Overlord: The Fringe, Book 2

by Anitra Lynn McLeod

Mary rolled her eyes. “Apparently, you’re a knight in shining armor that you expect me to polish.”

  He chuckled and kissed her quick.

  “Insult to injury, you have a gigantic ego that apparently needs constant stroking.” Somehow, she didn’t sound like she minded terribly.

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “That’s not all that needs constant stroking.”

  “Never gonna stop with those lewd comments, are you?” She looked indignant for a moment, then smothered a grin with her hand.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “No.” She pressed him back in the chair and kissed him again. Wrinkling her nose, she pulled back.

  “What?”

  “We’re gonna be honest with each other, right?” Her face twisted into a worried frown.

  “Yes,” he offered hesitantly, wondering what came next.

  “Michael, you stink.” She pulled back farther and giggled behind her hand. “I mean, you smell like the floor of the tavern after a wild payday. I’m also certain I don’t smell that great myself after hiding under those foul prison blankets.”

  “I thought I was the one with the advanced sniffer.” He’d been breathing through his mouth to avoid the stink they both gave off.

  “Maybe your sniffer is overwhelmed. I know mine is.”

  He scooped her up into his arms. “What to do, what to do?”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Mary balanced precariously on one foot in the lemon-yellow bathroom as Michael wrapped her cast-bound ankle with plastic wrap and duct tape.

  “I think this will work.” He nodded proudly at the disaster on her right leg.

  “I can’t wait to feel that tape rip out my leg hair when I remove it.”

  “I didn’t think of that.” His careful wrapping of her cast had more duct tape than plastic. “But if it keeps the water out, we’re home free.” He smiled up at her. “You said you hate baths, and this is the only way I can think of to get you into the shower.”

  “You seem very keen to get me into the shower.” She winked down at his earnest face. “I’m thinking you just want to get me naked.”

  “Highly motivated,” he agreed with a glint in his eyes.

  “Nemo liber est qui corpori servit.” She whispered the words and caught his gaze.

  His eyes widened with surprise, pleasure and then stark-naked lust. “No one is free who is a slave to his body,” he translated. When he stood, he towered over her, and she had to crane her neck to look up into his eyes. “Nemo repente fuit turpissimus.”

  With a grin, she translated, “No one ever became extremely wicked suddenly.” She considered for a moment. “I never said you made me wicked. You just woke my wicked side up, just like I woke you up.”

  “You tugged the sleeping dragon’s whiskers.” He pulled her into his arms and buried his face along her neck, into the folds of her hair. “You awoke the dragon inside me. Once you had me wide awake after a year of chase”—he lifted his mouth to her ear—“without a single blade, you slew me.”

  His hands, sliding and smooth, removed her shirt, her skirt, then slipped off the lacy black camisole. “If I am a slave to my body, then I am a slave to you, for you enslave me.”

  She balanced herself against his shoulder as he undressed her. Mesmerized, she helped him remove every scrap of her clothing as her gaze held to his. Realizing she stood stark naked but for the duct-taped disaster on her right foot, she stifled an embarrassed giggle.

  “You are very good at this.”

  “What?”

  As he helped her balance, he quickly removed his boots, socks, empty holster, his shirt and his trousers.

  “I was going to say you were very good at shucking my clothes while keeping yours on.”

  “Can’t say that now.” He pressed her against his warm, naked and hard body. “Should we brave the shower?”

  She eyed the three-by-three space. Michael would take up most of it. She would have no choice but to hang on to him. Oh, the torture. “I’m willing to take the risk.” He turned the water on and pulled her below the spray. She gasped when cool water hit her warm skin.

  “A Roman bath always started with a plunge into the tepidarium.” He looked down at her. “Lukewarm water always brings out the best points.” His nimble fingers stroked her breasts.

  “Why are we taking a historical bath?” She huddled close.

  “I was inspired by exchanging Latin with you.”

  “I’m freezing.” Her teeth chattered.

  “I can see that.”

