by Aubrey Ross
Bluz tested the saturation of her skirt before reluctantly assisting Jazz. They lifted her arms from the wide straps and tugged the garment to her waist. Her breasts were high and round, the nipples tightly puckered. As if in a trance, Jazz reached out to cup one perfect globe only to have his brother catch his wrist.
“Behave.”
“Have you ever seen --”
“It doesn’t matter. She’s unconscious.”
Somewhat cowed by the sharp reminder, Jazz lifted her hips while Bluz tugged the damp gown along her shapely legs. “Mother Creator, have I been in space that long or is she spectacular?”
Bluz cleared his throat before admitting, “She’s spectacular.”
Jazz lifted her shoulders and Bluz tugged the coat out from under her. Bluz pulled the bedding to her waist and passed it to Jazz. After tucking the blankets under her chin, Jazz stepped back with a shuddering breath. It had been years since lust stampeded through his system.
“She’s still shaking and her skin is icy.” Bluz briskly rubbed one of her arms.
Jazz wrestled his desire to the back of his mind and rubbed her other arm. Her teeth chattered and the shivers intensified. Her lips were blue and her breathing seemed labored.
“This is hypothermia, not shock,” Jazz said. “Get undressed. We’ve got to warm her up fast.”
Chapter Two
Warmth curled through the numbing chill, drawing Treena back from the slumbering void. Prickly sensations swelled into searing pain. She moaned and writhed, unable to ease the cramping. Fingers rubbed her straining muscles, dispersing the discomfort with firm pressure and heat. So many fingers, so many hands. Where was she?
She inhaled, savoring the clean scent hanging in the air, yet unable to identify its source. Each rolling spasm assured her she was still alive, so she welcomed the pain. Was she dreaming? How had she gotten… wherever she was? And who was touching her?
Calming her chaotic thoughts, she took stock of her surroundings. A man held her snugly against his chest, their legs entwined. His hands stroked her naked body, brushing the outer swell of her breasts, her hips, and thighs. It was a calming touch, meant to soothe and comfort. Her neglected body responded immediately. Her core pulsed to life and her nipples hardened.
The last thing she remembered clearly was being dragged from the church, bitter cold blasting her face and making her feet burn. Then the river…
She pushed away from the man and raised her head. Iridescent eyes stared back at her from a face both starkly male and graceful. The fascinating mixture of lavender, purple and violet was echoed in his long hair. Lifting her hand from his shoulder, she combed her fingers through the loose strands, captivated by the vivid color and the silky texture.
“You’re real,” she whispered as a shiver slipped down her spine. Another person pressed in close behind her and she gasped.
“Don’t be alarmed,” her rescuer said. “That’s my brother Bluz. The river sucked the heat right out of your body. We’re just making sure you’re warm.”
Their caressing hands and naked skin were making her more than warm. Electric awareness danced along her nerve endings and sensation cascaded through her abdomen. The unfamiliar scent was slightly stronger as she turned to look at the other man. Heady and intoxicating, she breathed in the exotic scent. She didn’t care that she was naked. She was safe. She was alive! And they were… beautiful.
Bluz looked very much like his brother, though their coloring was different. Every imaginable shade of blue combined within his eyes and flowed through his sleek hair. Unable to resist, she tucked the long strands behind his ear and sighed, disappointed by their rounded shape.
“We’re from Limbaria,” he told her. “Many speculate that we’re descended from elves, but no pointy ears.”
Their smooth skin had a faint pearlescence that made Treena anxious to explore. She turned her attention back to her rescuer. “I don’t even know your name. Did I thank you before?”
“My name is Jazz, and blasting those bastards was my pleasure.”
She smiled, sensing a kindred spirit. “I owe you my life.” His hand rested against the underside of her breast, touching but not caressing her. She stared into his eyes, lost in the wonder of cheating death. Each sensation was precious, each breath a gift. She guided his hand to her breast and pulled his face toward hers.
