Cimmaron arched her body, sensations piling on top of one another. Her hands wandered lower to grasp the steely hardness of an arousal. She hummed her approval when she felt the pearl of come beaded on the crown. She pumped with slow, even strokes, a guttural groan rewarding her efforts.
The fingers probing her anus pulled out, and she could have howled her disappointment. “Please don’t stop,” she begged.
A husky chuckle met her demand. Cimmaron licked her lips, about to complain again. But to her relief, seconds later, competent hands spread cool lubricant over her rosette. Her stomach muscles quivered while fingers continued to pump lazily, deep into her pussy.
“You’re very wet,” a husky voice murmured near her ear.
Tamaki. Her body softened and a gush of cream moistened her even further. His thumb glided around the rim of her clitoris, teasing without giving her enough pressure to come.
“More,” she whispered hoarsely. Her plea did nothing to ease the teasing. Just when she thought she couldn’t bear it for a moment longer, the blunt head of a cock pushed against her rosette. She froze.
“Steady, sweetheart.” Tamaki stroked her breasts, teasing her nipples to aching prominence. He bent down to take her into his mouth, his lips closing gently around her nipple. At the same time the pressure increased as a cock pushed into her anus. Cimmaron tensed.
“Easy,” Tamaki soothed. “This will make you feel really good.”
“But it hurts,” Cimmaron snapped.
“Does this hurt?” Tamaki’s fingers smoothed down her body to part her folds and this time he massaged her clit. A shiver racked her body at the same time as the pain intensified. Rico kept the pressure up while Tamaki pushed her higher, stroking in an instinctive rhythm that made the pain bearable. He stroked her clit, pushing her higher then keeping her on edge. Cimmaron gasped as the pleasure took precedence, sucking in an awed breath. Rico pushed past the ring of muscle just as she balanced on the cusp of orgasm, filling her completely, impossibly full.
Before she had a chance to take a breath, Tamaki slipped inside her pussy with a powerful thrust of his body. He moaned low at the back of his throat. Cimmaron gasped as tiny tremors became bigger. More. Suddenly she shattered, pinpricks of light exploding behind her eyelids, and pleasure, so much pleasure.
The men moved together and, enveloped between their bodies, she could feel both of them deep inside her as they thrust, their cocks rubbing against each other. Renewed desire kicked in her belly. Her heart beat impossibly fast. Tamaki pressed close when he thrust. He took her lips in an urgent kiss. Cimmaron gave a small start when his teeth bit down on her bottom lip. The small pain ricocheted through her body until the sensations fizzled and bubbled like heady cacjuice. They overwhelmed her. She felt so full. So on fire. A throaty groan escaped as she shuddered with helpless bliss.
The six-bells alarm jerked Tamaki from a deep sleep. Groggily, he opened his eyes, his head feeling fluffy, as if he’d drunk too much reeb or vroom the evening before. Warmth surrounded him instead of the normal morn chills common to Marchant. He yawned and stretched lazily, snapping to full alertness when his hand landed on warm flesh. A breast. A masculine groan had him jackknifing upward. He stared in consternation at Rico and Cimmaron, his brain pounding in alarm. Phrull, exactly what had happened the previous evening? He looked at Rico, his best friend, and shuddered. He hadn’t? They hadn’t? He shook his head, negating the idea even as it formed.
Slowly, images seeped into his brain and his breath hissed out in relief. A little three-on-three action. Yeah. But he and Rico hadn’t done anything more than touch. As he stared in consternation at his friend, Rico’s eyes opened.
Rico sat up, his olive complexion a distinct green. “Shit, it wasn’t a dream.”
“No,” Tamaki said, trying to stem the renewed jealousy that rippled through him at the idea of anyone but him being intimate with Cimmaron. Last night it hadn’t seemed to matter too much, but now…
“What is Marianna going to say? She’ll never have me now.” Horror laced Rico’s words. “And what about the fraternization rule? We’ll lose our jobs.”
Between them, Cimmaron stirred. Tamaki knew to the microt when she realized where she was and remembered the events of the previous night. She scrambled over him and sprang from the bed, her face freezing in an impassive expression. For another microt, they all stared at each other.