  Michael cupped her breast, stroking her tight nipple with his thumb. He placed his hot mouth upon the cool peak and she shivered at the delicious contrast.

  With a groaning sigh, he pulled back.

  “Next came the caldarium, the hottest room.” He turned the hot water up until steam swirled, etching vapor patterns on the flexiglass around them. “We should have washed up in the first cycle, but I’m willing to indulge you.”

  “Should I kowtow to you now or later?” She arched her brow and gave him a suggestive wink.

  Michael stroked his finger across her lips. “Later.”

  She parted her lips and pulled his finger into her mouth. Biting down softly, she looked up into his face. Feeling wanton and bold, she swirled her tongue around his fingertip.

  His eyes went wide, and he groaned out a startled sound of surprise.

  Pulling his finger from her lips, she kissed the tip. “Are you still looking for a way to occupy my mouth with something other than speech?”

  His eyes blazed brighter than a flash grenade. “Keep making lewd comments like that, and you can talk all you want.”

  “How generous of you.” She nipped the tip of his finger, then trailed his hand down her body.

  With an animalistic growl, he kissed her as he teased his strong hand between her legs. She was on the edge of climax when he suddenly stopped and drew his hand away. Frantic, she grabbed his arm, but he pulled back and smiled down at her.

  “I’m not putting that fire out yet.”

  Lifting her hand, she cupped him, but he lifted her hand away and gently shook his head.

  “I’m not letting you put my fire out either.”

  He took his time soaping her body, touching places she didn’t even know she had. Well, she knew she had them, but never thought of touching them the way he did. Taking a shower went from a utilitarian exercise to an erotic delight. She enjoyed every moment with him, even though her cast-bound foot complicated maneuvering. Soap bubbles made the lemon-yellow plastic floor slick, causing her to fall against him several times, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  When they finished, he turned the hot water almost completely off.

  “Now, the frigidarium.”

  Cold water pelted down, washing away the light floral soap and part of his straining desire. It pleased her to note the icy water didn’t chill his ardor by much.

  “Aptly named.” She shivered under the spray as they rinsed quickly, hands moving across goose bumps.

  “Feel better?” He lifted her out of the shower and set her down on the closed lid of the toilet.

  “I feel silly.” She shook her head at where she sat. “And naked.” She looked around for a towel.

  “I can see that.” He held a lemon-yellow towel just out of reach above her head. “What will you give me for it?”

  “What do you want?”

  “Make me an offer.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Hopefully something I can’t refuse.”

  She smiled up at him innocently, leaned forward and took him into her mouth. What the cold water forced away, her hot mouth brought right back.

  He dropped the towel with a shocked, indrawn hiss of breath and stumbled backwards. Slipping on the wet floor, he landed hard on his butt.

  Mortified, she flung her hands over her face. “Did I hurt you?” She peered at him from between splayed fingers. She’d never done that before, but from what she’d read, and all the pointed flirting
, she thought he would like oral sex. She must have done it wrong.

  His eyes were wide with shock. “You surprised me.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I won’t do that again.” She stumbled to her feet.

  “No!” He stopped her with an upraised hand. “I just wasn’t expecting you to—you can do that whenever you want.” He shook his head, peering up at her from the slippery bathroom floor. “Believe me, your mouth didn’t hurt.”

  “Then why did you flinch back?”

  “What you did felt so good…” He trailed off and lifted his hands and shrugged. “You literally knocked me off my feet.”

  “So, would that be an offer you can’t refuse?”

  He flashed her that wicked half grin. “Oh, Mary, that would make me your willing slave.”

  “I kinda like having you as my captive.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.” He stood, dried himself off, and wrapped her up in a huge towel. He pulled her into his arms and carried her down the hall.

  “Where are we going?” She ran a finger up his neck to tickle his ear. He rewarded her with a quickening of his breath and a lusty groan.

  “Somewhere a bit less slippery and far more comfortable.”

  He took her into one of the crew bunks close to the bridge.

