by Lee Savino
His lips twist. “We weren’t people to them, Diana. We were tools.” He refills my glass. “You know the rules, spitfire. An answer for an answer. Tell me about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” I echo his question.
“Everything.” He eyes me, and I wonder if he's going to ask me about Thel’s spy network. But he doesn’t. By unspoken agreement, we’re both staying away from the outside world tonight. “Tell me about your childhood.”
I suck in a breath. I don’t like talking about the way I grew up. “What about it?”
My antipathy must come through in my tone. “I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it…”
“It’s okay. I grew up in the woods.” I soak in the warmth of his touch. “Back on Earth, I had what’s considered a difficult upbringing.”
He tilts his head to a side. “You don’t agree.”
His entire attention is on me. His entire focus. It’s a very flattering feeling. “My father was intensely paranoid. He trusted no one. Especially not the government.” It’s only much later, when my aunt had told me about my father’s childhood, about what he went through in Poland and what he had to do to get to America, that I understood why. “We barely interacted with the outside world. We ate what we hunted. The cabin we lived in had no heat. No electricity. It was bitterly cold in winter and the bugs would eat you alive in the spring. It wasn’t an easy way to grow up.” I take a deep breath. “But it was the world I knew. In the woods, I knew how to survive.”
I’ve never told anyone this next part. I don’t know why I’m telling Mirak. Maybe because he, more than anyone else in the universe, would understand. “Then CPS took me away. I went to stay with my aunt. She enrolled me in high school. And everything was bewildering. I’d never been to school before. I could skin a rabbit, make a fire, and find shelter in a storm. All of a sudden, none of that mattered. I could barely read and write. I wasn’t remotely ready for high school. I failed everything.” I drain the rest of my glass. “The other children weren’t kind.”
His hand covers mine. He flips up my palm, and his thumb strokes the fleshy pad, slow and steady. My heart starts to hammer in my chest. I don’t think he’s trying to be sexual. He’s offering comfort. But the problem is that this is Mirak, and, if I’m allowing myself to be honest, I’ve wanted him from the first time I saw him. My need is raw and primal and shocking in its intensity.
“Anyway. Long story short, I failed high school. Forget college; I didn’t even have a high school diploma. My aunt made it clear that the moment I turned eighteen, I was on my own. Then Shane Kendrick, my first boyfriend, came to my aid.”
He growls, deep in his throat. I jerk my head up. “Hang on,” I say, snatching back my hand. “Did you just growl because I mentioned a boyfriend? That’s ridiculous. You can’t be serious with the possessive growling, are you kidding me?”
He runs his hand over his face. “I couldn’t agree more,” he says with a bemused shake of his head. “Trust me, my reaction is taking me by surprise.” He pours himself another drink. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your story.”
I glare at him for a long second. “Shane Kendrick’s dad ran a tourism company. They took people back country camping. He hired me to be one of their tour leads. Without Shane’s intervention, I would have been homeless.”
“What made you decide to travel to the Homeworld?”
He’s not just making conversation; he sounds genuinely interested. “It was an impulse.” I shrug. “Nothing profound. The tour I was supposed to take out had only four people in it. Shane’s parents were getting divorced, his dad was thinking of closing the business. I didn’t want to think about the future, so I applied to the program. It was a lottery ticket, sort of. I didn’t really expect to win.”
“And now you’re a pirate. Second-in-command on the Mahala.”
“For now, anyway.”
He looks up, his gaze sharp. “What do you mean?”
I shrug, suddenly uncomfortable with his scrutiny. I shouldn’t have said anything. “Zabek is Thel’s son. He used to be the second-in-command, but then the two of them had a fight. But he’s back now. I don’t know where that leaves me.”
“Has Theldre told you he’s replacing you?”
“I don’t think he wants to hurt my feelings.”
He snorts in laughter. “Spitfire, you do realize this is Theldre ab Beni you’re talking about? The notorious pirate with a fifty-year career and an almost super-intelligent ability to stay ahead of his pursuers?” He places his hand on mine again. “Zabek was foolish enough to double-cross the Pajeon without an escape plan. If Theldre entrusts his people to that idiot, they’ll be dead in five years. The pirate hasn’t survived as long as he has by making sentimental, ill-thought-out decisions. You have nothing to worry about.”
