pounding of her own. Her fist looked as if it could splinter the wood. “Damn your eyes!” she cursed. “Go away! I’m not working tonight! Tell Jimson Old Kat is resting! Find someone else to play with.” “Pray, ma’am, don’t open the door!” Elizabeth rose to her feet, wrapping the quilt around her body. The woman peered at Elizabeth. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. The fumes from her mouth were terrible. “You should be working.” The man pounded on the door again. The woman kicked the door. “Go fuck yourselves!” she shouted. She grabbed Elizabeth’s arm. “It’s you they want, isn’t it?” “I… No!” Elizabeth struggled to pull away, but the woman’s grip was like a vise. “The man downstairs s-s-sent me,” Elizabeth stammered. “I’m to sleep here tonight. On the floor.” “Were it Jimson who sent you?” Elizabeth could see in the dim light that several of the woman’s teeth were missing. Her eyes were glassy, her face and dress dirty. Whatever she was, she was not a lady. “Were it Jimson?” the woman repeated. Was that the innkeeper’s name? “The man downstairs sent me,” Elizabeth said again. “He said I should join you for the night.” The woman emitted a loud laugh like a bark. She shook Elizabeth’s arm so violently, Elizabeth had to struggle to stay on her feet. “Jimson is always sending the greenies to Old Kat. Well, Old Kat will set you straight. I’ll have you ready for whoring in no time.” “No!” Elizabeth pulled back. Her heart raced. She was afraid. This queer old drunk was more frightening than the men downstairs. “You misunderstand…” “Start by showing them to me,” Old Kat said. “Show me your titties!” Elizabeth knew this nightmare was punishment for her unladylike desires. She should never have allowed herself to feel discontent, never been so impure as to find Captain Warren’s gentle treatment of her wanting. “Come on, greenie. Old Kat hasn’t got forever.”
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Elizabeth yelped. Old Kat had let go of her arm and grabbed a handful of Elizabeth’s hair. Then she lifted her other hand to the top of Elizabeth’s shift and ripped it down to Elizabeth’s waist. Elizabeth instantly raised her arms to protect her exposed breasts. Old Kat slapped her hard across her face. “You do what Old Kat tells you or you’ll be punished!” Old Kat hissed at her. She yanked Elizabeth’s hair. “Open your mouth.” When Elizabeth failed to do so, Old Kat slapped her again. Elizabeth had not been struck since she was a child. She gasped at the pain. Tears streamed down her face. “Open!” Old Kat commanded. Elizabeth opened her mouth. What choice did she have? Old Kat poured liquid from a flask into Elizabeth’s mouth. Elizabeth choked and sputtered on the foul, burning liquor. “Drink it!” Old Kat said again. She shook Elizabeth’s head, using the knot of hair as a handle. She poured another spurt into Elizabeth’s mouth. “My own recipe. It’ll make you more willing in your work.” Elizabeth choked it down. Old Kat let go of Elizabeth’s hair and pushed Elizabeth to the floor. Elizabeth landed on her knees. She barely registered that Old Kat bent down, nearly falling in the process, to grab something from the floor. It was a walking stick. Old Kat leaned on it and tottered unsteadily to the spindle chair. She planted the chair in front of the door and sunk her ample bottom on the seat. It creaked beneath her. Elizabeth was dizzy. She wiped her face. She was sure her lip was bleeding. The only escape from the room was past Old Kat and she did not dare to risk that. Nor did she dare call out to the men downstairs. She had no choice but to submit to Old Kat. “Now let’s be friends, greenie.” Old Kat tilted the flask to her mouth and took a hearty drink. “Jimson has sent you to me to learn the tricks o’ the trade. If you do what I tell you, I’ll send you back to him ready to earn a living. If you don’t…” Old Kat lifted the walking stick in her hand and smacked one end on the floor, “you’ll get the thrashing o’ your life. Understand?” She leaned forward in her chair. Elizabeth nodded. She felt oddly disconnected from her body. “I’m the customer, come to size you up. How are you going to interest me?” Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded foreign in her ears, as though it were coming from someone else. “Show me your tits, o’ course.” Old Kat bent over and grabbed Elizabeth’s arm to pull her closer. “What really gets a man going is believing that you want him to suck and squeeze them.” Old Kat squinted at Elizabeth. “You got nice big, firm tits. The gents will love them.” She reached out and squeezed one of Elizabeth’s breasts so hard Elizabeth cried
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out. Old Kat chuckled and pulled her hand away. “Believe me, you’ll get worse than that from the gents. Now work them.” “What do I do?” Elizabeth whispered. “You got hands, use them. Touch yourself like you was your own lover. Stroke your tits and tell the gent how much you wish he was doing it to you. Ask him if he wouldn’t like to try. Go on. Do it.” Elizabeth’s hands felt like ice on her breasts. They trembled as she touched her skin. She shut her eyes. Her hands roamed over her breasts. They were Captain Warren’s hands. It was her own Will touching her. She cupped her breasts, stroked them, squeezed them, tugged her nipples. “You got the touching all right, now talk,” Old Kat commanded. “Don’t…” Elizabeth faltered. Old Kat poked her hard in the belly with the walking stick. “Don’t you want to touch my tits?” Elizabeth said. “Touch them, they feel so nice. I love you touching them…” It was as though someone else were talking for her. “Feel them. Squeeze them. Suck them.” “Good,” Old Kat said approvingly. “Very good, greenie, but you got to look at him when you talk. Make the gent know you mean him.” Elizabeth opened her eyes. She looked up, grateful for the gloom that shadowed Old Kat’s face. “Touch my titties,” she said. “Bite them. Suck them.” “Good. You’ve got his attention.” Old Kat put the walking stick between her legs and stood it up like an erect phallus. She laughed a barking laugh. “Now make the gent happy.” Elizabeth stared at the stick. She stretched out a hand and touched it gently, ran her hand along its length. It was what she longed to do for Will. Old Kat snorted. She took another long drink from her flask. “Greenie, how many men have you fucked?” “One,” Elizabeth answered. Dear Will. “Well, I been through about a thousand, and let me tell you there is one thing all those cocks had in common. Black, yellow, red and white, they liked to be sucked. Oh sure, you can touch them and rub them and squeeze them, but every cock I ever met loves to be sucked.” She lowered the stick until the end touched Elizabeth’s mouth. “Suck it.” Elizabeth did as Old Kat commanded. “Not so fast, not so hard. Use your hands,” Old Kat ordered. Elizabeth rubbed her hand over the length of the stick. Old Kat encouraged her, corrected her, put the end of the stick so far down Elizabeth’s throat, she gagged.
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“He’s ready to shoot,” Old Kat said. “Some gents like to come on your tits but most want you to swallow.” Old Kat handed Elizabeth the flask. “Take a bit. A man’s spunk ain’t half as strong.” Elizabeth swallowed. She was becoming used to the liquor’s burn. “Let the gent rest a bit then you can begin again.” “Again?” Old Kat laughed. “Some men need a few hours, but the young ones can go again in a few minutes. You want those men, greenie. The faster you can turn the trick, the better you’ll get paid.” She took another swig of her flask. “Fondle him, talk dirty to him, tell him how you can’t wait to ride him. Suck him again. Then when he’s good and hard, you fuck him.” Old Kat stood up and pulled the bolster from the bed. She tossed it to Elizabeth. “Here’s the gent. How you doing him tonight?” There was only one way Elizabeth knew to do it. She lay back and pulled the bolster between her legs. She wrapped her legs around it and pushed her hips forward, her fingers dug into the bolster’s back. She wanted Will. Old Kat snorted. “Yes, yes, that works, but why should he pay you for the fucking he can get at home for free? Let him lie back and you do the work.” She pulled the bolster off Elizabeth. “Climb on top and ride him. He’s nice and hard, slides in easily enough. You straddle him, put him in your cunt and away you go.” “Cunt?” That was one of the names the man on the wharf called the whore. Elizabeth was not sure what Old Kat meant. “That between your legs, all lovely and hot and tight and wet. It’s your fortune, greenie. It’s what men want from you—your tits, your mouth, your ass, your cunt. Now get on the gent and ride him.” Elizabeth straddled the bolster. “Move your hips, girl! Dance, shove, jump up and down, slide back and forth. He’s paying you for fucking, not sitting!” Old Kat hit Elizabeth across her hips with the stick. The liquor had done its work. Elizabeth rode at Old Kat’s command. The friction of the rough cloth of the bolster on her tender skin, the rubbing back and forth brought a heat to her body. She rode harder, pumping her hips. If only this were Will beneath her. “Lean forward, give him your titties to suck,” Old Kat commanded, and Elizabeth did what she was told. “Suck my titties,” she said, thinking of Will’s mouth, his hands. “I want you to suck them. I want you to bite them!” “Get on all fours,” Old Kat said. “Let him have you from behind.”
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Elizabeth got on her hands and knees. The walking stick whacked her hard on the buttocks. “Spread your knees wider,” Old Kat said. “Rock back and forth. Let him pound you. Tell him how much you want his cock.” Old Kat was the devil. Elizabeth was a lost soul. The end of the walking stick was touching her, probing her between the legs. Elizabeth gasped. The room was spinning. It wasn’t the stick, it was her own dear Will trying to enter her. More than anything she wanted to feel the sweet pleasure when he filled her. She opened her legs wider still and groaned as the head of the stick pressed her flesh. She rubbed against it, panting like an animal. She wanted more. She wanted it to fill the hunger between her legs. “Give it to me, Will!” she cried. “Give me your cock. Oh please,” she begged, panting, her hips thrusting. “Fill me!” Old Kat laughed and pulled the stick away. “Not so green anymore, are you, sweetie?” She slapped her thigh and laughed harder. Elizabeth sank to the floor. Her mouth was dry. She crawled to the trundle and wrapped herself in the quilt. She was trembling. “If I wasn’t so tired, you and I could have a ball,” Old Kat told her. “Nothing like a woman to lick your honeypot. Most men won’t. Find yourself a man who will and tie him down and keep him. Ever have your honeypot licked, greenie?” She snorted. “’Course not. You’d love it though, I can tell. Get a man to lie between your legs and lick and suck your honey. It’ll send you halfway to heaven, greenie.” Old Kat staggered to her feet. “Get Jimson to do it for you before he sends you out to fuck. He’d love to do a beauty like you with nice big tits and a wet cunt.” Old Kat belched and stretched out on the bed. Elizabeth saw bright lights like stars whirling in the air and felt a devil between her legs burning her, urging her, a hungry mouth she needed to fill. Old Kat continued to mumble stories of cocks and asses and cunts. At last, her words stopped and her snores began. The burning between Elizabeth’s legs did not go away. She closed her eyes. Someone was stroking between her legs, opening her, touching her—a devil, a demon, her own hand. She cried out with pleasure as her fingers entered, thrust into her. Her hips did the dance Old Kat taught her. Her left hand squeezed her breasts, tugged her nipples. Take me, Will! Elizabeth begged. Suck me, lick me, put your cock in my cunt and fuck me! Her fingers probed and pushed. She moaned as her body rose to its release. The room seemed washed in golden light. It’s done, she thought. Jimson can claim me. Old Kat has made me a whore.
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Chapter Three Elizabeth opened her eyes. Her head was pressed against the wall. There was a feeble light in the room from the tiny window. Her head hurt fiercely. There were loud snores from the bed. The dreadful devil woman was still asleep. “Dear god, don’t let her wake,” Elizabeth prayed silently. She dressed in her stillwet clothes as quietly as she could. Old Kat snorted and turned, the bed shook beneath her. Elizabeth could see that one of her hands still clutched the walking stick. Elizabeth lifted the key from the nail, unlocked the lock. She shut the door behind her, moving as quietly as she could with her aching head, her shaking legs. One of the countrymen was stretched out full length on the table. The other two were sprawled on the floor. She tiptoed around them, fearful they would wake. Mercifully, the door to the outside was not bolted. Quietly, she opened it. It was a gray day, the sky was still not clear after the rain, but the fresh air revived her. There was a bucket filled with water. She dipped her hands in and washed her face. As she did so, she caught the strong smell of her feminine juice on her fingers. “Mrs. Warren?” It was the coachman. Elizabeth wanted to weep, she was so relieved to see him. “Ma’am, your face… I didn’t realize you got so knocked about in the storm!” He seemed alarmed, no doubt fearing what Captain Warren would do to him. “Shhh,” Elizabeth said. She was afraid he could smell the liquor on her breath, the juice on her fingers. “Don’t be alarmed. It’s nothing. We’d best be on our way.” “Would you like to breakfast?” No, Elizabeth assured him. She wanted to leave, at once. She relieved herself behind the barn. Her water burned her tender flesh. Let this all be over with, she thought, and she would never complain about her husband again. “Were you all right with the lady?” the coachman asked when Elizabeth climbed back in the carriage. “Her driver seemed raggedy and ill-bred.” “Fine,” Elizabeth told him. “She slept all night.” With this lie, they were off. The road was clear. The hellish inn and the nightmare of Old Kat were behind them.
*****
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Mercy Smith was so pleased to see Elizabeth, so proud of her new baby, she made little fuss about Elizabeth’s battered and bedraggled appearance. Elizabeth bathed, changed her clothes and buried the ripped shift at the bottom of her traveling trunk. She brushed her hair, scented her skin and tried to ignore the red marks and bruises on her cheeks. In a few days, the marks faded. Elizabeth filled her days with the tumult of the Smiths’ house. She filled her letters to Captain Warren with her small-town gossip. Mrs. Smith’s brother is to wed young Miss Mary Phipps and a more pleasant young lady I can’t imagine. She paused at the end of each letter. She wanted to tell Captain Warren how she missed him, how she longed for his touch, for his whispers in the night. She did not. She wanted nothing that would wake the terror of Old Kat inside her. The two weeks passed pleasantly and then she was home with her own dear Captain Warren to greet her. He kissed her gloved hand. She curtsied. They would go on as they were before and Elizabeth would force herself to be content. He did not turn to her that first night. “You must be tired from your journey,” he offered. Indeed, she was. She did not argue, so pleased was she to be safe back home again. The next night, Captain Warren announced that he must be at the docks late, and said the same the night after. Elizabeth found her determination to be content was waning. The end of the week brought sad news. Dear Miss Phipps, for whom wedding plans were underway, had fallen ill and died suddenly. Elizabeth was grieved. She was a charming girl, she told Captain Warren. A dear girl. Captain Warren offered her his sympathy. He patted her shoulder, kissed her forehead. The day was filled with visiting. Condolences must be given, grief must be shared. By evening, Elizabeth was weary. She went to bed early. She was surprised when she woke in the night and Captain Warren was not in bed. She lit a candle and went in search of him. The house was quiet. The servants were asleep. Though she knew it was silly, she was wary of making any noise as she walked down the stairs. Whom would she disturb, the mice in the walls? The only noise she heard was the bonging of the large case clock in the parlor. It was three o’clock. Where was the captain? She was relieved when she saw a small pool of light coming from under the door to the study where the captain kept his books. Elizabeth raised her hand to knock on the door but something stopped her. She heard muttering within. Was it possible that at this hour he had company?
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She frowned in concentration. “You want it, cunt. I’ll give it to you!” No, it could not be! The captain was with a whore? It was he who was groaning, she was sure of it. She was torn with dread, with jealousy, with curiosity. She pushed slightly on the door. It swung open silently on its well-oiled hinges. Her eyes and brain registered immediately that Captain Warren was in his office chair and he was alone. He leaned back, his long legs stretched before him. His head was thrown back, his eyes were closed. His jacket and waistcoat were still on but his breeches were down at his knees. His right arm was pumping vigorously as if at a butter churn. His right hand grasped a large thing that rose from a tangle of black hair at his groin—his cock. Elizabeth stared as Captain Warren’s right hand pumped his cock, stroked it, rubbed it. His left hand reached down to grab the sack of skin that hung below. “Slut! I’ll split you!” Captain Warren’s hips rose, his hand squeezed his cock, he emitted a loud groan and from the purple head of his cock a white fluid spurted. Elizabeth let out her breath. Too late, she realized that her gasp was audible. Captain Warren opened his eyes and looked into Elizabeth’s. His face flushed beet red. He reached down to cover his cock, to grab his breeches. “Will,” Elizabeth whispered. “Get…out!” he yelled. He rose from his chair, stumbled forward and slammed the door in his wife’s face.
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Chapter Four Elizabeth rushed through the hall, back up the stairs to her bedroom. With every step she took, she wondered if she should go back to him, but the look on his face, the anger and shame in his voice, chilled her. She paced her room, debating with herself. She stopped when there was a knock on the door. She opened it. Captain Warren stood outside. “Come in, Captain.” She wondered what tone to adopt with him. She tried but couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice. How could he yell at her, slam the door in her face? Captain Warren let out a deep sigh. Elizabeth thought for a moment of a schoolboy summoned to the headmaster for discipline. She rested on the foot of their four-post bed. He stood before her. Even by candlelight she could see that his face was still slightly flushed. He opened his arms wide. “I am heartily ashamed.” He cleared his throat. “You must think me…awful.” “No, Captain, I do not. I startled you. You were naturally upset.” She tried to soften her voice. “There was no need for such a display of temper. I did not mean to upset you.” He paced back and forth across the room. “I know a lady like you, refined and well bred, cannot imagine the tensions in a man. I have been used to a life at sea. I must admit fine manners are not natural to me.” He laughed. His face twisted in a nervous smile. “I do not mean to burden you with my needs. I do my best to keep them to a minimum. It is just sometimes…” How could she tell him she was not disgusted by his behavior? That the sight of his cock filled her with a desire to get on her knees and take it in her mouth and do for him what Old Kat had trained her to do? She was horrified at this thought. She realized too late that he was looking at her face, and that what he saw was not her desire for him but her horror. “Will,” she stood and touched him on the sleeve, “you are my husband and I would do anything for you.” She put her arms around him. “Come lie with me, Will.” “You are disgusted by my behavior,” he said. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “It is only natural for someone so well bred.”
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“No, Will. I assure you. I am not. I was only upset at your anger toward me.” She pressed her body against his. She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him full on the mouth. She longed to open her mouth, to taste his tongue, but his own mouth was firmly closed. He lay next to her in bed, fully clothed. “I’ve missed you,” she whispered to him. She took his hand and cupped it around her breast. How much further did she dare go? He kissed her. “Oh Bet, my sweet Bet. I’ve missed you too.” He allowed himself a gentle squeeze of her breast, a tender kiss and fell asleep. He rose early in the morning, kissed her gently and whispered in her ear that he must be off, but he would return home in the afternoon. As she dressed that morning, there were several facts running through her mind, none of them pleasant to contemplate. He was not happy with her. He was not happy bedding her. It was not her he had in mind when he called out at the height of his pleasure. She went about her day’s errands, hearing these facts repeated in her mind like a dreadful song. Elizabeth caught her reflection in a shop window. She was an attractive woman, slim, well-built, her dark hair neatly pulled back beneath her fashionable bonnet. She had a fine nose, full lips, serious gray eyes framed with long lashes. Her dress showed her curves but buttoned high enough so no flesh was exposed. She was the picture of a respectable, well-bred matron—a proper wife. She heard high-pitched laughter and adjusted her gaze to the inside of the shop. The shop assistant was laughing, her head thrown back in a most unladylike way, her bosom swelling above the low-cut lace of her dress. A customer stared at her with a wolfish look, as though he would like to lift her skirts and bed her in the shop. Elizabeth felt a pang in her heart. Perhaps Captain Warren looked at shop girls this way. Perhaps he would take a girl like this and ask her to do the things Elizabeth would love to do for him but was afraid to offer. Perhaps he had already! Elizabeth carried this thought home with her along with her parcels. She told Mary, the housemaid, she had a headache and must lie down in her bed. Mary drew the bedroom curtains shut. “Mrs. Warren, ma’am, I found this in your traveling trunk.” Mary held up the shift Old Kat had ripped. “Shall I mend it for you?” “No, thank you, Mary,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll take it for rags.” Elizabeth tore a strip of cloth from the shift. It would make a good bandage or a clot for when her monthlies came. Or… She considered the strip in her hand. It would make a fine tie to bind a man. She tore another. She had made up her mind. She would be
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bold, decisive. She was Elizabeth Kendall Warren and she would not so easily surrender her husband or her happiness. She told Mary to send Captain Warren to her when he came home. Elizabeth shook out her long brown hair. It fell in waves around her shoulders. She took off her dress, took off her stays, removed her shoes and stockings and garters. She found the silver flask filled with spirits that Captain Warren kept in his high chest. The vile drink Old Kat had poured down her throat had helped her survive that dreadful evening. She allowed herself a few small sips for courage now. She climbed into bed clad only in her short shift. When Captain Warren came next to this room, he would not find Mrs. Warren. He would find Bet, Old Kat’s latest trainee and Jimson’s newest whore.
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Chapter Five “Are you ill, Mrs. Warren?” He was such a fine-looking man, Elizabeth thought. She admired his high cheekbones, his square jaw, his wide mouth. He had on his blue coat, his ivory waistcoat, his starched white cravat. Only his leather boots betrayed the dust of the wharf. “Just a headache. Will you sit with me, Captain?” She had placed her desk armchair near the bed. He moved to the chair, lifted his coattails and sat. Elizabeth threw back the covers, pulled on an Indian paisley shawl she had left at the foot of the bed and walked barefoot to the door. She locked it. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. She was ready to begin. She turned back to the captain. He was watching her, a grave look on his face. “You wish to speak to me, Elizabeth?” He rarely called her by that name. In public and in the house, she was Mrs. Warren, in bed, she was Bet. Did he fear scolding about last night? She smiled at him. He was a potential customer. She must win his interest. She let her shawl drop to her feet. “I’ve been practicing my knots, Captain.” He frowned, looked puzzled. “When we courted, you teased me for my lack of seamanship.” She knelt at his feet, pulled the strips of cloth from below the chair. “Yes,” he said. “I remember.” “Let me show you how much I’ve learned.” Elizabeth took a strip of cloth and knotted it around the arm of the chair. She crossed it over his wrist, tied a knot and bound him to the chair. It was a sturdy chair, she had tested it earlier. “Well done,” he said. He sounded amused. She bound his other hand the same way. “Now you have me,” he said. “What will you do to me?” She rose and kissed him gently on the lips. He frowned at her. “Have you been drinking spirits, Elizabeth?”
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She ran her hand down his chest, over his thighs to the top of his boots. His frown deepened. “Do you think I’m pretty, Captain?” “Yes, Elizabeth, I do.” She lifted her shift off above her head. He gasped. He had not seen her naked before. “Do you think my breasts are pretty, Captain?” Her hands stroked her shoulders, the skin above her breasts, her breasts. She gently lifted each in a hand, squeezing slightly so that the flesh bulged out between her fingers. His eyes hardened. His mouth tightened. There was a quiver in his voice when he spoke. “What is this?” “Do you want to touch them, Captain?” Her hands stroked and squeezed. She tugged her nipples, stretching each slightly. “I want you to touch them, Captain.” She looked into his dark eyes. His lips were a narrow line. She knew the words to use. “I want you to suck my tits. I want you to bite them.” She leaned forward, resting her upper arms on his open legs. She ran her fingers along his inner thighs, resting her fingers lightly on his cock, which had stiffened, filling his breeches. His eyes and face had hardened too. “What does this whorish behavior mean?” She laughed. “Shall I be your whore, Captain? I promise you, I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel so…” She squeezed the inside of his legs, her fingers digging through the breechcloth to his strong muscles underneath. “Wonderful. But first, you must be made more comfortable.” She rose onto her knees to untie his cravat. She pulled it from his neck and dropped it on the floor. She unbuttoned his waistcoat and the linen shirt beneath. She did not look at his face but could see his hands clutching the arms of the chair. She spread his shirt open, exposing his pale skin and the dark hairs that curled along his chest, making a line down his belly to the top of his breeches. She stroked his chest and his belly, forcing herself to ignore the bulge in his breeches. She kissed his nipples, drew her tongue along his skin. She smelled the mixture of bay rum and sweat that perfumed him. It was an intoxicating scent. She looked up and saw a look on his face like the one the customer in the shop gave the laughing girl—wolfish, hungry.
