As an orphan, his mother had no family history and did not know she carried the gene--which is passed on from mother to son on the X chromosome. Many of those affected had no idea until the gene was triggered, and thus were not raised in shifter homes.
"Hey. You with me?"
He snapped out of his thoughts to find her looking up at him with a frown, an eyebrow raised. There was no way he would tell her, a one-night stand, about the worst time in his life.
"It's a long story, and I think we can find better things to do with our time."
He pushed the sheet away, exposing her full breasts, her small waist, and flat stomach. He pushed her onto her back and attacked her neck, causing her to shriek and dissolve into shuddering giggles. He found he wanted her as much as he'd wanted her the night before, which was a new experience for him.
He found her slippery and ready for him. He slid into her, watching her expression change as he bottomed out. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she shifted under him, opening her legs further and wrapping them around his waist. She grunted as he wedged himself deep inside her.
She was a very snug fit over his cock. He ground into her, swallowing her moans with his mouth. He had no idea what he'd have to do to wear her out. He'd lost count of how many times he'd taken her, the positions he'd fucked her in, yet she was still as wet as she had been the first time.
Entering her felt like stepping into a warm bath. He gave her the gentlest, most restrained thrust he could manage. He wanted to do a slow grind with her, make it last as long as possible. He had a feeling that with the sun coming up, she would be impatient to get on with her day. He positioned her knees over his elbows and began to swivel and thrust against the spot inside her that forced out the deep, guttural moan he had become accustomed to.
"Open your eyes," he said, sliding into her at a measured pace. Her black eyes were glazed over with passion. "I want to watch you come."
She felt so good. So good. Her body gripped him with tight heat. She made grunts of primal pleasure as his dick rubbed and dragged over her g-spot. He methodically stroked into her, willing himself to keep a steady pace.
But the more he tried to get his mind to control his actions, the more it became distracted by the soft flesh of this woman, the way she yielded completely under his touch. He began to tease her with shallow thrusts, his face a mask of concentration. He was sweating despite the air conditioning, dripping on her, holding himself back. He needed control over the feelings she brought out in him, the desire to fuck her over and over, to cover her with his come inside and out, to plant his seed in her.
That last thought had him stumbling over thrusts that were supposed to be measured and controlled. He needed to fuck her slow and steady, on his terms, then walk away from her as they had already agreed.
Every few strokes he'd lose his composure and deliver a few rough jabs that brought her to the edge time and again. Her face transformed from sated, to needy, to desperate as she chased him with her hips, trying to force him into the out-of-control pounding that would make her scream. He could see the longing on her face, the frustration, but he held back.
"Please," she said, and he knew without being told what she wanted.
But he wanted her on his own terms. He needed to be completely sated on her body, yet each time he had her, he wanted her more. Did he sense a similar struggle when he looked into her black eyes? That couldn't be right since he was but a check mark on her to-do list, and she, like him, wanted--needed--to be able to walk away. Diana wiggled her hips. She wanted to bring him deeper, make him go faster and harder. His pace faltered, and she was rewarded with a few uncontrolled hip jabs. She gave him a seductive little smile.
Slow down, his mind told his body. His mind would win, he decided. Slow down.
"Friction," she panted, startling him out of his headspace. Her voice, coarse and rough from screaming all night, caused his body to override his mind. "I need more. Please."
He managed to maintain a holding pattern. But she was genuine and real, and he struggled to maintain his composure. An image flashed in his mind: Diana gravid and swollen with his baby. He pushed the strange idea out of his head, even as he quickened his pace. He would not be passing his defective genes onto another generation.
He looked down at her. She was pleading with her eyes, which had gone glassy with lust. Perspiration beaded her smooth brown forehead. She was mouthing something, but no words came.
Please, he thought. She's saying please.
His body decided it had had enough and took control. His hips pistoned into her without a shred of restraint, his mind just along for the ride, as he felt his balls begin to tighten and the point of no return approached. He felt her pussy pulsing around him, sucking him in. Her breathy moan, emitted from a throat that had long gone hoarse, proved to be the trigger.
He thrust again and again, his dick going impossibly hard as she let out a guttural moan of release.
"Oh shit," he grunted.
He continued to stroke into her, teetering, waiting for his control to snap. When it did, in a succession of intense orgasmic spurts, it felt as though his whole body and mind had emptied into her.
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, and they lay there for several minutes, breathing hard. He looked at the ceiling, inhaled her unique scent and the intoxicating aroma of her pussy.
If she were any other woman, he would have left hours ago. Instead, his cock remained deeply embedded inside her. Her pussy was a marvelous fit to his cock. He wanted to stay like this with her, marinating in her body.
But it was time to go. Hell, it was past time to go. Mac sighed.
"I guess you should be going now," she said.
Diana didn't sound in the least conflicted about him. She sat up and looked down at him. She almost sounded impatient to get on with her day. She gave him a friendly peck on the lips, slid off his dick and reached for a robe. Wet and spent, his member flopped onto one thigh.
