Lan’ara gave a soft cry as ripples of pleasure ran through her. She could feel herself getting near the peak. The feeling of the big Kindred’s long, hot tongue fucking slowly into her while he twisted her ripe buds was almost too much to bear.
“My Lord,” she moaned brokenly. “Oh, yes, my Lord Need. That feels so right…so good!”
As the words left her mouth, she felt herself reaching the peak and tipping over as her orgasm rushed through her. Her whole body tightened up and she couldn’t get a deep enough breath. Gods, why did it feel so good—so right—to let the big Kindred touch and taste her this way? She didn’t know and didn’t have time to analyze it—her brain was too taken over by the pleasure he had given her with his tongue.
All she wanted was for it to never end.
Twenty-Nine
Need didn’t know, later, how long he’d spent tasting the girl. He drove her to many, many orgasms and reached a few himself, when she got up and switched positions so that she was straddling his face in the opposite direction.
She then leaned over and freed his shaft from his trousers. And while Need continued to taste her, she tasted him as well, lapping the aching ridge of his cock and swirling her little pink tongue around the broad crown until he shot his seed down her thirsty throat.
He told himself it was wrong and he shouldn’t let her do it, yet somehow he seemed powerless to stop her as she swallowed his seed. He was too busy lapping her pussy honey himself to make her cease her own illicit activities and before he knew it, the two of them had spent half the night tasting each other.
They wound up in the bed with Lan’ara curled against his side once more, like a sleepy, contented feline. He had never managed to restore her maidenhead, which seemed to be gone for good, but strangely, the girl didn’t seem to mind. She seemed happy just to be with him—happy to have his arms around her as they cuddled naked together.
And once again, as he drifted off to sleep, Need new he had taken another step down the path of letting the girl into his heart.
Have to stop, he told himself sleepily. Can’t go on like this! The next thing you know you’ll be putting your shaft inside her instead of your tongue and then sinking your fangs in her neck to inject your essence while you fill her with your seed.
And if he did that—if he bonded Lan’ara to him—he would never be able to give her up to another male. And he wouldn’t be able to guard his heart against her either. For then she would be a part of him, just as Cleah had been—and he would be vulnerable to the same pain of loss that had nearly driven him mad so many years ago.
No more, he swore to himself yet again. Never again.
But he didn’t push Lan’ara away. Instead, he pulled her closer as his eyes slowly shut and the two of them drifted off to sleep together.
Thirty
“Get ready,” Need said, surprising Lan’ara. “You’re coming with me.”
“Really?” Her heart started to pound. “I’m going with you to the marketplace?”
They had been orbiting Felicitus Twelve for a day and a night while the big Kindred finalized the deal for Yarrow root with The Dark Heart’s supplier. The ship had finally landed at an agreed upon location. But she had never dreamed the big Kindred would take her with him when they finally went to pick up the product.
But he was nodding as he spoke.
“No choice. Drung is staying onboard and all the rest of the crew is going. I don’t want to leave you alone on The Dark Heart with him, not even locked in my quarters.”
Lan’ara shivered at the thought of being alone with the huge Trollox. Need was right—a door lock wouldn’t be enough to keep him out if he thought he could get at her. She was glad the big Kindred was so thoughtful and protective of her. It made her hope that maybe—just possibly—he had changed his mind about selling her to Senator Pouncenblast. At least, he hadn’t said anything more about it since that night he had first tasted her.
There had been several tastings since then. Though Need always swore he would never touch her again every morning, he couldn’t seem to help himself when Lan’ara cuddled close to his side every night and asked him to “warm her up.”
He might stay away from her all day long, but once the two of them were back in his quarters for the evening, he seemed to change his mind. To Lan’ara’s satisfaction, they always ended the night sleeping in each other’s arms.
Though she knew it was dangerous and might end in a broken heart, Lan’ara felt she was falling in love with the big Kindred. He might speak roughly and still call her “girl” most of the time, but his coarse words and grim scowls belied the tender, almost reverent way he touched her.
When they took pleasure in each other’s bodies, he was never cruel or perfunctory—both eventualities she had been taught to expect during her Sexual Instruction class at Twyleth Tigg.
“Your husband or owner will use your body for his own pleasure,” their instructor. Lady Telga, had always said, frowning at the assembled audience over her oculars. “You must not expect any pleasure for yourselves—that is not the way things work, girls.”
But that wasn’t the way things worked with Need. He was a giving and considerate lover—always putting her pleasure first and making sure she came multiple times before he ever did himself.
Lan’ara had been taught that sexually accommodating whatever man bought her would be a duty and a chore, but with Need, it was all pleasure and desire. Part of that was the mysterious “Ripening” process she still seemed to be going through. But another, larger part of it was how kind and patient he was with her—how willing he was to see to her pleasure first. Not to mention the fact that his big, muscular body looked mouthwatering when he was naked and that mysterious, masculine scent he exuded, which seemed to draw her to him and make her never want to leave him.
She only wished he would make love to her fully—that he would put his shaft inside her pussy and claim her as his own completely. But that, Need absolutely refused to do. And until he did, Lan’ara couldn’t feel quite certain that he intended to keep her after all.
