by Joanna Wylde
She hadn’t expected him to be so attractive.
Of course, he was utterly taken with her. All men were. It wasn’t that she was vain; she simply knew the power of her body. For some reason, the Goddess had opted to endow her with a shape and form that appealed to the male eye. It was a magnificent advantage, and she’d never been afraid to use it.
This one was going to be different than her usual marks, though. His dossier worried her. He wasn’t an easy target—he’d spent most of his life fighting, which was only natural when you considered he was one of the most successful smugglers in the quadrant. Some said he was little more than a pirate, not that she cared.
All that mattered was the money she’d get for killing him.
Still, the sight of him led her to re-evaluate her initial plan of attack. Maybe it was the lingering pleasure of her orgasm against the pole, but she found herself wanting to touch him before she killed him. He was big, strong, exuding that kind of dangerous aura she always found irresistible in a partner. Of course, she lost interest in them as soon as she learned she could best them, but that was the way of things.
He would bore her in the end, but she would enjoy his company first.
The music ended, and she turned to bow toward the appreciative audience. It took effort not to sneer at the idiots, desperate men who were easily fooled. Still, she leaned over to scoop up the showers of credits on the stage around her. The money was nothing to her, a tenth of what her fee for this job would be, but it would look suspicious if she didn’t collect it. Flashing a sultry smile, she walked back down the stage toward her prey, deliberately dropping down off the stage onto a table, then stepping to the floor by placing her feet between a man’s legs on a chair. His gasp of surprise turned to a sigh of disappointment as she ignored him in favor of her target. She turned to her prey, kicking one leg high and swinging it over his head before straddling him on the chair.
Oh, yes. She would play with this one before killing him.
His cock felt like a thick club, poking up at her against his pants with such force that she knew he had to be in pain. She wiggled her hips, and it rubbed against her soaking cunt with a friction that almost made her come again. She’d have to throw her panties away when the night was over, but she didn’t care. This was delicious.
Closing her eyes, she rubbed against him once more, enjoying the extra friction from the fabric covering his erection. She could feel the thong going even further up her ass, slipping up between her labia. She stroked him once more, purring, and then opened her eyes.
He watched her, his face suffused with blood and his eyes filled with wonder.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly smooth. She cocked her head at him, growing ever more pleased with her new discovery. Despite how he must be feeling, he controlled himself. It intrigued her. She wanted to make him lose that control, teach him what it meant to have a woman use him. She would, too, before she finished.
“I don’t know,” she said, giving him a winsome smile. “There’s just something about you, I guess.”
She half expected him to burst out laughing, the line was so pathetic. His face grew thoughtful instead, and then he smiled. How disappointing—he was just as easy to fool as all men were. How sad. She wiggled against him again, deciding with a cock like that, he didn’t need a brain. He’d still be worth taking home for the night.
She leaned forward, allowing her lips to brush his ear.
“My fee is seven hundred credits for the evening,” she said softly, then sunk her teeth into his earlobe. He shuddered, and she ground herself against him again before pulling her head back to smile at him again. This time she let some of her hunger show in her face. He swallowed, and nodded quickly.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
“They have a room for us in the back,” she said with a smile. She stood, swinging her leg back over his head for show, then leaned over and grabbed his hand. She felt a hundred eyes on her and she slowly led him back toward the private rooms. Those eyes held hope and speculation. Would she be back? Would she be available? Would she choose them next time?
She smiled seductively, knowing she’d be off station before anyone even thought to check on her victim.
Thank the Goddess for places like this—they made her job ridiculously easy.
She nodded to the room manager, giving her target a pointed look as he handed over her fee. It went into a lock box, out of which the club would take its cut. Of course, she wouldn’t be back to collect her share, but that seemed fair in a way. The manager would probably suffer some trouble and expense as a direct result of her night’s work.
“We’ll be all night,” she told the manager. “And no matter what you hear, don’t come inside. I have big plans for our time together.”
The two men looked at each other, exchanging knowing smiles, and she had to hold back a chuckle. The fools had no idea what she was up to. It was pathetic, really. All that lovely cock, and not a single brain cell to control it. Men were all the same.
She showed her client into the small room she’d reserved for them. Like most of its kind, it was almost empty. A chair sat in the middle, and a low couch stood against one wall. At least it was clean. She could tell by the antiseptic smell that it was sprayed down between customers. Unpleasant, but better than the alternative.
He reached for his pants, but she placed one hand across his, stopping him.
“We have all night,” she said softly. “Let’s start things off slowly. Sit in the chair.”
He nodded his head, following her directions. So very obedient. She felt herself losing some of her interest and considered killing him on the spot. Still, there was that lovely cock, and she was still horny from her little pole dance. She turned away from him and sat down on his lap slowly. His erection nudged gently at her ass, and she wiggled, enjoying his groan of satisfaction. Oh yes, there it was, that lovely bulge, pulsating with suppressed lust and energy. She could almost feel it in her already, just waiting to give her what she needed more than anything else.
