Pleasure Dome

by L. F. Hampton

  "I miss you, Gabe.” She sat up on the bed on her knees and stretched her arms over her head before settling back down with her bare butt resting on her heels. She moved her knees farther apart, and Gabriel sucked in a much needed breath. The end of her shirt's hem hid what he strained to see. On the camera, Sol gazed out through half-closed eyes with an exaggerated longing reflected in their heated-whiskey depths. A long lock of silky red hair fell across her strong-boned cheek. The tint of the innocent blush that stained her cheeks was endearing.

  Gabe's heart stuttered at the sight. Oh, he knew the captain's act was staged, and that the black witch had staged it, but he responded anyway His cock was rock hard steady and demanding. And he couldn't stop the vid, even though he had played it to death.

  Now the captain pouted at him with her rouged lips, and her tilted gaze was lowered through painted lashes while she toyed with the top button on her nightshirt. “I miss the things we did to each other that night, Gabriel. All the many things.” The top button came loose under her fumbling fingers, and her hand moved down to the next one. His entranced gaze followed her route. How he remembered those cool fingers trembling over his body. He shivered.

  "Remember that night, Gabe?” The next button popped. More of that sweet curve of breast was exposed. Slowly, she reached inside the shirt and cupped both fleshy mounds toward him. Her pert nipples rose and beckoned. Sweat dotted Gabe's brow. Unconsciously, he nodded. Yes, he definitely remembered.

  "Remember how you bathed me?” Sol hid the peepshow of her self until the last button was undone. Then she rose up on her knees again, the shirt hanging open on her body.

  Gabe saw the slight, sweet roundness of her belly, and an uncomfortable feeling came over him. The desire to nurture and protect? That surely wasn't a feeling that he knew—or understood.

  "How good you felt when you rubbed oil all over me after my bath.” Sol slowly rubbed her hands over her exposed skin from her belly to her breasts to her throat in imitation of his touch. Gabe's hands tingled again, and he held his breath, his gaze following every slow-circling motion of the captain's fingers. They reached her shoulders and pushed the shirt off all that beautiful skin one shoulder at a time, proving what he'd suspected. She was completely naked except for those damned red heels. Gabe sighed aloud; a ragged sound in the quiet of his room.

  The captain turned her head to the side. “Do you remember what I smell like, Gabriel?” Her voice dropped into huskier tones, and she stage whispered, “Do you remember what I taste like?"

  The blush that lit her cheeks moved to cover her neck and chest. He saw the rapid pulse jumping under the thin skin of her throat. This farce was affecting her, too. One thing Captain Soledad Scott wasn't was a tease. Then again, she had done one hell of a job so far.

  "Remember what you did to me next, Gabriel?” Sol looked up at him, her chin tipped down so her coy glance shone through her lashes. “Remember? You did this.” She licked her index finger and slowly traced the wet digit from her chin to her neck to between her breasts. She continued down her middle until she came to the lips of her sex. With two clever fingers, the captain parted the hairless folds so Gabe could watch her roll the nub of her sexual drive between the fingers of her other hand. Her eyes closed and she plunged one long finger inside. She jerked.

  Gabe heard the frustrated cry she smothered, and he swallowed—hard. Sol moved her finger in and out. He could see the glistening slickness covering it with her moisture—her sweet moisture. He licked his lips. Gabe thought he could hear the wet slide of that finger delving inside her. He could almost remember that phantom warmth sucking his fingers. His rigid erection pulled on his balls. His pulse thumped in his ears. The captain's sweet butt rose and fell with her rocking rhythm. Gabe breathed in tune to her motion, unconsciously moving his hips to match her movement.

  "Remember this?” Sol panted. Her fingers still played between her legs, her breaths becoming shallower and shallower. Her chest was rising and falling faster and faster. Gabe was also breathing that way, still in tune with her. Suddenly the captain moaned, “Come, find me, Gabriel. I miss you. I miss this."

  With that, her head fell back, the long red silk of her hair spiraling down her naked back. She spread her knees. Her finger plunged deep inside her swollen lips a final time. She arched up with a cry.

  Gabe exploded, just as he had done every time he had watched the vid. The screen went blank. Message over, but unerringly delivered.

