And for a large man, he moved smoothly, with a natural acceptance of himself. Sol watched the spread of healthy muscles tensing and flexing across his chest as he glided nearer. She was sure he was putting a little extra into his movement just for her benefit. Arrogant male. But his brilliant gaze stayed fixed on her face. His fists tightened. That muscle jumped again in his jaw. He wasn't as relaxed as he wanted Sol to think. That thought pleased her. Sol sucked in a breath and unconsciously, bit her lower lip.
"Ahhh,” he murmured, and slipped behind her again, that one arm curved around her waist inside her gaping uniform, brushing her exposed skin with the barest touch. And, just as before, his breathing tickled her neck and gave her goose bumps. He curled over her in a looming, dark presence.
He's dangerous, truly dangerous. The sudden insight surprised her, and Sol fought against old training drills of grabbing his arm and flipping him over her shoulder. She realized that here was as dangerous a man as she had ever met, but he had made no threatening moves on her. She shouldn't be afraid of him. He just made her heart flutter with attraction, right?
He swiftly found her jumpsuit's zipper again. And with the stealthy movements of a cat's paw, he unzipped her uniform the rest of the way to the bottom. The suddenness stole Sol's breath. When she caught it again, her rapid intakes raised and lowered her chest. She was so used to being in control, so why did she let this man take the lead and steal her defenses? Well, she wouldn't give up so easily. After all, she was the one in control—or was she? The man gave a quiet chuckle that vibrated through Sol's back to her belly. Still behind her, he slipped hard, calloused palms inside her one piece regimentals. He lightly traced his fingertips across her neck and down the center of her chest, not touching her breasts that ached so for his touch. His fingertips flattened to solid palms. His inquisitive hands left a wide square of heat on her flesh that followed in the wake of their path to her waist. He ventured lower. Sol shivered. Again, that sudden loss of control frightened her. As if he felt and knew her tension, her playmate moved his palms back up in a slow, delicious slide of skin against skin. Then, without a pause, his palms cupped her breasts, cradling them as if weighing their size. Sol wasn't overly endowed and held her breath, feeling uncertain. She breathed out when he hummed that pleased sound again. Then she tensed. Surely she didn't care if her body pleased him. Did she? She was in control.
In defiance, Sol pushed back against him. His quickened breathing sounded ragged. The heated breaths fanned her ear. Sol realized she was now inhaling and exhaling in time with him. Not a good sign of control. She started to lean away. He stopped her with just a slight tightening of his arms, then he flicked the tips of her nipples with his thumbs. Sol gasped.
He ignored her, pressed her tighter against his front and smoothed his palms back down her sides. As he caressed her flat abdomen again, his groan actually sounded as if he approved of her lack of underwear. Sol trembled under the vibrations of his voice. The rough sound tickled her ear. She didn't understand the language he spoke, the curses he muttered. And when had she let her head fall back against his shoulder so submissively?
In a daze, she turned her head closer to his chin. Her lips brushed his neck. His skin tasted of salty male sweat. He shuddered and caressed her breasts again. He touched her so freely, as if he had the right to do so. She should stop him. She knew she should. They were going too fast, things could get quickly out of hand. She wasn't ready for this, but she didn't want him to stop.
His soothing circles on her stomach continued, the pads of his fingers finding all of Sol's sensitive spots, almost as if he read her mind. Yeah, right there. Do that again. Yeah, that's it. Ahhh, now lower. He felt perfect—perhaps too perfect.
Sol wondered, suddenly, if she had made a mistake, a very big mistake. This man was too sure of himself, taking such control and going much too fast.
She opened her mouth to protest, but his wonderful hands moved lower still, slipped over her hipbones, mesmerizing with their slow circling caresses until Sol no longer cared what she thought or who controlled whom. Thoughts weren't important; neither was control. She wasn't captain here. She didn't need to be in charge, didn't need to make decisions. She only wanted to feel his smooth, soothing touch.