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She rose from her knees and pressed her naked breasts against his chest, rubbed her tender nipples on his warm skin. She moaned. The pleasure of this contact was so sweet. He caught his breath. She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him. This time, his lips parted readily. She tasted the wetness of his mouth, the softness of his tongue. He groaned. She pressed her pelvis against the bulge in his breeches and kissed him as though she depended on his mouth for nourishment. She pulled away. Both of them were panting. “You see, it is not only knot-tying I have been practicing.” She pressed her hand against the bulge in his pants and felt the hard muscle of his cock twitch. He leaned forward in his chair. She could see the veins on the back of his hands as his fingers clutched the chair. “Who taught you this?” His voice was harsh, strained. She could tell him this was a game, an act, but she did not want to break the spell that gave her a freedom she had never felt before. She reached up and stroked his face, put her fingers across his lips. “That is my secret, Captain.” She dropped her hand and took the boot from his right foot then the left. She took his stockings off. She picked up one foot and kissed it tenderly. “Do you want me for your whore, Captain? Are we decided?” She ran her tongue on the underside of his largest toe then sucked it. She picked up his other foot and did the same. “Is the answer yes?” He leaned back in the chair. His eyes traveled from her face, down her breasts and belly to the dark triangle of hair between her legs. His lips twisted into a smile. “Oh yes, Bet.” His voice sounded unnaturally harsh, as though he had tasted something bitter. “I’ll have you for my whore.” She tugged at his breeches. He lifted his hips to make the task easier for her. She pulled them down over his legs and off his feet. She admired his body as he leaned back in the chair. He was a lovely man with a broad chest and shoulders, flat belly, strong arms and legs. His cock stood straight up from the tangle of hair at his crotch. “You have such a beautiful cock, Captain. It makes me want to…” There were words she longed to say, things she longed to do. She would say them, she would do them. She ran her hands over her breasts, across her belly, between her legs. She stroked herself. She was wet with desire. He watched her, his eyes were thin slits in his face. “I want your cock in my cunt, Captain. I want to ride you.”
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She lifted her fingers to her nose, smelled the strong animal smell on them. “But a whore’s pleasure has to wait.” She put her fingers to his lips. “It is your pleasure I am here to serve.” He took her fingers in his mouth and bit them. She pressed a breast to his mouth. He opened his mouth and sucked hard on her nipple. She offered him the other. He tugged it with his teeth. The shock she felt ran straight to her pelvis. She felt the most inner part of herself contract. My cunt aches for him, she thought. She slid her body down his belly until his cock rested between her breasts. She held her breasts and rubbed them against his cock. “Such a fine whore you are, Bet. You must have had a good teacher.” She was transfixed by his cock, by its length, its width. “Yes,” she said. She stroked it, rubbed it. “The best.” She licked the tip of his cock. He groaned. She ran her tongue along its shaft, hearing Old Kat’s commands, then took the entire head of it in her mouth and sucked. She held the sac that hung from his cock in her right hand, one finger reaching up to probe the soft skin that led to his ass. He moaned again, his breath was coming hard and fast. She sucked him as hard as she could, pumping his shaft with her hand as she had seen him pump the other night. His hips rose, his entire body arched like a stringed bow, ready to shoot. She let go of his sac and sought the narrow space between the cheeks of his buttocks. She found it, pressed her finger against his anus. “Finger-fuck him in the ass and see how he blows,” Old Kat had instructed. Elizabeth pressed her finger into his tight opening, felt the heat of his body. She took her finger out, gently pushed it back in. He shouted, his body stiffened, his cock turned to a wood post and exploded in her mouth. She did not let go but sucked every drop from him. Old Kat was right, it was bitter, but not as unpleasant as the liquor she had poured down Elizabeth’s throat. When his body stopped bucking, Elizabeth let go. She pulled her mouth away, let him fall back into the chair. “Are you pleased, Will?” she asked teasingly. She knelt between his legs, her hands resting on his knees. He opened his eyes. There was no tenderness in them or his smile. “You’re an excellent whore, Bet.” “It was all for you.” She frowned. Did he not understand? “If you don’t mind. I must leave you for a drink.”
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She rose to her feet and moved to her writing table where Mary had left her a pot of tea. She was aware he was watching her, studying her as she walked naked across the room. Her hand trembled as she poured the tea into the delicate china cup. She was eager to embrace him again, to kiss him and be kissed by him with the same ardent passion they just shared. Eager for him at last to take her as she wanted. She heard a sound of wood scraping wood. She looked up. He had pushed the chair away and was standing. The strips of cloth with which she had tied him were loose in his hands. “You’ve not put as much practice in your knots as you have in your whoring.” His words were light, but not his voice. He walked to the high chest, opened a drawer and took out the silver flask. He took a deep swig and held it out to her. “I don’t know how or when, but you seem to have developed a taste for this, Bet. Have some more.” He came toward her, the flask outstretched. She hesitated. She did not like it much, but for him she would drink it. She raised the flask to her mouth and took a small sip. She handed him back his flask, but as she did so, he slipped the cloth strip like a noose around her wrists. “A good sailor can tie knots with one hand in the dark,” he said. He laughed, but there was no amusement in his voice. “My knots will not come so easily undone as yours.” Elizabeth tried to pull her hands away, but she was caught, her husband held the end of the cloth like a leash. “What is this, Will?” Her temper was rising. The cloth was tight on her wrists. “I ask myself the same question, Bet.” A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Here is my well-mannered wife, the one I have treated so tenderly and carefully for over four months, the one I have feared offending with my coarse needs, my base desires, the wife who lies beneath me with all the warmth of a dead fish. Yet here is this wife suddenly acting as hot as a common whore. How can this be?” He jerked the cloth leash. Elizabeth staggered. “It seems you have found a lover to teach you all that I did not because I was afraid you would find me disgusting.” “I can explain, Will.” “There is no ‘Will’ here. It is Captain Warren to you.” He dragged Elizabeth to the bed. “Give me a chance to explain.” She stumbled forward. “I swear I have not been unfaithful to you. It was an act, a play.”
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“A play?” He jerked her arms above her head. “What man wrote the lines for you, Bet?” He tied the cloth high up on one of the posts of the bed. She pulled on it, but the turnings on the post kept her arms in place. “Will, this is ridiculous.” “I…am…not…your…Will!” he snarled at her. “You will address me as Captain!” The rage in his voice and on his face silenced her. She leaned against the post, her arms stretched above her head. He walked around her, studying her. She felt one of his fingers trace the arch of her spine, the curve of her buttocks. “You are lovely, Bet. I’ve had many whores, but none as lovely as you. Large tits, narrow waist, firm ass, long legs, tight wet cunt. A real beauty. Men will pay a fortune to bed you.” He stood in front of her, his legs spread wide, his hands at his side, his face an angry mask. “But I will not let you play me for a fool. It is rare that a man under my command disobeys me, but when he does, I flog him.” His hands balled into fists. “I’ve never had occasion to flog a woman, but if I had a lash in my hand right now, Bet, I’d give you a dozen stripes.” He raised a hand to her face. She flinched. His voice was low. “Scared of me, Bet? You should be. If I had a mind to it, I could hurt you.” “Please, think, Captain. If I had been unfaithful to you, why expose myself by behaving in this way?” He laughed. “Do you think I’m a mind reader, Bet? How can I know what perversities you enjoy? There are men who like to fuck other men, I cannot explain them. I like to fuck women.” He ran his hands around her breasts, tugged at her nipples. “I like the way women feel.” His hands roamed over her belly, between her legs, back behind the curve of her cheeks. He lifted her so her bottom rested on the edge of the bed. He dropped to his knees and pushed her legs wide open, his eyes fixed on the dark hair between her legs, the pink flesh beneath. Elizabeth was angry at him for misunderstanding her, indignant that he had trussed her like a chicken, but she had to bite her lip to keep from begging him to touch her. “I like the way women taste.” When his warm tongue touched the tender spot between her legs, she threw her head back and cried out. It was the most delightful sensation she could imagine. His
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tongue traversed her flesh, entered her. She couldn’t help the noises she made, mewling and cooing like a small animal. Even if she could have escaped the bind that tied her to the post, there was nowhere she would rather be than there with her darling Will between her legs. His finger thrust inside her, his tongue scoured her. She moaned and whimpered. The feeling that radiated from her cunt warmed her entire body. Her nipples were stiff and hard. Her belly, her legs, even her feet, were tense and tied to the pleasure his tongue and finger brought her, as though every part of her were connected to cords that were knotted at this one point between her legs. His tongue teased her, stroked her, pulled the cord tighter, so tight she could barely stand it. He thrust two fingers into her, again and again. One more thrust and she was gone. Her neck arched, her mouth opened, her breasts thrust forward and she was lifted high up and out of herself. “Oh god! Oh god! Oh Will!” She was released, the cords unbound, her body was washed with heat. Her legs shook. She sighed repeatedly, enjoying the looseness in her limbs. She rested her face on the inside of her upraised arm. Her eyes were open but unfocused. Once again, Old Kat had been right. Having her honeypot licked had lifted her halfway to heaven. Will sat back on his heels. His face was shiny with her juice. “Didn’t your teacher give you this lesson, Bet?” He stood up. “I can’t count the times I lay next to you, my darling wife, wanting to lift your shift and taste you but refrained because I thought your proper soul would be outraged by such perversion.” He picked the flask up from the floor and took a swig. He wiped his face with the back of his arm. “Let me explain.” Elizabeth lifted her head. After what he had just done to her, how could he still speak to her this way? “It is not what you think, Will. There was no other man.” He strode back to her. He lifted her at the waist and dropped her on the bed. She fell to her knees. Her arms still bound overhead to the post. “Will, listen to me.” “You’ll address me as Captain!” He pulled the cloth down the post and retied it lower. Elizabeth was forced to rest on her elbows, her breasts pressed into the quilt on the bed, her buttocks raised in the air. The mattress shifted as he climbed on it behind her. His hands rested on the curve of her buttocks, his knees held her legs in place. “I cannot flog you, Bet, but I will punish you.”
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He spanked her hard across her buttocks. “Don’t! Please don’t!” The spank stung her skin. She struggled to escape him. He held her firm and spanked her harder. Over and over, he spanked her. She whimpered, tears rolled down her face as the spanks continued. Her skin was on fire. His fingers raked her back from her shoulders to her thighs. His hands roughly parted her cheeks. “Shall I fuck you in the ass, Bet?” He shoved a finger in her anus. She cried out in pain. “Has he had you this way?” He shoved his finger in and out. She gasped with each painful thrust. “I see he has not. So at least in this I may be the first. Still…” His other hand slid down over the sensitive exposed folds below her buttocks. She told herself she did not want this, did not want him, but the hunger in her body betrayed her. Her shame and breeding and pride would push him away, but her body welcomed him, wanted his touch. His fingers slid over and into her, she was wet and open. “How can I resist such a juicy cunt?” His fingers explored her, thrust into her. She couldn’t hide her desire. Her legs opened wider to let him in. “Oh yes, Bet. You are such an accommodating fuck.” He was on his knees, leaning against her, and then his beautiful hard cock was inside her, filling her as she had longed. She remembered the dance Old Kat taught her. Her buttocks and his pelvic bones banged against each other like percussion instruments. His cock thrust deep in her, her cunt took him in like a greedy mouth. She couldn’t get enough of him. His fingers squeezed her thighs. He thrust in so deep she felt a throb of pain as though he had reached the end of her, but the pain was mixed with intense pleasure. She groaned and her hips thrust back against him for more and more. Then the cords of her body were knotted and pulled, she was drawn up and held tight, all of it centered on the motion of his cock inside her. “Don’t stop! Oh, don’t stop!” she cried. He thrust into her again and again, hard and harder. He was grunting with the effort. She cried out, pulled as high as she could go and then released. The noise she made was high like a sea bird’s cry. An “Ah!” repeated over and over until the spasms in her body slowed. He grabbed her thighs and pounded against her, and cried, “Bet!”
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He held her tight against his body for a few seconds, pumping into her, then pushed her away. He stretched out on the bed beside her. She lengthened her legs, lowered her body and lay quiet on the bed. She was aware of her skin, the feel of her nipples pressing into the soft quilt, the burning on her skin where he had spanked her, a slight pain in her anus and the pleasant ache inside her cunt. She was present in her body as she had never been before. She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were closed. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to kiss him, to let him know how extraordinarily wonderful he had made her feel. But her arms were tied and she was afraid to speak. Will sat up, got out of bed and pulled his breeches on. “What are you doing, Captain?” Her voice was soft and low. “I think I’ll have my supper now,” he said. “Fucking makes me hungry.” “Please untie me,” she said. Her voice rising. He couldn’t leave her like this. “Please. Let us settle this.” “When I’ve finished with you.” He had stepped away from her. She heard the noises of his dressing, the splashing of water into the bowl as he washed his hands and face. His boots thumped as he walked to the door. The latch clicked as he lifted it. “Captain! You cannot leave me like this!” She heard the door open. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Warren. I’ll tell Mary you are not well and should not be disturbed. I’ll return to you as soon as I’ve supped. In the meantime, get your rest, my dear.” “Captain!” The door closed. She heard his footsteps in the hall and his voice as he called for the servants. She wanted to curse him, to love him, to slap him, but most of all, to ride him.
***** With some effort, Elizabeth managed to wriggle upright. Her legs straddled the bedpost, her arms rested on her thighs. By rubbing her wrists along the post she managed to loosen the knots but couldn’t free herself. She leaned her head on the post and considered how she could make him to listen to the truth. The room darkened as evening wore on. The door opened. Captain Warren had returned. Elizabeth had decided that she would speak mildly. “Did you have a good supper, Captain?” He shrugged. “I was occupied with thoughts of my wife’s adultery. That lessened my appetite considerably.” 119
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He lit candles. He took off his jacket and set it on the armchair. “I decided that most probably your lover is a stranger to me. I pondered where you met him and when. I considered how many times he has bedded you and what he has done with you.” He unbuttoned his shirt and set it on the chair. “I had a great deal to think about.” “Shall I enlighten you and tell you the details? Untie me, Captain, and I will.” “Not yet.” He sat in the chair and pulled off his boots. “When I announced to my friends I was going to wed Miss Elizabeth Kendall of Salem, I was warned that I was making a mistake.” “Who would say that to you?” Elizabeth sat up. “I was told you were too independent, too smart, too reserved, too cold to make a good wife. I have enjoyed your independence and intelligence, but, in truth, your reserve, your coldness pain me.” “Reserve, yes, but not cold, Captain!” “Still, it is amusing that our marriage should founder not on your coldness, dear Bet, but on your heat.” He stood and removed his breeches. He threw these on the chair as well. He came to the bed and looked down at Elizabeth. “What a sight you look, Bet. Your hair is all tossed about and wild around your lovely face.” His voice had softened. For the first time, Elizabeth could hear a trace of sadness in it. “Those nights when I did not want to disturb you, I would go to my study and relieve my urges with visions of what your face might look like if you were riding me.” He stroked her cheek. “I’ll have that, Bet, before I go.” “If I do that for you, will you listen to me, Captain?” She looked up into his handsome face now etched with sadness. “Will you let me explain?” “If that is the price for your service.” “Untie me, Captain, and I will serve you.” He took her arm and held her tight. “If you try to leave before I say you can. I’ll hurt you. This time it will not be a spanking.” “I will do as the captain commands.” He tugged at the cloth and soon it was untied. Elizabeth rubbed her wrists and massaged her hands. Captain Warren pulled the quilt back and lay down. Elizabeth ran her hands up his ankles, along his calves and thighs. She covered his belly and chest with kisses, ran her tongue up his throat, behind his ear. She lay on top of him, her breasts pressed against his chest. She held his face in her hands and kissed 120
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him deeply, tenderly. His hands drew up along her back and pressed her close to him. Soon their kisses changed, she was kissing him the way she had longed to, telling him with her tongue, the pressure of her body how she hungered for him. She brought kisses down to his cock, it pulsed under her attention. He pushed her onto her back and lowered his face between her legs. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. She put her hands on her inner thighs and spread her legs wider for him. The touch of his tongue made her moan and arch her back. He licked her until she was soaked. He pulled away and lay on his back again. “Fuck me,” he commanded. She straddled his thighs. She grasped his cock with one hand and lowered herself on it. She gasped when she felt it enter her. Her cunt was filled with him. She bent forward so he could suck her nipples, bent back so he could stroke her belly and her thighs. She thrust her hips back and forth, slowly at first then harder and faster. “It’s so good!” she said. “Your cock feels so good!” His eyes were fixed on her face, his hands squeezed her waist. She bent forward to fill her mouth with his tongue. She could feel a wave of heat rising from her cunt. Her hips thrust harder and harder. “Oh,” she gasped, “oh!” Her hips seemed to move on their own, churning back and forth. Her fingers clutched his shoulders. She shut her eyes. She could not bear how much pleasure she was feeling. Up and up she was pulled. Suddenly, she was at the wave’s peak and she was thrown from it, breaking apart in a glorious moment of release. She cried, “Will! Oh Will!” She could feel his cock pressing on all sides of her spasming cunt. She thrust against him as hard as she could. His nails dug into the skin of her back. His body went rigid, his face twisted at the height of his pleasure. He squeezed her so hard she could hardly bear it. His body jerked with his release. He called, “Bet! Bet!” They lay entwined on the bed. She pressed her body against his, seeking his warmth. His hands caressed her back, held her tight. Elizabeth felt languid, loose. At last, she was content. She slid off his body and lay next to him, one leg still thrown over him. She kissed his neck. “My sweet Will.” He pushed her away and rolled to the edge of the bed. The sob she heard from him was not of pleasure but pain. “Will!” She tried to draw close to him, to hold him. He stood and reached again for his clothes. His hands were trembling. “What are you doing, Will?” His voice shook. “The Hawking is to sail in a month for China.”
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He cleared his throat. “Captain Saunders is to take her but I can persuade him to wait for another ship.” He buttoned his shirt. “I will captain the Hawking. It is a long voyage, a year at least. You may have the house. You will have your allowance from your parents’ estate. Whatever else you need you may earn on your back in bed.” He picked up his breeches. “I have no doubt you will do well.” “You are not going anywhere, Will, until you hear me out!” “Indeed, I am going.” “You promised to listen to me!” “And you promised to be faithful! I find I have no stomach for your details. I will spend the days before I leave at the inn.” He sat in the chair to pull his stockings on. Elizabeth jumped from the bed and grabbed his boots from the floor. She ran to the window, opened it and tossed his boots outside. “You are not going anywhere until I give you leave!” He looked at her, one stocking still in his hand. “If you do not sit and listen to me, William Warren, I will go down to the wharf and offer to bed every man there. You will be the laughingstock of Salem, and no man will obey you, whether or not you threaten to flog him!” “How sweet you sound, Bet.” He slumped in the chair. “All right. I will listen.” She pulled her shift on over her head, wrapped the shawl around her shoulders and sat across him on the bed. She twisted the ends of the shawl in her fingers. “If I was a cold wife, Will, it was not out of lack of feeling for you, but ignorance. You said you have known many whores, but when we married, I was a virgin.” “How things have changed,” he said softly. He rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin in his hand. “I was told to let you lead me in bed. Where you led me was to lie as still as a dead fish and wait for your touch. You did nothing to inspire me to other action.” He pressed his fingers to his lips as though he needed to refrain himself from yelling. “I knew only that what we did was not enough. I wanted more but didn’t know what more was or how to get it.” She reminded him of the night he left her in the carriage on the wharf, told him how she watched the man and the whore. “After that, I knew what the more I wanted was.” “To be fucked like a whore?” His voice was harsh. She sat upright. “No. To have a man want me with every ounce of his body.” She told him of the trip to Manchester, the storm, the inn, the rough men. 122
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She faltered when she got to Old Kat rising from the bed. “She was an old, drunken whore and she thought I was her apprentice.” She told him how Old Kat slapped her, forced her to drink, how she had no choice but to submit to Old Kat’s instruction. She told him everything. She could not look at him when she described herself on her hands and knees, Old Kat pressing the walking stick between her legs. “She didn’t put it in me.” Elizabeth looked at his hands now balled in fists on the arm of the chair. “But I wanted her to. I wanted it to be you, Will, taking me that way. She pulled it away and laughed at me, told me I wasn’t a greenie anymore. She kept talking, telling me all the things men and women do for pleasure. Then she fell asleep, but I didn’t, Will. She had aroused a hunger in me that would not fade. I pretended my fingers were yours and used them to pleasure myself.” Elizabeth looked at the floor. “I was ashamed and horrified at what I felt, what I did.” She described the morning, her fortunate escape. “I tried to bury the memory of that night. I thought I brought that hell on myself by my impure thoughts, my improper longing. I swore I would be content with you. Last night, I realized you were not content with me.” He made a sound as if he were choking. It was hard to read his face in the dark room. He had crossed his arms and was hugging them against his chest. “I did not want you going to other women for the things I longed to give you, Will. I resolved to conquer my shame, my proper breeding, and give them to you myself.” She took a deep breath. “That is it, Will. I did have a good teacher. Old Kat taught me the words and moves. The desire was my own.” He clutched his hands together in his lap. “You swear, Elizabeth, this is the truth.” His voice was deep. She could hear him struggling to control himself. “Yes, Will. I’ll swear on whatever you like. I have not the skill to make up a person like Old Kat.” He jumped to his feet and went to the window. He bent his head against the drawn curtains, as though he wanted to hide his face in them. “What you must think of me! Oh god, Elizabeth, what you must think of me!” She wrapped her arms around him, resting her face on his back. “Forgive me, Elizabeth.” She could hear the agony in his voice. “Forgive me for doubting you, forgive me for hurting you. Forgive me!”
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She turned him to face her. “Oh Will. I cannot say what I would do if I thought you were unfaithful to me.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and hugged him. “I might even flog you.” He rested his head on her forehead. “Shall I bring her back, Captain? Your proper wife? Would you rather have her in bed or me?” He picked her up and crushed her against his chest. He kissed her with an open mouth and hungry tongue. “Be my Bet and I will be your Will.” They lay together on the bed, kissing and caressing. Suddenly, Elizabeth sat up. “There is one thing yet to be settled between us. How many whores have there been?” He rested his head on one of his hands, the other hand stroked her face. “I’ve lost count.” “More than ten?” “Aye.” “Less than a hundred?” He laughed. “I think so.” “Who was the last and when?” His voice sounded tense. “Before we courted, Bet, if that is what concerns you. I have been faithful to you, I swear.” “Who was she?” He sighed. She could tell he did not like her questioning. “Not a whore, exactly. A willing girl in a tavern in Charlestown.” “How did you have her?” “Must we?” He traced her lips with his finger. “Aye, Captain. We must. I want to know what you asked from those many whores and willing girls so that I may do the same for you.” Elizabeth stretched out beside him and pressed her hand on his cock. It pulsed beneath his breeches. “How did you have her?” “Late at night, in the back of the tavern, standing up with her legs wrapped around me.” “For shame. What if one of your men had spotted you?” “The fear of that added to the pleasure.” “I want you to take me that way.”