There was another reason besides feeling secure that Lan’ara wanted the big Kindred to make love to her, however—one that was becoming increasingly urgent. She was beginning to get a strange, empty feeling inside.
The hungry flower that unfurled its petals within her when she needed to be touched or tasted or held was growing ever more ravenous. It caused Lan’ara to long to be filled –caused her to crave something thick and throbbing between her legs. Even now, she couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like to have Need’s big shaft filling her channel…pressing deep inside her so that she felt the head of his cock kissing the mouth of her womb while he looked into her eyes and told her that she was his and would be forever…
“Ready to go?” Need’s deep voice cut through her thoughts and Lan’ara realized she’d been lost in a fantasy of having him make love to her.
“Oh, uh, yes my Lord,” she said quickly, looking up at him. “I’m ready.”
He frowned at her.
“Why are you blushing, girl? You’d think I asked if you were ready to go to a prosti-brothel—not a marketplace.”
“Oh, am I?” Lan’ara put her fingertips to her hot cheeks. “I guess maybe…don’t you think it’s a bit warm in here, my Lord?” she asked, indicating his living quarters.
His frown deepened.
“It’s the same temperature it’s always been. Usually you’re too cold.”
He was clearly referring to the way Lan’ara asked him to “warm her up” every night—a request that always ended with the two of them naked, their bodies entwined. This made Lan’ara blush even harder because—while she had done things with the big Kindred she never would have dreamed of in her chaste life at the Twyleth Tigg Academy—they still didn’t talk about their bedroom activities.
Well, except for Need promising he would never touch her again every morning, that was, she thought ruefully. She wished he would touc
h her now. Even though they hadn’t been out of bed that long, last night still seemed a long time ago and her body was already hungry for his touch again. She wanted to feel his big hands caressing her body—his mouth between her legs.
But of course she couldn’t say that—it would only make him angry.
“Maybe I’m just flushed with excitement,” she said, trying to smile. “Other than that awful planet where you bought me, I’ve never been on another world before.”
“Well, Felicitus Twelve is nice enough, as long as you stay close to the civilized quarter,” Need lectured. “But you don’t want to go wandering off into any dark alleyways while we’re there. They do a brisk business in cloning and they’re not particular who they chop up to grow clones from.”
“Chop up?” Lan’ara asked, horrified.
He nodded grimly.
“Takes a good-sized piece of flesh to grow a passable clone—a finger at least. So if you don’t want to find yourself parceled out into finger-sized pieces for your DNA, you’d better stick close to me.”
“I will,” Lan’ara promised quickly. “I’ll be right by your side the whole time, my Lord!”
“Good.” He nodded. “There are plenty of sex slavers too. So like I said, stick close. Now come on—Myakk is supposed to meet us at exactly half past noon—which can be tricky to calculate since Felicitus Twelve has two suns. If I’m not there on time, he might get nervous and leave before we can finalize the sale and get the product.”
“Of course.” Lan’ara nodded and followed him out of his quarters. She promised herself she would stick to the big Kindred as though she was his shadow—there was no way she wanted to go wandering off and get chopped up for clones or captured by sex slavers!
No way in the Seven Hells, as Need would say.
Thirty-One
Need strode through the main marketplace on Volusia, the capital city of the main continent of Felicitus Twelve. It was a colorful place—not quite as brutal and bloodthirsty as the market he’d bought Lan’ara at, he thought. Though he was well aware that the charming outer appearance could be misleading. Down every dark alleyway was a slaver or a chop-shop artist looking for prey. Abductions from the Felicitus market were common and finding the person who had been abducted was rare.
Which was one reason he kept a firm hold of Lan’ara’s hand, entwining her small, slim fingers with his as they walked along. He was well aware that the two of them probably looked like lovers out for a stroll, but for once he didn’t care.
He didn’t actually like bringing the girl with him to the deceptively dangerous market and had weighed the decision carefully before he made it. But leaving her alone in The Dark Heart with Drung at large just wasn’t an option. The marketplace might be hazardous but at least here he could keep her with him and protect her at all times.
He watched Lan’ara ooh and ahh at some of the booths they passed as they walked. One of them was selling Celorian silk, the diaphanous fabric so fine it floated in the lightest breeze like a flutterby’s wings. It was dyed all manner of wondrous hues and kept changing colors as the pale bluish sunlight of Felicitus Twelve’s main sun hit it.
Beside the silk booth was a tassel shop. Felicitan women wore the long, silky, braided tassels as jewelry and adornments, hanging from earbobs and necklaces and belts.
Need found himself thinking that Lan’ara would look very well in a new gown made of the silk and adorned with the tassels. She would probably enjoy wearing something besides one of his uniform shirts, too. Not that he would be buying her something new to wear as any kind of a gift because he liked her, he hastened to tell himself. But only because Senator Pouncenblast would be more likely to buy the girl if she was dressed and presented well.
The thought of selling her to the other male had become less and less palatable to Need recently, but he refused to abandon it entirely. If he gave in and admitted he wanted to keep her—that he was falling for her—then he admitted he was willing to be hurt again.
