Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2

by Allyson James

  “So a fuckwad, son of fuckwads.”

  “After much pondering, I decided to tell everyone that the Way of the Sky had called me. That I’d chosen to give up marriage altogether to follow the path. Once I declared myself, and a spiritual advisor approved me, I was untouchable. Celibacy is the highest calling for a Bor Nargan woman, and no one dares interfere with it.”

  Braden looked at her with quiet respect. “It was a hell of a decision to make.”

  “Not really. I was a virgin and celibate anyway—my fiancé had no interest in touching me, nor I him. Taking the robes just made it official.”

  “No.” Braden’s eyes saw too much. “It was a sacrifice. It’s in you, Elisa, that need for passion.”

  Elisa sat still, absorbing his words and thinking about what she had denied herself. It hadn’t seemed a sacrifice when she’d taken the robes, a relief, rather. No one could ever use her for her money and family, no man could expect her to support him while he pursued his disgusting sexual games.

  Before she’d met Braden, that’s what sex was—disgusting.

  But Braden, sitting beside her, flesh and bone, was anything but. Sex to him was joy, pleasure, warmth.

  Slowly Elisa moved her hand from her ale glass and rested it over his.

  Braden didn’t move, didn’t speak. Elisa brushed her fingers across his, feeling firm bones and sinew.

  “You think having no sex is sacrifice, because you are Shareem,” she said quietly. “I read that your metabolisms are faster than a human’s, and so you must have intercourse in order to burn off the excess adrenaline. You can’t not.”

  “That’s true. We fuck or die.”

  “So it’s not wrong, for you. It’s natural.”

  Braden hooked one of his fingers around her forefinger, capturing it. “It’s not wrong for you either,” he said. “You can make yourself believe that, but it’s not.”

  Take it, his gaze said. Touch me, take what you want, and I’ll teach you what you need.

  Elisa imagined letting her fingers drift all the way up his arm and across his chest. She’d dip into the V of his tunic, touching the heat of his body. She imagined Braden skimming off his tunic to let her better explore him. Then, daringly, she’d lean down and lick his skin.

  It would taste a bit salty, damp with sweat. She’d touch his male nipple with her tongue . . .

  And there her imagination failed, because she had no idea what he would feel or taste like. Heady, that was for certain.

  Even headier to move her fingers down between his legs, to explore what she’d only read about, a penis rigid under her hand. How would that feel?

  She knew she shouldn’t be having these feelings, questions, and ideas, not while she was a declared celibate in the Way of the Sky. But they poured at her, one after another.

  Braden watched, eyes fully blue, as though he read her thoughts. Shareem could sense pheromones and knew when a woman wanted him. And all women wanted Shareem, all the time.

  Elisa drew a quick breath. “My turn for a question.”

  He made a conceding gesture. “Suit yourself, babe. What?”

  Elisa swallowed, reaching for a question that had nothing to do with sensuality. “What was it like to not have parents?”

  His eyes flickered, and the blue receded a little. “You go for the gut, don’t you, honey? Honest answer. I don’t know. I never knew anything but DNAmo. Mommy and Daddy were test tubes and a vat. Best human DNA in the universe, all mixed up to make us.”

  “Including Bor Nargan DNA, is that right?” Yes, this was much safer than sexual topics.

  He smiled, and her libido spiraled again. “Watch it, love. You’ve already used up your question.”

  “It’s part two of the question.”

  “Little minx. I’ll answer, but I’ll make you pay. Yes. Bor Nargan DNA is in me, and doesn’t that make the ruling family squeamish? My turn.”

  She heated, sensing danger. They were right back to sensuality before he’d even spoken.

  “All right,” Elisa made herself say.

  “I don’t so much want to ask a question as tell you something.” Braden leaned closer. “It’s a fantasy. One I’ve been having about you since I met you.”

  Chapter Five

  Elisa knew she couldn’t let him tell her. She’d die right here if Braden voiced thoughts that matched her own.

  But part of Elisa’s training for celibacy had been meditation, learning to control not only her body but every thought in her head. She could let him speak and not listen to the words.

  Elisa laid her hands flat on the table and directed her gaze to the golden ale inside her glass. She let her awareness sink into the glass, to the color of the liquid, to the little white bubbles hurrying to the surface.

  “Ready?” Braden said.

  Elisa nodded. She wasn’t, but she determined to get through it.

  Braden’s voice rumbled. “You’re in the library.”

  “The library?” Oh, dear gods.

  “Up on the balcony. I’m below, looking up at you. While I watch, you want to take off your clothes. You can’t resist. You slide your robes to the floor, and you start unclasping your dress.” His finger brushed the catch of her sheath.

  “Presumably, the library is closed,” Elisa said, trying to sound prim.

  “It is. We’re the only ones there. The only ones in the world, it seems like. You’re looking at me, into my eyes.”

  The pictures swam into her head, in spite of Elisa’s efforts. Braden standing below her, arms folded, eyes so blue. She’d feel her heart beating faster, her fingers itching to take off her dress, to show him what she looked like underneath.

  “You unclasp the dress and let it open,” Braden said. “It slides to your hips, and your breasts are exposed. The air feels cool on them, and your nipples draw into little points.”

  They were drawing into little points now. Tight ones.

  “I’m watching you, excited because you’re so beautiful. You cup your breasts, lift them to show me. My cock is hard—you see it rising—but I make myself wait. You rub your thumbs over your nipples, and it’s like fire going through you.”