  Textured fabrics in vibrant jewel tones draped the ceiling and walls. Framed prints of exotic double sunsets and triple moonrises covered the wall by the bed.

  “This isn’t—”

  “This was Tan’s room.” Michael placed her on the wide bunk and sat beside her. “Miyoko Tan was a fighter and a flight engineer. I never met her, but she acquired quite a name and reputation for herself under Kraft’s command.”

  He looked around the room, and she followed his gaze. The room was a contrast in extremes, from utilitarian to lush. Rich fabrics draped the bed while the closet was bare durosteel. There was a plush animal hide rug beside the bed, but the rest of the floor was battered neospring in plain brown. A faint essence of ginger filled the air.

  “I think I would have liked Tan very much,” Michael said with quiet regard, “but if this ship and all its meaning—Mary, if any of this makes you uncomfortable in any way, we don’t have to—”

  “It’s okay. It’s not my ship, my memories. Are you okay with… this?” She didn’t want him thinking of anyone but her. She’d been relieved when he didn’t take her into the room closest to the bridge. That spartan room had been Kraft’s.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he slipped her towel off and pressed her back into the bed. After he arranged pillows under her duct-taped disaster, he spooned along her body. Touching her face with gentle fingers, he brushed his lips softly against hers. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him tight.

  Her water-cooled body warmed instantly under his touch. With consummate skill, he explored every inch of her with his seductive intensity. He breathed deeply against her neck as he murmured endearments into her ear. His strong hands brought her to a fever pitch.

  Without warning, she pushed him away.

  He frowned, confused.

  Forcing him to his back with her hands on his shoulders, she kissed her way down his hairless chest. Teasing his bellybutton with her lips, she cupped his growing erection.

  When she lowered her head and took him into her mouth, his body went rigid. After hissing a stream of sexy profanity, he placed his massive hand on the back of her head.

  Gripping him with her fists, she teased the tip of him with the touch of her lips and tongue. She contrasted the tight friction of her hands to the slick heat of her mouth. He gasped, then lowered his hand to her chin and lifted her away.

  “Stop. Please.” Michael drew her up until her mouth now rested against his. Frantic breaths between passionate kisses revealed his distress. She realized she wasn’t bad at oral sex. If anything, she was a bit too good at it.

  He rolled her over onto her back.

  She tried to angle him above her with her good leg.

  “Greedy woman, slow down.” He laughed. “We have plenty of time.”

  “I can’t help myself. I want—”

  “I know what you want.” He kissed his way down her body and whispered, “Open to me, Mary.”

  When she did, he placed his hungry mouth between her legs. With teeth and tongue, lips and fingers, he brought her to soul-shattering climaxes. Her whole body tingled with anticipation when he finally rose above her.

  “You want what I want.” He filled her in a measured descent, moving deeper and deeper in deliberately slow intervals. For a big man, he was unbelievably gentle as he eased himself inside her body.

  The press of his weight, the feel of his skin and the taste of his mouth were indescribable. Enthralled, she wanted Michael to continue forever. She could happily spend the rest of her life right here, in this bed, with this man.

  Rocking her body to his with her good leg slung over his hips, she met him thrust for thrust, echoing the rhythm of his need.

  Physically, he awakened her to a degree she didn’t think possible, but more than that, he opened her to a fierce emotional attachment. She loved him. Betrayal accepted, forgiven. She knew she would fight to protect him and even die for him if she had to.

  Watching his face, she saw him close his eyes as tightly as he gritted his teeth. She knew he did so in a desperate bid to stave off his climax.

  “Surrender to me, Michael.”

  He groaned, opened his eyes and caught her gaze.

  She grasped his hips, lifted hers and increased the dizzying pace.

  His breath grew more ragged and strained. It thrilled her to realize she had such a profound effect on him.

  “Surrender to me, Michael.”

  Thrusting as if he couldn’t get deep enough, he slid his hands to cup her bottom and surrendered himself to her in a shuddering gasp.

  He stayed rigid above her for a moment, and she waited for him to say those magical words again, so she could say them back, but he didn’t. He rolled to his side and pulled her with him.