His lack of dating experience as an adolescent made actually talking to a woman awkward. Mac had a rule: never see a woman more than once. He enforced the rule by not giving out his contact information. If a woman somehow figured out how to contact him, he didn’t return the messages. He wasn't a complete man-whore, but he'd been with more than his fair share of women. He had never once had the desire to be with the same woman twice.
Until now. He reminded himself that he wasn't a sleepover kind of guy, and definitely wasn't a stay-for-the-weekend kind of guy, but his penis jerked at the prospect of staying with Diana a bit longer, and he found himself lingering, looking for a sign from her that she wanted him to stick around. But she gave no such indication. Which was all for the best, because there would be no future between them. He wasn't relationship material.
Diana looked at him expectantly, standing by the door of her bedroom, a red robe pulled around her. She had things to do, and so did he.
It was time for the walk of shame.
Chapter 6
Monday, September 11, 2079. Mid-morning.
"Miller, wrap up your inspection," Jacob barked from the screen of Diana's Omni. "Your new field supervisor is here. I need you in the office ASAP."
Diana had only a moment to take in the round, scowling face, steel-gray hair, and deep-set brown eyes before Jacob disconnected. He had been hanging up on her for five years, as long as Diana had been conducting inspections as a social worker with the Family Bureau. She knew not to take Jacob's brusque demeanor personally. Just steps away from entering her first inspection of the day, she sighed and turned away from the Woodland Creatures Club, one of the brothels on her rotation.
Being annoyed with Jacob was a waste of time, and no single inspection could be more important than the upcoming rotation with her field supervisor/bodyguard. She had been looking forward to the evaluation with anticipation and dread. Yearly, independent field evaluations were a routine part of the job but given the fact that she'd just been passed over for the
sector audit position, what would normally be routine was now an important hurdle to clear to get her career back on track. Since the evaluations involved wellness checks at client homes, field supervisors were usually enforcers at one of the city’s shifter security agencies.
She hadn't slept much since Thursday night, which she attributed to Ulysses Bodie, the man she would be meeting back at the office, not Mac, the man she'd kicked out of her bed Friday morning.
Diana boarded the Glide, the most efficient form of mass transportation in the often-congested city. With its sleek design and floor-to-ceiling window, the Glide made her think of the commuter trains of her youth. In Chicago, they were called the El, and she and her twin would take it after school to visit their father at his precinct. She frowned at the memory. Her mother had been leaving her messages for the past week, no doubt to see how Diana was holding up with the anniversary of her father's death coming up soon. Diana decided she would call her mother back later. Maybe later in the week.
While other passengers poked at their Omni screens like monkeys examining shiny objects, Diana's eyes drifted out the window as the world slid by. The seedy streets of the Harry Hines red light district looked bright and crass in the daylight. How different the streets of the city looked after dark and from the cab of Mac's truck.
She blinked the memory away just as her Omni chimed in her ear. Along with several increasingly urgent calls from her mother, which she planned to ignore, there were several messages from the same person who had been flirting with her all weekend. Mac.
Her cheeks went red, and heat trickled up her neck. She looked around the Glide, as if anyone had the slightest interest in what she was doing and activated her Omni's holographic screen.
This message contained a video of Big Tex, the giant animatronic statue that was a fixture of the State Fair of Texas. The video played The Yellow Rose of Texas, and she stifled a grin. Big Tex's mouth moved, but Mac's voice came out, issuing an invitation to the fair. She chewed on her bottom lip to avoid smiling. Silly. So different than she would have thought he would be when she first met him.
But relationships took too much time and effort, which should be channeled to her career. Her field supervisor would be evaluating her performance during her regular duties, as well as providing security for wellness checks and now was not the time for distractions. The next few weeks had to go well if she wanted to advance at the Bureau.
She could look Mac up later, couldn't she? When she felt in control of her career again. She could contact him, and they could go out. If he was still interested. She frowned, feeling a twinge of regret at the idea that he might move on in a month. She turned off her Omni without responding and waited for her stop to be called.
At the office, Diana straightened her shoulders and knocked before entering Jacob's office. He called out, "Come!" and she entered.
As a district manager, his office came with a view of downtown Dallas. He sat behind his standard issue fake wood grain desk, leaning back in his office chair, looking at the person currently occupying one of two guest chairs. Jacob nodded at the empty chair, and Diana stepped forward.
She wrinkled her nose at a familiar burning scent. Not Jacob, who smelled more like burning paper. She smelled burning hickory, a scent she wasn't sure she'd ever encounter again. She stepped forward, eyes widening in surprise, then recognition, then alarm.
The man in the guest chair turned to look at Diana over his shoulder. His eyes flickered over her face, and she watched recognition dawn like a sunrise on his face. His pleasant "nice to meet you" smile morphed into a smug one. He stood and grasped the hand Diana held out as if by reflex, engulfing her slender hand with one of his overly large ones, eliciting the same surge of electricity she'd felt the first time they'd touched. Her face grew hot at the memory, and she tried snatching her hand back.
"Ah..." she mumbled, mouth agape.
"Diana, meet Mac."
"We've met," said Mac. He smiled down at her and never took his eyes off hers.
