After a few moments and with a resigned sigh, followed by another at the water's soothing warmth, Sol relaxed against the curvature of the tub. She felt too tired and too old for this dance of seduction. She watched her playmate through narrowed eyes. Maybe she'd just order him to service her, lick her like an ice treat before filling her aching core with what she craved. She ignored the shiver that raced through her at the thought of his mouth against her flesh. After all, that's what he was being paid for. She closed her eyes.
The heady smell of cinnamon drifted in the spicy bubbles that floated under Sol's chin. The scent reminded her of Te'angel's cookies. Sol hum'mphed a non-captain-like sound and blew the bubbles away—right into the man's face. What?
Her sex toy was opposite her. In the tub with her. When had that happened? His deep chuckle startled Sol. The man not only moved with silent animallike grace, but he growled like a jungle cat, too. The vibrations of his low laugh through the water sent shivers up her back. Sol suddenly wondered if she could make him purr in sexual delight. Now, where had that thought come from? And why did she care if he enjoyed himself or not?
Water sloshed. The man edged closer, loomed over her. Overwhelmed her. Damn it. She was the paying customer, the one in control. She wasn't ready yet. She raised her hands to stop him, push him away, but beneath her fingertips, solid, wet strength rippled. Smooth shoulders slipped ever so nicely under her touch. Comforting warmth spread, grew into sexual pulsations between Sol's legs. Without a word, he lightly traced the tips of his fingers up and down her sides from under her armpits to her hips then back between her breasts and across the shallow hollow of her belly. He gave an appreciative sigh and repeated the motion until Sol finally relaxed—but not for long. With an experienced touch, her playmate fanned her nipples in a teasing air caress that had her arching into his palms. On a growl, he cupped her breasts and thumbed her hardened nipples before he licked them into the hot core of his mouth. Ahhh. Sol's mind fought to accept the intimate touch of a stranger's heat and his tongue against her flesh. Always before, she had only found a release never the pleasure this partner gave. As if he knew this, he swept his mouth over her and sucked heavily on her mouth. Sol lost what little breath she could draw in. Her mind shattered, her control vanished. He left her lips and bit her sensitive neck and then moved lower. In the background, Sol heard water draining from the tub. With each inch of her bare skin that was revealed, her toy laved more of his attention on the exposed area. He expelled a sigh at her navel then slipped further down her stomach, doing his soothing, circling thing with his tongue following his hands.
Finally, he reached the thickened lips between her legs. He breathed on her. Sol cried out and raised her hips. She wept there for his touch. He obliged her and scooped her up to his mouth. With his wide hands cupped under her hips, he lifted her—then he licked. One solid tongue lick full on her flesh. On a cry, Sol arched against his mouth. Without a word, he plunged inside. Velvet. His tongue was a velvet whip teasing the walls of her sex, urging her to rise up then settle back, rise up, fall back. But he only gave her a taste of what she craved. Sol wanted more, a deeper penetration. She twisted against his mouth. As if he knew her thought, the man raised his head, and again without speaking a word, he rose back over her. With one long finger sliding up and down her slit then over her hard knot of pleasure, he continued seducing her.
"Tell me what you want, Captain."
Sol moaned and writhed with the wanting. In—in—put it in! She wanted to shout at him, but she kept her eyes tightly closed, needing only the sensation to continue. Sol felt his breath hot on her neck. She didn't have to see, didn't want to know, who made her feel this good, this alive. The teasing of his clever fingers stopped. Sol gasped in disappointment.
"Why did you leave spacing?” The question was whispered softly as his lips brushed her neck. The man rose but still curved over her, his mouth next to her ear. His hand crept just up from where she wanted to feel his fingers. He touched the tip of one nipple, as if letting her know he was still there. As if Sol could forget the thick promise that loomed just out of reach. She felt him throbbing against her thigh. “Why?” he repeated."
"Forced retirement. The Guild said I was too old to captain.” Sol gave a painful laugh that ended in a near sob, and she wondered why she'd answered his question when all she wanted was for him to move his damned finger—or something better—back into her ache.
With a noticeable flinch, the man hesitated for a moment before he suddenly pulled her out of the empty tub, his strong arms under her butt.