And that simply wasn’t an option.
Still, since it had been several days and the Senator’s secretary hadn’t called him back, he had been considering what would happen if he had to keep the girl.
It wouldn’t be so bad, he told himself. Lan’ara had found her place in the crew, having taken over the cooking duties completely. She spent her days happily concocting delicious meals and special desserts for everyone.
Well, everyone except Drung. But after his last outburst, where he had accused Lan’ara of making special food for everyone but him, the Trollox had been keeping to his own room during Last Meal. Surprisingly, Captain Glo’ll allowed this, though he usually insisted that everyone in the crew be present at the dinner table every night.
He was probably getting sick of Drung, like everyone else on the crew, Need thought. Living with a Trollox was a chore—between their disgusting body order, their smelly food, and their generally nasty dispositions, they weren’t the kind of people anyone but another Trollox would seek to spend time with.
Maybe Captain Glo’ll would even decide they didn’t need Drung anymore—that would be nice. If the Trollox was no longer aboard The Dark Star, Lan’ara would feel much more comfortable—if she did end up staying, Need amended to himself.
But if she stayed, how would he be able to keep from bonding her to him?
Every morning he swore never to touch her again and every night he broke his vow because he couldn’t resist her luscious body or her sweet, shy way of offering herself to him. He thought of the night before, when they had lost themselves in each other.
“Please, my Lord—take me!” she had whispered in his ear. And Need had wanted to—so fucking badly. It had taken every bit of his waning willpower not to fill her with his shaft and sink his fangs into her neck, bonding her to him forever…
“Oh look—what are those?” Lan’ara’s sweet voice pulled him out of his reverie.
Need looked where she was pointing.
“Tanska fruit,” he said, looking at the jewel-colored, fist-sized fruits, piled in a pyramid in the fruit seller’s stall. He had to admit, it was a tempting display.
“They look delicious!” Lan’ara remarked wistfully.
“Actually they’re hard as a rock,” Need told her. “You’ll break your teeth on them if you try to eat one.”
“Please, good sir, do not malign my fine fruits,” the fruit merchant—an oily-looking male with a drooping black mustache under his two noses proclaimed, hearing Need’s words.
“Well?” Need said shortly. “Tell me I’m wrong then.”
“You are, in fact, correct that the tanska fruit cannot be eaten raw,” the merchant admitted, his primary nose wrinkling ruefully while the secondary nose above it twitched. “But stewed as the filling for a pastry or some other prandial delight, they are juicy, succulent, sweet, and tangy all at once. Not to mention that they are as beautiful on the inside as they are on the outside. Much like your lovely lady, there.” He smiled appealingly at Lan’ara.
“So, they’re good for cooking pies and turn-overs and things like that?” She ignored his compliment but was clearly very interested in the fruits.
“They are indeed, lovely one,” the merchant told her. “And each color has a subtle taste difference, though they all work well together to form a most delicious flavor if you wish to mix them.”
Lan’ara looked up at Need, her eyes shining with hope.
“My Lord, I do not yet have anything prepared for this Last Meal’s dessert,” she said softly.
Need felt his heart squeeze in his chest when she looked at him like that. He found he liked the idea of getting her something she wanted—something she had specifically asked him for.
“Well…” he said, squinting up at the double suns. They had yet to converge which meant they had a little time before the meeting.
“Please, my Lord? If they are not too expensive,” Lan’ara added hastily.
“They are very reasonably priced,” the me
rchant promised. “Two for a single credit—you could hardly get such quality more cheaply than that!”
Actually, Need new perfectly well that some stalls sold the jewel-toned fruits at ten for a credit but he didn’t mind the expense—he just wanted to see Lan’ara happy.
“All right, girl,” he said gruffly. “Go on and pick out as many as you think you need to make dessert tonight.”
Lan’ara’s big, gold-flecked eyes lit up with happiness.
“Oh, thank you, my Lord! You know I love trying out new ingredients!”
“Yes, yes—I know,” Need said indulgently. “But don’t take too long—we have to get where we’re going soon.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Lan’ara took the net bag the merchant handed her and quickly began picking through the pyramid of deep blue and amber and ruby red fruits. When the bag was bulging, she turned to Need.
“These should be enough, my Lord.”
“So they should—for the next five Last Meals in a row!” He couldn’t hold back a wry smile as he saw her blush at his words.
“Well, it appears that these fruits keep very well until you cook them,” she protested. “I promise none will go to waste.”
“It’s true! They’re good for a year and a day from the time they are plucked from the bushes,” the fruit merchant said, nodding. “But they’re so delicious, there’s no way they’ll last that long,” he added. “That will be fifteen credits, please.”
“Very well,” Need pretended to grumble but he was secretly pleased at the happy look on Lan’ara’s face. He paid the merchant with his cred chip and took the heavy bag from her. He slung it over his shoulder and took her hand as they continued through the marketplace.
“Thank you, my Lord Need, for getting me the lovely fruits,” Lan’ara said, looking up at him.
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