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He laughed. “In the back of a tavern, Elizabeth? You have not been in a tavern in your life.” “There is a first time for everything. You shall have me in a tavern and then in your office on the wharf. We will have to be very quiet so the watchmen do not hear us, though I think, when you put your tongue to me, quiet will be impossible.” “That would be very improper.” “Oh indeed, it will be, Captain.” He lifted the hem of her shift to her waist and stroked her belly and her thighs and the damp area between her legs. She opened her legs to let him in and sighed with pleasure as his fingers caressed her. “You shall find me far less cold in the future, Captain Warren, and our marriage a good deal more interesting.” “Aye, Mrs. Warren. I believe I shall.”
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TOUCH OF LUST Liddy Midnight
Touch of Lust
Chapter One Gavor drew in a slow breath as he stood in the shadows near the wall of windows, surveying the crowd. The scent of a ripe female teased him. Somewhere here was a woman worthy of his attention. His kind could always tell. He wasn’t often in the position of observer and enjoyed the novelty, leisurely extending his awareness through the room. There! A young woman, of maybe twenty Terran Standard years, dressed in a dowdy garment that covered more than it revealed, walked a precise two paces behind three older men. She kept her eyes downcast. Her heavy clothing couldn’t conceal her generous curves. The rich aroma of her sex—for it had to be hers—wrapped around him, suffusing his entire being. Damn, but the pull was strong. A tickle of fear mingled with the lust coursing through him. As a half-breed shifter who couldn’t change his shape, he’d hoped his limited abilities would leave him free of the mate-bond that characterized his mother’s people. He’d dreaded learning otherwise and finding his mate, for it would put a stop to his licentious ways. And by the moons of Orsind, fucking whomever he liked wherever he liked was what he lived for! Who would voluntarily give that up for monogamy? He had inherited the were-folk charisma in cargo-loads. That made life much more interesting and almost made up for not being able to run free in animal form. He felt perfectly complete without a mate. That the mating bond was involuntary was irrelevant. The burnished gold of her hair drew his eye but when she looked up, it was her perfect features that held his attention. By most cultural preferences she was too tall, too long of nose, too plump, too subservient in her demeanor, for beauty. To him, she was perfect. What would she look like, bound spread-eagled and waiting for him? Even better, rearing over him, ready to impale herself on his ready cock. He longed to see her eyes darken with passion and desire, her lush breasts blush as she came for him again and again. The beast that lived within him agreed with a snarl, pushing against his control and urging him to take her, here, now. His cock stood to attention, stiffening behind the fastening of his trousers. One way or another, he would have her. Tonight if he could manage it. A true challenge, by the looks of her lowly status. Unless he could purchase her. That thought was intriguing. Pleasure mixed with potential profit—for he would surely sell her once she palled. They all bored him, sooner or later. Easing the discomfort of his erection with a dampening thought and ruthlessly quelling the beast’s desire, he examined the group as they chatted with the ambassador. 127
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He didn’t recognize the men who accompanied her. Most unusual. He thought he knew everyone worth knowing after a month on the backwater planet of Luminar. He’d stopped for emergency repairs and found himself welcomed into the upper echelons of society. His home world of Orsind, one of the Imperial residential planets, put him in high demand. Every society hostess and every businessman in Justin City wanted to hear the latest gossip and news of politics and trade. He did his best to oblige them because his interests were varied and one never knew when slight acquaintances—even in remote locations such as this—might be useful. He found his host in a heated discussion concerning an urgent wastewater problem. Swiftly providing them with a simple and cost-effective solution—being well educated had its uses—he drew Potre aside and queried him about the strangers. “Ah, you must mean the party from Crakor.” The word made his blood run first cold then hot with rage. His people’s home world. The world where thousands were killed by zealots who decreed that all those with certain genes were an intolerable abomination. He restrained his reaction and swallowed before he spoke in what he hoped was a normal tone. “Crakor? The secretive sect planet?” His voice was firm although he forced the words from his tight throat. At his host’s nod, he continued, “What are they doing here? I thought they never left their home world.” Which was as it should be—the universe was better off without their brand of oppression. “Hard economic times are just now opening them up to interstellar trade.” Gavor arched an eyebrow. Could it be the old regime had fallen? Tough times displeased the populace and displeased people often rebelled. Rumors concerning Crakor had never died down after its self-imposed isolation decades before but no hint of recent changes had reached him. If it had, he would have reported it to his clan’s leadership. As it was, he would have to deal with this situation on his own. The question was, just what could he accomplish by himself? “They have hard wealth but suffered a devastating drought that makes them willing to bargain for food. We are the nearest planet with anything approaching their strict religious beliefs—the Church of the Holy Body is renowned for its austerity—and thus were chosen as their preferred trading partner.” “What religious beliefs do you share?” “You have not been here long enough to know. On Luminar, we prize our women’s honor and chastity but Crakor puts them in a more restricted place, almost on a par with slavery.” So there had been no revolution. A pity, that. News of Crakor reaching out to its neighbors would interest the council but require no more of his attention. Potre smiled. “I was quite interested in meeting the leader’s daughter, who accompanied him. That is most rare. Her mother fell ill, I believe, so her father was forced to bring her along. Even so, her being here shows he indulges her more than I expected from a man of Crakor.” 128
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How odd. Most families would have found a friend or neighbor to take her in. If their cultural mistrust of men had grown so great that it extended even to male family members of relatives, he could kiss his sexual ambitions goodbye. That might be the wisest course but he had never stepped down from a challenge and wasn’t about to now. Three more days for completion of his repairs and he needed something to fill his time besides gossip. He’d been talked out. It was time for action and sex was the best he could imagine. The object of his interest being part of the diplomatic delegation vastly complicated things. Of course, he’d love taking revenge on the people who killed so many of his family, both distant and close. So which would it be, lust or hate? He decided to let her choose her fate. “Might I ask for an introduction?” “Of course! How remiss of me. I should have considered that your interests might align with theirs. Your contacts would be invaluable. Perhaps we could arrange for my company to factor goods you bring to Luminar, for shipment to Crakor. That would satisfy their reluctance to deal with corrupt heathens—I beg your pardon, that’s their view, not mine—while we all profit. Come along. No time like the present.” Gavor trailed in the man’s wake. The calculations running through Potre’s busy brain were almost audible. He himself hadn’t recognized the business opportunity, which was disturbingly unlike him. His contacts on Round Three, a fully mechanized agricultural world, would be interested. Becoming involved in trade with their ancient home world would likely open doors for whatever his people’s council decided to do. “Ah, Robert, may I interrupt?” The men clustered around the Crakorian delegation melted away, reminding Gavor of his host’s elevated position. “I would like to present to you another of our guests, Gavor Truman of Orsind. He is a diplomatic envoy with extensive trade contacts beyond this system. With your permission, I would like to include him in our business discussions. Gavor, this is Robert Montgomery of Crakor.” Robert’s handshake was firm and Gavor liked him instantly. He’d not felt such an affinity for anyone met so far on this planet. Well, except for perhaps the Crakorian’s daughter. He had to remind himself that this man was the enemy. Even though he could not be old enough to have taken part in the pogrom, he now led the government responsible for it. “Diplomat Truman, this is my secretary Trevor Buckingham and our assistant Mark Williams.” They shook hands ’round. Gavor arched his brow at the woman standing a few paces off. “And?” “My daughter Julia.” Robert’s tone was offhand and dismissive. Wide-eyed, Julia made no move to shake hands. Snared by her honey-colored gaze, Gavor caught himself before he extended his, just in time to avoid what was surely a social gaffe.
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Gods, he wanted to touch her, even if in such a limited way. The predator in him wanted to seize her bodily and carry her off. Unsettling, that response. He gave himself a mental shake to quell the urge, nodded curtly and was surprised to see her cheeks pinken as she hastily looked back down at the floor. Not used to masculine attention, then. Or else she’d seen the beast in his eyes. That prospect pleased him, for she didn’t appear afraid. With her shy response, she had chosen. He smiled inwardly. He was going to see that blush spread across her breasts, darkening her nipples as he tweaked them into hard buds. She had beautiful breasts, lush and full beneath the shapeless top. With her vibrant coloring, he’d bet her nipples were dark, almost brown. His cock lurched again and he shifted his stance to accommodate its fullness. Every breath brought her scent to him, redolent of sexual promise. He could taste her on the air, musky and rich. Unusually strong, her flavor lingered in his mouth. Something had heightened his senses and he suspected whatever he’d been drinking. Making a mental note both to watch for other symptoms and to check into the ingredients, he turned back to the target of his lust. The assistant moved slightly, blocking Julia from him. Gavor sighed with regret. Too bad she was so well guarded. The idea of stealing her away from her father held great appeal. If only she were not part of a diplomatic delegation. Liking the man made him wish for a legal satisfaction of his lust but not enough to offer her marriage. Not on his life. Such a sheltered female would merely endure his preferred sexual practices and he wasn’t about to tie himself to a bland, unadventurous wife. If he wanted an arrangement like that, there were willing women far better connected in the Empress’ entourage. A lukewarm wife would have to come with many, many financial benefits to make up for having to seek adequate sex outside his home. He set his drink on a passing server’s tray and turned his attention to the discussion of shipping grains and vegetables. Above all, he had to keep his head about him. The council would want to exploit this opportunity to get a toehold on their former home world. Many suspected that some of their people lingered in hiding on Crakor and should be liberated. Surely the universe had brought him to this place and time for the betterment of his people and not for a mate. His beast howled and snarled its disagreement. He silenced it with a promise to see what he could do. He suspected he would be wasting his time— the luscious fruit Julia was not meant for him.
***** The trade talks continued through the night, late enough for Gavor to send his personal driver and shuttle back to the port. The Crakorians were clearly uncomfortable and wished to return home. Shunning additional alcoholic beverages had both kept his head clear and made him more acceptable to Robert and his entourage. They agreed to Potre’s terms specifying Gavor as the sole conduit for goods coming in to Luminar for
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shipment on to Crakor. This not only made him wealthier than he had been the day before but also put him in a position to work for his people. All in all, a good night’s work. Gavor yawned as he piloted his rented ground car through a street just off the main marketplace. The capital city gleamed in the early morning light. A few vendors were just opening their businesses for the day. Most shoppers were still abed. This block hadn’t been cleaned by trashbots yet and he steered around a waste receptacle in his lane. Motion caught his eye and he looked up in time to see a mob burst out of an alley. A flick of the emergency stop brought the vehicle safely to a halt short of the swarm. He sat and stared. A heavily garbed figure led them. No, the crowd was in pursuit, he realized when their prey stumbled and was quickly brought down by grasping, grabbing children. He’d heard vague talk of unrest among the poor but nothing to indicate the extent of this crowd’s hunger for—was it clothing they were taking? An urchin of indeterminate gender ran by, victoriously waving a piece of dark cloth. A sleeve, if Gavor wasn’t mistaken. He found the emergency siren and pulled the lever, filling the street with a cacophony that dispersed the crowd. Left behind, a pale form lay in the gutter. He drew a weapon and slid smoothly from the driver’s seat. That figure was disturbingly familiar. The burnished hair and the long, white legs left no doubt, even before he glimpsed the distinctive features. Julia lay on the roadway, her eyes closed. A bruise showed on her jaw and she’d have at least one black eye by nightfall. Her modest underclothing was all that remained of her heavy, concealing garments. Where was her father and where were his guards? The street had emptied completely at the sound of the horn, even the shopkeepers seeking shelter from the authority figures undoubtedly headed their way. Gavor was confident no one here knew her identity but surely someone had reported the attack. If not, each corner building bore the usual surveillance devices and an alert was certainly sounding in some security office. He gathered her into his arms, sparing a thought that of the many things he wanted do offer her, safe transport back to her father was not one. She stirred, whimpering a protest. Belatedly, he realized that they might have done more than tear off her clothing. “Are you hurt?” “No, I don’t think so,” she murmured and opened her eyes. Gavor fell into the warm depths of her soul. He moved his head a scant hand span, lowering his mouth until his lips brushed hers. Soft lips moved beneath his. She tasted of a foreign fruit, sweet and pure.
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He breathed in her little gasp of surprise and echoed it with one of his own. He felt a wrenching sensation somewhere in the vicinity of his heart as the world shifted and spun. She was his. She was his destiny, his future, his perfect mate. She couldn’t be. She was the repressed daughter of a diplomat from the planet that had slaughtered his people. His beast didn’t care. For the first time, the snarl quieted to a low rumble as he reveled in the feel of her soft curves. Mine, the rumble promised. Julia looked up at him with starry eyes. There was no denying fate—or the protective instincts that welled up inside him to overtake common sense. He would keep her. Somehow, she would become his wife. The sooner, the better. His cock, denied its pleasure the previous evening, roared to life and roused the beast. He must possess her, come what may. She squirmed in his arms, trying to hide her exposed skin with her hands. He took off his long jacket and wrapped her in it. And tried to ignore the length of shapely leg it revealed. Somehow, hiding her most interesting features accentuated them. “What happened?” “I don’t know. I was looking in a shop window before a child began tearing at my analee.” At his blank look, she added, “That is the long robe Crakorian women wear on the street for modesty. When I realized he had a knife, I ran. Everything after is a blur.” “Who accompanied you to the market so early?” She hung her head. “I was alone. I wanted to explore but Father never lets me go anywhere. He was still sleeping when I called the desk and asked for someone to show me the shops and the sights. The hotel maid assured me she would stay with me but her employer called her on another errand and she had to go.” Leaving a sheltered young woman ignorant of the world alone in a neighborhood that held all sorts of dangers, even for someone with street smarts. She winced at his growl of protest. He hastened to reassure her. “Julia, I am not angry at you. Never think that. I am furious that she abandoned you.” “Thank you. For rescuing me, and for being kind.” They had stolen her shoes. He carried her over the rough street to his ground car as his thoughts tumbled through a maze of possibilities. Not the least of these was that fate had just handed him a wedge to open the door to Crakor. Perhaps there was a way that he could serve his clan’s council and his lust. With that direction of his thoughts his beast subsided, letting him think while he watched Julia’s profile. Her rich, distracting scent filled the interior of the car. Her father was a diplomat but one unlikely to be knowledgeable of other customs and mores, coming as he did from an isolated planet. Gavor mulled over what he had learned from his short discussion about current religious practices on Crakor.
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Before he put the vehicle in gear, he made a few contacts on his comm. By the time he reached her hotel, he had his arguments all laid out. He would have her and no one—not her father and not the Crakor government or the church that ran it—would stop him.
***** “I am afraid you have no choice.” Gavor kept his voice flat and firm. “As I understand, if you do not give me your daughter in marriage, she is ruined and your social status along with her.” “Your notice of her last evening was unseemly. How do I know that you are not the architect of her downfall?” Robert’s fury belied his casual dismissal of his daughter the night before. The man did love her, Gavor was pleased to note, but his apparent belief that Julia had no intelligence was inconceivable. He worked to keep his voice calm and level. “You could ask her, instead of talking about her as though she isn’t sitting right there in front of you.” Robert frowned. “Her testimony is worthless. She is ruined regardless of what befalls her now.” Anger surged up in Gavor. How could the man love his daughter—as he clearly did—yet cast her aside because of the acts of others? That attitude went against every legal precedent Gavor knew. He kept his anger from his voice, a tough job when he wanted to rip the man apart with his bare hands. The urge to kill shook him, for he was not a violent man. A lover, not a fighter, his mother had called him from his youth. But vociferous defense of his mate was the fate of a bonded male and he took the challenge in stride. Dealing with ignorant fools was no reason to lose his temper. “There is surveillance in that area. I’m sure the security personnel can confirm just what occurred,” the hotel manager put in. Gavor made a mental note to tip the man handsomely for saying the perfect thing at the perfect time. He hadn’t wanted to bring that up himself. At the mention of surveillance, the Crakorian diplomats blanched. Through tight lips, Robert asked, “They have a recording of my daughter’s disgrace? That cannot be tolerated.” He turned to the leading representative of Luminar. “You must retrieve every copy of those images and destroy them.” Gavor played his trump card. “The data crystals are in my possession. If you give our marriage your blessing, I will destroy them myself. You will return home secure in the knowledge that your daughter has joined a wealthy household that provides many beneficial contacts for you and your planet.” The Luminar representative added, “Diplomat Truman is an influential man in many systems. Were I in your shoes, I would be delighted with his offer. Let me point
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out that the people of our planet would look most favorably on one who sees he weds his, er, chosen bride.” Gavor could not hide his triumph as Robert finally relented. “May I have a moment to speak with Julia alone?” Her father bristled. “Of course not! No Crakorian woman of good birth is permitted to be alone with any man other than her husband.” Gavor could have pointed out that not only did her father consider her ruined, she had already spent time with him alone in his vehicle but held his tongue for the sake of expediency. Insulting these men would not get him what he wanted, which was Julia firmly seated on his cock as soon as possible. He forced a cordial tone. “Then please remove yourselves to the end of this room so I may speak with her in confidence. I will behave with decorum and honor.” Although the Crakorians grumbled, they all moved to cluster around the windows, leaving Gavor to approach Julia. She kept her eyes downcast. “Julia, I want to be certain that this is acceptable to you.” She answered without raising her head. “I will do what my father wishes.” He wondered briefly about the protocol of killing her father for turning her into a mindless creature with no will of her own. That would suit no purpose other than pandering to his whim and he would do better to keep his main goal in sight. If all went as he planned, after he left Luminar with Julia he need never see the man again. After a calming breath, he explained, “This is not about your father. This is about us, you and me. I mean to spend the rest of my life with you and I will not wed an unwilling woman.” Her gaze lifted and the hope in them took him by surprise. “Truly?” “Yes. In most of the worlds, women have different rights and privileges. As my wife, you will be free to do whatever you wish. You may shop safely. You may walk beside any man.” “You have been very kind to me. The life you describe is better than I will ever find on Crakor now that I am disgraced.” Ouch. Not what any man’s ego wanted to hear but not a bad start, either. He’d take it. “Will you marry me, Julia?” He risked lifting her hand in his. She didn’t resist and he began to stroke the pulse in her wrist lightly with one finger. Her heartbeat leapt and fluttered under her skin. Her scent became charged with the tang of beginning virginal arousal and he knew this was right for both of them. Gods willing, she would eventually be receptive to his demands. Had the bonding of his people ever lied? He didn’t think so. “Yes, I will.” His heart stuttered and fell into a faster rhythm. The deed was as good as done and yet he had the sense that nothing was finished, it all was just beginning.
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“The garments you require will be obtained. Describe what you need for the ceremony to the cloth vendor. I will take care of the rest. Your present Crakorian clothing is not suitable for a woman of your beauty or your stature as my wife. Do not worry about expense. You are now mine.” He turned her wrist to press a kiss against the soft skin there. Again her heart raced. She smelled of some exotic fruit, one he longed to taste. “Be sure to pack your skin lotion, I like the way it smells on you.” Her eyes had gone starry again. Beneath that prim and drab exterior beat the heart of a passionate woman. He turned away, thinking that if he played his cards right, the hand fate had dealt him in the form of his bond-mate might well result in incalculable— albeit intangible—profits for them both. Robert eyed his approach with some misgiving, glancing back once at Julia. Gavor hoped she had dropped her gaze to the carpet again. He wanted capitulation from the Crakorians, not further argument. Gavor forestalled any comment. “In deference to her upbringing, I consent to a Crakorian ritual of marriage. I cannot wait for a priest to arrive from Crakor, so I hope a local counterpart can be found who will adjust his ceremony to suit you, Robert.” At least that rite didn’t involve anything unusual, beyond having the bride swathed to the point of being unrecognizable. “The ceremony will take place in the morning. My ship departs in the evening. That gives all of us time to satisfy whatever social events are required. I assume, Potre, that your wife will agree to hold the celebration at your residence? The reception room is stunning although we may rattle around in so much space. If she would take care of the guest list, I’d be grateful. I authorize her to spend what she needs for catering and such.” Robert grimaced, as if remembering something he shouldn’t have forgotten. “I would appreciate it if she could also stand in for my wife, who unfortunately is not here to lecture Julia on her wifely duties.” Gavor had an idea of what that lecture would cover and disagreed fundamentally with the content, but he could not raise alarm in his future father-in-law. Picture Julia on your cock, the beast snarled. That’s the goal. He strove to appear relieved. “That will be fine.” It certainly wasn’t but he could hardly object. He’d have to count on reeducating the poor thing with patience. Years of Crakorian propaganda would surely take more than a day or so to unravel. Some of that depended upon the effects of the bond on his mate. Not being a full blood, he wasn’t certain how much influence it would have on her acceptance of him and his ways. He ushered the diplomats and businessmen from the room. Left with the hotel manager and a maid who had been provided for Julia’s modesty—a bit late for that, but one couldn’t quibble with face-saving efforts—he finally returned to his fiancée. Time to flex his influential muscle. “You must have a suitable gown. I have no idea what your society considers proper for a wedding. Sir,” this to the hotel manager, “I will provide whatever funds you need.
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Have your concierge summon the appropriate vendors. After they have met with Julia, I will review the designs before they leave.” And make sure they showcase my beauty’s assets, or can easily be modified to do so. Easy access is a requirement of a husband, not the Crakorian priests. “My wishes are of no matter,” Julia murmured. He leaned over her where she sat, still paying attention to the carpet. Grasping her chin, he raised it so she met his eyes. In a low voice he reminded her, “Do not ever think that. We are starting a new life together and in this new life we are partners. Partners, as in equals. I want you to tell me what you want, what you think and what you don’t know. I’ll make sure you are informed of anything you desire.” “Anything at all?” The words came out on a soft breath. From her expression, he couldn’t tell what prompted the question but suspected disbelief. How badly had these men oppressed her? And how long would it take him to overcome their training? “Anything,” he promised, and sealed it with a brief kiss. That was a mistake. Her soft lips opened beneath his, tempting his tongue to plumb her depths. Lust immediately filled his brain, wiping out whatever else he had been going to say. To his beast’s snarling disappointment, he wasn’t so far gone as to forget their audience. Tomorrow afternoon couldn’t come quickly enough.