That’s pretty much what Lisa had said to me earlier this evening. Mirak sounds absolutely sure of himself. Could he be right? The day Thel pulled me aside to announce the existence of Zabek, he told me that he had every confidence in me. Am I freaking out for no reason? Am I really that insecure?
Your father never once said he loved you. Aunt Debbie—your own flesh and blood—kicked you out of her home. Don’t be ridiculous, Diana. Thel isn’t going to choose you over his son.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I ask suspiciously. “Is it to get in my pants?”
He frowns in confusion.
“To have sex with me.”
His eyes darken. A smile ghosts over his face. “Tell me,” he murmurs, his voice as seductive as honey. “Is it working?”
The air between us charges with electricity. The weight of his gaze feels like a physical touch. And if I’m being one-hundred-percent honest with myself, I was a sure thing when I walked in.
“Umm…” I can’t believe I’m stammering like some kind of lovesick teenager. “Maybe.”
His grip on the glass tightens. He sets it down slowly. “Diana.” A shadow crosses his face. “I want to be clear. All I can offer is tonight.”
“Good.” I dismiss the tiny pang in my heart. “That’s exactly what I want.” He raises an eyebrow and I shrug. “I have too much going on. Trying to run the ship. Managing Zabek’s subtle and not-so-subtle attempts to make me look incompetent. Everything else.” I lift my chin. “Besides, you stole a lot of money from us. This is only a temporary truce. Just for the space of this evening.”
His smile turns wolfish. “If all I have is a few hours, I shouldn’t waste any time.” He puts down his glass and pats his lap. “Come here, spitfire.”
Outside, on the stage, a group of dancers are awash in a whirl of color and music. Inside our privacy shielded booth, the sound is muffled. We’re secluded, the two of us, sealed in our own little bubble.
I shouldn’t sleep with Mirak. There are a thousand reasons to turn him down and walk out of here.
Except I don’t want to. I want to reach out and take what he’s so clearly offering. Just for tonight, I want to be selfish.
“Okay.”
13
Diana
I get to my feet, my knees shaky. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Mirak pushes the table aside and reaches for me. A tremor runs through my body as his fingers grip my hips, but I hide my reaction to his touch by boldly straddling his legs. With a confident toss of my head, I rest my hands on his shoulders. Mirak’s large hands slide up my back, making his muscles bunch under my palms. Sweet mother of God, he is ripped.
I lower myself onto his lap before my knees give way.
I raise my eyes to Mirak’s, expecting to see a smirk playing about his lips. But there’s no cocky grin—only an intense heated gaze that makes me melt. My insides scorch, and desire robs me of my breath.
“The other night, when you were undoing your buttons,” he murmurs. “One by one...” His eyes rest on the valley between my breasts. “It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“You have been
asleep a thousand years.”
His eyes register his amusement. His fingers stroke my neck. The noise of the bar fades to a hush. The universe falls away. The only thing that exists is me and him and my skin tingling under his touch.
I arch into him. My nipples graze his chest. I can feel his erection against my ass. My pussy clenches, hard. Only a few layers of fabric separate me from him. I already know how big he is. When he showered, I got a front row seat to his oversized Draekon cock.
He said he was thinking of me when he was touching himself. And now I’m sitting on his lap and he’s touching me, his fingers stroking my skin, and I need him inside me so badly that I can’t bear it.
“Diana,” he murmurs my name and pleasure shudders through me at the sound. “You know what I wanted to do that night?”
“Show me,” I say, my voice a whisper. The privacy shield mutes the sound outside of our booth. Drones whiz through the air, serving laughing and talking patrons. The musicians play their instruments, and the dancers whirl on stage, but I can’t hear anything but my own ragged breaths.
“I would have undone this button.” His finger nudges it, teasing it open.
