by Pearl Foxx
Then he smiled and started forward again.
“Evening,” he said when he’d closed the distance between them.
“Hey.”
After a moment’s consideration, he sat down beside her, close enough that their shoulders almost touched. Vera turned her head and studied his profile. Like this, she could imagine once again they were equals.
But it was just a fantasy. “Your dinner is waiting on the desk.”
His jaw flexed. Perhaps he’d been delving into a similar fantasy before she’d reminded him of her servitude. “Thank you. Have you eaten?”
“I might have stolen a few pieces of pryll. And half the loaf of bread.” She inclined her head. “And possibly most of the berries.”
A grin split across Rayner’s face. He bumped her shoulder with his. “Good. Eat first. As much as you want.”
“That’s against the rules.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the rules.” He hadn’t shifted back to return the space between their shoulders.
They sat like that for a bit, in silence, touching. Above them, the light coming through the worm canals dimmed as the sun set somewhere out there. Vera watched the shadows play across the towers and floor, trembling and stretching like delicate strands flung through space.
“What are you thinking?” Rayner murmured.
“I like the lights.” She pointed up at the peak, which was far, far away from them. “I think they look like lace.”
He cocked his head. “Lace?”
“It’s a nice fabric we used to have back on Earth. It’s worn for really nice occasions or …” Vera’s thoughts trailed off as she recalled the fine lace bras and underwear sitting back in her quarters on the station.
“Or?”
She laughed softly, making Rayner grin from one side of his mouth as he watched the sound spill from her lips. “Or if a woman wants to look sexy.”
His brows shot up. “You wore this lace? In public?”
She laughed again. “No. It was more of a private sort of thing. Between …” She trailed off again. Her stomach kept dipping as she spoke beneath his undivided attention.
“Between mates,” he supplied, and she nodded. “Did you wear this lace often?”
She snorted, thinking of Frank and the other men she worked with. Her lace lingerie had been shoved in a corner of a drawer since her arrival on the station. Unused. “I worked as an engineer back home.”
Rayner dipped his chin. “I remember. You must have been good. You were fixing my lamp this morning.”
“It’s fixed.” She pulled her knees beneath her chin, wrapping her arms around her shins. “I was good, but it was a male-dominated field. They didn’t like having a woman who could repair a reactor better than them. I was constantly trying to prove myself, which meant long hours of working with the same guys. A few of them flirted, but if I’d have slept with any of them, they would never have taken me seriously.”
She sat her chin on her knees and watched the flow of life inside the mountain. Off to the side and cast beneath the wall’s shadows, no one paid her and Rayner much mind as they wove through the alleys, over the river’s bridge, or into various houses. Around them, the mountain came to life. Lights flicked on in homes inside the towers and along the walls as Vilkas returned home. Squeals of laughter came from a group of children playing near the river bank. Smells of cooking pryll wafted through the air, along with strands of music and conversations.
“It’s nice here,” she murmured. Rayner glanced at her in surprise. But she’d meant the words, even if she probably shouldn’t have spoken them out loud. They were a betrayal to herself and to the other women. Admitting she liked the hum of life, the moss beneath her, and the lights above her was like accepting her captivity. It was wrong. “I should hate it. And I do dislike the servant tunnels. But up here,” she said, sighing, “it’s nice.”
“I used to love them,” Rayner said, his voice as quiet as hers had been. “The tunnels, that is.”
It was her turn to be surprised. She’d mostly seen servants in the tunnels, except for the occasional guard using the corridors to climb down to the prisoner cells that she knew firsthand were beneath the larders. “You were in the tunnels?”
His long fingers splayed across the moss in front of his bent knee. He sunk his fingers into the green carpet as though he had to ground himself. “My mother was a slave. I played in those tunnels throughout my childhood.” He gave a slight smile directed at the moss. “I know them like the back of my hand.”
Vera’s mouth fell open. Rayner kept his gaze on the moss as his fingers stroked it without damaging the roots. When she finally recovered, she managed to say, “I didn’t know that.”