Drowsy, hypnotic warmth spread over Soledad with the magical slide of his skin against hers. The movement of his rough palms against her flesh and the thrust of his jutting hard member between her butt cheeks made her knees weak. Even through her tough red leathers, she felt his heat, the draw of his body. Her officer's uniform gaped open to his hands. Sol knew her attraction to him was due largely to the enhancement drug she had taken earlier and to her increased hormones, but oh, it felt so good just to feel that wonderful male strength in his touch.
His palms slid up and over her pouting nipples. She almost moaned with the yearning pain they left behind. Faintly, she heard him hiss between his teeth. She felt his chest rise with an inhale then he moved lower on her abdomen, sliding his fingers up and down, to nearly where she wanted them between her legs, before he jerked to a stop. He tensed and spread his fingers over her bare mound. He patted then cupped her tightly, one finger slipping on her wetness.
"You have no pubic hair,” he stated, as if the fact was of monumental importance.
"Can't be a spacer captain with hair,” Sol murmured, and rolled her head back and forth under his chin. She arched into his fingers. He moved them up her belly, away from her need, so she pushed her butt back into him, wanting to feel his arousal probing against her again.
With a grunt, he held himself away then lifted a handful of her hair in his other fist. His tight grip was just short of being painful, but it felt so erotic. How sick was that? She was clearly not herself, not in control, but for once, she didn't care.
"What about this?” He shook his fistful of red hair, his voice raw.
A fissure of annoyance erupted within Sol. Impatient to get on with her business, she twisted around and glared at him. “I had it enhanced—just for you. For just this moment. Okay?"
The color and texture of her hair was natural. It had just been encouraged to grow rapidly while the doctors had reversed the effects of space command, but her pubic hair had been permanently removed years ago. She'd had no time for personal demands when fighting the Guild's wars. Hygiene cups that took care of the problems of elimination through her battle suit fit better on naked skin. Monthly menses were no problem since she was sterile while serving as a captain in space. Now, her body was a different animal, making demands of its own, and she had no time or patience for twenty questions. This night was all she had paid for. An awful thought occurred to her. She wanted more time. She wanted to make her partner feel as he was making her feel. Need shook her with greedy claws. Damn him for making her want more than one night, even for a moment.
A serious frown wrinkled the man's stern features, and his speculative eyes went stone-cold for just a moment. In that instant, he looked more alien than human. Sol lost her breath at the dangerous, icy glint that flashed in those blue eyes. Then, before she lost her nerve and complete control of the situation, she reached between his legs. She gripped his balls. He tensed at her touch and hissed a breath. She felt his loss of control and wanted him even more excited. She was the one paying for this so she should be the one calling the shots, so to speak. Under her hands, the man stood rigid, shocked immobile. She gently cupped his turgid length in her palms and caressed his shaft up and down. He lengthened even further under her palms. His eyes closed halfway, dark lashes shadowing his cheeks. The flickering light played off the planes of his face, and Sol's breath caught on the unexpected alien beauty of him. She had little experience with pleasuring men. Normally she took her pleasure where she found it, a quick lay to scratch the itch. This time, however, for some reason she wanted to please her partner. She just wasn't sure how to go about it since she had never taken much time in preliminaries.
Her toy obligingly grunted again when she touched the ti
p of his cock, and he made no move to stop her so her touch must please him. She marveled at the silky moisture that leaked to her fingers from the dip in the rounded knob, then she proceeded on, trailing light touches down his length and up his stomach, down his legs and up the insides of his thighs. Such perfect satiny skin covered his upper thighs, so smooth, so taut. Sol moved her fingers gently back over the thick head of his cock, not believing that such power could feel so soft and yet be so hard at the same time. She played over that drop of moisture that gathered, twirled the wetness around the thick circle. Her playmate sucked in another quick breath and muttered a foreign curse. His slitted eyes had taken on a dazed look and no longer swirled with secrets.
Boldly, Sol stroked down his shaft, caressing the line under it, and then rubbing his hardened balls. They tightened even more, became heavier at her touch. She squeezed them, and her playmate hissed again, like an angry cat.
