Authors: Joanna Wylde
“I like how it feels,” he replied. “It’s natural, reminds me that humans belong on planets, not space stations.”
“Do you live on a planet, then?” she asked. “I thought you lived on this ship.”
“Unmated men my age don’t stay on planet,” he said after a long pause. “I guess it’s a reminder of what I could have had, in some ways.”
She stopped dancing and looked up at him. His expression was distant, and a bit sad. She didn’t like it.
“Why don’t you kiss me?” she asked.
He looked startled, then smiled again. He lowered his head slowly to hers, and then his lips touched her. They were firm but still soft, and they danced across her mouth with a self-control that did nothing to hide his strength. Then he turned his head to one side, and his lips opened across hers, deepening the kiss with an intensity that made her sag in his arms. His tongue pushed into her mouth, and she knew that for all his restraint earlier that evening, there could be no denying the depth of his need. They might have been back at the hallway in Manya’s. His arms wrapped tight around her body, pulling her belly against the hardness of his groin. He grew against her, and his tongue plunged into her again and again. There was no doubt what he was trying to communicate to her—he wanted to be inside her, to take her with an intensity that was frightening.
It was the most incredibly sexy thing she’d ever experienced.
She’d been with men before, but not like this. There had never been the sense that they would die without her. The urgency of his every touch, the feel of him as his hips pressed again her—it was almost too much. She wanted to scream, scratch, even bite at him. To
do
something to release some of the tension that was building in her body. But she couldn’t—her entire body was held motionless by his, his mouth dominating her totally.
After an endless kiss, he pulled his mouth back from hers and she opened her eyes unsteadily. His face was flushed, and his scar had deepened to a deep, dark red.
“Giselle, would you be willing to join me in my cabin this evening?” he asked, the formality of his words at complete odds with the embrace they’d just shared. She took a deep breath and replied fervently.
“Oh, yes.”
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Joanna Wylde
Chapter Six
He swooped her up in his arms, laughing—he could hardly believe how much her answer meant to him. Most of his women in the past had been paid for, and they always said yes. He’d never worried before now whether a woman actually meant it.
She laughed as he carried her down the hall. He loved how her curls bounced, loved how she wiggled against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tight, as if she actually
enjoyed
being held by him. When they got to the door, her mouth was too tightly attached to his for him to give an open command, so he bumped at the plate with his hip. Nothing.
Pulling his head away from hers, he muttered, “Damn, I can’t seem to get anything to go right tonight.”
She giggled as she slid down his body. Her hand snaked around to the front of his pants, cupping his erection lightly. “At least one thing seems to be doing just fine,” she muttered.
He slapped at the doorplate and it slid open. Together they stumbled into the small room, and he gave mental thanks to the Goddess that he’d opted for a full size bed.
He’d never anticipated anyone to share it with, but he’d figured the extra sleeping space would be worth sacrificing some living space.
She ran her hands over his chest, clawing at his shirt and pulling it open. Then her hands were rubbing across him and she licked his left nipple fiercely. He shuddered, and pushed her back with a gasp. Her knees hit the bed and she went down. He followed her down, mouth gripping hers as his hands frantically scrabbled at her clothing. Her hips thrust up at him, and he could feel his own hips answering her rhythm. Every little movement sent the fabric of his pants scraping against his cock, and for a moment he thought he’d explode right then and there.
He had to do something, or there would be a repeat of his humiliation in the hostel.
He gripped each of her wrists with his hands, and brought them together over her head. He sat up, and she whimpered, gasping for breath.
“Why are you holding me prisoner?” she asked. “What did I do to deserve this?”
The look on her face was so indignant that he couldn’t help but laugh.
“I think you need some specialized attention before we go too much further,” he said gravely. “But for some reason, I tend to forget that whenever you move.”
“Hmmm…” she replied with gravity matching his own. “But how are you going to give me that kind of specialized attention if you’re busy holding my hands prisoner over my head?”
“Well, I was thinking I might tie you up,” he said thoughtfully.
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“No!” she shrieked, bucking against him, giggling uncharacteristically.
He transferred both of her wrists to one hand, then reached down and tickled her stomach with the other. She shrieked again, and twisted against him.
“Truce!” she cried out. “Truce! You’re breaking our truce!”
“Well, do you have any suggestion for how I should deal with this dilemma?” He asked. “You obviously can’t be trusted not to wiggle.”
“What if I grip the top of the bed with my hands?” she asked hopefully. “If I promise not to let go, then you don’t have to tie me up.”