After only the briefest kiss, he eased back. His hand still cupped her breast, but his gaze clouded and regret shaped his expression. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to do this. I need…” For eight long months she’d suppressed her sensual nature, ignored her sexual desires, and conformed. The narrow-minded villagers had criticized her bold speech and immodest clothes. They’d accused her of lustful intentions no matter what she did. They’d made her feel dirty and depraved. Sex was not unnatural or evil. She needed balance restored to her life. But Jazz had misunderstood her too. She didn’t want to barter with her body. She just needed to feel alive again. “I didn’t mean it as repayment. I’m sorry.”
He kissed the corner of her mouth, while his thumb brushed over her nipple. “If you’re sure you want to play, I’d be happy to oblige.” Illustrating his claim, he kissed a trail down the side of her neck and captured her nipple between his lips. She pushed her fingers into his hair, encouraging the caress.
Bluz watched them through narrowed eyes, lips compressed, nostrils flared. Even with the bedding covering his lower body, his conflict was obvious.
She reached for him with her other hand. “Kiss me, Bluz. Please.”
His gaze spread fire from her face to her breasts and back. I can’t take advantage of her. She’s still delirious. Unbidden, his thoughts sounded within her mind.
“I’m not delirious. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
“You’re telepathic.” His tone was hushed with speculation. He swayed toward her as he slipped his arm beneath her neck. “That’s why they thought you were a witch.”
“That was part of it, but I’d rather talk after.” She smiled, tracing his lower lip with her fingertips. “You aren’t afraid of witches, are you?” Jazz moved his hand to her other breast, while he firmly suckled the first. She stroked his hair and rubbed her leg between his, all the while staring into his brother’s eyes. “If you just want to watch, I don’t mind. But I really want to kiss you.” She wanted to be brazen, to lose herself in forbidden pleasures.
Lowering his face by degrees, Bluz covered her mouth with his. She sighed and parted her lips, waiting for him to deepen the kiss. Surrounded by heat, luxuriating in decadence, she arched and wiggled. All the cold, lonely nights fell away. She reveled in the moment as possibilities scrolled through her mind.
Bluz pressed his palm to the side of her face and caressed her lips with his. An occasional brush of his tongue kept her tense with anticipation. Jazz worked one nipple with his mouth while he rolled the other with his fingers. His patience and thoroughness made her restless for more.
Tangling his fingers in her hair, Bluz finally pushed into her mouth. She groaned, curling her tongue around his and inhaling his breath. He tasted as good as he smelled, faintly spicy and undeniably male. He delved deeper and moved faster. Then his touch started to roam.
For just a moment both brothers caressed her breasts. Framed by them, pressed between them, she had never felt so wonderful. Bluz moved lower, rubbing her tummy and cupping her mound. With a breathy sigh, she parted her thighs and made room for his hand. Her pussy fluttered, ripe and ready for his questing fingers. His middle finger parted her folds, hesitated, then pushed deeper. He rubbed across her clit on his way to her opening. She clutched them to her, one man at each breast.
The firm pull of their mouths sent aching need curling deep into her abdomen. Her clit throbbed and her head spun. This was wicked and she never wanted it to end!
Bluz pushed into her waiting passage. One finger? No, definitely two. She rolled her hips, taking him deeper. Another hand teased her o
uter lips and gently rubbed her clit. Bluz couldn’t be doing both. His other hand remained on her breast. They combined their efforts, coordinating their caresses with effortless skill. Had they done this before? She didn’t care, as long as they kept touching her.
Jazz worked his way up the side of her neck, turning her head so he could kiss her. She opened for him and stroked her tongue over his. So similar, yet unique. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth, while Bluz had lingered and caressed.
Sensations gathered in her core, tingling tension and restlessness. She arched as Bluz thrust faster and Jazz circled her clit. Jazz held her chin, his kiss demanding. It was so easy to imagine other ways they could pleasure her and she could pleasure them.