Sol grinned. His swollen jewels contained just what she wanted, what she had paid for. They felt loaded, ready. Just behind them, between his butt cheeks, a fleshy rose puckered under her fingertips. Bravely, she probed that sensitive area, too. He groaned again, and tightened his grip on her upper arms. The tight pressure of his long fingers would no doubt leave marks, but she didn't care. She wanted him excited. Wickedly, she pressed her fingertip deeper against his pursed opening to darker pleasures, slipped it the barest fraction inside.
"Jesu!” the man sputtered and grabbed her wrists. Her bones ground under his tight grip. Breathing hoarsely, he curved into her, stared at her blindly, then swallowed. He waited a moment then shook his head as if to clear it before he whispered, “No. Don't stop now."
Without another word, he guided her fingers back up and down his shaft. His dark lashes closed over his burning gaze, and he curled his body even closer into hers. Sol felt almost sheltered in his looming heat. His spicy arousal surrounded her with his warm scent. For a moment, she was lost in it, like that of the headiest of incense. She shook her own head free of such thoughts. She had control now, though how they both remained standing was a miracle.
She held the length of him in her two hands and grinned at the sight under her caresses. He was unspeakably lovely and surely ready. Suddenly, she realized that she had never held a man this thick—or this hard—before, as if he were ready to spill at any moment. He was beautifully male, although it really wasn't necessary for him to be beautiful. All she needed was his perfect sperm.
But for some reason, Sol wanted this meeting of the sexes to be special. If everything went as planned, this coupling would create the child she wanted; a child she had put off having for years. And a child from this male would be beautiful, she knew it, just as the computer matched data knew it. She caressed him again, and he arched under her touch. He muttered something and tossed his head from side to side, as if saying no—as if he knew what she was thinking. Through a sparkling gaze, Sol noted the little beads of sweat that shone on the man's full upper lip—his wide, sensuous lips that leaned so close to her own. Further up, his high forehead gleamed, and under the tight skin, thick veins pulsed with life. Beneath his closed eyelids and the broad fan of his dark lashes, she could see his eyes rove restlessly back and forth. A long muscle jumped and flexed in his jaw. Such raw male strength called to Soledad as much as an aphrodisiac could. Under her palm, she felt a surging vein throb in his penis. Power, lots of power, waiting just for her taking. Now was a good time for the finish.
She stood on tiptoe and whispered, “Come to bed."
The man's eyes snapped open. For a moment, his startled gaze stared blankly down at her. Then he cocked his head to one side, took a deep breath, and stopped the movement of her hands with his. His lips curved weakly, one side tweaked higher than the other, mocking her.
"What about your bath?” His husky voice rasped like a harsh rub over week-long whiskers. She couldn't believe that he'd regained his control this quickly. Just who was he?
"It'll wait.” Sol drew him closer to the bed until the back of her legs touched the thick brocade spread. She mustn't lose control to him again.
"No.” He stepped back from her, took her hand and led her back toward the tub. “I want you to have your bath—and massage.” That teasing corner of his mouth lifted, but only a hint of those endearing bottom teeth showed. “And I want to give them to you, Legs."
With that, he swept her up into his arms, which was no mean feat. Sol wasn't a lightweight. Indeed, she had boxed in middleweight division on Rigel Three. No one had carried her anywhere since she was a babe.
Before she got over that wonder, he eased her down next to the tub, letting her body rub his in a deliberately slow, sensuous slide. She felt his cock dance along her leg. He closed his eyes again but only for a moment. Sol delighted in the delicious feel of such hot strength against her body. Her hormones were continuing to clamor, but, when her toes touched the floor, her knees buckled. She clung to her treat's forearms like some fainthearted civilian female instead of a galactic warship captain. He solemnly held her gaze, as if he knew her thoughts and delighted in her reactions. Just who was he to know her so well?