  Entwined, they lay pressed together as they recovered. Labored breathing finally slowed as sweat began to cool on their bodies.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked hesitantly.

  She peered into his eyes. In a way, he did. She’d wanted him to say he loved her again, so she could tell him she loved him too. Realizing she could always say the words first, she admitted to herself she didn’t have the guts.

  “You didn’t hurt me, Michael. I feel wonderful.” She stroked his face. “Did I hurt you? I think I hit you with my cast.”

  Chuckling, he kissed her forehead. “You did. It’s a good thing you don’t have spurs on it.” He sat up and inspected her foot. “Looks like my contraption kept the water out.” He pulled at the tape. “Uh-oh. Looks like it’s holding fast.”

  “There’s only one way to do this.” She closed her eyes and yanked the tape. Ripped-out leg hairs left a burning trail of pain across her calf.

  Wincing, he peered at her with one eye. “You okay?”

  Rubbing her calf briskly, she wadded up the mess and tossed it on the floor. “A minor price to pay for a Roman shower.”

  “And a tryst with a Roman god,” he said with a leer.

  “You and your ego!” She pushed him back playfully. “I’m surprised there’s room for me on the ship.”

  He captured her hands and pinned her to the bed. “You love my arrogance.”

  Before she could agree, he covered her face with nipping kisses and filled her ears with a slew of erotic words in damn near every language she knew.

  Chapter Thirty

  Since neither of them wanted to put their filthy clothes back on, Michael foraged through the ship in search of something to wear.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Mary smoothed the simple-cut blue enotex dress, which she had found in Tan’s closet, across her narrow waist with an unsteady hand.

  “It’s fine.” Michael touched her should
er. “That’s a good color on you.” And she smelled wonderful. For the first time, he could smell that indefinable scent of love emanating from Mary’s flesh. She hadn’t confessed her heart to him, but she may not have acknowledged the truth to herself, and he could wait.

  “Almost matches my cast.” She offered a tentative smile that he echoed. “Now your turn.”

  Finding something for him to wear proved more difficult since Kraft had commanded an all female crew. Even Danna, Kraft’s massive fighter, didn’t have clothes big enough to fit. Danna’s puffheat robe barely covered his ass.

  Mary bit her lip to hold back giggles.

  He couldn’t blame her. The robe went beyond fluffy and blue. It was sky-blue, baby blue, fluffy-teddy blue and really, really short. Michael looked absurd and he knew it.

  “Go ahead. We agreed to be honest with one another.”

  “You look right pretty.” Laughter erupted, and she clapped a hand to her face.

  “You’re just jealous.” He tossed his head back, shimmying his body effeminately.

  Tears gathered in the outer corner of her eyes. “You don’t look much like a Roman god now.”

  “Catty, catty.” He shook his head at her but laughed. It amazed him how good he felt when he was with her.

  “Hey, if we take one of the bed sheets, we could wrap it around you like a toga.”

  “I could run around naked.” He reached for the belt that barely held the robe closed.

  “Hmm. Too distracting.” She stopped him, touching the belt around his waist with a wicked glint in her eye. “At least this will keep my eyes from your fabulous body.”

  “And you wonder why I have such an ego?” He scooped her up, holding her firmly encased in his arms. Her fragrance, vanilla-citrus-floral, held him captive without her lifting a finger.

  “You can’t keep carting me around.” She clutched his shoulders. “Isn’t there an infirmary on board?”

  “Sure. Fully stocked. Why?”

  “Might there be a pair of crutches there?” A frown darkened her face. “And why is the infirmary fully stocked?”

  “Long story cut short: when I was mourning Kraft, I used to get drunk and take Whisper out for rides.” He paused for a moment, remembering several narrow escapes. “Duster kept the infirmary updated with every drug, contraption and a plethora of medical staff on stand-by.” A bit embarrassed, he admitted, “My drunken foolishness is one of the main reasons Windmere has so many talented doctors.”