“Well, that would leave me free to have my wicked way with you,” he said seriously. “All right, we’ll give it a try. But if you don’t keep hold, I’m going to have to tie you up. Remember, this is for your own good.”
She laughed and nodded her head. He let her wrists go free and she twisted, turning both hands so she could grip the edge of the mattress.
“So,” she said archly. “Here I am, spread out at your mercy. What do you plan to do with me?”
He schooled his features into a grimace, barring his teeth at her. He knew he looked fearsome. “I’m going to take wild, passionate advantage of you.”
“You hide behind that scar way too much,” she said suddenly. “You can’t fool me any longer. You’re a nice man, and you aren’t going to hurt me.”
“You talk way too much,” he said, his expression darkening. “I’ll need to do something about that mouth of yours.”
Before she could reply, he lowered himself, covering her mouth with his. He kissed her deep and hard this time, pushing himself into her mouth the same way he wanted to push his lower body into hers. Damn, she was so soft and hot and open. Touching her was almost more than he could stand, but he’d be damned if he’d let her go.
He slid one hand down the front of her body, flicking at the tabs that held her jumpsuit shut. When he had enough of an opening, he slipped his hand in, tracing it across her stomach. He could feel her flinch against him, both on her skin and through her mouth. His fingers wandered down into the patch of hair between her legs. She was even hotter down there. He slid his fingers along her labia, dipping into her opening to catch some of that moisture, and then rubbing it up across the erect button of her clit.
She jumped against him, and he lifted his mouth from hers to smile at her.
Her face flushed red again, and he leaned down to kiss one particularly big freckle on her chin.
“I like these little dots,” he said. “You look cute as hell.”
She tried to wrinkle her nose at him, but he wiggled his fingers again. She gasped, eyes closing and heaving her hips against his fingers.
“I don’t like being called cute,” she muttered after a few more gasps. “I think the word you were looking for is ‘Goddess’.”
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He laughed again, and then kissed another freckle. She was trying so hard to look upset with him, but every time he twisted his fingers her entire body heaved with pleasure. He kept moving his fingers as he kissed across her chin and down the length of her neck. He nudged her jumpsuit aside with his nose, burrowing down and kissing the crevice between her breasts. Then he nudged the fabric aside to kiss up the slope of her breast.
He found the nipple in a moment, a large, pink peak of flesh that quivered in anticipation of his touch. He licked it once, twice, enjoying the sight of it as it tightened further. She muttered something, but he ignored it, fascinated by her nipple as he first blew across it and then licked it.
He turned his attention to the other side, deciding to kiss each freckle along the way. There were sixty-two of them, he discovered. Of course, it was hard to count because her body kept jerking as he worked her clit. But it was worth it, because by the time he finally reached the other nipple she moaned and gasped as if she were in pain.
He played the same game with the other nipple before starting down the length of her torso toward her stomach. There were another 153 freckles along the way to her belly button. She almost jumped off the bed when he stuck his tongue in it, and her muttering grew louder.
Her clit hardened beneath his fingers, and he could tell that she was getting close to her orgasm by the fluids collecting between her legs. He pushed two fingers up inside her opening, stretching her and prepping her for his cock. There was nothing more wonderful than the moment when a woman swallowed his length whole. Just the thought of pushing his cock inside that hot opening was enough to make him grind his hips against the bed, and for once second he considered simply pushing her jumper off and thrusting into her. She was ready, he could tell from the little noises she made and the way she gushed against his hand. He could bring her over the edge with his cock in seconds.
But he held back, reminding himself that this time was for her. She’d earned a little consideration. So he steeled himself as he kissed lower, using both hands to push her jumpsuit down her shoulders. Her hips lifted to help him, and he slid the clothing down her legs. He followed the fabric to the floor, kneeling between her legs and hooking them over his shoulders.
He leaned forward, inhaling her scent, and then touched the tiny, hard knot of her clit with his tongue experimentally. Her legs clutched him closer and she moaned. To tease her, he pulled back a bit and blew on the stiffened nub. He flicked it once with his tongue, and then flicked it once more. Then he started laving it slowly, stiffening his tongue and swirling it around her clit slowly and deliberately.
Her entire body clutched and stiffened again, and he increased his pace. She was like a wonderful dessert, something to be savored and suckled. She bucked against him, and he had to clamp his arms around her legs to hold her still for his ministrations. She muttered something in a guttural tone of voice before her hips twisted and she 42
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exploded around him. He felt her orgasm in her legs and between his lips, her body falling limp.
He raised himself and sat down behind her. Her expression was sated, filled with pleasure and smug in a way that he would normally associate only with a feline.