  He sat there, shaking in the aftermath, before he rose from his chair and wiped off the sticky evidence of just how much he missed her. Missed her, hell. Gabriel Merriweather was an idiot over her, but no, he wasn't going to go chasing after her. Not yet. He'd wait. Perhaps she'd send him another message.

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  Chapter Eight

  "He hasn't responded, Gellico.” Sol rose, naked, when the timer from the tanning bed that supplied the correct amount of vitamin D, without the harmful UV rays, dinged. Dante's Circus came fully equipped for its dancers’ comfort as well as its customers. “It's been nearly a month. He's not interested anymore."

  "The hell he's not!” Gellico snapped before handing Sol a sheer black robe with embroidered silver dragons splashed in three strategic spots. “His Marine snoopers are still in the club every day, every night, every godsdamn minute. I had Cheri seduce one last night, and he confessed to her that his orders are to not let you out of his sight."

  Sol grinned slightly. “Well, I'm sure I wasn't in his sight while the Marine was in Cheri.” Her brows rose and she smiled for the first time in days although, it was just a faint lifting of her lips. “Was I?"

  Gellico snorted, “Yeah, right. Fucking men. Always thinking with their dicks.” She patted her close-cropped head, and her jet black curls sprang tight under her hand. Sol knew Gelli kept her hair short these days for safety's sake. Never again would her hair be used as a weapon, holding her against her will. It had taken years for the hair Gelli had ripped out to grow back in, but it had. Sol swallowed old nightmares and focused on Gelli's words.

  "He knows where you are. If he wants, he'll send for you. Come on, let's get some juice.” She slapped Sol playfully on the shoulder as they entered the sonic showers. “Perhaps, we need to remind dear ol’ Commander Merriweather again. Jar his memory. Tweak his dick, so to speak."

  "Gelli, don't you think I'm a little too round to be sexy at the moment?” Sol curved her hand over the smooth, tight mound that barely arched her middle. Gellico's eyes narrowed.

  "No, you're just perfect,” she answered and reached out her broad palm, laying it on Sol's sweet rise. “I think you are the sexiest thing I've ever seen.” The contrast between the darkness of her hand and Sol's paleness was apparent. Gelli murmured, “Sol, you know that I'll do anything to make you happy, don't you? Anything. I'll even take you to see the Commander. And if you want Merriweather, even as pregnant as you are, I think he'll take one look at the evidence of his love and yours and capitulate."

  Sol caught the implied “if he doesn't, I'll kill him” and shook her head. She knew how Gellico felt about her but neither spoke of it. She thought it safer discussing Gabriel. “Love?” Sol snorted. “I don't think the commander will think of my stealing his sperm as love. I also don't think he will capitulate. Besides, I don't want him that way.” She shook her head again. “And I don't think he wants me at all. So maybe all I want is a little revenge."

  "We'll see.” Gellico snorted. “Perhaps we can have fun and a little revenge at the same time."

  * * * *

  Gabriel wanted Sol so badly even his eyelids hurt. Her second message had caught him as off guard as her first, coming as unexpectedly. His empathy senses failed when it came to Sol. He had just lifted his wine glass in a toast to the prime minister of Alsakasse for making the new treaty with the Doranians happen when his link went off. Just as before, he had responded without thinking. The embarrassment wasn't the same. Thankfully, after his first message from
the captain, he had set his vid for mute while he held meetings. So no one knew why Gabe choked. His face reddened, and he had made some ridiculous excuse about “early to bed, early to rise” while leaving the dinner party.

  Oh, yeah, early to bed to watch the vid again, and Gabriel sure was rising. How could he think when all his blood supply seemed to be throbbing in his lower extremities? And he didn't mean his legs. Jesu. Both those women were witches—the one on screen as well as the one running the camera.

  "Gabriel, I haven't heard from you, so I thought I'd better remind you of what I look like, just in case you've forgotten. You haven't forgotten me, have you?” The captain gazed at him from solemn, soulful eyes that had been heavily outlined with black while her eyelids were dusted a sparkling silvery green that enhanced the gold of her gaze. She blinked, and Gabe blinked in reply. Surely the captain's lashes were never that long or that black. And why was she dressed like some ancient Egyptian queen?