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Chapter Two Julia trembled as her new husband slipped the heavy ring onto her hand. The priest droned on and she covertly admired the physical evidence of Gavor’s pledge. It was gorgeous, the most beautiful piece of jewelry she’d ever worn, but what it represented frightened her almost out of her wits. A week ago, she’d been confined to her home, subject to strict rules governing her behavior. Today, she was a woman on a foreign planet, about to depart for yet another strange place, married to a man she didn’t know. Gavor was handsome, yes, with his broad shoulders and ready smile, but he was a stranger nonetheless. She suspected she more than liked him. He had shown her nothing but kindness. His attention to her at the ambassador’s reception was daring, flouting Crakor law as it did. Flattering to one who had been reared away from men, it led her to spin a fantasy around him in the hours before she fell asleep that night. A fantasy that he would fall in love with her, seek her out and show her the universe beyond Crakor. She had heard the admonition be careful what you wish for. It seemed she’d gotten exactly what she’d wished for but the prospect of living with a real, live man from beyond Crakor was daunting. Scary enough without the feral aspect she sensed in her new husband. Gavor Truman was her savior, from the horrible assault in the street and from her father’s censure. How could anyone think she could be responsible for a mob’s attack? She gingerly touched her face. Heavy makeup concealed the injury to her eye. Paint covered the bruises on her cheek and where a little of her neck showed above the high collar of the traditional Crakorian bridal gown. With her acceptance of his ornate ring, Gavor Truman was her husband. According to the lecture she’d received on wifely duties, he now had free access to her body and her affairs. She supposed her affairs were simple enough. She didn’t even know what her father had gifted him with as her dowry or if he had paid a bride price. There had been no need for her to sign or even see the paperwork making their marriage official. Her body was another matter. He’d already affected her in strange ways. When he first looked past her father to smile at her and almost offered his hand, she had felt something tighten in her belly. That was strange and yet it felt good. Almost as good as the ache that filled her chest when he kissed her. Even the quick kiss in the hotel office had left her wanting more.
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Her husband parted the veil and gave her a victorious smile. She drank in the sight of him. His tanned skin—quite the darkest she’d ever seen—contrasted with the white of his teeth and the amazing green of his eyes. The planes of his face were well defined, with sharp cheekbones that slanted above the slight hollows of his cheeks and a strong chin. The slash of his dark brows could draw into a fierce frown when he was angry. Right now, he was far from angry. He lost his smile. Leaning close, he whispered solemnly, “I vow to put your safety and happiness above my own. You are mine. Forever. We must observe the social niceties right now but once we are alone I will show you just what I mean.” As he straightened and set her veil back to cover her completely, his knuckle brushed her left nipple through the heavy cloth. She gasped at the sensations that invaded her, radiating out from the brief pressure. Oh dear heaven, was that an accident? Cutting a glance up, she thought a sly smile quirked his lips. No, he knew precisely what he was doing. He must know what she was feeling. Blessed Vessel, this was nothing anyone had explained to her! How could she feel pleasure from his touch? Her mother had never had the time to enlighten her about her wifely duties and the poor woman who tried to give her advice last night had been less than helpful. She’d stammered and cleared her throat more than she’d spoken, and what words she managed were filled with so many euphemisms Julia couldn’t make sense of them. Gavor pulled her chair out and helped maneuver her voluminous skirts into place before she sat at the main table. Once seated, she discovered that the stiffly embroidered bodice of her gown was a tool he used freely. While settling her into her seat, he repeatedly brushed his hands against it, either the edge at her waist or the back of the armhole. Each time he did so it would caress her nipples, sparking delicious fire in both breasts. His intent must be to drive her insane. The featherlight touches zinged through her, making her gasp and lean toward him. Not away, where any sane person would expect to find relief, no, she had to seek out more of the sweet torture. Further evidence of his intent. Apparently indifferent to her reaction, he leaned across to pass a sauce to her father, who sat on her other side. His elbow pressed into her breast through the heavy fabric— and stayed. The pressure remained steady, causing each breath she took to do his work for him. By the time he moved, her breath was coming in pants of pleasure. Something inside her tightened in anticipation, but in anticipation of what she had no idea. The outrageous man she’d married then surpassed everything he’d done so far. He actually found an opening at her waist and inserted one hand to caress her skin. And she’d thought that indirectly he caused uncomfortable heat. The direct touch of his fingers brushing over her skin, there where no one had ever touched her, made her
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shiver and break out in a heated sweat that dripped between her breasts and pooled between her legs. She held her breath waiting for his next move. She didn’t have to wait for long. Slowly, so slowly she had to breathe again, his hand dipped lower. He paused to splay his fingers across her belly, and she heard him as he leaned closer. “Mine.” The low claim, almost a growl, resonated in her bones. So possessive but not threatening. Of course she would bear him sons if it was the Great Vessel’s will. A smile curved her lips behind the veil. She had always longed to have children and now it looked like she would start a nursery sooner than any of her friends. Although fully mature at twenty-two, she was several years from an arranged marriage on Crakor. She stifled her gasp as Gavor maneuvered his hand even lower. His fingers slid beneath the waist of her undergarment, never stopping as he parted her curls. Oh dear heaven, what was he doing? From behind the secrecy of her veil, Julia dared to look at him. Her husband calmly continued his meal, surveying the crowd between bites. Amazing. He gave no hint that he was making free with her body in a way designed to send her into fits. The long tablecloth and the vast folds of her gown hid his movements from the wedding guests. Fear of her father’s reaction helped hold her in place, although if she were honest she was far more interested in discovering just where her new husband was leading her. After all, the ceremony had passed her out of her father’s household and into Gavor’s keeping. Worry over possible censure faded as a tide of breathless emotion surged over her in the wake of his heated touch. She bit the inside of her cheek as he dipped lower, delving between her lower lips, into what she was embarrassed to realize was a growing pool of moisture. May the Vessel help her, she spread her knees, letting him in. He gave a low grunt of approval and eased a finger onto a spot that made her jerk. Pleasure—no, ecstasy—flooded her belly. She whimpered as he circled the spot with his finger, light pressure alternating with firm. Sweet sons, she wanted more, more and without thought she shimmied her shoulders, sending the stiff fabric of her bodice rasping across her tender nipples. She couldn’t suppress a mewling sound as the sensations coalesced low in her belly. “You please me.” He withdrew his hand slowly so her clothing did not show the motion, leaving her on the brink of—what? She had no idea, she only knew she wanted it badly. Her arrogant and inventive husband merely retrieved his hand. She could have sworn he licked his finger but she had to have imagined that. Her insides shook with need. She didn’t trust her hand not to tremble and drop the goblet Gavor lifted for her. With steady fingers, he parted her veil and held the drink to her lips. His eyes were dark with some untamed emotion that almost frightened her. Her gaze dropped to his lips and the tiny smile there reassured her. Whatever held him in its grip, she needn’t fear it. Somehow she knew he would never hurt her.
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Her father would explode if he even suspected what had just happened. But why would he suspect? Such behavior was so foreign to him that she was certain it would never occur to him that his new son-in-law, the well-connected and popular former diplomat, would dare—or even desire—to touch a woman so intimately in public. Through the veil, she looked out over the assembled guests and froze. Where on earth had all of these people come from? More than she’d seen in one place, twice as many as there had been at the reception two nights before. Gavor broke into her musing with a whisper. “This is the social event of the year, I believe. Maria is so beside herself at the turnout, she wormed the funds out of Potre to pay for it all.” He nodded at the tables filling the room. “Behold, his wedding gift to us.” At home, no, she had to stop thinking of it that way. On Crakor, gifts were given only to the husband. “Us?” “Us,” he confirmed. “Relax, you are no longer subject to the strict Crakorian laws. The rest of the universe is very different. Educating you will be a pleasant task for me. From what I just learned about you, some things will be fun for us both.” “Are there limits on what I may read?” More than anything else, she longed to learn of foreign peoples and places. “You may read anything you wish. I have a collection of special picture books from across the galaxy that I look forward to sharing with you. There are many inspiring illustrations.” The low timbre of his voice was like a caress. The heat left by his touch flared again in her belly and breasts. “Some of the cultural practices are special enough for us to act out. To fully understand them—and each other.” He reached up and removed the comb securing the bridal headdress. “I think you’ll be more comfortable without this weight and I want to see you, not all those folds of lace.” Her father’s angry voice came between them. “What are you doing? You cannot expose my daughter that way!” Julia made a move to retain the veil but Gavor grabbed her hand and held it. “I am seeing to the comfort of my wife,” he replied evenly with a slight smile. “She is under my care now, not yours. Trust me to know what is best for her.” At his words her father backed down, emitting an uneasy huff but turning his attention to the government official on his other side. Gavor lifted the veil aside and smiled. “There, is it not better to see clearly what is going on around you?” She smiled in return. “Thank you.” She lowered her voice. “And thank you for handling my father so well.” “Like all Crakorian men, I suspect he’s an insecure bully. That’s why he wants to keep you under his thumb.” “And you don’t?”
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“Oh, I’d like to keep you under various body parts, thumbs included, but not because I fear you.” He reached out and stretched his arm across the back of her chair. Bending his elbow, he trailed a finger up her neck to her ear. She shivered as more delicious sensations spread through her. “Like that?” “Mmmm.” “I hope so. You’re going to love how I touch you later.” Swirling his finger around the outer folds of her ear, he leaned closer to whisper, “This is just the beginning, my sweet wife. Your father would have apoplexy at what I’m going to do once we’re alone but I hope you’ll just want me to do it again.” He reached across her for a plate of bread and used the screen of his arm to scratch her nipple with his other fingernail. She felt it tighten and pearl under the stiff bodice. Agonizing need rose again to engulf her in wanting. He gave no indication of what he’d done, merely retrieving the plate and turning to present it to his other dining companion. As the luncheon progressed, she grew to anticipate his attentions. With each touch, the fire of anticipation flared higher.
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Chapter Three She was fairly squirming in her seat by the time she thought to suggest she retire for a few moments, allowing them to believe she sought a toilet. Her thighs dripped with moisture as she made her way from the hall. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks with heat. How had that happened, anyway? She didn’t really need a toilet. Nerves had prevented her from drinking more than a sip here and there. Compounding her embarrassment, Gavor caught up with her at the foot of the stairs. Going up was an agony, for the wetness only increased as she mounted each riser. So too did the tingle where Gavor held her arm. Apparently ignorant of her distress, he lightly rubbed the inside of her wrist. He kept her a single step in front of him to lead her, in contrast to her father, who took the lead and maintained several steps between them to assert his superiority. Gavor’s wrist frequently bumped against the heavy bodice, shifting it against her sensitive nipples. Each rasp of the brocade sent lightning shooting straight to her womb. By the time they reached the upper hallway, her breath came in great gasps and she could no longer restrain repeated whimpers. By the time they reached her chamber, she could no longer maintain the appearance that nothing was wrong. She tore ahead of him, heedless of social requirements, and when he closed the door behind them, burst into tears. She wailed, “What is wrong with me?” Quickly he crossed to her and gathered her into his arms. “What are you feeling?” “Hot and needy. Like I need to tear my clothes off.” He kissed her nose. “There is nothing wrong with you. What you feel is lust for your husband. Fortunately for you, he knows just how to deal with it. Let us start with the clothes-tearing part. I’ll help.” Faster than she thought possible—surely such a huge garment would have more than four hooks holding it together—he removed her heavy bodice and skirt, leaving the sheer gown beneath. For a heartbeat, he stared at her breasts, rising and falling with her rapid breaths, before ducking his head and taking a nipple into his mouth. Right through the gauze. She’d thought the tingling and heat were strong before but the suckling of his mouth brought an entirely new meaning to the words. Overwhelming sensations washed through her in a wave of molten desire. Her breath came out on a moan and her back arched, thrusting her breast into him.
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One soft nip of his teeth and she was writhing against him, seeking an end to the sweet torture. “More!” There had to be more to this, for she was going to die from the lack of it. He raised his head. “Demanding wanton, aren’t you?” She froze at the words—a Crakorian woman would never demand anything and being labeled wanton was tantamount to a death sentence—but he smiled and her fear evaporated. She grabbed his head with both hands and pulled him to her other breast, anxious for a repeat of the luscious sensations. He obliged her for a time, far too short a time from her way of thinking, and set her on her feet. With a twist of the neck fastening, he shrugged out of his indabee, the most formal outfit of Crakorian men. It fell to pool at his feet, leaving him naked and she stared, openmouthed. His manhood, which she dimly recalled hearing about from her nurse at her first menses, stood erect, rising from a nest of dark hair. The thick shaft was darker than his skin, laced with heavy veins and topped by a large ruddy head. “See how much I want you?” His husky voice caressed her taut nerves. He sounded as affected as she was. The rest of that long-ago lecture flooded into recall, clarifying the sketchy words her hostess had spouted the night before. A different kind of fear rose and she swallowed. “You will put that inside me?” “Oh yes, and we will both enjoy it. You will stretch to accommodate me. That is what you’ve been feeling all day and why you’re wet, as your body readies for your first lover. For your husband. For me.” The wetness and the tingles made sense, along with his subtle—and not-so-subtle— attentions to her most intimate places. “You’ve been causing it, haven’t you?” “My clever wife.” His eyes danced and he reached for her. “I suspected there was more to you than beauty. Crakorian men have no idea what they’re missing when they ignore their women.” Drawing her close, he ripped her inner gown off over her head. Before she could lower her arms, he’d trapped her hands in one of his. Pressing against her, he backed her up until the bed stopped her. He forced her backward, following until he lay atop her. She shivered at the foreign sensation of skin on skin, the hair on his chest against her breasts and the hard length of his manhood pressing into her. “I would like more time to ready you, to show you the ultimate pleasure before the momentary pain but I can’t wait any longer. Feel how you arouse me?” His manhood jumped, nudging her belly. She felt an answering ache in her womb. Having her arms stretched out pushed her breasts forward. He reared back, pressing a quick kiss to each taut tip before peeling himself from her. The last contact with her upper body was her nipples and he purposefully rubbed his chest hairs against her as he rose.
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The shimmy of delight that swept across her skin in response made him grin. “I will be as gentle as I can.” “No!” That was not what she wanted, may the Great Vessel help her. The need driving her to arch up, seeking to restore the delicious skin on skin sensation, called for his total possession of her, not a slow wooing. He stilled and lost his grin. “No, you do not want this at all or no, I should not bother being gentle?” “Don’t bother with gentle. Take me, Gavor. Make me yours.” What prompted those words, she couldn’t say. She wanted him all and she wanted him now. A strange expression passed over his face, almost wonder, and was gone, replaced by raw hunger. The intensity in his eyes made her shiver. “As you wish.” In one smooth motion, he released her hands and reached back to sweep his arms beneath her legs. Pulling up and forward, he hooked his elbows behind her knees, leaving her spread wide. With a backward jerk of his hips, his manhood slipped down between them. He paused, poised above her, penis nudging her entrance, eyes closed, and inhaled deeply. “Ah, you are perfect. Ripe and ready, just for me. Mine.” His eyes opened and his intense green gaze bored into her. “Mine forever. Mine.” With the last word, he thrust fast, deep and hard. She cried out at the intrusion, the momentary tearing and then the stretching fullness of his complete possession. Something wild and unfamiliar within her rejoiced. Somehow she knew, deep in her heart of hearts, that he would forever be a part of her. “Gods, you feel incredible. Perfect.” Eyes never leaving hers, he began to move, sliding in and out. “Your pussy fits my cock like a custom sheath.” She struggled to keep track of his words when she wanted nothing more than to squeeze her eyes closed and revel in the feel of him. “Your cock?” “Yes, my cock. It’s what many call a penis. The phrase has been adopted in many tongues and even in species where the male’s sexual organ is a completely different shape. There are other terms but I prefer cock over the rest.” He thrust into her harder and the head of his cock nudged her womb. She felt it in her spine, a pressure that promised more to come. Please let it be soon or I will die. “And mine is a pussy? But that is a cat.” “So it is. But like a tortant, which is a sour fruit as well as a vestlike garment on Gabrelle. Words are like that. They just mean what they mean and often something else as well. Now hush.” His breath came in gusts, washing over her in a wave of heat and his scent. “Just feel how good we are together.” One more thrust, then another. She reached with her legs, clasping her feet together behind his back, urging him deeper.
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“Put your hands on your breasts. Offer them to me and I want you to massage your nipples. Imagine your fingers are mine.” He nodded his encouragement. “That’s it. Now pinch a little. Doesn’t it feel nice?” “Nice doesn’t begin to cover it. It feels, ah, it feels like heaven.” The lightning was back, shooting from her nipples to her womb, rising to where Gavor’s manhood—no, he’d told her it was his cock—glided in and out of her pussy. She smiled at the words. She could say things she liked, without fear of censure. She grinned at the heady freedom Gavor had given her. He let go of her knees, freeing his hands to roam over her body. He slipped one finger into her, alongside his cock, pulling her pussy open wider. She felt his hand push between her cheeks and that finger, wet and slick with her juices, massaged her bottom. “One day soon, when you’re ready, I’ll fuck you here.” “Fuck?” He laughed delightedly. “Yes, but never use that word in front of your father. He would try to kill us both.” “But what is fuck?” “Fucking is what we’re doing now. It’s the most glorious thing ever. Done properly, of course. Done the way your people do it, it’s not nice at all. Both partners need to be willing and ready. Then it’s beautiful.” “And you’ll fuck me in my bottom?” “In your ass, luscious Julia. In your sweet, tight ass.” His finger gained entrance. Something there loosened and he pushed in, past his knuckle, all the way to the palm of his hand. He moved inside her ass and the coiling heat exploded into a conflagration. Shudders convulsed her, fire heating her skin and lacing her spine. The spasms tightened her around both his cock in her pussy and his finger in her ass. She fought to keep her pussy loose—what if she damaged him?—and that made the sensations more intense. His bright green gaze still held her in thrall and now pinned her fast. “Pinch your nipples. Now!” Impossible! The fire rose higher, sending her mind soaring. Her vision filled with sparkles and her back arched. “Gavor!” His name came out on a high-pitched wail. He jerked above her, his emerald eyes holding hers as he bellowed, “Forever mine!” A short time later, he rolled off her and gathered her close for a slow, gentle kiss. It was the first time he’d kissed her since the ceremony and he took his time, tasting her. She was a quick study, returning his forays between her lips with gentle sweeps of her tongue into his mouth. He pulled away to watch the lashes fan her cheeks as she dropped her gaze. “You have drained me. I may not walk for an hour.”
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“If you can’t walk, can we still fuck again?” His cock jumped, prodding her hip. She laughed. “I see just how decrepit you are.” “You rejuvenate me.” She had no idea how true that was. “I like fucking. Is it something with limitations? Like once a day?” He rolled over, pulling her atop him. She immediately straddled him, rubbing her soft pussy against his swiftly hardening cock. “Oh, Julia, I was right. You are perfect for me.” She guided one ample breast to his mouth. He obligingly took her in, delighting in the sweet salt of her sweat. She threw back her head and moaned his name. Her soft breasts overflowed his hands. He’d always loved large breasts. How kind of fate to provide him with a well-endowed bond-mate. Hers were as he’d hoped, each tipped with a large areola surrounding a dark nipple. Wet with his saliva, those beaded nipples called to him again. “My sweet, tell me you might want to have another join us, man or woman, and I’ll think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” At her gasp, he thought he might have pushed her too far, carried away by his delight in her enthusiasm. He silently cursed his impatience. Her movements stilled but she stayed astride him, his throbbing cock held fast between her pussy lips. “You mean there are men or women who would fuck us both?” His heart stuttered. She didn’t shrink from the idea. She looked like she might be seriously considering it. Even if she decided against it, he was grateful and humbled by her open mind. The bonding must be overriding her Crakorian training. Gule’s fleck, he was a lucky man. “I’ve shared women before. With friends. Even a few strangers. And you’ve got to experience oral sex soon. Maybe after our guests—” “Our guests!” She pushed off him. The sway of her breasts drew his eye. When he would have pulled her back, she batted his hands away. “They must still be downstairs, waiting for the traditional toast before we can leave.” “Sorry to remind you, but we’ve left already.” Her eyes danced. “I think we almost put the marriage before the betrothal.” “We certainly put the consummation before the toast.” He dragged her from the bed. She began rummaging in their cast-aside clothing. “We should return, to let them wish us a prosperous future and many sons.” The wedding gown had not fared well. The stiff bodice was creased where one or maybe both of them had stepped on it. “And we should thank them for the gifts.” “How did you know about those?” He took the bunched cloth from her, set it aside and guided her to a pile of packages. If they all proved to be from the clothing vendor, all of the requested garments had been delivered and his credits spent wisely.
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“Our hostess’ secretary has been compiling a list. She showed it to me this morning. I believe we now are the proud owners of more café and moralle than we can consume in our lifetime.” He made a mental note to let her know that now, her lifetime was going to be considerably longer than it would have been had she not mated with him. No time for detailed explanations now. She had retrieved and was already tidying up their clothes. Again, he guided her away from that task. “Wear the traveling suit the seamstress delivered while we were at the ceremony. I can’t wait to see you in it.” He bent close to whisper in her ear. “I had her add a few strategic openings for easy access. We can have a quick fuck in the shuttle on the way to the port.” Eyes shining, she tore open the package bearing the shop’s logo. His heart warmed to see her beaming her clear appreciation of the bright colors and fine fabrics. “They are wonderful! Beautiful!” “Not as beautiful as you.” She held a striking magenta dress to her chest and stood before to the mirror. He loved the view her rounded ass presented almost as much as he loved her long legs. She’d actually wrapped them around his hips and pulled him closer, on her first foray into the world of sexual bliss. Too bad they’d have to cover all that up for a few hours. She came to throw her arms around his neck. A hot tear fell on his shoulder. “Thank you. Thank you so much, for everything.” Gavor smiled over her shoulder. So the warmth suffusing his being was the beginnings of love. “You are my wife. You deserve the best that credits can purchase. And I know your father didn’t bother telling you but I have credits aplenty. You will want for nothing and that dress is fine but it’s not the traveling suit.” She pulled away to paw through the garments. “What makes something a traveling suit? None of these are what women wear on Crakor.” “Happily enough, we’re not going to Crakor. This one,” he reached out to tweak a short gown of soft green gamil, “is the one I meant. To preserve the peace, you ought to wear the white trousers beneath it.” “I think I’d better wear something over or under it on top too. Your idea of suitable covering is not what I’m used to.” “You will grow used to it soon enough. Unless you prefer to wear nothing when we’re at home. I know I would prefer that.” Her eyes grew large as she looked at him over the three pieces of clothing she clutched to her. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “Only if you wear nothing as well.” “That suits me perfectly.” He turned her around and gave her a gentle swat on the ass. “Now get those clothes on, before I throw you to the bed and fuck you again.” She made a face. “If I must dress, I will. Wait until we are alone again. I want to learn more about fucking.”
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“Not as much as I want to teach you.” Why had he feared the mating bond? She was indeed perfect for him. In every way, apparently. Her response to him was everything he might ask for. Her willingness to consider bringing sexual variety into their life together humbled him. His woman. His mate. His heart.