He strokes the uncovered skin reverently. I tip my head back. I’d close my eyes in pleasure, but I don’t want to miss anything. Giving me a half-smile, he reaches up and slides the hair pins out of my updo. My hair cascades over my shoulders. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, running his fingers through the newly freed tresses. The massage makes my spine tingle with bliss. I barely stop myself from purring. He takes my hand next, kissing each finger before easing the poison ring free and setting it gently on the table between my two hair pins.
He’s disarming me fully. And I’m letting him.
His face is only inches from mine. Our foreheads touch. His skin runs hotter than mine, as if a furnace burns in his chest. I want to slide my hands under his shirt, mold my palms to the hot coals of his abs. But his lips are hovering over mine, and his eyes are fixed on me, and I don’t want to move. Don’t want to break the moment.
He angles his head slightly. Our breath mingles. Is he going to kiss me? I tilt my head up, and he moves infinitesimally closer.
Yes!
At the last second, he bends his head. His breath caresses my neck. “I would have kissed your skin here.” His lips brush the skin exposed by the undone button. My nipples swell, and my breasts feel heavy and achy.
“Mirak,” I moan, and he raises his head with a panty-combusting smile. His hand cups my face, his thumb tracing over my bottom lip. Sharp need freezes me in place as he leans in and brushes his lips against mine. A soft, fleeting glimmer of a kiss. Just a hint of what’s to come.
My insides clench. More. I need more.
He chuckles, and I realize I spoke out loud. “Soon, spitfire.” He lifts my right arm, turning it wrist up to undo my cuff. And I don’t fight it; I let him. I feel like I’m floating, my body shimmering with sensation. Like the air around him is a drug. But no, it’s just Mirak. His touch is intoxicating.
He sets the cuffs carefully on the table and puts his hands on my shoulders, easing me back so he can undo the next button on my shirt. As soon as the cloth parts, his lips are on my bare flesh. The lightest brush of his lips sends thrills through me.
Another button, another inch of skin. Another kiss. I forget to breathe.
His hand skims up my arm, finds a hidden knife. His lips quirk as he slips it out, sheath and all, and lays it on the table. There’s quite a pile of weapons growing in front of us. “You came armed for battle, spitfire,” he says, his voice threaded with laughter. “I like it.”
Most guys would be intimidated by the collection of weapons. But not Mirak. He acts like it’s normal to strip a woman of her weapons along with her clothes.
And I’m totally relaxed in a way I don’t quite understand. Mirak is the most dangerous creature here. He’s a dragon. An apex predator. I should be freaking out.
Instead, I’m letting him undress me.
He’s totally focused on me. His hazel eyes are hot and intent. He’s formidable and dangerous, and right now, all of his energy, all of his attention, is on me. It’s such an addictive feeling. A powerful aphrodisiac. The dragon has sheathed his claws for the night.
My breasts strain against my blouse, held back by a hardworking button. Mirak slips it free with nimble fingers. My shirt parts, baring the swell of my breasts to his gaze. His eyes gleam, and he growls, deep in his throat.
A group of chattering Adrashians walk past our booth, their tails swishing from side to side. If the privacy shield failed, they’d see a bronze skinned alien with an almost topless human woman on his lap, an assortment of weapons piled on the table. But they don’t so much as glance our way. It’s so surreal. And hot.
Mirak pries apart another button and slowly tips me back. One hand braces my back, keeping me upright. The other tugs down my bra cup. His lips close over my nipple.
Pleasure shocks through me.
I writhe in Mirak’s lap, moans escaping my lips. He has both hands on my back now, gliding under my shirt. He finds another set of knives in a hidden sheath. I unbuckle the strap myself, tossing them on the table before sliding my fingers into Mirak’s thick, dark hair and guiding his mouth to my other breast. His breath huffs against me, but he kisses my swollen sensitized flesh before drawing back and taking my shirt off.
He reaches for my bra, but I already have my hands on his shirt. I practically claw it off, greedy to see him. To touch him. To trace those ripped, taut, gleaming muscles with my tongue.