“How could you?” He lifted a shoulder, making the bare skin of his arm skim along hers. She fought back a shiver of pleasure. “It was before the flesh trade was outlawed here. I remember how hard she had to work, how slowly she would shuffle through the tunnels as I hurried ahead of her. She would come home to our little room—the slaves used to live where the prisoner cells are now,” he explained, and Vera frowned, knowing exactly how small those rooms were. “But I didn’t know any better. Not until she died when I was thirteen and I went into training as a soldier.”
“Rayner …”
“I understand, you see,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “At least, I thought I did. It’s not so clear anymore. But I thought I knew how you felt being here, being a servant. I know how my mother’s male benefactors treated her.” He gritted his teeth as he lost himself to memories that shuttered his eyes. “What she had to do at their demand. I know the position you were in, and I know the line between us. My mother didn’t have that line.”
She took his hand and set it on the moss between them, out of sight from anyone walking by. His fingers twined through hers and squeezed.
“I really am sorry, Vera,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“It doesn’t mean shit though, does it? My apology.” He laughed darkly. “You’re still stuck here, and I can’t offer you anything but pieces of leftover cloth, hard labor, and scraps of food.”
“I lied earlier. I ate more than just a few scraps. You don’t have much of a dinner left.”
He smiled again. Across the top of her hand, his thumb swept back and forth, whisper soft.
“I forgot today,” she said. “While we were shopping. I forgot what I was for a bit. It was … a relief.”
“It was,” he agreed, still caressing her hand. His thumb was callused, but it sent goose bumps prickling up her arms. “You make that line easy to forget. I’m glad we got you less revealing clothes.”
“For your sake or mine?” Vera teased, trying to lighten the mood.
Rayner leaned his head back and stared up at the mountaintop, shadows playing across the rough stubble accumulated on his jaw from the long day. With her eyes, Vera traced the pulsing, thick vein down the side of his neck to where it disappeared beneath his shirt collar.
“For my sake,” he said hoarsely.
Vera had admitted to herself she liked the Vilkas’ mountain. It was a nice place to live, aside from the servants and the prejudices. She’d admitted it was nice to forget today, to let go of what she was, what she had to do to return the women home. And if she were truly honest with herself, she could admit she liked Rayner. Beyond her attraction. Beyond his honor.
He was the first man in a while who she wanted to wear lace for.
She didn’t have the lingerie, but she doubted she would need it.
She placed her hand on his thigh, and the muscles jumped beneath her touch. Like he’d done to the moss, she dug her fingertips in until he sucked in a breath, his searing gaze returning to her face. His thumb on her hand paused as she stroked down his thigh to his knee and back up again.
She dragged her eyes back up to his. “Let’s forget again, Rayner. Just for a night.”
11
Vera
He was frowning, worrying too much, thinki
ng too long. “You’re sure? I—”
“I’m sure. I want to.”
To forget. That was what she wanted. For a brief second, she wanted to not be his servant and to ignore the fact that she’d come to this planet as a prisoner. Because it tangled through her mind and made her hate herself when her thoughts turned to Rayner. She yearned to be with him. To know what he’d feel like, skin against skin, his mouth tasting hers, the erection she’d detected more than once filling her.
Forget the rest. Keep only him. For one night. That wasn’t so wrong, was it?
Standing to their feet, she led him to his front door, his looming height a hot presence against her back. They slipped inside, and he closed the door, locking it with his free hand. She waited until he turned back to face her. The lights in the room cast them in shadow. The scent of cooling bread mingled with his salty male scent. He waited, seemingly frozen, his eyes guarded. He was thinking of that line. The line he’d drawn between them and been so careful not to toe.
For tonight, she’d dash it.