"What are you doing?” she yelped.
"I'm taking you to bed for your massage."
"I don't want a massage."
"You did before."
"Well, I don't now. For gods’ sake, finish what you started!"
He paused, then flashed that infuriating crooked grin down at her. His strange eyes twinkled with wicked intent. “And what do you want me to do, my captain?"
Sol bristled at his use of her title. How dare he? She'd rather he stuck to calling her Legs. Her vision narrowed, and she snapped, “You know what I want."
"Nope, I don't. You tell me.” He set Sol on her feet but held her close, sheltering her in a big towel under his arm. He patted and wrapped her gently like a babe. Then, holding her gaze, he slowly licked his finger and slid that wonderfully thick appendage down her belly and back into her so quickly that she moaned and grabbed his wrist. His hard mouth swallowed the sound of her cry, and he cradled her against his chest. He fought her mouth in a fierce kiss. Sol struggled at first, and then she clung to his lips—lips that grew surprisingly soft and warm, moving over hers in a gentle play of enticement before sliding along her jaw.
"Lick me. Lick my face and taste your sweetness.” His wicked whisper compelled her to do just as he ordered. The taste of her arousal burned Sol. It urged her to press herself flush against him. She fisted her hand in the silkiness of his hair, closed her eyes and gave herself up to his treatment when he slipped down to kneel at her feet. And her playmate was thorough, not one bit of her escaped his reach. Never knowing how they ended up on the bed, Sol was drifting in a red haze when he nipped her shoulder just hard enough to get her attention. At her frown, he winked at her and began again.
Sol could tell he was experienced at this, and what she had admitted before, about him being worth a whole lot more money, was apparent in the way he applied his talents—stroking, kneading, licking, nibbling and caressing her, giving and never taking. He was clearly one of the Pleasure Dome's best.
She smothered a frustrated scream. Would he never give her what she wanted? Again, her toy played between her thighs, kissed the tender skin on the inside her legs and licked ever closer to her greater throbbing need. But he was too slow! Much too slow, when he had been moving much too fast before. Sol felt as if she were burning up with the waiting. She fisted the sheets in her palms and pulled at them, but smothered her cries. Finally, after moments of excruciating but tantalizing delay filled with his teasing caresses, he spread her wide. He looked up at her face, deep into her eyes, his sparkling gaze holding hers. Then, without breaking eye contact, he kissed her naked apex with his opened mouth.
When Sol sucked in a much needed breath, he pushed his tongue deep into her aching core and twisted inside her. She screamed. With that single stroke, Sol came, arching up and crying out in muscle-clenching aftermath. Just one thrust of his velvet tongue inside her, and her toy had given her a better release than she had ever experienced. Seizures were still echoing through her body when he poured warm oil on her belly and settled both his big hands in the pool. He spread the oil over her, up her belly and down into the still quivering sex folds of skin. The lubricant heated further on contact, heightening and lengthening the pulsing aftereffects of her orgasm. Never had she felt like this. Would he never finish with her?
Sol swallowed a moan but refused to move away from his delightful touch. She watched him through heavy, narrow-sli
t eyelids, unable to open her eyes further. She was no closer to reaching her goal of becoming a mother, but from the look of things, her toy still meant to oblige. He was beautiful in full sexual rut. His pale eyes glittered, and sweat glistened over his body, exposing the hills and valleys of curving strength. His sex jutted out like a twitching flag pole, but he ignored it, all the while massaging the oil in a professional, impersonal manner. Sol noted the way that long muscle in his jaw flexed and clenched again. His attentive sex bobbed and jerked between his legs as if seeking her. But here was a man who controlled himself.
And ever the attentive playmate and still ignoring his body's demands, the man dipped his thick finger back between her legs and rubbed soothing moisture in the heated cracks of her sex. He rolled the hard nub of pleasure between his fingers and ignored Sol's repeated gasps. There, between the heavy engorged lips of her vulva, he slipped his finger inside for just the barest moment, thrust and released—just enough to bring her back to the point of arching into his hand. Experienced, he played her like a fine instrument.
