by E J Frost
for me. The restraints catch her and she tugs
against them.
I smooth my hand up over her arm. Her
skin’s nice and warm now. “These still
okay?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” I rise off her. Withdraw
carefully. I want to penetrate her again, over
and over, just like before, but not in this
position. I turn her over, careful that the ties
on her wrists don’t tighten so much that they
cut off her circulation. Stretch her under me.
“No, not from behind,” she protests.
“No?” I push her down on the bed, lift
her hips a little so I can guide my cock into
her. I press her legs together, position my
knees on either side of her hips, and push
slowly between her thighs. The friction is
unbelievable.
“No. Snow, please!”
“No? You seemed to like it like this in
the alley. You weren’t faking, were you,
Kezra?”
“No.” She rubs her forehead across the
pillow, twists her arms against the restraints.
“No, but . . .”
“Shh.” I know why she doesn’t want it in
this position, and I don’t want her to be self-
conscious with me, but it feels too good to
stop. I shape her ass with my hands. Her
skin’s so smooth, so soft. I watch the dark,
ridged pole of my shaft disappear between
those pale cheeks. “Beautiful.”
“No,” she moans. But she’s not saying the
safe word. She’s not really telling me to
stop.
I roll my hips against her, push deeper
still, then pull all the way back out. Take the
little monster in hand and rub the head up and
down her wet entrance. In this position her
labia are pressed together, slick and plump. I
push between them, penetrating her with a
groan of pleasure, then pull back out to rub
against her again.
“Ohh,” she moans.
Yeah, I thought I could get her to forget
her scars if I put my mind to it.
“I’ll stop if you want me to,” I whisper to
her. Push between her lips and drive half-
way in. Grip that soft ass. Pump my hips to
push deeper. She shudders under me.
“No, don’t stop,” she says. I grin into the
darkness. Lick my lips in anticipation of the
climax I can feel beginning to build. Her ass
rises into my hands. Gives me a rhythm to
follow as I fuck her.
“You sure?” I tease her with my words
and my hands as I spread her cheeks with my
palms, rub my thumb over the little pucker of
flesh between her cheeks. She bucks up off
the bed.
“Yes,” she gasps.
“Kitten.” I let her hear in my voice how
pleased I am. With the pleasure she’s giving
me and letting me give to her. With her trust
as she lets me take her the way I want. I run
my hands up her sides, avoiding her lower
back, and smooth my palms across her
shoulders. Lean over to kiss the back of her
neck. Stretch across her and enclose her
body with mine as I rock in and out of her,
still following the rhythm of that tight,
pulsing pressure around my cock. “That’s my
kitten. Can you come for me again?” I slide
my hand under her hip, cup her mons. She
rocks into my palm. I can feel the tug of my
own thrusts. Feel the swollen nub of her clit
against my middle finger. I give it a gentle
rub, wait for her response. Sometimes a
second orgasm can be too much. I don’t want
anything we do now to hurt.
“Yes,” she breathes, rubbing her face in
the pillow. Hands tugging at the tie. “Yes yes
yes yes yes yes.”
I chuckle. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I lift
her hips a little with my hand, position her
under me exactly the way I want. I rub her
clit as I find a new rhythm. Faster than
before. This rhythm is the beat of her heart,
my heart. A hard, urgent thudding.
Accelerating as I get more and more aroused.
She stays right with me, bucking back into
each thrust, her hands splayed against the
headboard for leverage. The bed shakes
under us as I pound into her. It feels so good,
sooooo good. The red haze is rising, not
anger this time but consummate pleasure. I
let it take me. Drown my senses. Flood
through me as the little death takes me, fires
through me. I spread my hand between her
shoulders, hold her down as I ram myself
into her those last few times, come locked
deep inside her and distantly feel the spasms
of her second orgasm.
I hold myself above her. Let the
aftershocks pulse through me. It still feels
better than good. I don’t want to disengage. I
keep thrusting gently, only semi-hard now but
her wetness and heat keep the little monster
going. This is better than any feeling I can
remember. For a moment, just a moment,
everything feels right. Despite everything
I’ve seen and everything I’ve done, the
universe seems like a fine and just place.
Fucking transcendent.
But beauty doesn’t last. Never has. Never
will. Maybe that’s what makes it beautiful.
As the feeling begins to fade, I ask, “Kez, are
you okay?”
She nods. Sighs. It’s a sweet sound, that
sigh. Soft and contented. I lean over her, rest
my forehead against her temple.
“Nice?” she whispers.