"Ah...." she said again, allowing her hand to be pumped several times before he let it go, where it hovered mid-air before she snapped out of her shock and retracted it. He seemed to have a habit of holding on longer than he needed to. A wave of involuntary excitement washed over her, and she fought her body's urge to waver toward his. His voice and touch got to her, and her arm hairs lifted.
Diana looked at her boss, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "You said we were meeting with Ulysses Bodie?"
"I use my middle name, MacKenzie," Mac put in, grinning. His unusual hazel blue eyes looked into hers with humor.
Diana couldn't help it. The image of them in her bed, bodies entwined, desperate for connection, popped into her head. The way he looked at her now prolonged her blushing fit to the point that if the floor didn't soon open to swallow her, she might just fling herself out of Jacob's window. She made herself meet his gaze without backing down. The fabric of her uniform was so stiff that when she undressed at the end of the day, she half expected it to stand up by itself. It was also stiff enough to hide her painfully hard nipples, and for that she was grateful.
"Yes, we've already met, Jacob," said Diana. "We met at your party." She couldn't stand to look into his eyes any longer and let her eyes drift down towards the floor.
Mac looked at Diana, then Jacob. Jacob looked at Diana, then Mac, frowning. He cast his eyes back and forth between them, trying to parse the tension between Diana and Mac. Diana continued looking down at the floor. An awkward silence followed. Diana cleared her throat.
"Jacob," she said. "I think it would be best if you assigned me to a different supervisor for this rotation." She crossed her arms over her chest.
Jacob sighed. "Sit down, Diana."
The three of them remained standing. Diana looked at both men. A resigned sigh escaped her throat. She uncrossed her arms, relented and sat on the chair, one leg crossed over the other. The two men sat.
"It's only for a few weeks," Jacob said, looking aggrieved. "So whatever issue you two have, get over it."
Diana knew Jacob's pronouncement meant the end of the discussion. If she walked away from this evaluation, she might as well clean out her office and keep on stepping. It would be career suicide.
"Fine." Diana rested her elbows on the arms of her chair, uncrossed and re-crossed her legs in the other direction, and resisted the urge to look at Mac. She was sure the asshole was checking out her legging-clad legs.
Jacob opened the biometric lock of his desk drawer. He reached in and pulled out a paper file. Diana blinked, mouth suddenly dry and heart thudding with excitement as Jacob placed the brown file, stuffed with paper and worn on the edges, on his desk with care.
Paper was rare these days, digital data being more efficient to store and share. But digital data could be hacked, so the most sensitive information continued to be stored in paper files like this one. The most exclusive of sex workers, far removed from Diana's usual clientele of blow job artists, bar girls, dancers, and upstairs girls, had paper files.
Highly placed concubines had paper files.
Diana vibrated with excitement. It would normally take many years before a social worker had an opportunity to manage a concubine handover. More than the five years she'd invested in her career at the Family Bureau. But Jacob had the file, and it appeared that he was giving it to her.
"Here," he said, pushing the file toward her. "We just got this assignment today. Since you are already doing your rotation with Mac, I want you to take care of this too."
Jacob, master of understatement.
Her eyes remained glued to the file as Jacob droned on about the assignment. The name on the file was "Jaslene Duncan." She glanced over at Mac, who kept on looking smug, apparently oblivious to the significance of this assignment.
The gods contracted with concubines for limited terms, fathered an agreed-upon number of children, then gave the concubines a healthy lump-sum payment at the end of the contract. S
ocial workers managed the contract process, euphemistically called the "handover." The concubine system gave rise to legalized prostitution.
More than anything else Earth had to offer, concubines were precious to the gods. Without concubines, there would have been no reason for the gods to colonize the planet. There would be no Pantheon, the holding company the gods founded to manage their wealth. There would be no legalized sex workers. There would be no Family Bureau for Diana to work for as a social worker.
Managing a concubine handover to the patron--one of the Pantheon gods--was a career-making assignment. This would get her career back on track. This would allow her to choose her next assignment...if she performed well. And she would perform well if it killed her.
Her father had never been promoted past Field Detective, roughly equivalent to her current title before he died. He would have been so proud of her. She wished he was still around to see her succeed...
Diana tuned back into the conversation just as Jacob explained more details of the concubine assignment, to find her boss giving her a hard look.
"You with me?" he said, scowling.
"Yes, of course." She could almost feel Mac's eyes on her.
"It's not that different from what you already do. Just verify her identity and look for any signs of cold feet. We don't want her backing out of her contract before the five-year term." He paused, giving Diana another pointed look.
"Mac will take you and Ms. Duncan to the contract signing at Pantheon, then a few days later, the fertility rite. Then back to Pantheon to finalize the contract. There shouldn't be any issues, but you never know. There have been...complications in the past, so Mac's agency will be providing security at Styx."
Styx was the club where handovers were held. The location was different for each handover, but the club was always called Styx. According to office gossip, anti-Pantheon activists sometimes caused disturbances at handovers, to protest the entire concubine system and embarrass the gods.
The Minotaur's Kiss Page 3