“What the phrull happened to us last night?” she demanded, breaking the taut silence. “I didn’t want to mate with either of you, with any male,” she said in frustration. “I don’t want to spend my life waiting on a male.” She raised her arms above her head and flexed her body. The move lifted her breasts, snaring Tamaki’s gaze. To his consternation, his cock stirred. He wanted her. Again.
“I don’t feel mated,” she murmured. “Maybe it will be all right. I can’t conceive if it’s not a true mating. Dlog never…” She shrugged, dark red appearing on her exotic cheekbones. “We don’t have multi partners. I don’t think it’s possible to bond with two males.”
Well, shit. He didn’t do multi partners either, not as a rule, and he knew Rico was of the same persuasion.
“How can it be all right?” Rico demanded tersely. He grabbed up his clothes and shoved his feet into his trews in angry, jerky moves. “I love Marianna.”
“You don’t have to tell her.” Tamaki sure as hell wasn’t about to tell anyone about their hot session.
“I believe in honesty in a relationship.” Rico refused to meet Tamaki’s gaze, and Tamaki couldn’t exactly blame him. Waking up in bed with his best friend wasn’t exactly a great start to the day.
“There’s such a thing as too much honesty,” Tamaki said, aware his friend was hurting. Truth to tell, he wasn’t exactly happy with the situation. He didn’t understand how it had happened. He’d had sex with an employee. Two, if he added Rico to the equation. Tamaki puffed out a frustrated breath. Too late now. They couldn’t undo what they’d done.
He turned to study Cimmaron.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Cimmaron scrambled for her clothes. “I refuse to have sex with you again.” She eyed his erection with suspicion and backed up a little more, as if he might jump her.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Tamaki wanted to laugh because the idea was at the back of his mind. Cimmaron studied his body, and the tension in the room ratcheted sharply upward. His cock jerked. Oh yeah, he liked the idea a lot.
“I’m going to see Marianna.” Rico stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut after him.
Privacy.
He prowled toward her.
Cimmaron held her scanty uniform in front of her. “Keep away from me.” Her eyes narrowed, but he saw the golden glow in her almond-shaped pupils. She wanted him too, and it scared her.
“I’m getting my clothes.” Tamaki made sure his face appeared the picture of innocence while he grabbed his clothes off the floor. Reluctantly, he stepped into his trews, maneuvering the fabric carefully over his erection then shrugged into a shirt. He watched Cimmaron all the while, his pulse rate thudding in an erratic manner. Twice a date, thrice a mate…
He was her boss. He needed to keep reiterating the fact to himself because it tempered the need simmering through him to grab. To touch. To sink into her warmth again. Then there was the mating thing. He only ever dated. He never saw a woman a second time let alone the third time needed to cement a relationship. What most customers didn’t realize was that the primary purpose of the club was getting couples together—helping male and female find mates. Life mates. If a couple met once or twice it counted as a date. If they came together a third time and made love, they were officially mated and bound together for life. Tamaki had never wanted a mate before because of his transient lifestyle. The club managers moved often. It was a way of keeping them fresh and helping the clubs to grow in popularity. Then there was the strict no-fraternization rule.
As far as he knew, none of the managers had mates
. He didn’t think it was a prerequisite. It just happened that way. Cimmaron moved, interrupting his musing.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to the boarding house. I need to wash and take a pill. Not that they seem to be doing much good.”
“I’ll check with the apothecary to see if more supplies have arrived. He seemed to think it would take some time.”
“I can’t afford them,” Cimmaron said, her frustration evident from the fisted hands and taut stance. “What are these rooms for?”
“They’re for customers who wish for privacy.”
“Huh. That’s obvious. What else? How do customers get up here? I’ve seen some walk up the stairs but not enough to keep business flowing.”
“Hmm.” Tamaki smiled inwardly. He could tell her, but generally they kept the staff from the downstairs part of the enterprise in the dark. Customers traveled from other planets to Marchant in special time-travel tubes, specifically for the purpose of having a night of pleasure or some to find a mate. Customers came via word of mouth. They didn’t need to advertise since Tamaki had the rooms filled every night.