Sol could almost feel the pride in his husky voice when he asked, “More, my captain?” Those dark brows rose, and a line of sweat rolled down the side of his face.
She watched it drop off his rigid jaw and nodded, “More. I want what I've paid for.” She looked pointedly between his legs and almost missed his puzzled frown.
"Ahhh. You want this?” He rose up on his knees and cupped himself, holding balls and thickened shaft up for her. He loomed dark and shadowy over her. Sol nodded at the awesome sight between his legs, mute to say another word.
"Well. Your wish is my command, Captain."
He gave that faint, one-sided grin and eased down next to her, barely dipping the bed, barely touching her with his heat. Funny how she felt every sensation. It felt as if he was touching all of her from the inside out.
"Don't call me captain. Just give it to me.” Sol reached for him, and he let her caress him, noticeable light shivers following her hand's path across his skin—light against the dark.
"I'll call you anything I want in this room, Legs.” His mocking lips twisted, but his heavy-lidded gaze darkened, grew more heated. “Now, say please.” His fingers twitched over Sol before slipping inside and touching overly sensitive walls. She gasped.
"What?” Sol was trying hard to follow the conversation but he was doing such nice things to her slit again. He rolled the hard knot of her pleasure lightly between his fingers then suddenly pinched. She moaned. Delicious sensations renewed and raced through her. They demanded more attention. He didn't move. She could have screamed. This time she wanted more.
"Say please.” He had stopped the movement of his hand but still cupped her sex. His fingers drummed a teasing rhythm against her swollen lips. “Captain, you do know that six letter word that polite people use?” He dipped his head and gazed up at her through his dark lashes.
"I'm not polite, in case you haven't noticed.” Sol arched into his touch. Again he wiggled his finger inside her. Her thighs clenched, and her hips came clear off the mattress.
The man groaned and nuzzled her throat. His lips tickled her neck. “Believe me, I've noticed, Captain.” He smiled and faint dimples appeared in his cheeks. “But I like you anyway.” He kept the pressure on between her legs, sliding his long fingers in and out. Sol's cheeks heated, hearing the slick noise they made.
"It's not required that you like me,” Sol muttered into the curve of his shoulder. She opened her mouth and licked his skin. He shivered. His neck tasted of salt; his scent was a heady enticement of fully aroused male.
"Ahhh,” he breathed under her tongue. “Only fuck you, huh?” His wicked whisper tickled her ear.
"Yeah. Only that.” Sol nearly whispered the words back and wondered why they were speaking so softly, then she didn't care about anything but him. Even his masculine voice tugged at her. His fingers left her heat, but before she voiced her disappointment, he chuckled to her darkly.
"Well, I can do that. I can fuck you.” He cupped her hip and slid just the tip of himself into her throbbing flesh. God, just that thick bit felt so good. Sol's muscles tightened. Her head dropped back—but he withdrew. His absence left her cold, bereft.
"Now, say please for me,” he murmured against the hollow of her throat.
Moist chills followed in the heat of his lips’ wake. He held himself poised. Sol trembled, but noted that he was shaking in her arms as badly as she. “Okay, please. Damn you. Please—please—please!" The last “please” came out in a shout that coincided with his fierce lunge. Such solid, hot strength filled her, moved thickly against her inner walls. He groaned and ground himself deeper. Sol lost her breath. He gave it back in a fierce kiss that left her breathless ... again.
And again, she heard a foreign curse before he spoke in universal. “Take it all, Captain,” he muttered, plunging and retreating, his muscles straining under his control. Sol clawed his broad back, drew him closer to her core. She gripped his wide hipbones and pulled him tighter against her. Never had she felt anything this wild, this good; never had she experienced the hot dance of torrid sex this flawlessly, this beautifully. They moved in a perfect waltz of uncontrolled intercourse—on and on they went throughout the night. Gods, she had to find out what drug the chemist had put in the wine.
Sol experimented that night with sexual pleasures and positions she had never imagined, some that she knew had to be illegal if not by law then by nature. She had never felt so alive, so aware of everything—every scent, every touch, and every sound. They imprinted themselves on her memory like nothing had ever before. And nothing should ever be that good. If it was due only to the drug and hormones, then why did the same act feel even better in the morning, when she awakened sober to find her treat working at her pleasure again?