With a muffled cry, she came in rhythmic waves. Heat raced through her, gaining speed as it spread outward. Bluz kept his fingers inside her until the last tremor passed. Jazz nuzzled her neck and prolonged the spasms with careful strokes of his thumb.
Long moments passed as she basked in the afterglow. Bluz slowly withdrew his fingers and raised them to his lips. He licked her cream from his skin, his gaze boring into hers. Jazz noticed the direction of her stare and grinned.
“I prefer a more direct approach.” He scooted down the bed, but Bluz grabbed his arm.
“No more. She was hurt and terrified. We are not going to exploit her vulnerability.”
She nibbled at her bottom lip. Why was Bluz so insistent that this was exploitation? Did he want her to beg? They’d only begun to fulfill her fantasies.
Bluz scooted off the end of the bed and snatched his pants off the floor. Jazz trailed his fingers from her collarbone to her navel, making her shiver. She watched the bunch and flex of Bluz’s compact butt before a mark on his back caught her eye. It followed his spine from waist to the middle of his back, then branched out across his shoulder blades and disappeared beneath his hair. Was it a tattoo? He pulled his shirt down over the mark and turned around.
“Jazz, get out of her bed.”
“This is my bed,” Jazz objected, his gaze still fixed on her breasts.
“Not anymore. You’re bunking with Omid.”
“The hell I am. If…” Confusion creased his brow and he looked into her eyes. “You never told me your name.”
“Treena.”
He continued as if he hadn’t paused. “If Treena wants me to sleep somewhere else, I will. But I don’t take orders from you.”
“You might own half interest in this ship, but I am the commander. Get your things and move them to --”
“Commander --” She sat up and reached for the sheet bunched at the foot of the bed. “-- I’d rather he stayed here, if that’s all right with you. It takes me awhile to adjust to new situations and I’m terrified of the dark.”
Bluz raked his hair away from his face and shook his head. “Fine.” He turned his angry gaze on his brother and went on, “Get her something warm to drink and something to wear. She has had a terrible shock and you will treat her accordingly.” Without waiting for his brother’s response, he left the cabin.
Jazz chuckled, propping himself up on his elbow. “The real shock is that he touched you at all. He’s been on a sexual hunger strike for months.”
She understood that frustration all too well, though her hunger strike hadn’t been self-imposed.
“Are you really afraid of the dark or did you just want the company?”
“I’m really afraid of the dark and I wanted the company.”
They stared at each other in silence for a moment. She waited for the sizzling awareness to abate, but it only intensified. They’d brought her to climax, so why were her senses still smoldering? She had never formed an attraction to anyone this rapidly.
Tucking the sheet beneath her arms, she struggled for something to say. “What are you doing on Ceallon? I was told the supply ship wasn’t expected for another six weeks.”
“We aren’t the supply ship. We just needed a place to set down and make repairs.”
He trailed his fingertips along her spine, dipping into the crack of her ass. Her eyes widened. She might have covered her front, but her back was obviously bare.
“How did a psychic human come to live among the xenophobes of Ceallon?”
She wasn’t human, but the distinction wasn’t important enough to correct. “It’s a long story. I really would like something to drink, if it’s not too much trouble.”
He repeated the teasing caress. “And if it is too much trouble?”
“I’d like it anyway.”
Sitting as well, he turned her to face him and smiled into her eyes. “Somehow, I think you like it best when it causes trouble.”
She licked her lips, amazed by the beauty of his iridescent eyes. There was a wealth of emotion in his bright gaze -- warmth, compassion, and tenderness. Had she really inspired all that?
“I don’t set out to start trouble.” She dragged her gaze away from his face, intoxicated by the power of his stare. “Trouble has a way of finding me whether I want it or not.”
“So I saw.” He kissed her chin, then brushed his lips against hers before scooting off the side of the bed. “Anything in particular strike your fancy?”