Cimmaron pulled the door open, turning to leave.
“See you later,” Tamaki said.
Cimmaron nodded but fear kicked her in the gut. Whatever had possessed her to have sex? With two men? According to what the matriarchs in the family taught them, it only took one time. A male offered. The female accepted him, the couple did the deed and they became a couple until death parted them, fertility kicking in at the same time as the bonds. The elders described the mating bonds like invisible chains that clicked into place as soon as the exchange of bodily fluids took place during the sexual act. Of course, those who took the pills didn’t have to worry about inconvenient mating because the chemicals halted the process. They were free to take lovers, as she had done on occasion when loneliness assailed her.
Except lately, the pills didn’t appear to work effectively, which worried her.
This morn, she didn’t feel different. She frowned, purposely striding out with long steps to put distance between them. There were no invisible chains pulling her back to Tamaki. She continued her loose-limbed stride down the passageway, past the other rooms, which were still privacy screened, and down the spiral staircase. Then another thought occurred. She froze mid-step, almost toppling down the last three stairs in her stunned stupor. Perhaps Rico was her mate?
Cimmaron’s heart stalled for a beat. Phrull no! They couldn’t be mates. Rico didn’t like her, and he made no secret of his dislike. It was mutual. Or so she’d thought. Cimmaron scowled, acknowledging the truth as she walked to the door leading to the street outside. She’d enjoyed the sex with both of them last night.
“A threesome.” Cimmaron curled her top lip in a show of disgust and grabbed her coat. “A phrullin’ threesome.” What had she been thinking? After ripping the door open, she stalked through and slammed it shut, taking great satisfaction from the loud crash as it closed.
An elderly beggar, stooped and malformed, limped up to her and held out a battered vroom flask that someone had cut in half. Cimmaron indicated the lack of pockets in her uniform, drawing a reluctant grin from the beggar. His front teeth were missing, probably sold to procure currency.
She thought about Rico. She thought about Tamaki. A shiver rippled through her. She’d wanted to walk back to Tamaki and run her hands over his naked chest. And the idea of following the path of her hands with her mouth had occurred soon afterward.
Back at the boarding house, Cimmaron stewed until it was time to return to the club for work. During the walk back, she lectured and told herself it was okay to make mistakes. Mistakes were fine as long as she learned from them. Mistakes were fine as long as she didn’t repeat them. She wasn’t stupid. Any time she had sex with a male was a risk.
“I will not have sex with that male again. I will not,” Cimmaron said as she held her finger up to the scanner outside the club. Despite her fighting words, temptation roiled through her.
“Shouldn’t you wait for him to ask first?” a smart-ass called from the front of the line that had formed to enter the club.
“Mind your business,” Cimmaron snarled, mortified that someone had caught her talking to herself. She usually exerted more control.
The door opened and Hulk peered out.
He grunted. “You.”
“Yeah,” Cimmaron snarled. “Deal with it.” She didn’t wait for an answer but stormed past him into the club.
After dumping the jacket her landlady had lent her inside the staff room, she headed behind the bar to help set up.
The first person she saw was Tamaki. Her footsteps faltered, and finally she halted completely. It felt as though someone had punched her hard in the chest. Every particle of life force eased from her lungs and she gasped, trying desperately to replace it. His scent seemed to swallow her whole and a spark ignited in her pussy. Panic roared through her. Stupid Dlog hormones. She quickly calculated when her next pill was due. No, she hadn’t missed one. Maybe her stepfather was right, she thought, still in panic mode. Maybe there was no way to control the Dlog genes, no way to outrun her heritage. Maybe Tamaki was her fate.
There were worse ways to go, a traitorous voice whispered through her mind.
She drew a sharp breath and reached for a stack of drink mats ready to set out on the bar. Her hand trembled violently, and she snatched it away, hiding it at her side.
“Cimmaron.” His husky voice pushed her traitorous body even harder. Her nipples perked right up, and her stomach hollowed. She wanted to turn around and step right into his arms. Another tremor shook her body as she fought the urge.