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Chapter Four His father-in-law. His wretched, ignorant father-in-law had brought a search party for them. Gavor threw open Julia’s chamber door to face an inquisition of Crakorian men. Headed by the priest of Justin City’s counterpart to the Church of the Holy Body, of course. Fortunately he’d already fastened his indabee. He wasn’t sure he could have contained his laughter if the Crakorian delegation had discovered him with his pants around his ankles. Of course, if they’d been much earlier, they might have discovered him buried balls-deep in his new wife. He’d pay many credits to see Robert’s reaction to that. “Julia is just now dressing. I had to guide her on what I wanted her to wear.” He caught the movement of Robert’s mouth and added pointedly, “To make sure she is suitably dressed. I provided a wardrobe for her that will not be out of place at my primary home, which you may recall is located on the Imperial residential world of Orsind. She is unfamiliar with the function and pairing of the various pieces.” Julia opened the door at that moment, interrupting the posse’s interrogation. She took his breath away. The colors he and the clothing vendor had selected suited her perfectly, bringing out the golden tones in her skin and throwing her eyes into prominence. “Good evening, Father.” Robert stood and gaped at his daughter. “You are beautiful.” Her cheeks dimpled in response. The light in her eyes warmed Gavor’s heart. He wasn’t certain what effect the bond between them would have on her this soon but his assurances of her appearance would never have convinced her so quickly. With her father’s involuntary compliment, she knew she was beautiful. “Thank you, Father.” Gavor made a mental note to send her mother similar garments. If nothing else, she could feel beautiful in her home. After an awkward moment, he took Julia by the hand. “I believe we have guests to return to?” The priest sniffed—could the man smell the delicious aroma of their recent fuck here in the hallway, as Gavor could?—and led the way. Gavor followed, rubbing the back of Julia’s hand with his thumb. Her fingers curled around his, much in the way her presence had encased his heart. Had he once dreaded the mate-bond? She was becoming such a part of him that he couldn’t conceive of not wanting her at his side. 149
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Julia slipped into her chair with much greater ease than she had while wearing her huge gown. Gavor enjoyed her pleasure in the free movement of her loose tunic and pants. Unfortunately, the change in her clothing meant he had to keep his hands to himself. The sheer fabric would show any attempts to reach beneath it and her pebbled nipples—much as he adored seeing the evidence of her response to him—would be as good as hanging a sign around her neck. No need to upset the crowd. He had slaked the beast’s initial lust. A leisurely fuck could wait a bit. From his wife’s complete and enthusiastic participation in her introduction to the joys of sex, he was certain she would continue to embrace his inclinations. If only she would come to embrace everything else he was, as well. The priest stood and raised his glass. “Let us now offer a blessing to this man and his chosen one. The world beyond this place is wide and contains many challenges. The Holy Body is prepared to help guide our steps. May the Vessel help Gavor to greet these people and events with courage and honor. May the Vessel help Julia to provide him with a hearth and home that is a haven from corrupting influences. May the Vessel help Julia to maintain proper modesty. May the Vessel help Gavor gift her with his protection.” Gavor counted. There were two things Julia had to do for every one of his. Typical of how she had been oppressed. He’d have to reinforce what he expected from her. And do it as soon and as often as possible. The priest continued his litany of what passed for blessings in his church. “May the Vessel help Julia be worthy of his respect. May the Vessel help Julia bear him strong sons to share his journey through life. May the Vessel help Gavor to prosper in his dealings and work tirelessly for the honor of his name.” “We serve the Vessel!” The men in the assembled crowd spoke as one, the women merely nodding. Everyone drank off their galla, which Gavor took to be the Luminarian version of champagne. The thick liquid seared Gavor’s throat. He managed to choke it down without coughing, his eyes watering heavily. “Sweet si—sons, that’s not what I expected.” Julia’s eyes twinkled as she peered at him over her glass. “Not everything we do is below your standards. Our distilleries are widely known for their expert ability to concoct fiery drinks.” Gavor sputtered and managed to swallow. Savoring the next sip, he decided there were any number of fine establishments that would be interested in acquiring a few cases of galla. Perhaps even the Imperial palace. Julia finished her glass with a huge swallow. Gavor stared at her as she daintily wiped her mouth. Cool and calm, as though she hadn’t just downed half a glass of what by his best guess was one-hundred-and-fifty-proof alcohol. She was full of surprises. He could hardly wait for the next one.
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What felt like a lifetime later, Julia accepted Gavor’s assistance in entering his luxurious ground car for the trip to the spaceport. He took advantage of the situation as she hoped he would, sliding his hand around her back to caress the outside of her breast while she bade her father goodbye. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten bored with me,” she teased as she slid onto the slick surface of the bench seat. The interior, surrounded by opaque windows, was dim, warm and welcoming. “I was beginning to think I’d never get my hands on you again.” He slid in after her and pushed a button on the console. The dampening field between the driver and their compartment cleared to transparency. “Take the slow route, Jimbo. We’ve got a lot to get done on the way.” The driver’s smile flashed white in his sun-bronzed face. “Yes, sir.” Julia stared at Jimbo. He met her eyes boldly as Gavor hit the button again. Before the field engaged, Jimbo sketched her a salute and winked. “Is everyone tanned on your home world?” “Yes.” Her husband reached for the hem of her tunic. “Now that we’re alone again, aren’t you going to pay attention to me?” “Of course.” He jerked the fabric up over her head, muffling her reply. Her short shirt worn beneath for modesty’s sake came with it, baring her breasts. He paused to lick her skin. Everywhere but where she wanted him to. As her face emerged, she grinned at him. “I think you’re overdressed. I want you naked.” How odd that she did. All her life she’d been taught that nudity was immoral and an offense against her father’s god. In the span of but two days all that had been turned on its head. She couldn’t summon feelings of horror or reluctance when he touched her intimately and had no idea why. She only knew that she needed this man to claim her, to possess her in every possible way. She wanted him to show her how to make him shiver and shudder with pleasure, the way he made her do so effortlessly. She wasn’t sure but she might even be falling in love with him. “You first.” “So I see.” Hooking her thumbs in her waistband, she shimmied the pants off. “There! Now it’s your turn.” “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His hungry gaze raked her body. With two touches, the front of his indabee fell open. Another touch and the waist parted to let his cock spring free. Her mouth fell open and he laughed. “The seamstress has no idea of the real reason why I wanted the garment modified. I told her it was for a theater role.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward to claim her lips in a deep kiss. She opened for him, dueling with his tongue when he entered her mouth.
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“I didn’t want to start a scandal. We might still be there, defending ourselves against their accusations.” How strange it was when they were both naked to have their mouths be the only part that touched. Despite that lack of stimulation, her breasts throbbed and her pussy dampened under the assault of his lips and tongue. A soft warm breeze played over her skin, almost as if he caressed her with his hands. She closed her eyes and imagined him stroking her. Her mind drifted back to his comment. “Accusations of what?” “Just what we’re doing. What we were doing while our guests ate and drank, oblivious to your introduction to married life—being well and truly fucked.” “Your corruption of me,” she said with a smile. “If they only could know how fabulous this is. I’ll never forget that first fuck, Gavor.” “Oh, there’s plenty more firsts for you. Oral sex, bondage, toys.” “Toys? I like the sound of that. Tell me about toys.” “Clamps.” He tweaked both her nipples and made her squeak at the sudden pain. “Vibrators.” He thrust two fingers into her pussy and shook his hand. She bore down, enjoying the stimulation. “Piercings.” He pinched that sensitive spot just above her pussy and she screeched in agony. “Butt plugs. This is easier if you relax.” He scooped some of her juices from her pussy and took his time, massaging as he wormed first one, then two and three fingers into her ass. She followed his instructions and worked to loosen her instinctive reaction. When he pressed deeper, she sighed at the feeling of fullness. “I’d say offhand that that’s a yes on the clamps, vibrator and butt plug and a no on the piercing.” “I’d say you’re right.” The pain between her labia didn’t disappear. “That hurt!” “That’s the whole idea. Some pain mixed in can heighten pleasure.” “No.” “Yes.” He flipped her across his bare thighs and smacked her ass. She jerked at the sting but it wasn’t nearly as painful as the pinch he’d given her—in a much more sensitive place. After gently rubbing the sting away, he smacked her again. And again. His slaps became a regular cadence, punctuated with soft strokes. Insidiously, a glow of pleasure emerged from the discomfort. Each smack burned a path right to her pussy. Growing impatient for more, she shifted on his lap and her pussy actually made a squelching sound. He set her on her knees before him, facing away, with one last caress of her burning ass cheeks. “See? I rest my case.” She looked over her shoulder. “God, Gavor, do something! You can’t leave me like this.” “I can, but I won’t.” He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her. “Spread your legs. Yes, that’s it. Perfect.” Hitching her up and back to straddle his thighs, he impaled her on his hard cock. He slid in easily, filling and stretching her.
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She welcomed him in with a sigh. “That’s grand. Perfect, as you say.” He placed her feet up on the seat and braced her hands on his knees. “Now you do the work. I have better things to do with my hands.” And so he proved, massaging her breasts, pinching her nipples and once in a while giving her another smack on the ass. She moved up and down, bringing his cock almost all the way out before subsiding back onto him, thrilling at the fullness of his possession. “Is this me having you or you having me?” His breath came in pants while he thought. “I have no idea. A little of both, I think.” “I wish I could see you.” His hands stilled. “You know, it can be very exciting to have others watch us. Let me know if you ever want to try that.” He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “Right now, we could clear the windows and let anyone who might be outside see us.” The angle of his cock shifted when he changed position and she gasped at the sudden stroke of pleasure as he filled her pussy. Heaven help her, she wanted everyone to witness the joy she found in their coupling. But Luminar wasn’t so far from Crakor in either distance or beliefs. “Or you could push that button and let Jimbo enjoy the way you glide up and down on my cock.” His seductive voice filled her head, overpowering what little hesitation she might have felt. She reached out and touched the button. As the dampening field cleared, several things happened in rapid succession. Gavor ordered, “Jimbo, park here.” Jimbo was already pulling over. As the vehicle drifted to a stop, he looked up into a mirror and met her eyes before his surprised gaze traveled down her naked body. He stopped when he reached the sight of Gavor’s cock spreading her pussy and licked his lips. His entire face glowed with appreciative hunger. Gavor spread his knees, leaving her wide open to view from the front seat. He growled, “I love you, Julia,” as he dropped his hand to press on her clit. In less than a second, Julia reached her climax fast and hard, watching Jimbo watch her fuck Gavor in the backseat of a luxury car. When she lost her control, he held her and pumped into her four, five, six times before he too came. She collapsed back against him, spread-eagled for Jimbo’s appreciation, uncaring that her husband’s cock was dripping her juices all over the carpeting. “Thank you. That was damn beautiful, ma’am. Damn beautiful,” Jimbo said fervently as he engaged the field again. The limo rocked into motion. Julia settled comfortably, cradled in Gavor’s tender embrace. The predator she felt beneath the surface was quiet. He was once more simply the kind man she liked. “I love you, sweet Julia. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I just hope…” “Hope what?”
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“We’ll see. Rest a moment, before we must dress.”
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Chapter Five Julia could not imagine any ship finer than the one Gavor owned. After the cramped quarters of the ancient yacht that had conveyed her from Crakor to Luminar, the wide corridors and spacious rooms of the Truman’s Pride were welcome luxuries. To her delight, the bath had hot and cold running water in addition to the usual sonic shower. After a tour of the amenities, she bounced up and down on the bunk. No, this was a real bed, with a wide mattress. There was plenty of space for her and Gavor, with room for another person or two. She thought of Jimbo and wondered if he’d come with them or if he was rented with the limousine. Was he one of those Gavor had mentioned, who would like to fuck both of them? “If you like, we can rename her Julia’s Home.” Gavor stood by the window, no, she had to remember to call it a porthole. Actually, now that she looked closer at it, it was a 3-D display of some planet’s landscape, with trees and flowers. There was a tension about him, something she recognized but couldn’t determine a reason for. “I could live here. But I like Truman’s Pride. That includes me now too, since I’m officially a Truman.” “About that.” He sat on the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come, we need to talk.” “Uh-oh. That always means something’s gone wrong.” She perched by him and tried to master her nervousness. He would never hurt her, she reminded herself firmly. “What did I do?” “Nothing wrong, trust me. I have a confession to make.” Oh no, was he dying? That was it. He’d married her for an heir, nothing more, and she’d gone and fallen in love with him. No matter what, she would not cry. “That sounds ominous.” Inside she railed at him, Just say it already! “Did you always talk this much? I’m surprised your father brought you with him to Luminar.” “He doesn’t know how much I talk. Father hardly ever saw me.” Determined not to push him, she kept her voice light. “But enough about me. What’s this great revelation?” He took her hand and held her eyes with his. She squirmed under his regard. If he was dying, she wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye while he told her. “I want you to know that if you reject me after hearing the truth, I won’t set you aside. You will still be my wife to the world but I will leave you alone. You will have the benefit of my name, my credits, my household and staff, with everything you need.
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If you want to live apart, that will be acceptable. It might be better, for I don’t know if I can face you every day, loving you as I do and knowing you can’t tolerate me.” Various possibilities raced through her brain. He had three other wives. He was an imposter. He was really a woman. No, she knew that wasn’t true. “Why would I reject you? I love you, Gavor. You are part of me now, one I can’t imagine ever being without.” “Hear me out.” He placed a finger over her lips to keep her silent. “I am not entirely human.” Silence stretched out between them. “And? That’s it?” Genetic experiments enhancing human senses and skills were anathema on Crakor but if the Church of the Holy Body was so wrong about sex, how many other inaccurate beliefs did it hold? The immediate destruction of all who disagreed had never sat well with Julia. Years of indoctrination didn’t even begin to counter all the benefits of freedom Gavor had shown her—and by his admission, he’d barely begun. “I am part shifter, although in me the blood is so diluted I cannot shift.” She sat rock-still, she was so surprised. Surprised but not shocked. So much now made sense. Tears stung her eyes as the ramifications hit her and anger overrode her good sense. She pulled away and paced the cabin, whirling to face him when she reached the far wall. “Sweet sons, Gavor—and I’m supposed to believe you love me? Is this all a sham? Did you marry me to punish me for what my people did to your people?” He stiffened in shock. He clearly hadn’t expected her to figure it out. That hurt as much as the possibility that she had given up a life of disgrace on Crakor for something even worse. He started to speak but she cut him off with a curt gesture. “I know about the massacres and why you have reason to hate me and everyone on Crakor.” “No, it’s not like that.” His face said otherwise. “Can you swear that you never thought to use me to punish my father?” “That I can,” he declared. “I did have thoughts of wedding you to gain a toehold on Crakor, to possibly—oh, why should I trust you?” “How about because I’m thoroughly disgraced and at your mercy?” She paced back to him and stopped. Her finger jabbed into his chest and he winced. There was a lot to be said for freedom. She’d never felt so powerful. Even suspecting he married her for less than honorable reasons and giving full rein to her fury, she knew he was not like Crakorian men. He would never hurt her. “You control me, body and soul. I can never go back home. No, I have no home—thanks to your political maneuvering.” He grabbed her hand and folded it in his. “Sweet Julia, marrying you was something I didn’t want to do. I had to. I had no choice in the matter, as it turned out. 156
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And no matter what my intentions at the beginning, I love you. You are a part of me. And for what it’s worth, I’m very happy about that.” She wanted to believe him but her future rested on this. Her happiness—imagine that, in this situation, she just might find happiness!—depended on this. When he would have kissed her hand, she resisted. “Then what were you going to say?” “That I thought I might use an alliance with your father as a means of seeing if there are still some of my people living in secrecy on Crakor.” She blinked. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice. That he might have ulterior motives that were altruistic had never occurred to her. Yes, she’d been blunt but she’d had to know. “That’s the truth? You weren’t seeking revenge?” He shook his head and smiled sadly. “No good ever comes of revenge. I’m a diplomat, remember? I’d much rather help my people escape if they want to than go to war. And lest I forget, turning a profit in the process is always good. The trade opportunities I learned about the night I met you will let me develop the contacts I need on Crakor. I didn’t need to marry you for that. Once we met, I couldn’t not marry you.” Julia let him kiss her hand. There was no question now that he was innocent of what she’d feared most. Her heart rejoiced and she reached up to touch his face. He pulled her close and simply held her. “I belong to Clan Pantera. Enough of the genes affect me that you will undergo some changes if you stay with me.” She considered that. “I’m your bond-mate, aren’t I?” That explained her easy acceptance of everything he’d shown her. Bond-mates were pretty much genetically programmed to be compatible. His jaw dropped. “How do you know anything about bond-mates?” Out of habit, she lowered her voice. “There was a fanatic teacher at my school who believed that our best defense against heathens and corruption was to know everything we can about them. She was executed for heresy but not before I spent a semester in her class. One of her favorite areas of research was near-humans, specifically shifters. I learned in detail what my father’s predecessors did and what my father is capable of. Two of my friends still have some of the outlawed textbooks. Hidden, of course.” “Of course,” he echoed. “Julia, does this mean you accept me?” She smiled at him, letting her heart show in her eyes. “Why, Gavor, I believe it does. I want to stay with you for however long we both may live.” She rubbed her ass and grimaced. “Provided it doesn’t involve any piercings. You were right about mixing a little pain with pleasure but I draw the line at blood.” “How about handcuffs?” That didn’t sound so appealing but she’d been wrong about the spanking. “Just what does that mean?” He leaned close to whisper, “I mean you tied up, hands strung over your head like this.” He raised her hands high, pulling her breasts up and forward. A flare of heat
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filled her. “Your ankles spread as far as possible, with a butt plug filling your ass and me pounding my cock into your pussy.” On second thought, it sounded wonderfully appealing. But she could make it a little better. She pushed her hips backward to press against his rigid cock. “How about a vibrator in my pussy and you pounding your cock into my ass?” He hissed in a shuddering breath. “Yes. And some day, if you’re feeling adventurous, we can invite the neighbors in to watch.” “Or participate. Although I liked Jimbo watching us, I might prefer him in my ass while you’re in my pussy.” “Or him in my ass while I’m in yours.” She shivered at the mental picture that drew. Anticipation flooded her pussy with wet heat. “How about if we work up to that? I’m not ready to share you just yet. I think you should tie me up right now and fuck me as hard as you can. In my pussy, please, although if you have a butt plug handy, I’d like to try that.” “What did I ever do to deserve you, Julia?” She turned in his arms and pulled his head down for a hard kiss. “You rescued me. Twice. And you set me free—when you seduced me with your touch of lust.”
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Chapter One “Two more volcanoes and make it quick.” Kitta Sayr tapped the pay screen displaying the overdue tab and leveled a don’tfuck-with-me stare at the interplanetary freighter captain. “Pay up, Donel. You still owe me from last month.” “Come on, Kitta.” “One of these days the pirates will get you and I’ll have to eat your tab.” Donel leaned over the bar and stuck his face in hers. “I’ve been flying this quadrant longer than you’ve been feeding yourself.” Kitta wrinkled her nose. Donel stank of sweat and the cheap cologne he used far too liberally. Ultrasensitive, Kitta’s heightened sense of smell had saved her life on more than one occasion, but that was before she’d changed professions. Red-rimmed eyes met hers. “You always get paid.” Donel’s tone slid from indignant to cajoling. “Come on, Kitta. Have a heart.” Donel glanced at the two female companions sitting at the corner table. “My ladies are hot and ready.” His ladies were working girls and would demand payment for their services. By sunrise, Donel would be broke and making excuses. Standing her ground, Kitta folded her arms across her chest. “It’s almost closing time, you want the drinks or not?” Scowling, Donel pulled out his currency card and held it briefly to the screen. The transfer-completed message flashed and Kitta picked up two tall red glasses and mixed the near-lethal drinks. Donel shoved his card back into his pocket. “I liked it better when Ambrose owned the place and a droid performed the menial tasks instead of a heartless bitch.” She let the insult pass and placed the drinks on the bar. Kitta had been on Donel’s shit list since she’d demanded he pay the hefty tab she’d inherited as part of the purchase of Ambrose’s Den. As Donel walked away, Kitta noticed an attractive stranger entering the Den. The customer acknowledged the freighter captain with a nod before slipping onto a corner stool. He wore a sleeveless, gray body shirt that showed off his powerful arms and broad chest, but it was the black trousers tucked into ankle-high boots that caught Kitta’s eye. The fabric of his trousers was worn along the right hip and both thighs, places where weapons commonly rested. Not the run-of-the-mill Alliance military weapons, but a specialized, expensive arsenal issued to special operations officers, or as they were commonly referred to in the military and mercenary circles, black-ops. As a private merc, Kitta had worked with enough ex-ops officers to recognize the wear signs. 160
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The stranger surveyed her customers, assessing each one without alarming any of them. His utter awareness of his surroundings, yet the seemingly relaxed posture of his fit body confirmed Kitta’s assessment. Properly outfitted, the new arrival represented a fucking army on two legs. His piercing blue gaze met hers. Heat spiked straight to her pussy. Fuck! Kitta understood she had a sensual attraction to his kind, fearless men who tackled impossible missions and defied the odds. In her former life as a mercenary she’d had enough sweat-drenched fear and alpha males to last a lifetime. But what was a black-ops guy doing on Raegel, a planet well outside Alliance-controlled space? His clean male scent hit her nostrils, awakening a smoldering need Kitta eased nightly with an animated piece of pliable plastic. Kitta inhaled, slowly, and looked right into his cerulean eyes. “What’s your pleasure?” Hair as pale as snow fell in unruly waves to his broad shoulders, but his arched eyebrows and long eyelashes were black. His nose was a little long, his chin strong and his smile was utterly captivating. “No volcano for me. Captain Donel won’t be his best tomorrow, but one of us has to be functional.” “Crewing with Donel. Lucky you.” Again, his lips curved into a devastating smile. “I’ll have a beer. Whatever you recommend.” Kitta poured her best and most expensive brew and set the glass before him. “Thanks.” Donel’s crewmen were usually hard drinkers, beer-chugging fucks that belched their approval and made rude passes, but this one was handsome and polite. “Can I buy you a drink?” “Sure.” The answer popped out so quick Kitta couldn’t call it back. Okay, so she’d break a rule and let a customer buy her a drink. “One drink.” He nodded. “It’s nice talking to a real bartender instead of a droid programmed in small talk. Even better when the bartender is a beautiful woman.” The blond wasn’t the first customer to flirt with her, but he was definitely the sexiest. Two off-duty security officers, the closest thing Raegel had to police officers, arrived and called out to Kitta. She served them and moved along the bar refilling drinks, working her way back to the sexy patron. She caught his delicious scent, felt an almost forgotten thrum deep in her middle. Maybe tonight, just this once, she’d make an exception and allow herself a little pleasure.
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Hundreds of adventurers heading for the lawless outlands beyond Alliance control landed briefly on Raegel for supplies and entertainment. Many men passed through the doors of the Den, but the blond was the only one to catch Kitta’s eye and tease her senses to the point she was having carnal thoughts. “Your offer of a drink still stand?” The sexy customer slid his empty glass toward her. “Absolutely. Any chance it will buy me a little conversation?” Kitta smiled and poured two beers, handing one to the blond. He pulled out a currency card and slid it across the bar. “Business first, then pleasure.” Kitta passed the card before the screen and handed it back to him. She lifted her glass and took a sip. “Thanks.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Doss Ravak.” His hand was big, calloused with a hard ridge on the palm near the base of his thumb. Caused by the use of a photon pulse pistol, the ridge was common to Alliance black-ops and mercenaries. Since she hadn’t fired a pulse pistol in two years, the ridge on her hand had almost disappeared. “Kitta.” “So tell me about yourself, Kitta.” What would she say? The events that had driven her to live a solitary life on Raegel weren’t pretty. “Not much to tell, Mr. Ravak.” “A beautiful woman living at the edge of civilization? What brought you out here?” “What brings anyone to Raegel and the outlands? The money. There’s profit in running supplies and weapons, fighting some asshole’s war. Out here, you don’t live. You survive. Then you either celebrate or try to forget. That’s where I come in.” “Why do you stay?” Where else would I go? Ravak was looking at her, waiting for an answer. “One day you realize you don’t fit in with civilization anymore, so you slip into a holding pattern on Raegel, the purgatory between Alliance control and lawlessness.” “No husband? Family?” Thinking she’d said more about her personal life to Ravak in two minutes than she’d said to anyone in months, Kitta shook her head. “What about you? Donel’s crew isn’t exactly known for social conversation and paying in advance.” “A means to an end.” Kitta sipped her beer. “Level with me, Ravak, you’re Alliance black-ops?” His gaze held hers for a long moment. “Ex-ops.”