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Chapter Two
With a light slap of his palm against the fake Italian plaster wall, the candlelight dimmed even further, enhancing the shadows that flickered and glowed. Bolero still drummed on, probably set to loop over and over. For some reason, the music urged Sol to hurry before she lost her nerve. And, as if he knew her thoughts, the man quickly stripped Sol's shoulders free of her suit and its shoulder-beribboned gear. He didn't take time to ogle her exposed breasts. Without a word, he knelt between her legs and undid the many buckles on her military boots. With a pinch to her heel, he lifted each foot to strip the boot and free her uniform.
Why hadn't she shopped for civi clothes? She didn't know. She also didn't know if the man purposely brushed his head against her bare pelvic area or if it was an accident, but the silky glide of his cool hair against her nakedness sent shivers dancing over her. Breathing became a short commodity. Her skin felt stretched far too tightly. Uncontrolled tremors shook her. She couldn't stop the internal jitters and clamped her teeth together, hoping he wouldn't notice her trembling. He did.
"Cold?” he glanced up with a serious look. His slanted eyes narrowed almost to slits, and he seemed unduly concerned for her comfort. His expelled breath puffed warmly against her thighs—so near. Gooseflesh followed.
"No, I'm not cold.” Sol muttered, looking down at his proximity to her intimate parts. His mouth moved so close to her that she felt his warm breath. Sol clenched her fists and fought an uncommon giddiness that overcame her normal staid composure. Remember you are—were—a Guild warship captain, she reminded herself. The man grunted and stood up. Sol hid her disappointment.
"Good. But I'll have you even warmer in just a moment.” With that, he guided Sol into the steaming tub with an impersonal hand cupped under each of her elbows, just like a gentleman. She stifled the next nervous giggle that threatened to escape. Him—a gentleman, with his large, brooding dark looks promising the hottest of sexual nights? Besides, chivalrous knights of old didn't run around naked. Or perhaps, they did. This one would have fit right in the way he carefully ushered her into the warmth of the bath. You would think she was someone's fragile treasure by the way he handled her. Good gods above, no one except her sister and her dearest friend cared that much about her.
An unexpected mist blurred Sol's vision, and she snorted. Damned hormones, again. With his insistent touch gentle on her shoulders, the man pushed her down until the bubbles crept up to her chin.
In their absence, the bath had shut off automatically when the water reached the sensor in the top of the tub. Tralarie plumbing technology rated among the top few in the Straits, although a lot of customers in the other pleasure houses didn't rank getting wet as one of their sought after pleasures. What wild sexual exploits had this room witnessed in its past? Sol's thoughts swirled.
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"Here. Drink your wine.” Her pleasure toy shoved a stemmed, silver-etched crystal glass into her hand. Sol took a quick gulp before he tapped his glass to hers from where he sat on the tub's edge.
"To new experiences,” he toasted before swallowing a sip. He closed his eyes in appreciation. In a daze, Sol followed the shallow movement of his throat, such a handsome thick throat on such handsome, thick shoulders. Why would he say to new experiences? Sex wasn't new. But she was experiencing new ones with him most assuredly. He had such lovely flat nipples resting among his chest hair, she noted absently. A rosy flush crept up from his chest to cover his face, and she knew he had caught her stare. But Sol couldn't take her eyes from him. With three deep swallows, he finished the rest of his wine in a quick flourish not doing justice to the delicate flavor. Then he watched Sol sip hers, his insolent, tilted gaze never leaving her face except to follow the line of her throat as she swallowed. Sexual heat radiated from his intense look. Soledad barely tasted the wine.
"They don't charge enough for you.” The muttered words escaped before Sol knew she had spoken her thought aloud.
"Pardon?” His puzzled stare jerked from her lips to her eyes. What he saw there must have inspired him because he reached out for her with the quickness of a snake's strike. What did he intend? She had to regain control of the situation. Sol scooted backward, splashing water over the side of the tub. “Forget it,” she waved her hand, scattering water droplets. Hormones, again. She wasn't afraid of him. Good gods, she wasn't some timid church mouse. Look at the size of her hands, for gods’ sakes. Those large, scarred hands with their chewed cuticles had handled weapons of war, of mass destruction. Thankfully, the man settled back with his inscrutable brooding look.
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