“Cimmaron?” He touched her shoulder, and she felt it right to the tips of her toes. They curled upward inside her boots. She was not going to succumb to him again. No matter how much she craved his touch. She was strong. She was a pilot, dammit.
“Are you okay?”
She couldn’t look at him without giving away how much she wanted him. Like a fire, the need burned inside. “Fine,” she muttered, trying to control the shaking of her hands as she started to set up the bar.
“That’s good,” he said. “Melad has called in sick with Mercury space flu. I’m going to work the bar tonight in her place.”
Cimmaron managed a nod of assent. Oh joy. An evening of torture by close association. She only hoped she didn’t break down and start drooling, or even worse, lick. No! Worse than that would be if she crash-tackled him and licked while everyone was looking. It would make a great floorshow. She shuddered, wanting to carry out the self-prohibited actions. Desperately. Hell, maybe she would even kiss him as well.
Aware he expected her to speak, she said, “It’s good we won’t be short-staffed. There was a big line of customers waiting outside. Should be busy tonight.”
“Yeah, the space storms are keeping most of the ships grounded.”
It seemed as if he might linger and chat, and she tensed at the idea of polite chitchat. She’d never handle nonchalance for long. Her sanity hung by a thread as it was.
“I’ll go to the cellar to get some crates of vroom.” Yes, she was a coward and running away. But it was either that or act on the urgent need to grab him. Phrull, what a mess. She forced herself to stomp down to the cellar. If she ever came face-to-face with the captain of the Intrepid again, she was gonna thump him through to the next galaxy. This was his fault.
The club opened not long after she finished stocking the shelves. Cimmaron made sure she worked the opposite end of the bar to Tamaki, dispensing drinks efficiently. Grumbles about the space storms were few since it wasn’t often crews had leave in Marchant. The bar did a roaring trade. The customers were three and four deep at the bar, the dance floor music loud and the crowd jovial.
“Hey, beautiful. How about a drink down here?”
A pang of envy struck Cimmaron hard when she saw their uniforms. Space jockeys out for a little recreation. “Sure, won’t be long.” Cimmar
on finished the carousal cocktails she was mixing for the black-skinned Darians before moving toward the pilots.
“Hi, boys. What will it be?”
“I’d like hot sex laced with you,” a golden-haired stud said.
Cimmaron shook her head and grinned at the same time. “Not in this lifetime, but I can get you a drink.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” Blondie leaned close, and Cimmaron sensed rather than saw Tamaki’s interest in the conversation. An idea formed. Her smile brightened.
“Drink?”
“Don’t mind him. He’s a terrible flirt,” another of the pilots said.
“Takes all kinds.” Cimmaron shrugged allowing her grin to remain in place. She’d show Tamaki how much the previous night meant to her.
“We’ll have two vroom, a reeb and three blue venetians,” Blondie said.
“Coming right up.” Cimmaron walked away with an extra sway in her step. The prickling of her skin told her they watched every twitch of her ass with interest. She bent over to grab two bottles of vroom and the reeb from the chiller. A whistle pierced the air, carrying above the pounding beat of the music. Cimmaron glanced over her shoulder and winked at the pilots before turning back to the task at hand. After placing the flasks on the bar, she made the cocktails and accepted payment with a smile. She moved on to serve the next customer. Another vroom. Didn’t people realize the stuff rotted their brains?
“What are you doing?” Tamaki asked in an undertone. His warm breath skimmed across her cheek when he leaned close.
Cimmaron tossed her head, putting precious distance between them, and fought the weakness in her knees. “Merely being friendly.”
“Didn’t look like that to me.”
“What? I’m not meant to act pleasantly toward the customers?”
Tamaki cast a quick look toward the group of raucous pilots. “Not that friendly.”
“I work here. As long as I do my job, you have no cause for complaint.” She stomped away, her back straight and the hairs at the back of her neck prickling with danger the entire time. Throughout the evening, he kept looking at her. Not that she caught him out, but she sensed his interest. Her body simmered in a state of arousal for the entire session, an annoying prickle rippling across her skin.
Resisting Tamaki Page 7