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“A recent separation.” “What makes you say that?” “If you don’t want anyone to know, lose the clothes. Your pants still have the outline of dual-barrel pulse blasters. Maybe time will take that too confident look out of your eyes, but you should work the pride out of your shoulders and back. You walk like you’re fully armed and wearing a uniform.” “Old habits die hard.” Kitta waited for him to elaborate. Instead, he reached out and ran his fingertip along her jaw, igniting a trail of desire with the tenderness of the touch. Kitta’s breath hitched. “My friends call me Doss.” Aware of heads turning and curious stares, Kitta stepped back. “You’re not looking for conversation, are you, Doss?” He picked up his glass. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the company of a beautiful woman. I guess I’m lousy at small talk and no, when I’m looking at you conversation is the last thing on my mind.” The Alliance immunized their human weapons against every known disease. Kitta’s thoughts turned carnal, heady images of naked bodies and twining limbs. “Drink your beer, Doss. We’ll talk later.”
***** Doss remained at the bar watching Kitta and waiting for the clients of Ambrose’s Den to gulp their final drinks before the place closed. The bar wasn’t anything special. It looked similar to a hundred other dark, low-lit taverns he’d visited to drink a cold brew. Kitta made the place special. According to Donel’s crew she had a reputation as an unobtainable beauty. The possibility that Kitta was interested in him had Doss reeling. He needed her help and had tracked her to Raegel. After a failed mission on Cratis and an escape from an Idari prison, Kitta had resigned from Stryker Security, walking away from the dangerous but lucrative mercenary business to become a tavern owner. Despite her change of occupation, Doss needed her expertise. Kitta was an extraction specialist and the teams she’d led had a perfect rescue record until the Cratis mission, but more importantly she had personal knowledge of Idar and the prison city of Ertes. On the flight to Raegel, Doss had thought about how to convince Kitta to help him and what measures he’d take should she refuse. Mission failure wasn’t an option he’d willingly accept. Now that he’d seen her, his thoughts had turned to sensual pleasure, other means of persuasion.
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Kitta waved goodbye to a couple of drunken patrons and Doss had to grin as she returned Donel’s rude gesture as the captain staggered out the door aided by two female companions. Only one other customer remained, an old man nursing a beer. Doss’ gaze slid over Kitta as she collected empty glasses and wiped down tables. Her black skin-pants and short-sleeved white blouse revealed a willowy body, surprisingly slender for a woman who’d once been a merc with an impressive résumé. She’d tagged him for Alliance. No surprise there. She’d been trained by the best and her knowledge of Cratis would give him a crucial edge. What his intel hadn’t prepared him for was Kitta’s utter femininity. Doss had expected to look into the face of a killer, a woman with soulless eyes capable of shooting a man at point-blank range for money. Instead, he’d looked into brown eyes so sensual Doss thought he’d made an error. Then he’d shaken her hand and felt the callus on her palm, the faint but unmistakable ridge left by the regular use of a pulse pistol. Doss had seen the flash of pain and loneliness in her eyes. He understood the emptiness when the rush didn’t do it for you anymore. Doss had been where Kitta lived. The urge to take her into his arms and comfort her had washed over him. Instead, he’d touched her face, felt the warmth and softness of her skin and something far stronger pass between them. The basic, essential need to touch and to feel, something to remind him that he was more than a trained warrior, that he was still human and needed more than fleeting physical contact. Nothing like he’d ever experienced before. Finally, the old guy shuffled out. Kitta closed the door and dimmed the lights. She turned, leaned against the door and looked at Doss. “You’re still here.” “I’d like to stay.” She pushed off the door, walked across the room and perched on a stool at the opposite end of the bar. “For small talk?” Doss needed her help, but she’d ignited something inside him and right now he needed the woman more than the merc. “I don’t feel like talking.” She ran her fingers over the smooth top of the bar. “Another beer?” Shaking his head, he slid off his stool. She moistened her lips. “Something else you want?” Her words shot through him, like fire racing through dry tender. Doss moved toward her, his body firing, his muscles heating with each step. A deep ache throbbed in his groin. He reached for her and slid his fingers through the short riot of dark gold curls framing her face.
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Heart hammering, he angled his head and cradled her face. Slowly and without breaking eye contact, he lowered his mouth to hers. Impossibly soft, her lips clung to his and parted. He slid his tongue over hers, tasting her, wanting her.
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Chapter Two Drawn into a vortex of sensation, Kitta’s heart raced and her nipples tightened. She fisted his shirt, pulling Doss closer. The scent of him triggered a flush of heat and the warmth of his hard male body reminded her of how much she missed being held in a man’s arms. Kitta understood her physical reaction to Doss was a combination of chemistry and months of loneliness, but she craved the contact. She needed it. Slipping her hands beneath his shirt, she caressed the muscled contour of his chest. The heat of his skin burned her palms. Doss cupped her breast through the material of her blouse. He raked his thumb back and forth across her nipple, the friction of fabric against skin sending streaks of sensual fire racing from her breast to her pussy. Desire spiked, burning through the physical isolation and the mental solitude of her life on Raegel. Doss lifted his head. His eyes were dilated, burning bright and his breathing was harsh and ragged. “I’m on fire.” Needing to experience the rapture once again, Kitta dug her fingers into his skin. “I like it hot.” He hooked a finger at the top of the fastening seam of her blouse and separated the edges. His gaze slid over her bare breasts. “Beautiful.” Heat streamed, coiling between her legs. Doss lifted her off the barstool. “I’m ready to explode.” Grasping her pants, he dragged the stretchy fabric down and over her hips. He slid his hand between her legs and brushed her moist flesh with his fingers, the sensation stealing her breath. “Bless the stars, you’re wet.” Kitta slid her tongue over her upper lip. “Lucky you.” He dropped her ass back onto the padded barstool and grasped her pants, peeling them down to her ankles. He pulled off her shoes and pants. Kitta grabbed the front of his trousers with both hands, opening the seam with a determined yank. At the sight of his erection, a delicious shiver slid down her spine. Wrapping her hand around him, she stroked his long, hard shaft. tShe relished the sweet pleasure of touching him. Throbbing, hot man-flesh instead of pliable plastic. She’d nearly forgotten the feel of a man. Flicking her thumb over the silky head of his cock, the heady thrill came rushing back.
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“Bless the stars, you’re hard.” Gripping her by the waist, he lifted her against him. “Lucky you.” Through the fabric of his shirt she felt the hard muscles of his chest, the rapid beat of his heart. She needed to feel his bare skin, the sweet pressure of his hard male body against hers. He moved his hands down her back, over her hips to her ass, caressing and squeezing, leaving a trail of fire as he explored her needy flesh. Kitta grabbed a handful of his shirt. With a strangled groan he released her and yanked the shirt over his head, tossing it aside. She pushed his trousers off his hips. He leaned over and reached for his boots, but Kitta caught him by the shoulders and pushed him backward, dropping his ass onto a stool. Waiting another minute, another second wasn’t an option. “Sit.” Hot and determined, Kitta hooked an arm around his neck and climbed onto his lap. His thighs were warm, hard muscled and sprinkled with crisp hair. Doss cupped her ass, his big hands holding her in place. “Guide me.” She fisted his cock, gasping when the broad head slid home. Big and thick, he filled her. She clenched, grabbing at his hard, hot flesh, needing more. He lifted her ass slightly then pulled her down, driving deep, so deep Kitta screamed from the sheer thrill of taking his size. Anchoring her legs around his waist, she rocked her pussy against the thick root of him. Gripping his shoulders, she rode him hard, chasing the mounting ecstasy. Heat poured from his body, filling her nostrils with the musky scent of man and sex. Slick and hot, his skin slid sensually against hers. Muscles clenched and trembled. Lungs and heart labored. He felt so damn good. Big, hard and male, she couldn’t get enough of him. Kitta rolled her hips forward, rubbing her aching clit against the firm root of him. Back and forth, building the layers of need and sensation until her nails dug into his shoulders and her pussy convulsed, clenching in climax. With a muffled groan, Doss slammed his cock into her and stilled. His cock jerked inside her and Kitta welcomed the enthralling scent of their mutual climax. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her so tight her breasts were crushed against his heaving chest. Long fingers slid through her hair, twining in her curls, gripping them near the edge of pain. “Amazing fuck.”
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Kitta chuckled. She was about to say the same thing. Instead, she tossed him a compliment. “Great cock.” He pulled her head back and looked her in the eye. His were gleaming and perspiration dewed his face. “Best pussy ever.” A retort formed on her lips, but before she uttered a word, he kissed her. A slow, soft kiss that set her senses reeling and started a low burn deep in her pussy. If she were smart, she’d send him away, now. But his scent engulfed her, hot man scent. Slow and easy, Kitta rotated her hips. Damn him for reminding her of how much she missed good sex. He lifted his head. “Need more?” Kitta smiled. She hadn’t had near enough. “Unhuh.” He lifted her off his lap and set her on her feet. Bending down, he removed his boots and trousers, managing a nip to her thigh before he straightened. Naked, Doss definitely looked good. His belly was flat, his hips lean and his legs strong. Flexing those big hands, he reached out and grasped her hips. Within seconds her ass hit a tabletop and her legs were spread. Bracing her weight on her arms, Kitta draped her legs over his broad shoulders. Her ass came off the table at the first lusty touch of his tongue and the lush licks that followed. The tender assault persisted, leaving her thighs shaking and her blood running hot. His lips fastened onto her clit, sucking hard and deep. Fisting his silky blond hair, Kitta suppressed the scream filling her lungs. Muscles quivered and burned, nerves fired, she never wanted him to stop. The scream rose, catching in her throat as two long fingers slid inside her, fucking her with deep, fast strokes. He pounded her flesh, suckled her clit, forcing the air out of her lungs. The hunger, the furious need building to explosive release. Kitta bucked her hips, shoving her pussy against his mouth, capturing the intense moment, holding on to every sweet second. Thighs shaking, she lowered her hips and moaned. Doss’ agile mouth and hand were better than any sex toy. He eased his long fingers out of her pussy. Her whole body hummed in warm contentment. With one final lick to her clit, he lifted his head. “Needed that, did you?” Kitta managed a husky, “Yeah.” His fingertips slid through her cum-soaked curls, gripping them in a tight, possessive hold. “We’re not done.” His thumb slid over her slit. “You’re so fucking wet.”
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Before Kitta’s sated brain understood the husky tone coloring his words, he grasped her thighs, dragging her ass to the edge of the table. “It’s my turn to fuck you.” Fisting his cock, he thrust home, ramming his cock deeper and deeper. Hard as stone, he hammered her slick pussy. Beneath her, the table rocked. She wrapped her legs around his hips, threw an arm around his neck and hung on for the ride. For months she’d had erotic dreams, awakening in the night, hungering, aching for a hard cock, but nothing Kitta imagined compared to the wild, hot thickness stretching her, filling her, fucking her. She clenched around him, the hot friction taking her over the edge. A shudder traveled through his body and a groan tore from deep inside his chest. His hips bucked, once, twice then stilled. Doss collapsed against her, crushing her beneath him on the table. Heat poured off his body and sweat slicked his skin. His chest heaved, his breathing as harsh and as labored as hers. Breath caught and heart rate sliding back to normal, Kitta stroked his head, running her fingers through the damp strands of his hair. She liked touching him, feeling his body against hers. He made her feel good, his musky scent a balm to her soul. He turned his head, nuzzled her breast. His lips skated over her nipple. Kitta opened her eyes as he lifted his head. “I like fucking you.” He grasped a handful of her hair, pulled her head toward his and kissed her. Slow and easy, his mouth moved over hers. Comfortable and undemanding, he lingered, savoring the contact. Kitta hadn’t ever experienced so sweet a kiss, especially after such wild, vigorous sex.
***** Doss awoke, thirsty and without his usual hard-on. Reaching out, he touched Kitta’s back and stroked her soft skin. She shifted her position, but didn’t awaken. Faint light filtered through the sky-prisms in the ceiling. The prisms collected energy during the day, provided illumination at night and natural light during the day. He rolled out of bed, stretched and made a quick visit to the bathroom before padding into the kitchen. He downed a glass of water, filled another and returned to Kitta’s bedroom. She lived above the bar, simply and without frills. Sliding into bed, he curled his body to hers and draped an arm over her hip. He kissed her shoulder and caressed the gentle slope of her hip. He’d missed the feel of a woman, the warmth of soft skin, the supple curves and the gentle yield of rounded breasts.
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Kitta’s flesh took the sensation to a whole new level. She sighed and stretched lazily. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He nuzzled her neck. “But now that I have…” She laughed softly and wriggled her ass against his groin. A jolt of sheer lust shot through him, tightening his balls. His cock stretched. Cupping her breast, he massaged her soft flesh, teased her nipple to a firm point. Rock hard, he nudged the soft valley between her thighs. She dug her fingertips into his thigh, clutching and gripping, as the tip of his cock probed the hot, wet entrance of her pussy. He slid his hand to her belly. Rising to his knees, he rolled her onto her stomach and lifted her ass in one fluid move. Her weight balanced on her knees, Doss gripped her hip with one hand and caressed her hot slit with the other. Pushing two fingers inside, he primed her tight channel. He removed his fingers, wetting the head of his cock with her juices before entering her. Rocking his hips forward, he dipped into her slick passage, withdrew and pushed deeper. She clamped around him, gripping him so tight Doss nearly came. He sucked in a deep breath and held off the urge. No way did he want this to end. She undulated her hips, her motion drawing him into a smooth, yet primal rhythm. With each roll of their hips, he thrust deeper, increasing the tempo, enhancing the pleasure. Doss caught her swaying breast, tugged and rolled her nipple. She reached between their thighs and fondled his balls, squeezing with just the amount right amount of pressure. Her touch was brief, but intense. Riding the edge of climax, Doss slapped her ass, gently connecting his palm to her smooth cheek. To his amazement she went wetter, rocked her hips faster. Balls humming and ready to come, he gave her another slap, a little less gentle, and another. The moan tearing from her throat combined with the clenching of her pussy was his undoing. He thrust faster, deeper, rubbing her cheek between quick smacks until she came. Exploding from his balls, his climax raced the length of his cock and shot into Kitta’s hot, quivering pussy. Never had the sex been this good. Never had the woman been this exciting, this special.
***** Awakening from a short nap Kitta slid out of bed and slipped into the shower. About the only thing she truly loved about Raegel was the fresh water. After living and working in extremely arid regions, Kitta appreciated the long rainy season.
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Refreshed, Kitta slipped into a faded, oversized shirt. The material was soft and the length long enough to cover her ass. Kitta brushed the tangles out of her hair, letting it dry while she prepared coffee. “That smells great,” Doss said, scrubbing his face with a big hand. Kitta handed him a cup and joined him in bed. His hair was disheveled and his smile easy. “I can’t live without coffee. Thankfully, Raegel has a steady stream of traders.” He sipped the brew. “Excellent.” Kitta enjoyed her coffee, allowing herself the luxury of a lazy morning-after with a great lover. Odds were she’d never see Doss again, but Kitta would remember the wonderful feel of his strong body moving against hers, the heat of his skin beneath her palms and the touch of his hands in the nights to come. “It’s been nice, Doss.” He looked her in the eye. “Saying goodbye?” “Donel leaves early.” His left eyebrow shot up. “You’re familiar with his schedule?” “Donel might be an ass, but he’s a good pilot. The smart pilots take off before the lower stratum winds pick up.” “Donel won’t leave without me.” “What makes you so special?” “I’ve hired him to take me to Cratis. Credits transferable upon landing.” Kitta’s pulse leaped and her heart pounded, beating fast and furious. She’d never forget what happened on Cratis, but the nightmares that had once ruled her nights were beginning to subside. “I thought the Alliance had no official interest in Cratis,” she said, thinking Doss might have lied about being ex-ops. “It doesn’t. I have a personal reason for going to Cratis. I asked permission to take personal leave, but my commander refused my request fearing my presence would provoke an official protest. I resigned my commission.” As an Alliance officer, Doss was guaranteed a job for life and a decent pension. Given the overpopulation and high unemployment rate on most of the Alliancecontrolled planets, giving up his commission was a serious decision. “My brother disappeared during a mission in Idar.” Kitta gripped her coffee mug tight. She’d lost her team in Idar. “Doesn’t the Alliance find their own?” “He wasn’t Alliance.” “A merc?” Doss nodded. “I received intel that he’s in Ertes.”
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The prison city! “Intel?” “The Alliance has operatives on Cratis, unofficial information gatherers. It pays to know what’s going on.” “Where doesn’t the Alliance have operatives?” Kitta didn’t expect an answer and Doss didn’t provide one. “You’re going to Idar to get your brother out of Ertes? It isn’t going to be easy.” “That’s why I need you.” Stark fear shot through Kitta. “I lost four men in Idar. I’m no help to anyone.” “You’ve been inside Ertes. You’re one of the few who has escaped.” Ertes wasn’t the problem. It was the hours, days of interrogation before the Idari militia had tossed her into the prison city that haunted Kitta and that had made her the shadow of the woman she’d once been. She’d lost her team on that fated mission, along with her courage. Hands shaking, hot coffee sloshed on her hand. She set the coffee aside and dried her hand on the sheet. “There isn’t enough money in the cosmos.” “Oren Marks is my brother.” His words knifed through Kitta, cutting her to the core. “I need your help.” “Oren’s dead! They’re all dead!” Anger surged, coiling with the pain. “Why are you doing this?” Kitta lunged at Doss. He fended off her blows, threw his full weight against her. She landed beneath him on the floor, her back taking the brunt of the fall. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the floor. Doss had to be lying. Oren had curly dark hair and brown eyes. He didn’t look anything like Doss. Kitta tried to roll to one side and throw Doss off, but he pressed his body to hers. The weight of his hard-muscled chest made breathing difficult. She drew a shallow breath. “Get out of my house.” His blue eyes bored into hers. “You were Oren’s commanding officer. If there’s a sliver of a chance my brother’s alive, you owe it to him to go back.” She met his fierce stare. “I would never have left him behind.” His fingers tightened on her wrists. “My intel is solid.” “It’s wrong!” “With sword and salt.” Kitta’s breath caught, strangling in her throat and her heart twisted. Only her team would know that authentication code. “Who gave you that code?”
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“An operative working undercover as part of an Alliance human rights team visiting Ertes. Oren spoke to her. He told her his name, asked her to contact you and give you a message. When she filed her report, his name triggered an automatic copy to me. I decided to deliver the message in person.” “What was the message, his exact words?” Kitta managed, her voice croaking. “Find Kitta Sayr of Stryker Security and tell her, ‘With sword and salt.’” Kitta choked, fought to pull air into her lungs. Doss shifted his weight, easing the pressure on her chest. “With sword and salt. What does it mean?” “With sword and salt was an ancient Earth motto of a well-paid soldier. An obscure enough phrase to verify messages received from members of my team. If used alone, a distress message.” “Obscure? I researched the phrase and found nothing.” “It’s a translation from Latin, a dead Earth language. On ancient Earth salt was a valuable commodity. Soldiers have always fought to obtain what governments deem important. I thought the phrase appropriate.” Doss released her wrists and rolled off her. “Your specialty was locating and extracting people from places governments fear to tread. What was the mission in Idar?” Kitta took a deep breath. “We were hired to rescue a man called Vekept. He’s a member of a mining consortium. Very wealthy.” “Vekept was nabbed by the Idari and held for ransom?” She sat up and rubbed her wrists. “Vekept was taken by a group of Idari extremists, not the militia. Not that there is much difference, but the capture wasn’t government sanctioned. When negotiations broke down, the consortium hired Stryker.” Kitta’s mind was spinning. Was Oren really alive? “Did Oren tell you about the mission and the code?” Doss shook his head. “Oren never talked about his missions.” “He couldn’t be alive. His bio-monitor went red. Red is dead, no heartbeat, no brain activity.” “Did you see him get hit?” Kitta shook her head. “We were under fire. The bio-monitors were going red so fast everyone was running for cover. Our intel was inaccurate. There were more militants than we expected.” “Did you see the body?” During the firefight, Kitta had lost visual contact of Oren. She’d seen Payson’s head explode from a direct hit. Romer went down and never moved again. Bullets flying, she’d made her way to Grant. He’d bled out before her eyes. The last thing she recalled
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before she was captured was the four pulsing red lights. “All the bio-monitors’ sensors in my helmet went red.” “But you survived.” Daily, Kitta wondered why she’d survived. She slid her hand along the scar on her thigh. “I was hit and out of ammo. I was captured.” Interrogated. The horror came rushing back in dark images and painful memories. Kitta broke out in a cold sweat and shivers racked her body. “You were sentenced to prison?” She shook her head. “I never had a trial. I was held by the militia and when they were done with me I was dumped unconscious inside Ertes.” “How did you survive?” “The Outsiders took me in.” “Who are the Outsiders?” “Anyone who wasn’t a resident of the city before the Idari made it a prison. Like me, Oren would have needed their help. He wasn’t there. I never saw him.” Doss grabbed a handful of her shirt, yanking her toward him and bringing them nose to nose. “Oren’s alive!” His anger stabbed at her, like daggers to the heart. “With sword and salt! Can you live with yourself without knowing the truth?” She couldn’t.
