by Olivia Myers
He glanced up and scowled. "Just give me a second. I'm working hard here, telling myself you're just a client."
That should have injured her feelings, to hear him dismiss her that way. But realizing he wanted her so badly he was hurting made the muscles in her legs turn to liquid, and between them, her juices exploded.
"We need to get out of here," he said in a low voice.
She didn't remember leaving the pleasure tavern. She barely heard what he asked or her own response. But at one point she became aware that they were walking side by side in the direction of the hotel, not touching. She looked at him quickly. Her gaze wandered down his beautiful chest and down to his....
She halted. She had to press her knuckles pressed painfully against her lips at the sight of that enormous bulge raging against the fabric of his pants, practically all the way up to his hard, rippling belly.
He halted, too, and before she could do or say anything, she felt her chin jerked upward. "Don't do that."
She flushed, ashamed. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be an idiot. You know what I want. But it's your money, and you call the shots."
"Actually, it's the agency's money," she blurted. "They're paying for all of it—the fare, the food, the gambling, the clothes. They want to send tourists to New Saigon so they can enjoy...never mind. What do you care? It's work. I shouldn't be thinking about work right now. This is why I don't like dating. It's so awkward. I always say the wrong thing. I need to be more enthusiastic, like Moona. Or clever, like Jackie."
"Ah, Natalie. If this is you saying the wrong things, I'd hate to hear the right things coming out of your mouth."
She wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he didn't respond to her puzzled look, just started walking again. She quickly caught up just as a long lectrain shot by, full of passengers, making her cover her ears. Soon the lit signs grew familiar. She found herself flinching as the too-bright lights of the hotel, with its elegant, sweeping lines, flashed in her eyes.
He spoke casually. "You have no idea why you're stressed all the time, do you?"
"What?"
"You're stressed because you're a sensory sponge. Most people who come here need an influx of sensory stimulation to relax them. You just need a look. A stroke. A note. A whiff. Any more and you're in overload. You really should live somewhere big and open, with wide swathes of land, maybe water, where the loudest thing is wind and rain."
She blinked. Could he be right?
"The first moment I saw you I thought you looked like a roped bellios. Trapped and wild." He turned. "We're here. You're here. I've changed my mind. I'm not going to see you to your door." He looked a bit sheepish. "I'm your biggest danger, after all. Goodbye, Natalie."
Her heart pounding madly, she grabbed his arm before he could walk away. The silky feel of his hair and skin and the solid muscle underneath seared her flesh and her fingers clenched almost painfully. "Wait. I was thinking. You said it was your pleasure to pleasure me however I wanted. What if I wanted...a kiss?"
His expression didn't change, but he took a while answering. "Exactly what are you asking, Natalie?"
"I know you'd kiss me. But would you do it because you've been paid to? Or because you...want to?"
"Because I've been paid to," he said without delay.
"Oh. Right. Of course. Right. Then never mind."
He plucked her hand off his arm and smiled tightly at her. "Go, please."
"You want to watch me?"
His eyes closed for a moment. "Yes. I want to watch you."
It was hard to leave suddenly. Her legs quivered. "Kirk, I enjoyed meeting you. Even if you are an escort and had to be there."
"Yes, Natalie."
"Did you—"
"Yes, Natalie. Now get the fuck out of here before I pull you down on the ground, shove up your dress, open your soaking vulva and take you right on the street."
His voice was so even and calm that it took a moment to register what he'd said. Oh, dear stars. She almost came right there.
Suddenly it was clear. She wanted him. She’d paid for him. And with how much he was turning her on, dammit, she was going to have him.
"I can't," she said thinly. "I don't care anymore. We paid for you and I know you're only here because you have to be and you'd rather be with one of your easy clients, not me, but—Kirk, please. Do it. Take me. Anywhere. Here. I don't care."
He stared at her. As if automatically, his hands rose towards her, his lips parted and his teeth flashed. It was the most savage look she had ever seen from anyone. Eat, breathe, and sleep sex.
Then he seemed to catch himself and jerked his fists back down.