She stood on her tiptoes to wind her arms around his neck and pull his head toward her. His muscles tensed, hands hovering at her waist as she ran her tongue along his unyielding lips. She brushed her lips back and forth over his, suddenly uncertain. Would he refuse her? He’d said he didn’t want this from her, but his body spoke differently every time they touched.
She paused, those thoughts returning. It was wrong. She shouldn’t—
As if a dam had broken, his broad hands molded against her waist and crushed her against him, his mouth opening to devour hers. Her nervous worry flared to passion, and she met his tongue thrust for thrust as he rolled his hips against her.
“We should go.” She breathed the words against his lips.
“Go where?” The low rumble of his voice sent a shiver of delight deep into her belly.
“To the bedroom.”
He didn’t need any encouragement. Using both hands, he reached under her bottom and lifted her, striding surely through the front room toward the bedroom. She wrapped both legs around his waist, kissing him hard.
He kicked the door shut behind him and lowered her onto the bed, pushing her back and draping himself over her. Her pussy reacted with a wash of heat and moisture, the demands of her body taking over any residual hesitation she may have felt.
He lowered his weight, pressing her into the soft blankets, one knee sliding between her legs to press hard against her clit. The pressure made her arch against him, grinding herself with abandon. She moaned, and her hands found their way under his shirt. His skin felt smooth and hard over his muscles flexing beneath her fingertips as he deepened their kiss.
His hands came up to cup her jaw, controlling her mouth, controlling the kiss. He nipped her lips and then moved along her jaw line, teeth drawing delightful shivers with every bite. Behind her ear, he licked the sensitive skin and trailed his lips down the side of her neck. She gasped, every nerve on fire. Every inch of her craving more.
He ran his hand down her side and pushed her new shirt up. His broad palm skimmed her flesh, spanned her ribs, and came to rest beneath her breast, just under her heart. Even now, he was asking permission.
“Yes…” she moaned, wriggling until he cupped her breast. The heat of his fingers seemed to burn her skin, and he stroked and kneaded the sensitive flesh before drawing his fingertips over her nipple and rolling it gently. Electricity jolted from her nipple to her core, setting her ablaze.
He drew away from her mouth. “You’re perfect,” he breathed against her lips. “So soft.” He groaned, burying his face against her neck. “That scent.” He cursed, the words muffled as he dragged his mouth along her neck, kissing and nipping down to her collarbone, where he hovered at the edge of the bandage she still wore over the bite.
Her hands slipped to his waistband, seeking the clasp, anxious to free the hard shaft she could feel pressing into her hip. He moved out of reach, lowering his head to capture her nipple between his lips. Licking the bud into an aching point, he shifted to her other breast and provided equal treatment. Vera writhed against the bed, the heat of her pussy crying out for him.
His hands moved to her leggings, a finger running beneath the fabric, making her belly tighten. His mouth moved from her nipple down to her belly. Just below her navel, he paused, his breath hot against her skin. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked in a coarse rasp of desire.
She dug her fingers into his hair, tugging at the locks to urge him downward. “More than anything, Rayner.”
His growl set her blood on fire, and in one swift move, he whipped her pants down her legs and threw them across the room. The air on her thighs raised goose bumps, but she barely noticed them as his lip curled and a noise from deep within his chest sent electric shocks straight to her core. Grabbing her ankles, he pulled her to him until his nose touched the inside of her upper thigh. He inhaled and moaned, licking her flesh with a wide, flat tongue.
The fire he’d ignited could only be quenched by his touch. She lifted her hips, begging for him to place that tongue where she most needed to feel it, but instead, he took his time, languidly licking up her thigh to nip at her hip bone.
“Rayner …” she groaned, throwing her arms over her eyes. She was completely at the mercy of his touch and every noise, every point of contact, sent her heart rate flying so fast she was sure it would burst out of pure need.
“What do you want, Vera?” he asked against her leg, his breath tickling her.
He trailed kisses across her lower belly, caressing his fingers up and down her inner thighs. Touched her everywhere except where she most needed to be touched.
“Lick me,” she choked out, her hips jerking.