"Come on, give it up, Captain. Give it to me,” the man panted into her ear. He raised her hips with his big hands, spread her wide and slid his thick shaft in and out. He fondled and licked the nipples of both her breasts before nipping one with a bite from crooked bottom teeth that was just shy of being painful. Her playmate claimed her so neatly, so fully, that finally, Sol did give it up again with a scream that echoed a banging on their door.
"Commander! Commander Merriweather, open up! There has been a terrible mistake!"
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Chapter Three
Calm blue eyes, with their swirling, slanted secrets, regarded Sol for several moments amid the urgent pounding before her companion of the night wrapped a sheet around his middle and stalked to the door. He jerked it open and growled, “What?” at the startled doorman.
"I'm most terribly sorry, Commander, but there has been a mistake with your partner.” With a backward hand wave, the bumbling man dressed in a red-lettered Dome uniform, indicated a well-endowed blonde that stood behind him. “Elise was your partner for last night.” The blonde gave her fingers a twittering wiggle. Sol's companion grunted his reply.
"Well, I'm satisfied with the one I got.” His shoulders filled the doorway, loomed over the Dome's employee.
"But ... but ... she's not even one of ours.” The bellman's voice fairly squeaked.
"I. Don't. Care."
By this time, Soledad, her mind spinning with terrible possibilities, had jerked on her one piece regimentals. Shit—shit—shit, she mumbled to herself. She knew with awful certainty what had happened. Damned wormhole dyslexia. This was the last time she would trust it without more questioning, even if meant asking a passing stranger. With her boots in hand, she shoved past her playmate, only to have him grab her by the upper arm. His grip was strong but not painfully so. It had been tighter last night. Even his voice had been rougher. It echoed lightly now in playfulness.
"And just where do you think you're going?"
"Me? I've gotten what I came for. I'm leaving.” Sol flashed what she hoped was a convincing grin, twisted her arm, and again tried to get out the door. She was sore between her legs, and her
stomach was doing back flips. Too late now, stupid, stupid, stupid.
"Well, I haven't finished with you yet, Captain,” the man clung to her arm, his warm eyes hopeful.
"Oh, may the gods preserve us! Captain Scott.” The doorman finally recognized Sol. “I am so terribly sorry, sir. I knew my robot bellhop was malfunctioning. He must have taken you to the wrong room—to Commander Merriweather's room. How can I ever apologize to you?"
The name finally registered with her. Merriweather. Sol's mouth fell open but nothing came out. In shock, she stared at her playmate. She finally understood the identity of her sexual toy. Rage choked her. She couldn't look at him. With a mute headshake, she jerked her arm lose from Merriweather and scooted past the doorman. But before she got out the door, the commander called after her. He had no idea that she wanted nothing better than to skewer him. His rough voice still teased.
"Wait. I can't see that an apology is necessary. I don't know about the captain, but I'm satisfied. More than satisfied.” Merriweather turned and gave Sol that wicked grin that exposed just the tips of his bottom teeth. Why had she thought them endearing earlier? He chuckled, “I think she is, too. Right, darlin'?” She ignored the pleading that lay in his pale eyes.
"Yes ... well, I must be going. I've a thousand things to do.” Sol spit the words from between tight lips and dodged the next lunge Merriweather made toward her. She skittered down the hall's slick floors and looked back only once. If she stayed much longer, she'd kill the man who was responsible for the best sex she'd ever experienced—and who was indirectly responsible for her forced retirement. God, help her, she hoped he hadn't also fathered her child.
The last thing she saw was the room's door latch that snagged the sheet that the commander had wrapped around himself when he ran out the door after her. The handle stripped him neatly. The giggling blonde stopped laughing at the naked sight of what she had missed and turned a deep frown on the doorman, who was attempting to stop the commander from racing down the hall. Sol didn't hear the rest of the conversation. She knew a little of what was being revealed. Time was of the essence. She had a terrible decision to make—and possibly an awful mistake to correct.
Pleasure Dome Page 4