“Yeah.” I kiss her temple. “D’you need
me to stop?”
“Maybe, it’s stinging a little.”
Not surprising, given how long we’ve
been going at it. I withdraw from her gently,
use my robe to wipe us off and tuck it
between her legs so she’s not lying in a wet
spot. Stretch out next to her. Run my hand
over her soft head. I like the texture of her
dreadlocks. “Kitten.”
She smiles. Looks at me over the curve of
her arm. “Are you going to untie me, or just
leave me like this until you want to fuck
again?”
Wiseass. “Tempting,” I say. And it is. I
like having her tied to my bed almost as
much as I liked fucking her. But after stroking
her a little more, I untie her. She rolls onto
her side, so she’s facing me, and pulls up the
thermoblanket to cover her back. Still self-
conscious about the scar, even after what we
just did. I tuck the thermoblanket around her.
“Don’t get chilled.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, and even if I
couldn’t see her grin in the dark, I could hear
it. “Did you learn all that in the Marines?”
“Yeah, we were all about fucking each
other.”
She giggles. “Wherever you learned it, I
like it.”
I reach out and stroke her dreadlocks
,
gradually gather her to me. “This is an
important part of the treatment,” I tell her as I
get her settled against me, her face tucked
into my neck, her breasts pressed against my
chest. I capture her thigh between mine. Lock
her as tight to my body as I can.
“I didn’t realize cuddling was prescribed
for shock,” she murmurs.
“It should be.” This could cure any ill.
“How’re you feelin’ now?”
“Oh, you know, at one with the universe.”
The grin’s still in her voice. I grin back, even
though she probably can’t see it in the dark. I
know exactly how she feels. “What about
you?” she asks. “You did all the work.”
“You’re up next time.” But I doubt I’ll let
her. I like being in control. Even with
hookers, I usually go on top. Being ridden
has never done much for me. Too passive to
excite the little monster. I kiss her gently,
touch the tip of my tongue to her lower lip.
“This okay?”
She winds her arms around my neck. “I’ll
endure it somehow.”
“Endure this.” I run my hands up her
sides, find the sensitive spots on her ribs and
tickle her until she’s breathless and
squealing.
“Dead puppies!” she pants.
“That only works during sex. Try again.”
“Um, shocky kittens! I don’t know!
Seriously, I can’t breathe!”
“If you can talk, you can breathe.” But I
stop tickling her and draw her close again.
Flinch as she breathes up into my face. Her
breath is worse than sour. “Fuck, we need
some more rules.”
“What? Why?”
“Cause, tiger breath. Rule one is, no
breathing on me.”
“Oh, God.” She claps her hand over her
mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbles behind
her hand. Then she pushes at my shoulder.
“Let me up. I’ll clean my teeth.”
“Don’t think so. There’s somethin’ very
sexy about your stink. You stay in bed.”
“Hale!”
I freeze. “What’d you say?”
She buries her face in my neck. Hunches
in on herself. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was
going to ask.”
“Ask what?” I growl.
“If I could call you by your real name
when we’re alone.”
I take a deep breath. Let it out. She
wasn’t calling in the law. Sending me back
to slam. I pull her closer, although I keep her
head downwind. “He’s dead. Let him stay
that way. Why d’you want to use that name
anyhow?”
She strokes my shoulder. Nuzzles into me
like she’s trying to climb inside my skin. “It
feels real to me. As soon as you said it, I
knew it was your real name. I want . . . I
want to be real with you.”
“This is real.” More real than anything
since Mouse’s death. Every woman between
then and now has been feverish fantasy or
expensive illusion. “That name’s too
dangerous. If you slip up in public—”
“I won’t! I swear. I’m good at keeping
secrets. Really good. I’ll never make a
mistake. And if I do, you can punish me. Any
way you want.”
Now that is too tempting. “Any way I
want, huh?”
“Yes.”
Problem is, if she slips up, I’m the one
who’ll pay. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Please. Please? Trust me. Please trust
me. I won’t ever use it when you don’t want
me to.”
I run my hand over her head. Sweep her
dreadlocks out over the pillow. Fist my hand
in them. “What do I get in return?”
“Anything.”
She promises it too easily, too readily.
But she said the same thing on the Marie,
when I asked her to do something for me. She
agreed before she even knew what it was.
I’ve never known anyone who would do that
for me. Not Mouse. Not Marin. No one.