She rolled her head to one side and looked up at him.
“Damn, that was good,” she said in a low voice.
“Am I forgiven for the other night?” he asked softly.
She laughed a little, and then shook her head.
“Nope,” she said. “Not before I get a couple more like that one. You’re talented, Captain.”
He laughed, and fell down on the bed. He’d be more than happy to give her a few more like that one, providing he got some relief of his own along the way. He was about to rupture.
He lay next to her, unwilling to make the next move. He wanted to jump on her, take her fast and hard. Doing that would wipe out everything he’d accomplished, though. He needed her to understand that he could be a compassionate lover, not just the kind of man who spent himself like a boy. Her pleasure mattered to him; he’d prove that to her, even if it killed him in the process. He closed his eyes, listening to her breath come slowly beside him. Then her hand touched him and sensation curled through his body.
She ran her fingers along his arm, her touch so soft and gentle that he wondered for a moment if he imagined it.
He could feel each little hair standing up, and then her fingers lifted, just grazing the tips of those hairs rather than truly touching his arm. He pushed his arm toward hers hopefully.
She seemed to understand, because she gave a low laugh and then her hand grasped his arm more firmly. He felt the bed shift as she sat up. She pulled his arm up above his head, then grasped his other hand and did the same to it.
“Now it’s your turn to hold your hands still,” she said in a low voice. He shivered, following her instructions willingly. He started to open his eyes, but her fingers grazed across his lashes.
“No peeking,” she said. “I think that this time is for me—you’ve already done your damage here.”
He shook his head in denial, but he did as she asked. If it involved her touching him, that was good enough. He didn’t need to see her so long as he could feel her. He clutched the edge of the mattress with both hands, holding himself breathless as he waited for her to make her next move. It came a moment later when her weight shifted again.
One leg slid over his, and then she straddled him. He could feel the heat of her body cradling his cock, and cursed himself for not taking off his clothes earlier. Then 43
Joanna Wylde
again, that had probably been for the best. If he’d been able to feel her bare skin against his, he would have lost it.
Still, this was torture.
She wiggled on top of him, grinding her pelvis down over his. He pressed back up at her, for the first time realizing how cruel his little game had been. Having her so close, feeling her touch him without the chance of touching her back was maddening.
He wanted to grab those soft, rounded hips and thrust up into her so high she screamed.
Instead, he simply lay there trying not to whimper. Each movement pressed her heat against him. Each twist of her pelvis imitated the dance he wanted to perform so desperately he thought he might explode. Then her fingers pulled open his shirt and he thought he’d died and gone to hell.
For a moment she stilled, and he couldn’t breathe. If she didn’t touch him he would die. If she touched him it might be just as bad. His cock was so hard he thought it might split. Worse yet, he might explode on her again. Fuck, he thought in disgust. He should have jacked off first. At least that way he wouldn’t be like a teener in heat. Then her fingernails touched his chest and he forgot to think altogether.
She trailed them down the length of his chest, moving between his nipples toward his belly. She trailed them across the rippled muscles of his abdomen, and he twitched.
She flattened her fingers across him, and then massaged him lightly, rocking back and forth across his cock at the same time. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find some relief. Just as it became more than he could bear, she lifted her fingers and grew still.
Her weight shifted once more, and he felt her hair brush across his chest. He imagined what she would look like leaning over him. Hair dangling, breasts just above his flesh, nipples hard and ready for him. He gasped at the thought, a sound that turned to a moan as she nipped his right nipple sharply.
“No peeking,” she reminded him. Her tongue darted out to lave the small wound.
He shivered, and let his head fall to one side. The temptation to look at her was too strong. He knew without asking that if she caught him, he’d be sleeping alone that night.
After a moment her hot little tongue lifted. The cool air hit his nipple and it tightened. Something flicked across it—her finger? He moaned again.
“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered after several long seconds of teasing.
“Tempting,” she said lightly. “But perhaps a bit premature. I haven’t figured out how to fly the ship by myself yet.”
“You’d better save me, then,” he said softly, thrusting his hips up at her. “If I have a stroke you’ll be all alone out here.”
She laughed, and then lifted herself enough to scoot down his body. Her clever fingers worked at the fastening to his pants, and then he felt the cool air hit the length of his erection.
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Before he could say anything, she shifted again and sheathed herself suddenly on his length. After all the slow teasing, the sudden shock of her heat was enough to make him cry out. She seemed to enjoy his shock, squeezing him tightly with her internal muscles. Then she stilled, seated on him with her hands braced against his chest.