She started a slow grind, working him deliberately with a strength and purpose that would drive him crazy. It might drive her crazy, too, she mused. Already she could feel herself swelling, her body responding more than usual.
There was something about him… The way he smelled, mixed with the feel of his cock that was seeping into her consciousness more than she liked. She slowed down, thinking, and his hips thrust up at hers in protest. It caught her off guard, and for the first time she felt less than fully in control of the situation. She didn’t care for that one little bit.
She stood up abruptly, changing her tactics.
She turned to face him, licking her lips and smiling, plastering a mask of confidence across her face. Then she reached up and slowly unhooked the small bits of metal holding her bustier together. It fastened straight up the front, and when she had it halfway open, she dropped her hands again. Her breasts were pushed up and out, the nipples just barely showing. She fingered them, taking a moment to appreciate the tingles running through her, and then unhooked the rest of the garment. It fell to the floor, and she stood before him naked except for the tiny slip of fabric between her legs.
“Do you like what you see?’ she asked.
He nodded his head, licking his lips hungrily. She had expected him to look at her breasts, but his eyes stayed glued to hers. Once again she noted that strange difference about him. He seemed more intent on her than most men. Not that men were ever less than attentive toward her, but she got the distinct impression that this one wanted more than her body. His expression said he wanted to crawl into her head, to understand her inside and out. It was strange, frightening, and she had to push the idea away. He was a standard mark, just the latest notch on her belt. The only thing special about him was that someone was willing to pay 15,000 credits to see him dead.
She rubbed her hands up over her breasts, and then slowly stepped forward again, her knees b
utting against his.
“Do you want to touch me?” she asked softly. He nodded his head, but his hands stayed at his side. She approved. Too many men grabbed a woman’s tits and twisted them like they were ship controls. He seemed content to sit back and let her take the lead. She liked that. This was her show, and she knew exactly how it should go.
She straddled him again, this time not bothering to kick her leg up and over him. Somehow they seemed beyond that at this point. She sighed as the swollen lips of her labia came into contact with the mound of his restrained cock, wrapping her arms around his neck for stability. She closed her eyes, offering her breasts up to his mouth, and he obliged her by leaning forward and nuzzling the valley between them.
Subtle. She liked that.
Whispers of need crept along her spine, and she rubbed herself up and down his length, hips gyrating restlessly as he started licking her breasts. Back and forth he went, lapping and nosing at her without ever touching her nipples. They cried out for him, already swollen and aching in anticipation of his tongue. A need built within her, she wanted his touch. She thrust her breast at him pointedly, and stopped moving. Her challenge was clear. Give me what I want, and I’ll give you what you want.
He got the message, looking up at her face with an expression that could only be described as amused. She didn’t like thinking about that. She was in charge, not him. Still, before she could say or do anything, he dropped his gaze and sucked one nipple deeply into his mouth.
Sensation shot through her, a thousand tiny sparkles racing down an invisible string between her breast and her clit. She rubbed against him more urgently, feeling that familiar pressure rising within her like a beast. It was time for sex, time for taking what she needed from his body and using him for her pleasure. The rush was upon her, that high she could only find fucking or killing.
She rode him harder, wishing she had taken the time to strip him, wishing that he was naked and inside her, thrusting at her with all his strength. There was no way, of course, that she’d even consider pulling away from him long enough to strip away those layers. For the second time that night she hovered on the edge, too close to stop, too close to do anything but keep moving. She knew this pole between her legs would be infinitely more satisfying.
He sucked her nipple in hard and deep. Somewhere in the back of her mind she noticed his hands were on her hips, that he thrust her up and down along the length of his caged cock with a force that would leave bruises on her tomorrow. She didn’t care. She squeezed herself closer to him, crushing her breast against his face, desperate for more. Each thrust scraped her clit, each motion making her more aware of the yawning emptiness between her legs. She wanted to crawl into him, take him, and consume him.
Suddenly it hit her.
Explosions of light and feeling, a whiplash of sensation slammed through her body. She yelped, taken off guard, and ground her clit into him one last time even as her back arched in ecstasy. In the back of her mind she was vaguely aware of his shout, could feel his hips pumping up at her. Then she felt the heat of his seed through the leather and realized that he, too, had found his completion.
She collapsed against him, wrung out. This was far better than what she’d found against the pole. She was glad she hadn’t killed him—it was going to be a glorious night.
Chapter Two
She stunned him.
There was not other way to describe her power. He didn’t know how she did accomplished it, but feeling this black-haired witch’s body rubbing against his clothed cock was the most erotic experience of his life. Now the lady collapsed against him, seemingly as overwhelmed as he was.
He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her and carrying her the few steps across the room to the couch. He could feel how startled she was when he lifted her; her entire body tensed. He expected her to soften, though, so it came as a surprise to him when she pushed against him. She didn’t want to be held.
He lowered her to her feet and watched as she smiled up at him seductively, as if to erase the brief moment of tension. How interesting.