"I mean it," he bit out. "Get inside."
"Did you hear me? I want—"
"We'd both regret it. So, no. I'll give you your retching money back. I'm not your escort anymore. Not now, not ever again. Not for you."
She gaped. She couldn't believe it. This Katarian was the most highly sexed being she had ever met. He'd just told her he lusted for her, promised to pleasure her however she wanted. And now he couldn't bring himself to do it because he'd regret it? Because it was her?
It was humiliating.
"No," she said to herself, quietly, shaking her head, trying to deny this was happening.
Natalie backed up. She had no idea where she was going. Just—away from him. But her boot heel caught the edge of the gold-tiled step, and she fell. The world swung. Then there were shouts around her and before she could even realize what had happened, she landed backwards on something warm and soft.
A person. Two people, strangers who’d been kissing on the steps. She scrambled away from them, muttering an apology. But before she could stand fully upright, someone swept her up in his arms.
She focused and saw him.
"Put me down," she said, but it was hushed, because somehow it was hard to find her breath, and she grabbed his neck to keep herself from falling back.
Kirk didn't acknowledge her command, just strode up the steps with a furious expression on his face. "Room code," he snapped.
"How should I remember?" she managed.
"Forgive me, you shouldn't; you are, after all, a complete idiot," he snarled.
Hysterical laughter bubbled from her throat. He sent her a warning glance. She mumbled a guess and it turned out to be right. Within a few minutes, he was swinging the door of her suite open and then they were inside and the door had shut behind them.
"Natalie?"
The last person Natalie expected to see sitting on the bed by the door was her friend Jackie. The woman was utterly and unconcernedly naked. She looked astonished and, as she assessed Kirk, amused.
"J-Jackie? What are you doing here? I thought you were going to spend the night at the pleasure palace or whatever it is."
"Isn't it obvious? A Prickling Conchita spilled all over my skirt. Roberon was kind enough to hold the taxi while I changed. What are you two doing here? Never mind, I can see what you're doing here. Hello. You must be the—"
"Nice to meet you, Jackie," Kirk said in a tone nobody in the room could ever mistake for pleasant. "Get dressed and get out."
Jackie's eyes widened. "Oh." Natalie had never seen her friend nonplussed. "Well, I need to, uh, find a dress and..."
"Pick the first one you see." Kirk assessed the three beds. He carried Natalie over to the one by the window and dropped her down.
Jackie's jaw dropped. "Hey, how did you know that was Natalie's bed?"
"Dress, Jackie," Kirk clipped.
Natalie caught him surveying Jackie's unclothed body almost impatiently. She knew her friend attracted men like a megamagnet, and she knew how susceptible Kirk was to women. Was he realizing how gorgeous her perfect breasts were, her round hips, her furred blond pubis, her shapely legs?
But even as she wondered it, Kirk looked back at Natalie. His golden eyes narrowing, he leaned over her, propping himself on both hands so the mattress sank deeply around her. "And you. Take off the dres
s."
Anguished lust and fury churned in her at the order. "Why, so you can say more of those horrible things to me?"
"What horrible—oh. We need to have a talk about that sometime. But not now. Now I'm going to fuck your brains out, Natalie."
"Eh, I'm all for you fucking her brains out, Mr. Natalie's Escort, but you do remember I'm still here?" Jackie piped up from across the room.
Slowly, Kirk looked around with a cold expression. "I am not Natalie's escort. Jackie, you're her friend so I'm giving you a choice. You can exit the room in clothing by way of your own two feet, or I can carry you down as you are to your taxi. Which one?"
For the first time, Natalie witnessed her friend speechless. Join the club. He has a habit of doing this. You, at least, are probably grateful he's given you a choice. Me, on the other hand...
Jackie failed to reply, but then, she didn't really need to. She was out of the room in two minutes flat.
Natalie only absently noticed her exit. She was staring in the air at the holo documents Kirk had called up with hand gestures.
"There," he said. "It's done. A hundred percent refunded. With interest. All business relations between us zapped. Why aren't you naked?"