He reached up and splayed a hand across her belly, holding her down. Holding her against his mouth. His breath danced across her wet folds, her aching core. She gasped.
She felt, rather than saw, him smile against her. A second later, his warm, wet tongue split her in half as he licked his way along the length of her slit. When he found her nub, he sucked gently, throwing Vera into mind-spinning pleasure.
She flung one leg over his shoulder and arched her back. Her hand twisted in his hair, trying to pull him closer. Deeper.
“You like that, do you?” he teased.
“Please!” she gasped, barely able to form a coherent thought.
He chuckled before giving her folds another languid lick. He brought his finger to her entrance and probed slowly, pushing his thick digit inside her. The filling pressure brought her to the edge, but not over. She ground down on his hand and face, desperate for release. Desperate for more.
She’d never felt this crazed. She’d known she wanted this, wanted him, but never had she dreamed of a desire so deep. So primal. But his hands on her, his lips, his tongue was like flying through space, the stars flashing by around her, the darkness a void she wanted to fling herself into and never return. She wanted to feel all of him, not just his mouth and hand.
“I need you.” She grasped at his shoulders. “I need you inside me. Now.”
Instead, he buried his finger deeper, stroking in and out with excruciating slowness. Curling his finger, he changed his angle slightly, tickling a spot no man had ever discovered before and ratcheting her desire to another level.
She bucked against him. His hand on her stomach held her tighter. He captured her clit between his lips. Sucking, stroking, teasing, he took control of her body inside and out until she writhed and screamed. She clawed the bedding and let her voice rise loud enough to alert the entire clan, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was this moment with Rayner and the way he made her feel.
Her spine achingly tight, her stomach burning hotter than molten metal, she came. She rode against him, and he milked her pleasure until the last wave had left her breathless, her vision spinning.
Rayner kissed her folds with a tenderness that brought her back to reality and eased his finger free. She opened her eyes to se
e him kneeling above her, his erection straining against his pants.
“You taste like you smell, Vera.” Heat spread across her cheeks to the tips of her ears at his words. Then he said, “Delicious. Dark.” His hands stroked down her thighs, fingers gripping her flesh. “There’s nothing on this planet as perfect as you.”
“You,” she said, her heart thundering in her ears. She couldn’t believe it, but she wanted more. “I want all of you.”
A grin spread across his face, and he shoved down his pants, revealing the most beautiful cock she’d ever seen. Crowning the long, thick shaft, the head glistened with need. His skin rippled, and Vera wondered just how much of his passion was from the man, and how much was from the Vilka. He lowered himself to claim her mouth again, his lips and tongue redolent of her own desire.
She dropped her hands between them, finding his velvety shaft and running a thumb over the slippery head, teasing the small slit. He groaned against her mouth, thrusting his hips into her grip.
Vera wanted to feel that cock inside her. She wanted it to stretch her, to claim her, to make her fully his. His? The thought tumbled against the pulses of desire, but she shoved it aside. “Now,” she demanded.
He positioned his hips between her legs and pressed the wide, thick head to her throbbing entrance. She wrapped her hands behind his ass and pulled, hard, lifting her hips to meet him. In one long thrust, he took her completely.
She threw back her head and let out a long, throaty moan. Buried deep inside her, his girth filled her up, stretching her to the point of pain. She’d never expected to feel this tight, this consumed. This completed. She sighed, holding him tight against her just to feel him for a second longer.
He let out a groan of pure pleasure, his back arching, his hands on either side of her head holding up his weight. “Great Avilku. What have you done to me?”
He pulled back, slick with her desire, and curled his hips to enter her again. She clutched his ass, lifting her hips to meet his, accepting each thrust. His controlled tempo increased until he pounded against her, his breath hot in her ear, and the sweat grew thick between them. The pressure inside Vera’s belly grew again, different from what his finger had given her, fuller. His cock seemed to grow inside her until every inch of her cried out for release.