She didn’t like to lose control. The thought brought him up short, filled with implications. Did she enjoy performing, experiencing orgasm with a client because it genuinely felt good, or was it because of the rush of power it gave her? He thought about the room full of men, chanting, following her with their lustful gaze, throwing credits up on the stage. No wonder she had come so powerfully before them… It was sobering.
“It’s my turn,” he said suddenly,
“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice playful. “Do you have some special request? Shall I do something for you? To you?”
“No,” he said. “I want to do something to you. It’s my turn to give you pleasure.”
That brought her up short.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she said softly. “I’m here to work for you. That’s what I do. My pleasure is really no concern of yours.”
“Oh yes, it is,” he said, his voice low and smooth. That facade of hers cracked again, and he held back a smile. She was genuinely uncomfortable, and completely off base. “You’re here at my pleasure for my purposes. This is what I want.”
She shook her head, tensing even more, and for the first time he realized something wasn’t quite right. She really didn’t want him touching her.
“What’s going on here?” he asked, his voice suddenly serious. Her eyes darted away from his and instincts honed by his years of survival kicked into play. Where a moment earlier she had smiled seductively, now she whirled on him, whipping an almost invisible silvery thread that had been hidden in the seam of her thong. Ionic whip, his mind whispered, and he leapt back. She held one of the most dangerous and difficult weapons he’d ever seen, a whip only a handful of molecules thick. Sharp enough to slip right through almost any substance.
He backed up against the door, too startled to do more than fumble at the latch, but it wouldn’t open. She must have locked him in. Adrenaline rocketed through his body and his mind raced through possible plans of action. This time when she came for him, he was ready.
He dodged her once more, feinting to the left.
She moved quickly, adjusting automatically for his new position, and the whip snapped out with deadly intent, faintly humming.
He cursed, leaping again, then rolling across the floor in a blur. He had to disarm her or he wouldn’t survive the next 60 seconds. She wielded the whip as if born to it—he’d never seen anything like it.
Except in holos of his own practice sessions.
As he sprang back to his feet, he reached down and pulled his own whip out of his boot. Light, undetectable, infinitely dangerous, it was the perfect weapon—no security device invented could detect one. He always carried it with him, even in portside strip clubs. You just never knew when you’d come under attack.
As she raised her arm to lash out again, he flicked his hand and a second humming noise filled the room. He saw her eyes widen, first with pure shock and then delight. She burst out laughing as their whips clashed mid-air, tangling and sizzling as they wound around each other like angry snakes.
The only thing that could neutralize an ionic whip was another ionic whip.
“You’re better than I imagined,” she said lightly. “I thought this would be an easy job. I can see I was wrong.”
He cocked his head, understanding filling him.
“You’re here to kill me?” he asked softly.
“You’ve got it,” she replied, eyes twinkling with merriment. “You’re not as stupid as I thought. But I’m still going to kill you.”
With that she launched herself at him, one leg extended toward his gut. He blocked her without thinking, and then landed a solid punch to her midriff. She grunted and twisted, bringing her leg up to tangle with his, and they hit the floor. Together they rolled, and Damian felt the adrenaline pumping through his body. She held death in her eyes—this was a fight for survival, but all he could think about was
how strong and smooth she felt against him. He wanted to fuck her more than ever.
Writhing in each other’s arms, they crashed across the room. When they slammed into the wall, the woman took the bulk of the hit on her head. She fell limp, and for a moment he thought she was dead. But her chest still moved. Holding her tight, well aware this could be a trick on her part, he leaned over and rested his cheek against her neck. Her pulse was steady and smooth, and then she slammed her chin against his forehead.
He pulled her away from the wall, covering her with his body. Without thinking he forced her legs apart, pushing the hard length of his erection between them. Damn, that felt good. He rubbed back and forth several times, wishing he’d managed to get his leathers off earlier. He’d give anything to thrust into her right now.
He felt an answering push from her hips, as her eyes snapped with fire.
They looked at each other, saying nothing, then her hips wiggled beneath his again. He responded in kind, and she bucked, trying to break free. Instantly he tightened his hold, and they writhed against each other, their movements a combination of fight and fuck. Blood pounded through his head. He could feel sweat breaking out across his entire body. This had nothing to do with the strain of holding her, and everything to do with how much he needed to be inside her, taking her and fucking her until she screamed for mercy.
Her legs came up around his waist, kicking and clenching him alternately. He saw the cords of her neck straining as she tensed against him. He rammed his hips hard against her, his cock hitting the hard leather of his pants painfully. It hurt; it made him want to scream. He needed to be inside her, needed to thrust up and take her again and again as she whimpered for mercy and clawed at his back.
She bucked against him once more, her teeth flashing as she went for his throat. Just in time he blocked her with his chin, and he felt her teeth sink deeply into his flesh. She was an animal—deep within he could feel the vibration of a scream coming from her chest. Anger or frustration? She ground her clit against him and then he felt her convulse. Her mouth dropped away from his face, a ring of his own blood gracing her lips. Her face contorted as she came beneath him.