"But Kirk, won't your agency mind? Will you have to pay them—oh!"
It was too late. With a jarring frissssh sound, the dress was torn apart as though it were paper in his hands. Her underwear followed. Then her necklace, with appropriate care, she was relieved to note. And last, her boots.
He took a bit more time with those. His hands shook as he peeled her them away from her feet. His fingers massaged her heels, stroked her toes.
Then he looked her over, and it was like the first time he'd assessed her body. Up and down. Only this time, she could see the lust in him. Smell it.
"Fuck," he said quietly. His face looked like he was in agony.
She reached up and touched his skin, traced the angles of his face. The smell of him was musky and steamy and clean and so virile she almost couldn't bear it. "Will...will you kiss me now?" she dared ask again.
She waited tensely, afraid of another rejection.
Instead, his mouth settled right on hers, not ravaging at all despite the abrupt, urgent groan he made. His lips were neither dry nor moist, just soft and warm.
The kiss was a surprise. She'd expected, as with so many men, a wildly aggressive thrust of his tongue. But there was nothing gag-worthy about anything he was doing, just sliding and exploration and subtle mingling of moisture and silky skin.
She heard herself whimper.
"Stop doing that, Natalie," he rumbled against her mouth.
She froze. Oh, no. What had she messed up now? "Stop doing what?"
Her arms were yanked and her hands pinned against the mattress. Her own clawed fingers brought retroactive awareness; she'd been clinging to his chest, threading through the hair coating his body.
"Don't you like to be touched?" she asked.
He pulled back, staring down at her. "Are you pretending? Deliberately trying to drive me mad? Nobody can be that innocent. Not even you."
She felt blood rush to her face. It made her angry, that he had done it again, embarrassed her.
"I'm not innocent. I'm not a prude. People always say that to me. I just wanted to know why you grabbed my hands. Maybe you don't like me, but I thought you wanted to, uh, f-fuck me. You said so. But if you don't like my touching you then you should just say so. I won't do it if you don't like it. I'm not a mean person, you know."
"You are that innocent. You're actually giving me a lesson in assertiveness." He seemed at a loss for words.
This was not going at all as she'd hoped. He was leaning over her, his magnificent chest so close she felt the heat emanating from it, his hips hovering tantalizingly between her widespread legs. Every part of her felt on fire and like she didn't have voluntary control of it. And he was criticizing her.
Tears seeped out of her eyes. She turned her face away so she didn't have to look at him insulting her or making fun of her or—
Her jaw was firmly brought around. "Natalie."
"Mm-hmm."
He shifted.
Suddenly a dart of excruciating pleasure hit her.
She glanced down and saw he'd taken her left nipple between his teeth, slurped it into his mouth and sucked on it hard.
Without being aware of having made a noise, Natalie heard the echo of her own shriek. It took several moments to realize the unbelievably delicious sensation was fading. He'd raised his head. She gaped at him.
"That's what I'm feeling," he said crisply. "What you just felt. Your nipples have been pleading for that all night. There's so much saliva in my mouth from anticipating what I could do to you that...Natalie, I've watched you eating me up with your eyes all night. Do you think that feels nice and pleasant? Or do you think it makes this whole thing torture?"
"But why? I don't understand. Just take what you want."
His grin was feral. "I'm going to come inside you so many times tonight we'll both be raw. But you're not a...first I have to...damn it."
Then she was released, and his palms were blazing and forceful on the insides of her thighs, spreading them wider. Without ceremony, one large, probing finger penetrated her exactly at the core of where she ached.
Her body arched and she exploded.
"See, Natalie? I'm that close. But you're too tight. I can't remember the last time I took a woman as a lover instead of as an escort. Damn, I knew you'd be adorable when you came. The sounds you make...." He slithered down and his mouth, that sinfully soft and skillful mouth, closed around her clitoris.
What precisely he did then, she really had no idea. She just knew the sensations were amazing, terrifying, and irresistible. She heard noises coming from her own throat. She knew she was wiggling a lot. But all she felt were the orgasms. One after the other.