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Chapter Three Two hours later, Kitta stepped inside Donel’s ship. The surly captain’s gaze met Kitta’s. “I’d say welcome aboard, but then I’d be lying.” “Fuck you, Donel.” His chest thrust out, Donel lunged forward, meeting her toe-to-toe. “This is my ship, Kitta. You’ll address me as Captain Donel or get the fuck off.” Kitta stood her ground. The desire to slam her fist into Donel’s ugly face rose, hard and fast. Doss laid a hand on Kitta’s shoulder, fingers squeezing gently, prompting her to remember they needed Donel. “Captain.” Donel’s upper lip curled into a satisfied sneer. “Well, Kitta, if I’d known all it would take to tame you was a hard fuck, I would have taken care of you months ago.” Kitta gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. Donel laughed. “Captain Donel. Kitta’s my guest,” Doss said. “I did tell you we’d be picking up another passenger on Raegel.” The cold edge to his voice caught Donel’s attention. The captain’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. Knowing Donel had no choice but to back off, Kitta flashed him a gotcha smile. Giving Doss a sharp nod, Donel returned to the bridge. Doss guided Kitta to his quarters. “I think you should stay away from Donel. Stick to the passenger areas and stay off the bridge.” The cabin was small, utilitarian with a narrow bunk, a chair and a drop-down table. Feeling claustrophobic, another emotional remnant of her Idari experience, Kitta shivered. “Are you okay?” She’d handled days in a tiny dark cell, she could deal with this, but stepping foot on Cratis again sent fingers of fear crawling along Kitta’s spine. No matter how she felt physically or emotionally, she’d complete the mission. Kitta had never forgiven herself for failing her team. If Oren were alive, she’d do anything to get him out of Ertes. Sitting on the bunk, Kitta wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’m good.” She looked at Doss. Nothing about him reminded her of Oren. “Why don’t you look like him? Why the different name?” “Different fathers.” 175
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Oren had joined Kitta’s team just a few months before the Cratis mission. He rarely spoke of his past and never about his family. Mercs worked for profit. Honor, country and family didn’t enter into the equation. Surviving the job and getting paid was the goal. “He never said he had a brother.” A shadow passed over Doss’ handsome face. “We haven’t spoken for some time.” “If you aren’t close, why are you here?” “Our mother was devastated by his death.” Orphaned at the tender age of seven, Kitta understood the pain of losing a family member. “She must be relieved that he’s alive.” Doss stowed her bag into a built-in cupboard. “I haven’t told her.” “I thought you trusted your intel.” “I do, but she’s been hurt enough. When we’re back on Raegel with Oren, I’ll contact her.” “So, what’s the plan? How are we getting into Idar?” He opened a cupboard and pulled out a cloth bag. “The annual pilgrimage to the Jari shrine near Ertes begins tomorrow. I purchased three permits. They’ll be ready for us to pick up when we arrive on Cratis.” Kitta pulled the drawstring on the bag and shook out its contents. Three hooded robes, purple in color, fell onto the bed. “We’re walking in with the pilgrims. We should be able to reach the shrine within three hours of leaving the border.” She had to admire Doss’ plan. Thousands of followers of the Jari sect participated in the annual trek to the holy shrine. Wearing the robes, she and Doss would blend in with the crowd. “The pilgrimage provides an excellent cover,” Kitta said. “It’s an easy way to move a team across the border, but weapons present a major problem. The pilgrims aren’t individually searched, but everyone is scanned for weapons and contraband before entering Idar.” Doss grinned and opened another cupboard and removed what appeared to be a cross about the length of his forearm. “Carrying crosses will make us look authentic.” Doss wrapped his fingers around one of the shorter lengths of plastic and pointed the longer section at her. The end was hollow. “A silencer is built into the barrel.” He wiggled his index finger where the plastic pieces intersected. “The trigger is here.” He pointed to the piece of plastic directly above his hand. “The plastic bullets are stored here.” 176
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“Plastic bullets? The Idari militia is armed with blasters and energy whips.” A shudder slid down Kitta’s spine. The thin whips were designed to send a prisoner’s nervous system into spasms with full incapacitation within seconds. The red flash of her team’s bio-monitors and the zap of those whips racing along her nerves, burning muscle and sinew were forever seared into her memory. “The scanners detect heat present in pulse weapons and blasters, various metal and anything shaped like a weapon. Every pilgrim will be carrying a cross.” “I hope we don’t have to fight our way out of Idar.” “Even if I could afford a team of armed mercs and rovers, I don’t think a full assault on Ertes guarantees we’d find Oren and extract him safely. My plan is to get in and out without the Idari knowing we were there. If you have a better idea, I’m listening.” Plastic bullets were better than no firepower. “I have necklaces and matching bracelets that are excellent garrotes. I’ve worn them through many security checks.” He placed the cross weapon inside the cupboard. “I’ve been told you can bribe your way into Ertes.” Kitta rubbed her forehead. “The Idari may have won their independence, but what was once a thriving province has become a struggling country ran by a bunch of fanatics operating under the guise of religion.” “The Synod of Grace?” In preparation for her mission, Kitta had spent hours researching Idar. “The synod members started the rebel movement thirty years ago. The Cratis government granted independence and cut all ties with Idar. The Synod of Grace runs the new government, but it’s corrupt, inefficient and broke.” Doss stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned against the cabin door. “Given the cost of the permits, the religious pilgrimage has to be a profitable event.” “The Idari currency is worthless and the government is desperate for cash. So are the officials. Even the militia is on the take. Make sure you have Cratis currency for bribes.” “I’ll exchange credits for currency when we land. Do you know why Ertes is called the Sin City?” “The first mining operations on Cratis were in the Idari region and Ertes was the original sin city on Cratis, a giant adult entertainment center built to keep the mostly male work force happy.” “Mining is a tough job,” Doss said. “Happy workers are productive workers.” “The consortium just found an enterprising way to reclaim the workers hardearned wages. When the miners brought their families, the consortium built a wall around Ertes to keep the whorehouses and the drug dens contained in a controlled environment. “After the mines in the Idari province closed, the consortium sold Ertes to private investors. That was nearly fifty years ago, well before the start of the rebellion. Anyone 177
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against the rebellion or the Synod of Grace ran for the border or took refuge inside Ertes. The walled city made a perfect prison.” Doss sat down next to her. “You’ve experienced it firsthand. What’s it like inside Ertes?” “The city still offers every vice. Sex, drugs and gambling have been decreed as sinful and illegal by the Synod of Grace. Ertes is nothing like the flashy city that existed before the rebellion, but it survives by providing the sensual sins forbidden to the Idari.” He leaned close, brushing his shoulder against hers. “Sex is a strong force, especially when severely restricted.” His clean male scent slid between Kitta’s senses. The sensory memory of being in his arms sent delicious shivers through her middle. He stroked her thigh. Kitta grabbed his arm. He misinterpreted her action and pushed her down on the bed, pressing his hard body to hers. Rock hard, the ridge of his cock dug into her belly. Desire shot through her. The moment he’d walked into the bar, she’d wanted Doss. After months of avoiding any form of physical contact, she’d looked into his amazing blue eyes and had broken her self-imposed rules of celibacy. If she’d known he was Oren’s brother, last night would have never happened. The night before the fatal Cratis mission she and Oren had come together, hot and furious, nothing more than a way to ease the tension and celebrate life. No promises or words of love were exchanged, just wanton heat. The act was so fast neither of them had bothered to completely remove their clothes. Before their bodies had cooled, Kitta had left Oren’s bunk and returned to her own quarters. She’d slept alone. Doss buried his face in her hair. He cupped her ass and squeezed. Last night had been different. Doss had ignited more than a spark. He’d started an inferno. He’d brought her senses alive, satisfied them and left her aching for more. She closed her eyes. Why couldn’t Doss have been Oren’s long-lost friend? “We have a mission to plan.” His hot breath feathered her neck. “I can barely think for wanting you.” He slid his hand inside the waistband of her pants, fingertips sliding over her belly. Need whipped through her. He planted kisses along her neck. “You’re so soft.” Kitta dug her fingers into his arm, halting his exploring fingers. “Doss.” He lifted his head. His heated gaze searched her face, questioning. She had to tell him.
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“Oren and I.” The heat in his eyes evaporated. “You and Oren?” She nodded. Jaw set, Doss pulled away and sprang to his feet. Shoulders stiff and hands clenched, he faced the door. For several heartbeats he didn’t speak. “I’m going to the bridge,” he said. “Your quarters are portside, two doors down.”
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Chapter Four Doss surveyed the pilgrims gathering at the Idari border. He turned toward Kitta and handed her a robe. “Ready?” Her black tank top clung to her breasts and a double strand of gold was looped around her neck. Matching strands were wrapped around her forearms. Her jewelry looked nothing like a weapon, but in her trained hands the lengths of gold were lethal. She slipped on the purple robe and adjusted the hood, her movements graceful and feminine. Her gaze met his. “Don’t worry, Doss. I can handle the mission.” Dark gold curls framed her beautiful face, but the shadows beneath her eyes told Doss she hadn’t slept well. Between the anticipation of the mission and learning she was Oren’s woman, Doss hadn’t slept at all. Despite everything, he still wanted her. The image of their tangled bodies burned in his mind and a needy heat swept through him. Although the robe was loose fitting and made of light, breathable material, Doss tugged at the high collar. He ached to touch Kitta, to feel her soft skin beneath his fingertips and her lips against his. He inhaled, breathing her feminine scent, then chastised himself for his weakness. Focus. Doss picked up the permits, rectangular pieces of plastic with embedded chips, dangling from purple cords and issued in false identities. He handed a permit to Kitta. “The permit must be visible at all times,” he said, putting the cord over his head. “Have you had sufficient time to memorize your identity?” Kitta nodded. “If questioned, I’m prepared.” He checked the cross weapons he’d created and handed one to Kitta. Cross in hand, Doss slung the cloth bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” They joined the throng of Jari pilgrims heading for the border and entered one of the many security lines. Their permits were checked, but they moved through the weapons scanners without incident. “Tell me about Ertes,” Doss said, keeping his voice low. “How does the city function? What of food, water and utilities?”
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“Idari provides those services for a price and can shut them off at any time. Supplies move into the city on a daily basis through two gates. There are weapon scanners at both.” “What about inside the city?” “As long as the tax quota is produced, the Idari let the Ertes residents govern themselves. You won’t see any vehicles inside the city. The militia confiscated every mode of transportation, including airboots and personal glides. Inside Ertes, everyone walks, even the rich and private police.” “You won’t see any Idari along this route either,” Doss said, noting the deserted buildings and houses. “According to my source for the permits, the locals are sequestered in prayer centers for the duration of the pilgrimage.” They moved around a group of slow-moving Jari pilgrims who were praying in unison. After they had passed the group, Doss asked, “The security at the wall, what’s it like?” “Battle droids patrol the wall and the militia controls both gates. As far as I know no one has successfully scaled the walls or tunneled beneath them. The gates are the only way in or out.” “How did you get out?” Her gaze met his. “I befriended a young Idari who preferred to indulge in the vices of Ertes than adhere to the strict rules of his religion.” Jealousy shot through Doss. “He drove a supply vehicle and hid me beneath his driver’s seat. He drove to a farming area close to the border. When the moon was high, we said our goodbyes and I walked across the border. He was kind and treated me well.” His reaction must have shown in his eyes. She lifted her chin. “I don’t regret what I did. If I had to, I’d do it again.” A fist tightened in Doss’ chest. He understood. “I’ve been captured. I know what it takes to defy the odds.” He picked up his pace. With each step, Doss kept pushing away the knowledge that Kitta cared for Oren. Another woman, Bracie Tath, had nearly destroyed his relationship with his brother three years ago. Bracie’s infidelity had stung his pride, but Oren’s betrayal had cut deep. Finally, he’d found someone he wanted so fiercely it hurt only to discover Kitta had been more than Oren’s commanding officer. The fist around Doss’ heart tightened. This pain had nothing to do with pride. He and Kitta mingled with a fast-walking group of pilgrims and continued the trek to the shrine without speaking. They skirted the crowd of pilgrims praying before the shrine and headed toward the wall surrounding the prison city. Groups that had already worshiped had spread
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blankets upon a meadow to share their bread and wine. Doss selected a spot close to the prison gate. As he and Kitta shared bread, they watched the comings and goings at the Ertes gate. Toilet trailers were positioned between the meadow and the wall of the prison. Doss noticed several male pilgrims entering a trailer, only to exit without their robes and approach the Ertes gate. Even pilgrims had their vices. Doss spotted two males waiting to enter the trailer. “Notice the two pilgrims standing in the line at the trailer nearest the gate. The tall man has a brown bag slung over his left shoulder. The short man has a slight limp.” Kitta turned toward the trailer. “Got them.” “Watch for them to exit.” As he had hoped the two males reappeared dressed in dark shirts and trousers, the taller still carrying the brown bag. The men walked up to a guard who inspected their bag. One man passed something to the guard, then both continued through the city gate. “Pilgrimage permits aren’t the only means of revenue for the Idari,” Doss said. Kitta looked at him and smiled. “Shall we answer the call of nature?” After they visited the trailer, Doss dropped Kitta’s robe into his bag and together they approached the gate. When the guard’s gaze slid over Kitta, pausing briefly on her necklace and bracelets, Doss stepped forward and revealed the Cratis currency cradled in his palm. During the inspection of the cloth bag, Doss passed the money to the guard. The guard viewed their pilgrimage permits and directed them toward the scanners. Within minutes Doss and Kitta had passed through the weapon scanners and stepped inside the prison. Lighted signs advertising gambling houses blinked atop the two-story buildings that lined the central street leading into the center of Ertes. Scantily clad women in high heels stood on balconies and strolled the crowded streets. Naked women lounged in brightly lit windows, spreading their legs wide as potential customers approached. Young men hawked condoms and passed out coupons offering discounts at various saloons and houses of pleasure. Everything from cheap jewelry to cold drinks was sold from two-wheeled pushcarts. “What of the children?” Doss asked. “When Ertes was built no children were allowed. After the city became a prison, the children born inside were trapped. Ertes may be a city of sin, but the children are fiercely protected. Predators are dealt swift justice.” As they moved farther into the city, Doss hadn’t seen any police. “You said the residents rule themselves.”
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“Ertes is divided into seven districts, each designated by a different color and patrolled by private security. One person, usually the owner of the most profitable commercial interest, represents the district on the city council. Even in a prison city the rich rule and hire the strong to do the dirty work.” “Why are the districts designated by colors?” “When Ertes was an entertainment center, the different-colored streets made navigating the place easy for the miners. The entertainment streets spread out from a central hub. The residential area is on the concentric streets near the outer wall.” Noting the only women on the street were working girls, Doss slung an arm around Kitta’s shoulders. She continued to educate him as they walked. “Ertes was well organized with each district having a specialty. The center had excellent security and offered a safe haven for the miners to indulge in their chosen pleasures. Life was good for the employees too. While the mining consortium ran the place, there was never a murder or a drug overdose.” He glanced down at the vivid purple street. “What was the specialty of the purple district?” “Recreational drugs were available in the purple district. This street is called Euphoria. The two entrances feed into Euphoria. If we stay on this street we’ll cross the red district, gambling, to the blue central hub, prostitution. “The other districts had holographic sports, spas, concerts and vids. Employee housing was in the brown district. Now it’s all mixed together. Each district has a private police force that is driven by profit rather than safety.” A young man, his arms draped with shiny necklaces, approached them. Doss shook his head and the seller moved on. “Where do we start?” “With the Outsiders, but we have to traverse a couple of districts before we reach them.” A man with long black hair and massive shoulders, wearing a purple shirt and carrying a black club, strolled along the street as if he owned it. Kitta swore and wrapped her arm around Doss’ waist, pulling him into a narrow alley. She yanked off her tank top, revealing a black bra that barely covered her nipples. “Who is that guy?” She rubbed her belly against Doss’ groin. “District security.” Doss’ cock jerked. Kitta gripped his hair, pulling Doss’ head down to her breast. “He’s looking this way,” she whispered. The temptation of her soft flesh pressed against his face overrode pretense. Doss slid his tongue over her nipple. Fire shot straight to his balls. “He’s coming this way.”
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She unfastened Doss’ pants, yanking them down as she dropped to her knees. When she wrapped her hand around his cock and sucked the head into her mouth, Doss gasped. His blood heated and rushed, thundering in his ears and swelling his cock. She raked her nails across his ass and gripped his left buttock. With the tip of her tongue Kitta furrowed the underside of his cock, stroking him from base to crown and back again, taking the air from Doss’ lungs. Pleasure stabbing his balls, Doss dropped the bag. His balls tightened as she suckled him with warm lips and agile tongue. Sweet torment. Her mouth went slack and her head moved. “He’s—” Doss didn’t give a fuck what the security officer was doing. He only cared about her hot mouth on his cock. Grabbing Kitta by the hair, Doss twisted his fingers through the silky strands and held her head fast. Rocking his hips, Doss urged her to take him deeper and suck him harder. Gripping him at the root, she swallowed every rigid inch. Each lick, suck and stroke was exquisite torture. Eyes closed, Doss forgot where he was and why he was here. Mind and body, Doss existed in a dark, warm haze of erotic pleasure. Her lips molded around his straining flesh, drawing deep and steady. Shivers of longing and need racked his body. She’d drawn him into a tempest of pleasure, a place where she commanded his aching flesh. He never wanted to leave. Doss hovered at the delicious edge, his body poised to climax. Then she released him. Groaning, Doss reeled at the abrupt loss of contact. “I think he’s gone,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. Doss gritted his teeth and opened his eyes. When Kitta licked her glistening lips and stood, he lost it. He didn’t care that she had fucked Oren or the Idari driver. He wanted her, here, now. “Fuck me.” He grasped the waistband of her pants, jerking the seam open. Doss yanked down her pants, letting them fall to her ankles. His breath caught. Her underpants were a black triangle held by slender straps. Eager to strip her bare, Doss flexed his hands. Before he ripped them off, she shimmied her panties down her hips. Kneeling, Doss yanked off her left boot and freed her foot from the restrictions of the pool of clothing around her ankle.
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Lifting his head, Doss’ face was within inches of her pussy. The scent of her, the musky perfume of woman, enthralled him. He wanted Kitta so bad his heart lurched and his cock jerked so hard he almost came. In one swift motion, Doss rose, gripped her bare ass and slammed her back against the building. Her face was in the shadows, but her breath came hot and fast as she wrapped her bare leg around his waist. Hard as stone, his throbbing cock poked her belly. “Guide me.” Her hand curled around him, directing him. His heart pumped and his blood pulsed. A shudder raced down his spine. At the touch of his aching tip to her damp center, Doss thrust deep into her soft, yielding folds. The flesh-to-flesh contact brought instant relief and another rush of raw desire. Doss didn’t understand why he needed Kitta so badly. The need was deep, visceral and beyond his control. She made his heart hurt with wild desire and sing with profound joy. She made his body ache with wanting and throb in ecstasy. The emotions she evoked were intense and utterly mystifying. His body had understood long before his brain. “Fuck me, Kitta. Fuck me until I can’t take it.” Her pussy clenched around him, wet and hot. Ready. Desire seared his brain, coiled all his senses in his want of her. He thrust, driving deep inside her. Moaning, she clamped down on his cock. “Give it to me. I can take it.” Hanging on to the edge of sanity, Doss gripped her ass, his fingers digging into her sleek muscles. “You drive me mad.” Kitta’s fingers twined through his hair. “Fuck me. Hard,” she whispered. Doss pounded into her silken flesh, his need urgent and frantic. Hard and punishing, he thrust again and again. A tangle of emotions, anger, love, fear and fierce longing slammed through his brain and twisted his heart. He exploded inside her. His blood stopped roaring in his ears and his ragged breathing eased. Music blared from street speakers and in the distance females sang with voices akin to screeching cats. Voices rose and fell in the busy, moving crowd. The noise of Ertes surrounded them, bringing Doss back to reality. He had fucked her in public, without a gentle touch or word and without a care that his bare ass was exposed to anyone who bothered to look into the shadows. She made him crazy. Doss pulled out and set her on her feet. “Did I hurt you?” She shook her head. “I lost it. You were protecting the mission, while I—” While I was so into fucking you, I tuned out the universe. 185
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His need for her had overridden all his senses. The usual sharp edge that had kept him alert to detail and alive through dangerous operations had dissolved in a vortex of crippling desire. She pulled up her panties. “I wanted you, Doss.” She kissed him, a quick, firm press of her lips to his. “Sometimes you have to live for the moment because it may be all you get.” He wanted a lifetime, but what if Kitta wanted Oren? Doss fastened his pants. Kitta removed her right boot and stepped out of her pants. Then she put on her boots and scooped up her pants and discarded tank top. “Stuff them in your bag.” “You’re not wearing your clothes?” “On Euphoria Street a fully dressed female draws more attention than a naked one.” She was damn close to naked. Doss shouldered the bag. “Maybe we should use another street?” “Euphoria is the quickest route to the Outsiders. All we have to do is stick with the tourists and avoid the district security.” Doss understood her logic, but he didn’t have to like it. “I should have brought a pair of heels. I’d look more like a hooker with heels.” Doss glanced at her brown boots, almost identical to his. Designed for soldiers, the boots were lined with a thin protection shield and the soles were double layered. His gaze moved over her slender body and the strategically placed scraps of black material. He wrapped an arm around her waist, resting his palm on her hip. “Don’t worry, no one will be looking at your feet.” Together they joined the crowd of pleasure seekers filling the main street. Like him, most of the men carried the cloth bags common to pilgrims. Pray and fuck. In the last five centuries mankind may have spread out in the ‘verse but the basics were the same. Prostitutes called from the balconies and mingled through the crowds. In every available cubbyhole and alcove, couples were indulged in a variety of sex acts. Several pilgrims eyed Kitta. Doss pulled her closer and spread his hand over her ass. Ever so often she’d reach out and stroke him through the material of his pants. They teased and touched, playing out their roles. To those who bothered to look, Doss was nothing more a visiting pilgrim enjoying the pleasures of a sinfully beautiful woman.
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Chapter Five Kitta spotted three men in red shirts walking toward them and nudged Doss. “District security.” They moved to the opposite side of the bright red street. The officers stopped a tourist. One red-shirt searched his bag, dumping its contents onto the street. After money exchanged hands, the officers moved on and the tourist hustled inside the nearest saloon. Using the crowd as a cover, Doss and Kitta kept walking. Pulsing music, meant to excite, blasted from speakers and mingled with the clamor of voices. Kitta leaned closer to Doss. “The locals hate the red-shirts,” Kitta said. “They shake down the tourists so they’ll have less to spend in the other districts.” Doss palmed her ass and squeezed. If she had to play the part of a prostitute, having Doss as her customer made the pretense a pleasure. “Where do we find the Outsiders?” “In the yellow district. The housing was fully occupied before the city was made a prison. The Outsiders banded together and squatted in an abandoned warehouse.” “How far to the yellow district?” Doss asked. “We’ll enter the blue district, the central hub. We make a left turn and walk around the hub to the opposite side.” The old prostitution district consisted of three concentric blue streets at the center of the city. Kitta guided Doss along the outer ring until they reached an intersecting yellow street. Then they made another left turn. As they walked deeper into the yellow district, the crowds thinned dramatically. Kitta ducked beneath a balcony and dressed. The streets were empty of foot traffic as they passed several old theatres where the miners had enjoyed a variety of live entertainment. At the end of the street were the massive rolled-up doors of the warehouse. “Let’s hope Oren is here,” Doss said. Kitta noticed his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were squared. Whatever had kept the brothers apart apparently remained unresolved. Inside, the warehouse looked much as it had when she’d lived here. Huge containers that had once held supplies and now served as living quarters were stacked from floor to ceiling. Narrow metal catwalks linked the containers together and crisscrossed the narrow corridors between the stacks.