“Any sort of herbal tea would be wonderful. Something sweet would be even better.” Completely unashamed of his nakedness, he strolled to a compartment inset in the wall and issued a sharp voice command. She admired his broad back and tight butt, struck again by the similarity between the two brothers. “Are you two twins? And do your names mean the same thing in your language that they do in Standard?”
“Bluz is two years my senior and our mother is a musician.” He glanced over his shoulder as he added, “Our sisters are named Rock and Roll.”
She laughed. The sparkle in his eyes assured her he was joking. “All of those genres are based on Earth. Is your mother human?”
He collected the steaming mug from the replication device and turned around. Her breath hitched and she tried not to stare. Even semi-hard, his cock was long and thick, the pearlescent quality more apparent than on the rest of his skin.
“Both of our parents are native to Limbaria,” he told her as he returned to the bed. “Father observes the ancient traditions, avoiding other races as much as possible. Mother toured extensively in her youth. They’re no longer together. I’m not sure they ever really were.” He handed her the mug and sat down beside her. “Back to your story. How did you end up on Ceallon?”
How much should she tell him? How much did he really need to know? She blew on the hot tea and inhaled the sweet fragrance. Despite the rapid-fire events, she felt comfortable with him. Perhaps too comfortable. The Bastard had taught her how easy it was to misjudge attractive men.
“This is nice,” she murmured.
“You’re stalling.”
“I left home when I was quite young.”
“How young?”
“Fifteen.”
“Damn, that is young to be on your own.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin. “Why did you leave? No, back up. Where was home?”
The truth would reveal more than she was willing to share, so she said, “New Cheyenne. My parents were miners and I wanted a different sort of life.” She had wanted a vastly different life from the regimented customs ruling her parents, but wrestilian ore had nothing to do with it.
“You said your parents were miners. Are they still alive?”
She shook her head, unable to speak the lie. “I ended up on Outpost Ten in sector eight of Sabrotine space.”
“Skarbone Valley?”
His distress made her smile. SV Ten was not as bad as its reputation, if you knew how to navigate its dangers. The outpost had once been the premier pleasure destination for the Sabrotine elite. As the empire expanded and their ambitions led them farther and farther abroad, many of the original outposts were taken over by less desirable elements.
“How did you survive?” He raised his hand before she could answer an
d said, “It’s none of my business. What brought you to Ceallon?”
She crossed her arms over her breasts and looked away from his handsome face. Most of the people on SV Ten did whatever it took to survive. Crime was rampant, but so was exploitation and… She couldn’t explain why, but she’d expected more compassion from him.
“I’m not a public pet, but what if I were? Have you ever fucked one?” The rise in his discomfort told her all she needed to know. She stood and set the mug on the nightstand. “I can’t believe that prejudice still exists.”
“You’re right.” He grabbed his pants off the floor and pulled them on. “I have no right to criticize people who provide a service I’ve enjoyed. It’s a double standard and I’m sorry.”
That was too easy, but she let go of her frustration with a sigh. She had no energy left to argue with anyone. “I transformed myself into a gypsy and rented a little shop. I read auras and gave predictions.”
“Your clairvoyance is real. Why would you need to transform yourself into someone else?”
“Fortune telling is allowed under the Entertainment Codes as long as each session begins with a disclaimer. Genuine clairvoyance is not sanctioned by the Sabrotine Federation.”
“I see. How long were you on the outpost?”
“A long time,” she evaded, adjusting the sheet more snugly around her body. “And to answer the question that started this entire tangent, I met a man. He was a dashing Sabrotine pilot and he filled my eyes with stars and made me dream of a better life than I would ever find on SV Ten.”
He crossed to the replication bank and made himself a beverage. “Do you want more tea?”
“I’m fine.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, keeping the sheet in place and helping her feel less naked.
“Go on.”
She cleared her throat and resumed her story. “The Bastard visited me every time a mission brought him anywhere near the outpost. This went on for years. Then he swore he couldn’t be separated from me and the thought of me unprotected in such a dangerous place tormented him. How he had survived the torment for the first five years, I can only imagine.”