“How’s this? Every time you call me by my
real name, I get somethin’ back. Maybe it’s
tellin’ me something you’ve never told
anyone else. Maybe it’s a fuck in the ass,” I
say it as roughly as I can, so she understands
the risk she’s taking. “Maybe it’s fetching me
noodles on your hands and knees. Be sure
you’re ready to pay the price.”
She looks up at me, eyes huge. I should
have remembered that this is what she wants,
this is what she was attracted to, this element
of danger. “I’m ready. I’ll pay it.” She kisses
my chin. “I’ll pay it. And I’ve never done it
that way, but if you want to, I’ll do it.”
Fucking fearless kitten. “It’d hurt you.”
I’m too big for her there, particularly if she’s
never done it before.
“Nothing hurts with you.”
“No?” I smooth out her dreadlocks.
Stroke my hand down her back and cup the
ass-cheek I reddened last night. “What about
this? Didn’t it sting?”
“In a good way. I could feel it for a
while, especially when I sat down, but it’s
gone now.” She wiggles her ass against my
hand. “You could, uh, do it again . . .” She
lifts her face to me hopefully, blasts me again
with that rancid tiger breath.
“Fuck me.” I bat away the worst of the
stink. “You sure you didn’t eat any of those
rats?”
She colors all the way up her neck to her
ears, her flush visible even in the dark, and
presses the back of her hand over her mouth.
“Let me up!”
“When I get tired of you. Roll over,
stinky.” I help her turn over and pull her back
to my chest. Snug her ass against my groin.
Bury my face in her hair, which still smells
of soap, but also of stale sweat and human
grease. I take a deep breath, entranced by her
scents. Too often, women cover their natural
odors with harsh, artificial scents. Nothing
chokes the little monster faster than the stink
of fake flowers. A woman should smell just
like this: sweaty and musky and salty with
come. I may never let her bathe.
“Hale,” she says softly. Dragging out the
‘a’. Her cheek rounds in a smile. “I really
need to pee.”
“Good sign.”
“That I need to pee?”
“Yeah. You’re processin’ fluids.” I trace
the curve of her ear. Tickle the fine blonde
hairs that arc around it. Wonder how soon I
can fuck her again. “Up you get.”
She props herself up on her elbow, then
slowly sits up. I bet her head’s spinning. I
rub my hand up her back to steady her,
remember too late about her scar, and feel
her flinch. “Sorry, kitten.”
She shakes her head. “You ca
n see it,
can’t you? You can see in the dark.”
“Yeah.”
“Could you – could you close your eyes?
And turn the lights on? I can’t see anything.”
“Sure.” I reach up and tap the lights on.
Close my eyes and let her have her dignity.
When I hear the ‘fresher door snick shut
behind her, I open my eyes and climb out of
the bed. It stinks of sex. I pull the sheets off
and shove them in the wall valet along with
the robe I used to wipe us up. I leave the bed
rumpled, pillows askew. A visual reminder
of what we’ve done, and what we’re going
to do again as soon as we can both manage it
without pain. Well, without too much pain.
She definitely likes a little nasty with her
nice.
I’m still grinning from that last thought,
pulling on a pair of soft black trousers, when
she emerges from the ‘fresher. She’s
wrapped a towel around herself. Like I don’t
remember what she looks like naked. She
smiles shyly at me. “I thought I might get
dressed. Get us some noodles.”
“Sounds good.” Noodles could be
followed by the massage she owes me. And
that could be followed by more sex. If it’s
dark by then, we could even do it out on the
deck. I’ve got a hammock out there that I’ve
slept in a couple of times. Sex in the
hammock could be all kinds of fun, as long
as I wrap her up in some blankets.
That reminds me to check the
thermoblanket. As I’m lifting the little
control rod that hangs off one edge, she picks
up her shirt off the floor, and the room erupts
with light.
“What the hell?” She picks up the
strobing bangle. Clicks together the touch
screen. Taps the flashing image of her
brother.
“Where the fuck are you?!” Ape shouts.
Kez glances at me, her brow furrowed. I
shrug. He knew where we were going. She
looks back down at the screen. “I’m at
Snow’s. What’s wrong?”
“Nev! Remember her?!”
“Of course I do. What’s wrong? Haven’t
you given her her meds? Snow said you had
our gear.” Her eyes lift to me and I nod. He
definitely took their bags out of the taxi.
“He took your fucking backpack!”
“No.” A terrible expression twists her
face. I’m not sure how to read it. Fear
maybe. I’ve seen her angry, but not fearful.
“No no no. Where is she?”
“Gone! Where the fuck do you think?!
She’d already been without all night—”
“I left Gig with three doses! It should