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“How do we find him?” “We make ourselves known,” Kitta said. She selected a narrow corridor and started chanting. “With sword and salt.” Doss joined his deeper voice to hers. Outsiders appeared, stepping out of the containers onto the catwalks. When a middle-aged man with curly red hair approached them, Kitta stopped chanting. He was dressed in a faded, blue shirt and pants several sizes too big for his frame. “Who are you looking for?” he asked. “My brother,” Doss said. “Find him and you’ll be rewarded.” “Idari money is worthless here.” Doss pulled a bill out of his pocket and showed the man the Cratis currency. “We must find him quickly.” Doss tore the bill in half and gave the man a piece. “Gather your friends and meet us at the bay door.” Clutching the torn bill, the man hurried off. “We could spend hours searching this place,” he said. “The Outsiders are desperate for cash.” Doss wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “We can’t take them with us when we leave, but whoever helps us will be paid.” They only had enough time to tear a handful of bills in half before the man returned leading a group of Outsiders. While Doss handed out the pieces of currency, Kitta gave the eager men and women instructions. “Fan out, repeating the words ‘With sword and salt’. I’m looking for a man who’ll understand those words. The one who brings him to me will receive a bonus.” Doss held up another bill of a higher denomination. The enthusiastic crowd dispersed, quickly disappearing into the bowels of the warehouse. Kitta sank to the floor to rest. Once Oren was located, they’d be on the move again. Doss sat down beside her and dug a slender cylinder out of his bag. “Thirsty?” Kitta took a sip and handed the water back to Doss. He tucked the cylinder inside the bag, arranged the cross weapons for quick retrieval should they be required and put his arm around her shoulders. She leaned against him, taking comfort in his strength and the steady beat of his heart. Although they were inside a prison within a hostile country and on a planet outside the Alliance’s protection, Doss was alert, but calm. He oozed confidence. It was little wonder he’d excelled in covert operations. Hearing her name, Kitta scrambled to her feet. Oren appeared from one of the narrow corridors leading into the warehouse. His dark hair was long, brushing his
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shoulders and his face was gaunt, but his grin was genuine. He’d lost weight since she’d last seen him, but so had she during her Idari ordeal. A short man ran behind Oren waving one of the pieces of currency Doss had distributed. Oren scooped her into his arms, hugging her to his chest. “I knew you’d come.” He was about to kiss her when he spotted Doss who was paying off the successful Outsider. Shock registered on his face. Oren set her on her feet and stared at Doss who was stuffing bills into the hands of the Outsiders. Once the funds were distributed, the men and women vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Oren stepped toward his brother. “Doss.” “It’s been a long time,” Doss said, without a flicker of emotion. “Too long,” Oren said, wrapping his arms around his brother. The brothers embraced, but Doss was the first to step back. Oren glanced at Kitta. “Leave it to you to bring the Alliance’s best.” Doss didn’t correct him, so Kitta remained silent. “How’s Mom?” Oren asked. “She thinks you’re dead,” Doss said. “It’s been difficult for her.” “You didn’t tell her I was alive?” “I didn’t confirm the authenticity of your message until I located Kitta.” “How did you know I was here?” Oren asked. Then his eyes widened. “The humanitarian social worker. She’s an Alliance operative, isn’t she?” Doss nodded. “We need to get moving. If you’re not ready, get ready. We’re traveling light.” “I’m ready.” Oren looked at Kitta. “I’ve been praying you’d received my message.” “Keep praying,” Doss said. “We’re using the annual Jari pilgrimage as cover.” Oren gave Kitta a once-over. “You walked down Euphoria without arousing the interest of the district security?” “I stripped down to my underwear and pretended I was a working girl. Doss was my client.” Oren reached out and lifted the thin gold strands hanging around her neck. “Armed and beautiful. Can I be your client on the way out?” Recalling what she and Doss had done to blend in and avoid the notice of the security officers, Kitta wasn’t about to repeat the process with Oren. “Do you know another route to the gate?” Doss asked. “One we can use so Kitta can keep her clothes on?” “The hero of black-ops is asking me?” “Yeah, I’m asking you.”
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“I can navigate us through the residential areas,” Oren said. “But we can’t avoid Euphoria. All the streets lead into it. Euphoria is the only way to reach the gates.” Doss gave Oren a quick nod. “Get us as close as you can. I’ve got the rest covered.” “Of course you do.” The air smelled of testosterone. During her years as a merc, Kitta had worked with a variety of fearless and confident males who often locked horns. The friction between Oren and Doss ran deep. “I’m hungry. Do they still sell soy dogs in the district?” she asked, hoping to break the tension. Oren nodded his head. “Yeah. If you have the cash to buy them.” Kitta looked at Doss. “Look’s like lunch is on me.” The tension eased a little as they munched on soy dogs. Kitta turned to Oren. “How should we proceed?” “I’ve spent hours walking these streets,” Oren said. “We can avoid the blue and red districts.” “That’s good,” Kitta said. “I’ll take point,” Oren said, glancing at Doss who nodded his approval. “Depending on which hand I raise, I’ll direct you to the left or the right side of the street. If I stop, you stop. If I scratch my head, I’ve spotted district security.” Oren picked up his pace and moved ahead of them. Several residents passed, most didn’t give them more than a cursory glance. Oren raised his right hand. Kitta and Doss moved to the far right of the street to avoid the three men approaching them on the left side. Kitta let out a sigh of relief when the men passed them and kept on walking. As they approached the bright lights of a cross street, Oren stopped and stood on the corner. Doss took hold of Kitta’s arm. She took comfort in having him by her side. Voices rose, the rumble of male voices mingled with the higher-pitched tones of females. The boisterous group walked toward the blue district. Once they had passed his position, Oren slowly crossed the street. Kitta and Doss picked up the pace and followed him. Oren led them down a narrow alleyway and then turned to the right and started down a deserted street in the brown district. They zigzagged through the brown district and into the orange. They passed by boarded-up sports centers and spas that had fallen into disrepair. In the distance, Kitta heard music. Oren slowed his step, but didn’t stop. When they caught up with him, the streets had changed to purple. “Euphoria is to our left,” Oren said. With each step they took, the music got louder. 190
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“Once we’re on Euphoria, how far to the gate?” Kitta asked. “Not far, you’ll be able to see it.” “If the crowds are still as large as when we entered, we should be able to blend in and follow the tourists leaving Ertes.” Doss dug into one of his many pants pockets and pulled out folded currency and handed it to Oren. “I suspect the guards will demand payment as we leave.” Oren stuffed the money in his pocket. Doss’ gaze settled on Kitta. “As soon as we are on Euphoria, I want the two of you to head straight for the gate. I’ll be right behind you. We should exit together. The guards will search my bag and find three robes and crosses.” During this phase of the operation one person had to call the shots. Doss had taken control. “The militia will be checking permits at the gate,” Oren said. Doss dug into his bag and produced the permits. He looked at Oren. “Outside of the gates are toilet trailers set up for the pilgrims. In case we get separated in the crowd, that’s our destination.” “Toilet trailers?” “You enter as a tourist and exit as a pious pilgrim,” Kitta said. “You’ve thought of every detail, but I’d feel better if I had a weapon.” “You haven’t seen your pilgrim’s cross.” Oren’s eyebrows lifted. “I guess you have thought of every detail.” Doss adjusted the cloth bag. “Let’s move.”
***** Doss searched the crowds for the purple-shirted district police. Oren and Kitta were making steady progress toward the gate. His brother had his arm slung around Kitta’s shoulders, keeping her close to his side. He wanted Oren to keep her safe, but seeing Oren’s fingertips trail along Kitta’s arm stabbed at Doss’ heart. He had to accept Kitta’s relationship with Oren. The two had a history and their time apart had done little to cool the desire Doss saw in his brother’s eyes. Doss wanted Kitta. He feared he was in love with her, but what had happened between them on the streets of Ertes was part of the mission. He was the one who had gotten so caught up in the pleasure, he’d momentary forgotten the mission. Kitta had remained focused. Doss had hoped the night they’d spent together, the passion they’d shared before he’d told her his true purpose for being on Raegel would count for something, but everything had changed the moment he’d told her Oren was alive.
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If Kitta was involved with any other man, he’d move mountains to have her, but no way was he competing with his brother. He’d already experienced that kind of hell. Kitta and Oren stood in an exit line. Doss joined them. The guards were checking permits and bags. As he’d anticipated, the pilgrims willing to pay bribes were exiting without being hassled. Outside the gate, Oren looked around and drew an audible breath. Doss placed a hand on his brother’s back. “Keep moving.” Oren turned and looked him in the eye. “Thank you, Doss. I’m sorry about Bracie. I wanted to hurt you. I was wrong.” Doss hadn’t expected Oren’s apology. Bracie had faded in importance, but the deep emotional wound inflicted by Oren’s betrayal split open. “I’m truly sorry. I can’t change what I did, but one day I’m hoping you’ll forgive me.” Oren’s words were a cathartic release. The pain eased. Maybe after this was over, they’d find a way to be close again, to forgive and forget. Doss would have to find the strength to accept the fact that Kitta was lost to him. If his superiors would take him back, he’d take any assignment as long as it put him far away from Kitta. The other side of ‘verse would do just fine. Doss kept his hand on his brother’s back. “We should keep moving. It’s a long walk to the border.”
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Chapter Six Kitta had no idea who Bracie was, but Oren’s apology had relieved the tension that had been present from the moment the brothers had set eyes on one another. Basking in his newfound freedom, Oren kept the conversion flowing as they walked with the pilgrims heading toward the border. Doss remained quiet, rarely joining in with the conversation. With each step, Kitta felt Doss’ emotional withdrawal. His handsome jaw was set and rarely did their gazes meet. They crossed the border into Cratis and shed their pilgrim robes. Oren hugged Doss and thanked him for coming to his rescue. “I owe you, brother. I’ll owe you forever.” Then Oren gathered Kitta in his arms and kissed her soundly. She shared in his joy, but his kiss didn’t sear her senses and she hadn’t the heart to push him away. Finally, Oren released her and looked at Doss. “Do we have transportation off this planet?” Doss handed Oren a currency card. “Celebrate your freedom. Enjoy yourselves. I’ll round up Captain Donel. Kitta knows where the ship is docked. You’ve got three hours.” Oren grabbed Kitta by the hand. “Come on, Kitta. Let’s have some fun.” Feeling as if her heart was shredding, Kitta watched Doss walk away. “Come on, Kitta,” Oren said, dragging her toward a taxi request station. He slid the currency card through the slot. A bright red vehicle rolled up and the doors popped open. “I haven’t had a decent meal in months.” The taxi’s computer greeted them. Welcome aboard. Destination, please. Oren requested a lakeside restaurant. He hugged Kitta. “Let’s drink beer until we’re shit-faced.” Kitta didn’t respond, but Oren didn’t seem to notice. The taxi zipped through the border traffic and a few minutes later it pulled up in front of a white two-story building. They sat at an outside table overlooking the lake. While Oren ordered Kitta looked across the expanse of water. A short distance along the shore, laughter spilled from a tavern. She remembered that tavern. The night before the ill-fated mission into Idar, Kitta and her four-man team had drank beer on the tavern’s deck.
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Her insides tightened as the painful loss of Payson, Romer and Grant came rushing back. She swiped at the tears welling in her eyes. The mugs of beer Oren had ordered arrived. “Your bio-monitor went red.” Oren yanked open his shirt, exposing his upper chest. His skin was scarred in a star-like pattern. “I was hit. Took another on the helmet. Bam! That’s all I remember. I woke up in a hospital. When my wound had healed they threw me in a dark room. I have no idea how long I lived in that cell. I told them our mission was to rescue Vepekt, but day after day they used those energy whips and accused me of being an Alliance spy.” He shuddered and sucked down most of his beer. “I was in bad shape when they threw me inside Ertes. Without the Outsiders, I wouldn’t have survived.” The Idari had accused her of being a spy. “They used the whips on me too.” “Maybe some day we’ll talk about it, but right now I want to enjoy a meal and drink a few beers, okay?” She hadn’t wanted to talk about her interrogation either. Kitta picked up her beer. “To Payson, Romer and Grant.” Oren visibly swallowed. “Any chance they survived?” Kitta shook her head. “None.” While they dined, Oren asked her about her recent missions. She told him she had left Stryker and had purchased a tavern on Raegel. “You’re too good to waste your talent behind a bar.” “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t go back to Stryker.” “You came after me.” Kitta pushed away the plate of food she’d barely touched and finished her beer. “Leaving you in Ertes wasn’t an option. Being a merc again is. I like Ambrose’s Den. As for Raegel, I have nowhere else to go.” He reached out and took her hand. “All that time in Ertes I thought about you, about what happened between us that night before the mission.” Kitta started to pull her hand away, but Oren tightened his grip. “I still want you.” “That night shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry, Oren.” He released her hand. “It’s Doss, isn’t it?” His words were like a slap in the face. “Don’t look so shocked. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and the way you look at him. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Kitta felt exposed. She’d always kept her emotions fiercely in check, but the realization of her love for Doss gripped her heart. Oren had read her emotions, had Doss? “You’re way out of line.” 194
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“Maybe I am, but I’m right.” Oren finished his beer and stood. “Let’s get off this fucking planet.” They caught another taxi and made the trip to the interplanetary airport in silence. Kitta guided Oren to the terminal for private craft. Kitta started up the ramp with Oren following. Donel was waiting for her. She introduced Oren to the ship’s captain. “I’ve been ordered to take the two of you anywhere in Alliance territory,” Donel said. “Where’s Doss?” Kitta asked. “He made arrangements for the two of you, then he left.” “Left?” Anger sliced through Kitta. He’d left her. “Where did he go?” Donel scratched his head. “How would I know and why would I care?” Her heart banging against her chest wall, Kitta turned and started down the ramp. She had to find Doss. “I’m leaving for Raegel,” Donel said. “You’re either aboard or you’re not. Either way, I get paid.” Oren caught up with her and grabbed her arm. “Don’t even think about it. You’ll never find him.” “I can try.” “You’d be wasting your time. I called him the Alliance’s best. It wasn’t a joke. He is the best. He could give Stryker lessons.” Oren turned to Donel. “You’re taking her to Raegel. Then you’re taking me home to Maretan.” Donel grumbled. “Welcome aboard.” Oren put his arm around Kitta’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s find our cabins.” Kitta let him guide her down the passageway. “Why did he leave? He paid Donel. I don’t understand.” Oren squeezed her shoulder. “Unfortunately, I do.” “Then explain it to me.” Inside her cabin, Oren took the only chair. Kitta sat on the bed. “Okay, tell me.” “Doss’ father was a highly decorated Alliance officer, a real hero. He died when Doss was still an infant. When my mother remarried, she wanted nothing to do with a military man. My father works behind a desk for the Ministry of Health.” Kitta realized how little she knew about Doss. She leaned forward, eager to learn more. “Doss followed in his father’s footsteps. He was an excellent student and a better soldier. I grew up in his shadow. He was always smarter, better, a real achiever. It wasn’t easy being Doss’ little brother.”
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Oren shook his head. “I was a fool. I didn’t realize how hard he’d worked to excel, to be the best. Doss had a girl.” “Bracie?” Oren nodded. “While he was away on a long mission off-planet, I seduced her. It wasn’t easy, but I was determined to beat my brother at something.” “Doss found out?” “He called and told my mother he was coming home. He didn’t want her to tell Bracie. He wanted to surprise his girl. I made sure they were both surprised. “I figured we’d go at it, man-to-man, and I’d show him just how tough I was. But Doss didn’t say a word. He just walked away.” “What happened to Bracie?” “She told me Doss was twice the man I was. She was right. While I was in Ertes, I decided to find Doss and beg his forgiveness.” “How do I find him?” “You don’t. You go back to Ambrose’s Den and wait.” Oren had to be out of his mind. “Wait?” “When he figures out that we aren’t together and that you’re on Raegel, he’ll come to his senses.” Kitta hadn’t known Doss long, but one thing she knew, the man had too much pride to come to his senses. “What if he doesn’t?” “He cares about you, but the thing with Bracie busted our family apart. Doss believes he’s doing the right thing for all of us. He’s taking the weight on his shoulders and he’ll carry it.” Kitta envisioned a lifetime of waiting on Raegel. “There has to be a way to find out where he went.” “There’s only one person he’ll confide in, our mother. I know he’ll swear her to secrecy.” Kitta fisted Oren’s shirt. “I saved your ass, Oren. You owe me. Talk to her, convince her to tell you.”
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Chapter Seven A month later Kitta still waited and whenever the door to Ambrose’s Den swung open, she prayed it was Doss. Her prayers went unanswered. Finally, she received a message from Oren. He’d returned to Stryker Security. Kitta skipped past the part thanking her for saving his ass and focused on the last sentence. Mom received a message from Doss. Sounds crazy, but he’s on Ulis, trying his hand at prospecting. Oren signed off. Now we’re even. Why had Doss given up his career with the Alliance for prospecting on a remote mining planet on the opposite side of the galaxy? She was still pondering Oren’s information when Donel swaggered into the tavern. “Hey, Kitta. How about a volcano?” Smiling, she mixed the drink, added an extra shot and placed it on the bar. “It’s on the house.” Donel’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “You feeling okay?” Kitta was feeling anything but okay. It was time to stop hiding out on Raegel and take control of her life. “I need a ride to Ulis.” “It’s gonna cost you.” “How much?” Donel quoted an outrageous price, but Kitta didn’t hesitate. She was ready for her final mission, finding Doss. The captain picked up his drink. “What’s on Ulis?” “My heart.” When Donel frowned, Kitta responded with a joyful grin. “How soon can we leave, Captain?”
***** An arid planet, Ulis suffered beneath a relentless sun. Kitta swiped her hand through her damp hair as she walked the dusty streets of a rough-and-tumble mining settlement called Fortune. Rare red gems, similar to the old Earth rubies, were Ulis’ claim to fame and two competing corporations controlled the galactic market, but a lucky prospector could make a fortune. Familiar with the settlement, Donel had given her the names of several bars where the freelance miners drank expensive beer and avoided the excessive heat. The captain
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had also given her the names of the local houses of pleasure, but Kitta drew the line at searching whorehouses. If she had to pull Doss out of the arms of a hooker to tell him she loved him, she’d most likely shoot him the moment the words were out of her mouth. She’d stashed her pulse pistol in her cabin and armed with her gold necklace and bracelets, Kitta headed for town. In every place she visited, Kitta had approached the bartender and offered cash for information. She’d ignored the looks she’d received from the patrons and politely refused offers for drinks. In one place she’d quietly bent the forefinger of one aggressive miner until he’d yelped in pain and removed his hand from her ass. Although it was almost closing time, Kitta decided to check out a place called the Dark Well. A blast of hot air followed her inside the temperature-controlled room. A dozen heads swiveled her way, but only one pale-haired male held her attention. Just looking at him made her shiver. Doss pushed off the barstool. He wore a frayed sleeveless shirt that displayed his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Her toes curled in erotic anticipation. His gaze flicked over her making her wish she’d worn something feminine and alluring instead of a faded, sweat-soaked tank top and cargo pants. “Kitta.” “I’ve been looking for you, Doss.” “I wish you were looking for me,” someone farther down the bar said. Doss didn’t move. He just stared at her as if she were a ghost. Kitta’s heart thundered, the urge to jump him and demand his love came and went in a flash. She cocked her head to one side. “I travel to the opposite side of the galaxy, putting up with the likes of Donel and you have nothing to say?” His gaze narrowed and his hands were clenched. “You’ve found me. Question is, why are you here?” “With sword and salt.” Fear flashing in his eyes, Doss stepped toward her. “What’s happened? Is Oren okay?” Kitta lifted her chin. “I’m the one who’s in distress. I’m the one who needs rescuing.” A slight grin curved his lips. “You’ve got trouble?” She moved closer, until they were toe-to-toe. Still, he didn’t touch her. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?” Blue eyes blazing, he shook his head. “I can’t live without you and I can’t think for wanting you. I love you, Doss.” Using her forefinger, she poked him in the chest. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”
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He snagged her by the waist. The whistles and the hoots of the bar patrons faded as he hustled her outside. Doss gripped her by the hair and slammed his mouth down on hers. He held her in a viselike grip as if he’d never let her go. If she had her way, he never would. Kitta gripped his shirt, holding him fast, kissing him back. His male scent triggered an avalanche of need. Her insides went hot and her heart thundered. They finally came up for air. He buried his face in her hair. “I can’t believe you’re here.” During the long journey to Ulis, Kitta had thought long and hard about her feelings for Doss. Once or twice she’d had doubts, but the silly smile plastered on her face was so uncharacteristic even Donel was perplexed by the new Kitta. For the first time in her life, she was in love. Doss had broken through her wall of fear and he’d shattered the shield protecting her heart. He’d brought her back to the living and taught her to love. Instead of hiding from her past, Kitta embraced the future. As long as she and Doss were together, Kitta didn’t care if they returned to Raegel or spent the rest of their lives on Ulis digging for rare gems. “You feel so good. You have no idea how I’ve missed you.” His voice was thick with emotion and his eyes were shimmering, but Kitta needed to hear him say the words. She’d need to hear them for the rest of her life. Kitta grabbed him by the hair. “That’s all you’ve got to say?” His blue eyes snapped, fiery with desire. “I love you, Kitta. I love you so much it hurts.” “Tell me you have a temperature-controlled room.” He shook his head. “Not one to be had in Fortune. The sex is gonna be hot and sweaty.” “I can do hot and sweaty, but don’t you ever fucking leave me again. Next time, I’ll hunt you down, kick your ass, then shoot you in the balls.” He grabbed her ass and squeezed. “Don’t worry, love. There will never, ever, be a next time.”
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ABOUT THE AUTHORS Ari Thatcher Ari Thatcher is a native Los Angelean who is avidly approaching her cougar years. When she’s not hunting her next prey, she can be found writing down her fantasies. She hopes her readers gain as much…satisfaction…from them as she does. Also by Ari Thatcher Honey
Cara Carnes Cara Carnes discovered her love of writing early in life, as most writers tend to. At the age of 11, she typed up a love story and happily mailed it off. Anxiously awaiting her acceptance letter and fat advance check, she dutifully listened to her mother and grandfather as they instilled in her the lessons key to her writing today. By the time the handwritten rejection letter arrived, Cara knew that someday she would be writing the stories that she loved. Most importantly, she had learned two key fundamentals from her mother and grandfather—always expect the unexpected and know you can do anything you set your mind to. Cara’s love for the written word found a home in erotic romance. Wanting to bring fantasies to life on the pages of her books, she enjoys crafting characters who sizzle on the pages and burn their way into your heart. While she loves all genres of romance, erotic will always have a special place in her heart because Cara believes true romance doesn’t stop at the bedroom door. Cara is a native Texan and currently resides in Austin. When she isn’t absorbed in her characters, she enjoys traveling, photography and spending time with family and friends. Also by Cara Carnes Cadari Lover
Kimberly Dean Kimberly welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and e-mail address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com. Also by Kimberly Dean Fever Hypnotica On the Prowl
Janne Lewis Janne Lewis has been telling stories since she was little and grew up loving to read historical romances (always reading the last page first to make certain the heroine ended up with the right guy). Janne is now a multi-published author and has won awards for her writing in other genres. She is fascinated by how sexual desire can turn the most rational and reasonable human being into someone altogether different. She hopes her readers find as much pleasure in her stories as she did in writing them.
Liddy Midnight Liddy Midnight lives, loves, works and writes in the woods of eastern Pennsylvania, surrounded by lush greenery and wildlife. Although raccoons, possums, skunks and the occasional fox eat the cat food on her back porch, she’s no more than half an hour from some of the finest shopping in the country. Situated in this best of all possible worlds, how could she write anything other than romance? Also by Liddy Midnight Elementals: Fire and Ice Elementals: Small Magick Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis I anthology Finding the Light Rogues with Cricket Starr Transformations anthology
BJ McCall Born a coal miner’s daughter, B. J. McCall lives on the beautiful California coast. A perfect day includes writing the final chapter of a book and spotting dolphins or whales playing offshore. Multi-published in ebook and print, B.J. writes sensual romance in contemporary, futuristic, paranormal and fantasy genres. The phrase “do what you love” applies to B.J. She loves to write and every story is special. She hopes her readers will enjoy each and every one of them. Also by BJ McCall Deep Heat Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis II anthology Ellora’s Cavemen: Jewels of the Nile I anthology Ellora’s Cavemen: Legendary Tails I anthology Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction IV anthology Icy Hot Knight’s Emerald Short, Tight & Sexy Slumber Party, Inc. Things That Go Bump in the Night V anthology Warrior of the Light The authors welcome comments from readers. Find their websites and e-mail addresses on their author bio pages at www.ellorascave.com.
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Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless. www.ellorascave.com