  Some sort of gauzy, gold material floated from her shoulders, and a thick metal jewelry piece gleamed around her neck. A red stone hung from the center and dangled between her breasts—breasts that were naked again except for the red rouge that decorated her nipples. A filigreed chain hung from the tip of one enticing nipple. Was it pierced?

  He swallowed—hard. They were larger again, her nipples and her breasts, and for a moment, Gabe could have sworn he remembered the taste and feel of those puckered nipples rolling in his mouth. His empathy talents were backfiring. Tremors shook him, but Gabriel skillfully delayed his release. He dared not touch himself, although he ached to do so.

  "Do you like my outfit?” The captain twirled on the screen, and the see-through material she wore parted from her hips, further displaying her lower body. Gabe mutely nodded. He was so lost that it never occurred to him that Sol couldn't see him. He drew in her image. He thought he smelled her enticing fragrance and sucked in a deep breath. His vision narrowed on her. A wide belt encrusted with twinkling jewels rested so low on the captain's hips that it barely covered the beginning crease of her thighs. If she had pubic hair, it would have shown. Unexpectedly, Gabriel felt disappointed at the lack of those curls he knew would have been fiery red. He would have liked to part them with his tongue—slip that tongue deep between those fragrant lips, thrust inside her until she shook with release. Another shiver shot through him. The captain's remembered taste haunted him.

  She moved, undulating her dance on the screen. More flimsy material flowed from the sparkling belt and fell from it to the tops of her jewel-accented feet. Tiny metal bells tinkled from the glittering bands on her anklets. The captain wiggled her naked toes and dipped her head. She smiled up at him, her eyes peering from under her lashes. Someone had taught her that coy look, but Soledad made it look natural and unrehearsed. She was clearly enjoying a sexual freedom she probably had never experienced before. In that outrageous outfit, her golden, whiskey-colored glance should have been the dark of night Egyptian eyes of ancient Earth legend. Gabriel didn't care, her intense gaze entranced him. Her eyes glowed like jungle cat's eyes—lion eyes or were they lying eyes?

  "Want to paint my nails?” The captain held out one elegant narrow foot then shook it slightly with her toes pointed. The nails were already painted. They glittered with some kind of sparkle paint. The bells on her ankle tinkled again. A faint smile tugged the corners of her enticing red mouth. Gabe felt his mouth spreading in answer. Gods. Even her lips appeared wider, wetter, and more kissable. He caught his breath. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His hands twitched in his lap. Gabriel held them together, refusing to touch his aching member.

  Rhythmic, sultry music continued playing, and Sol thrust her pelvic area, in tune to the beat, toward the camera. “Do you have something better than painting my nails in mind, Gabriel? You seemed very good at innovative ideas. Remember? I sure do.” She swayed and raised her slender arms. They waved gracefully with one hand sliding up from the wrist to her shoulder on the opposite arm, then the other hand repeated the motion on the other side. Gabe's gaze followed her actions, lingering on her quivering breasts. Her hips gyrated back and forth to the haunting music, and her limbs gleamed with some sort of body oil that caught the eye and boggled the mind. The thin material covering her long legs parted and concealed, opened and closed, time and again, giving just a glimpse of what lay between her legs. Gabe caught a shallow breath. Behind her, shadows deepened in the room. Firelight, a fake or real campfire, flickered across her limbs. The music quickened along with her movements. The captain pirouetted on her toes, a graceful swirling circle that hid what he wanted so badly. She tilted her chin up, her head tossed back. Her fiery hair flew out behind her. Gabriel remembered the silken slide of it across his body. The captain bent farther back at a staggering angle, but her garments fell between her bent knees effectively hiding her secret. Gabe swallowed his dry disappointment, a noise so loud that he heard himself make the sound above the drums’ throbbing rhythm.