And then she was panting, struggling for air.
So was he, apparently. She could hear the harsh, indrawn sounds of his breaths. Feel the scrape of his clothes and hear them rustle as he shoved his pants down. And then that hot, silken-covered body was heaving against hers all over, rubbing her everywhere so deliciously.
"I can't—you have to stop moving. Natalie. Stop moving."
Wasn't it he that was moving on her? "But you feel so good. Why not just come inside me? I want you there so much." It didn't feel naughty to say such things, lurid things she'd never imagined saying to a man. It just felt right.
"Idiot. You have a habit of changing your mind. And it's too easy to hurt you, in so many ways. I can't take you like the others. Fuck, I don't know. Just stop moving. Please."
"I can't. I'm sorry." Her hands found his penis and squeezed. It was huge, throbbing, so tender to the touch but so perfect, rampant and ready. Aware this time of what she did, she let herself writhe beneath him so that the furry mat of his chest scraped her aching nipples.
And she gave him a tremulous smile.
She heard him make a sound that was sort of like her name, but not really intelligible. And then—yes. His great, smothering weight pressing down on her and...ooh. He was inside her at last. Ouch. Ouch.
She bit her lip. Pain and pleasure warred inside her. Pain won.
"I knew it—it's been too damn long for you. Hold still. Don't move."
"Does it hurt you, too?" she wondered.
"Not…like it…hurts you."
She fixed her gaze on him. He did look pained, though. His golden eyes were bright, almost yellow. He didn't move, except inside, where she felt each involuntary jerk and jolt of his cock.
"It's getting better," she assured him. "There. I think that's fine now, so—"
He thrust deeply. Natalie cut off her scream just in time. Not of pain this time. It was pure elation. But she didn't want to alarm him, and from his expression, he was frantically trying not to hurt her.
"It's okay," she said hurriedly. "It feels good now. You can move whatever way you—oh!"
Soon she stopped worrying about him worrying about her. Her eyes drifted shut and her whole being centered on where they attached, where his cock pistoned inside her.
She found it bizarre, the way the fur across his chest, legs and arms feathered every nerve of her skin while he gave her that deep, visceral massage with each thrust of his hips.
A bolt of pain in her wrist jarred an intrusion into all this bliss. She glanced up and saw they'd managed to twist about on the bed, and her arm had flung itself against the wall. Roughly, he scooched them both further down the bed.
"This is insane," he muttered close to her ear. "I can't stop."
"Don't. Please. But I want..." She wrapped her arms around him and grabbed his smooth, taut ass to hold him where he was. She convulsed around him and sobbed with relief when he stayed there for a few moments, letting her delicate muscles pump him.
"You like that? You'll get more, sweetling, but not now. I'm sorry. I have to...it's for me now."
It wasn't quick, as she'd expected; he took her with the same kind of savoring gluttony with which she'd attacked her dinner earlier. Snug, quick thrusts lying this way. Long, lavish strokes on their sides. And short, sweet episodes of utter stillness in between. Wide-eyed, she watched his face throughout. Dear stars in space, he was relishing this! She had never seen anybody embrace self-indulgence so completely before. Sometimes he looked at her and she shared everything with him; other times, his eyes closed and he became self-absorbed.
When he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him, she wasn't sure what to do. He didn't offer any instructions. He wasn't speaking anymore. He just moved her hips until she was doing it on her own and he fell back with his arms locked behind his head, openly reveling in the cling of her flesh on his cock.
Before when he'd stripped her, she'd managed to suppress her self-conscious. But it wasn't so easy when his eyes slit open to look at her now. She knew what he was seeing; she could feel her nipples bobbing on her chest.
"Kirk? I know," she swallowed. Tried again. "I know you said this is for you now. But could you touch me? I need..."
He focused on what she was saying with visible effort. She saw comprehension dawn behind the carnal mask. He opened his mouth, but only managed a fierce set of teeth, not words. His hand did touch her, but without any motor control. His fingers were awkward, fleeting on her breasts, before he flung out his arm to the side and arched his neck.