A metallic gleam arrests my attention. “Nipple piercings?” I saw him naked in the shower. How did I miss this? Oh, right, I know. I was too busy staring at his massive cock. I trace my finger over the metal bar, and he shudders. My pussy clenches. From his reaction, he wants me as much as I want him. He’s a fearsome dragon, and he shivers when I touch him, and it makes me feel powerful and deeply feminine.
I gently rub the piercing with my right thumb. He groans, and rains hot kisses down the side of my neck and throat. His hands work urgently at my pants, undoing the buttons that hold them up. I shimmy out of them, and he tugs me back on his lap.
I’m almost naked. All I’m wearing is a pair of panties and a long knife strapped to my right thigh. I prop my leg up and he slips it off like a garter and sets in on the table. Then he runs his hand over my bare leg. Mmmmm.
“Any more knives I should watch out for?” he teases.
“Some women accessorize with jewelry. I like weapons.” I run a hand over his chest, humming with appreciation. His upper body is beautiful, a sculpted work of art cast in bronze. Black tattoos twine up his arms and down his chiseled sides. I feel my way down his body, noting the subtle patches of raised skin. You have to look closely to see the marks that mar the smooth surface, but they’re there.
“That’s quite the collection of scars.” My finger traces a long weal slashed up his side. I lean in to follow it as it wraps around his back. “What caused this?”
“I have no idea.” He shrugs. “I was in a lot of battles.”
I don’t want him dwelling on endless wars tonight. I want him thinking of me.
“Hmm.” I use my nails to lightly stroke his back. A moan rumbles in his chest. “You don’t have any weapons. Not even a knife.” I wink at him. “Maybe I should loan you one of mine. Oh, wait. I already did.”
His lips tug into a smile. “I don’t need a knife, spitfire. I am the weapon.” His hands settle on my hips, pulling me closer. The rumbling in his chest continues and I still. I’m hearing the dragon.
I press my cheek to his broad pectoral muscle, letting the vibration roll through me. Up close, I see even more scars knifed across his chest. I want to ask about the battles he fought, the wars he’s been in.
But I also want him naked. Need rages through me in an inferno. “Mirak,” I murmur, raising my head. My hands slip between our bodies, finding the waistband of his pants. I want to rip the rest of
his clothes off, but then his hands cup my breasts, teasing my nipples, and I arch my back and whimper for more.
Something’s beeping. My brain slowly registers the sound of my comm’s alert. I reach back and silence the device without moving from Mirak’s lap. Right now, I can’t bring myself to care about automated course adjustments now. The Mahala will be fine on its own.
I throw my head back and wrap my arms around Mirak’s shoulders, encouraging him as he worships my breasts with clever lips and tongue. His fingers play with my swollen nipples, pinching them and pulling them. His hands cup my aching, throbbing breasts, kneading and squeezing, bending his head down to suck my engorged hardened peaks between his teeth. My hips grind slowly, rocking over his huge erection. I’m beginning to resent the layers between us. Why the hell is he still wearing pants?
Before I can reach down and do something about it, Mirak growls and lifts me onto the table, unceremoniously sweeping my weapons aside.
“Need to taste you,” he rumbles and kneels between my legs. I fall back on my elbows as he tugs me to the edge of the table. His big hands cover my knees, pushing them wide. His fingers stroke me through the fabric, achingly soft, and all thought flees my brain. My hips rise to meet his mouth and then he’s licking, licking, licking me, right over my panties, and then his tongue snakes around and ooooohhhh—
He tongue-fucks me, pushing the gusset of my panties aside. For a few toe-curling moments, he delves his tongue deep. Then he growls with impatience, hooks his thumbs into the sides of my panties at my hips, and tugs sharply.
The scrap of fabric falls forgotten to the floor.
Mirak buries his face in my pussy again. His hands slide under my bare bottom, holding me close. I dig my hands in his hair and hang on as he licks me. Goosebumps rise on my skin. His tongue laps at my slit in one long motion, and when he reaches my clitoris, he sucks it in between his lips. Pleasure shoots through me. My muscles start to clench. I whimper and flail, writhing on the table. My center tightens, sensation spiraling higher until something snaps and I freefall into a delirious, blinding climax.