  He couldn't say which affected him more, the remembrance of those swollen, nether lips under his tongue or the new roundness that stretched Sol's middle, emphasizing her sexuality. Sol's changing beauty suddenly reminded him of an ancient archeological model for fertility, a heavy-breasted stone mother figure that lured and compelled men to fall at her feet and do her bidding in continuing their race. He'd volunteer. The captain was certainly made to be a mother. Her long torso carried a child so well that even in what Gabe calculated as her sixth month, she still looked as sexy and as beguiling as ever. She continued her dance. He couldn't stand much more. Sol moved closer to the camera. He groaned. Gabe swore he could smell her enticing scent, taste her sweetness. She held her shimmering skirts closed.

  "I'm waiting, Gabriel,” she panted. Her gleaming breasts heaved. The sight encouraged him to reach for her although he knew she wasn't within his grasp ... yet.

  "But I won't wait much longer.” She snapped and flicked her costume open, her riches exposed. Her upper thighs glistened. Wet.

  The first time he came, Gabe nearly fainted from his delayed release. He shook in the aftermath. Before midnight, he had reached a decision. His vision narrowed. He would have what he desired. And he wanted the captain. Gabriel only hoped he could wait her out. He wasn't a Chakkra barbarian who just took what he wanted, and he wouldn't become one. Not even for her.

  * * * *

  The captain lay across his bed with one arm tucked under her head. Her bare underarm beckoned him, as if the soft, smooth skin there was the sexiest of female organs. How could something so ordinary be so compelling? She moved, settled her hips deeper into the softness of his mattress. Gabriel groaned. He moved toward her with only one thing in mind—he had to touch her, smooth his fingers over that soft, glowing skin; put his lips in the bend of her arm that lay so exposed. He still, after all this time, remembered her unique flavor.

  Gabriel's mouth dried. He felt lightheaded from the loss of blood to his brain. He wanted nothing more than to swoop down on the captain and lap her up like cream. He wanted to lick and kiss every inch of her until she screamed that she was his. His balls swelled, hardened into rock, and his bobbing cock throbbed. She watched him and waited, her lips rising in a faint, knowing upturn. Her hair glistened in the moonlight. Those silken locks spread across his pillow like spilled blood. And she knew what she did to him. Deliberately, she lay naked, her body revealed to him with one knee bent far to the side, exposing her riches. The vulva lips between her legs were deep red and swollen, either from wanting him to fuck them or perhaps because he already had. If he had, he was ready again. Gabriel felt as if he was going to burst from wanting to feel her sliding over him, sucking him dry.

  Her eyes were half closed, heavy with sexual invitation. “Come and get me, Gabriel,” she whispered in husky invitation, and he couldn't resist. Gabriel reached for her....

  And awoke. He was still swearing Chakkra oaths when he finished jerking himself to a finish. By the gods, he was done waiting. The
captain would be his before the day was out.

  * * * *

  "They're coming!” Cheri burst into Gellico's room without knocking. The little dancer rocked to a halt and bent over, her hands braced on her knees. She gulped rapid breaths, and Sol felt sorry for her. As Gellico's understudy, the petite Cheri was in top shape, so she must have run nonstop all the way through the ever present crowds from the space docks. Gellico had posted Cheri there for the past few days. After their last vid, they were certain that Gabriel's ship would be docking soon. Gellico said he'd never be able to resist their last message, but Sol wasn't so sure. She had her suspicions about Cheri's announcement.

  "Who's coming?” Sol calmly pulled pins from her mouth. Material that was to be a new gown draped forgotten in her hands. She could no longer wear her favorite regimentals. Her breasts might never fit them again. Gellico grabbed the pins out of her own mouth and threw them into the sewing case.

  "Commander—Merriweather—and his men.” Cheri gasped before a deep breath restored her breathing. “His ship just landed—without the proper protocol, and his troops have disembarked and are marching here. Damien said they are going to take Soledad. Just to make sure, he's standing guard outside the club so no one can leave.” She sucked in another quick breath. “But don't worry, Punch is there, too. He won't let anyone in either."

  "Punch won't have a choice. He's outnumbered.” Gellico grumbled. “And I won't have him hurt on our account.” She grabbed a short sword from the wall and strode toward the door. Her eyes sparkled with anger that came off her in heated waves. “I thought the asshole would at least call for you like a gentleman, but oh no, not him. Well, he'd better not hurt anyone if he knows what's good for him."