  Elisa made a noise in her throat. Yes, fire.

  “You’re wet between your legs. You spread your feet apart a little and feel the liquid on the inside of your thighs.”

  Like it is now. Elisa tried to draw another breath, tried to stop the heat, but it wouldn’t go away.

  “I watch you, and I want to run up there and be with you, want to feel that heat all over me. I love watching you, and I want you so much.”

  “Yes,” Elisa whispered, her eyes closing. So much for her focus on the ale.

  “You peel off the rest of your dress. You’re naked now, standing on the balcony above me. You move forward and rub yourself on the railing. It presses your clit, and it feels good, that cold bar against your pussy. You keep rubbing. You’re getting the railing all wet.”

  “No,” Elisa moaned. “Celibate.”

  “I haven’t touched you. You haven’t touched me. Nothing but that railing. But it’s not enough. You put her hand between your legs, and it’s so wet there. You feel yourself, soaked with wetness, your clit firm. You want to rub it, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You rub your clit for me. You stroke your fingers into your opening, deeper, deeper. You need to go farther in to make yourself feel better. One finger isn’t enough, neither is two. Three is just right. You feel your own walls squeezing you as you rock on your hand. You tease your clit with your thumb. You pinch your sweet nipples, one after the other, then again, all the while you press into yourself and rub that wanting clit.”

  Goddess, make it stop! Elisa rocked on the stool, eyes closed, while the clit in question burned. But she couldn’t put her hand there to ease the ache. That wasn’t allowed.

  “I’m standing below, still watching you,” Braden said, his voice like velvet. “My cock is hard now. You see how much I want you.
But I can’t go to you. All I can do is stroke myself, while you stroke your pussy. You pretend it’s me inside you, not your fingers.”

  Elisa’s thighs clenched, moisture flowing. She gripped the table.

  Braden leaned so close that his lips touched her ear. “That’s it, darlin.’ You think of my tongue on you, hot and wet. I want to taste your skin, swallow your come, rub my tongue all over your pussy. You want my tongue going in and out of you, lapping you up.”

  “Stop,” she whispered.

  “No, baby. You keep rubbing yourself, and I’m aching for you, dying for you. I stroke my cock, my fist hard on it. I start to come, crying your name. Elisa. Then my come spreads all over my hand. You see that, my wanting for you, and then you come.”

  “Yes.”

  “You press your clit, you feel it burning you.” Braden’s breath scalded her. “You squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze.”

  “Yes!” Elisa shouted the word. She pressed her thighs together, rocking on the stool while waves of darkness drowned her. She was dizzy, her cries incoherent, and her clit was grating and hot.

  Braden cradled her, his big arm around her, his voice soothing. “That’s it. That’s good love.”

  Elisa pressed her legs together, more, more, loving the fiery sensation and the loss of control. This was wrong, this was forbidden, and it felt so good.

  “You’re all right,” Braden said. “I’ve got you. Hush now.”

  He was so warm, smelled fine. Braden gathered Elisa to him as she rode out the climax, he nuzzling her cheek, kissing her hair.

  Elisa curled against him, tears on her face as her body shuddered.

  Outside, the brutal sand slapped the worn metal doors, desperate to get in. But inside, snug in Braden’s arms, Elisa had never felt so safe and cared for in all her life.

  *** *** ***

  Braden told Elisa that she was all right, but he wasn’t. He’d brought her off with words alone, something only level ones did. But Braden was heating up, needing release. That would involve hands, or tongues, or devices, or . . .

  Shut the fuck up.

  Elisa’s head rested on his shoulder, her hair soft beneath his lips.

  “You shouldn’t have been able to get through my meditation,” she said.

  “Your meditation got you all relaxed, and your mind and body took you where you wanted to go.”

  Actually, Braden didn’t give a flying fuck how it had happened. He only cared that it had happened and that Elisa had looked so beautiful with her eyes closed, face soft with pleasure, moaning as she rocked on the stool.

  “You didn’t even touch me,” she said.

  Nope. They’d done all that without skin meeting skin.

  But now Braden’s cock was tighter than any cock should be, and his level-three instincts were rising like the sandstorm’s wind.

  He wanted to take Elisa to the library right now, spread her against the railing and tie her there, and then spank her sweet ass. With his hand, with a paddle. He’d pleasure her with a vibrator for a while, then he’d slide his desperate cock inside, and it would be so, so, good.

  Too bad the lady he was fantasizing about was a declared celibate. He smothered a groan. The world sucked.

  Elisa raised her head. “Are you all right?”

  “Sure. Fine. I’ll live.”

  Another fantasy reared its head—Elisa and he in the train car in which they’d ridden down here, she kneeling in front of him to take his cock in her mouth.

  Oh, gods.

  “You don’t look all right,” Elisa said, still holding on to the table. “I know that Shareem aren’t allowed to touch a lady in a sexual way without permission. It triggers your pain sensors. Is that what’s happening? Even though you didn’t touch me?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Or maybe I’m just dying for you.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Anything you do will just hurt more, sweet baby. You fingering the table has me about to explode. I’m imagining those fingers wrapped around my cock.”

  She stilled. “You are?”

  “Yes, baby. You’re torturing me.”

  Elisa let go of the table. “How does this torture you? I’m not touching you.”

  “You got that right. If you touched me, you might ease the pain.”

  “How?”

  Braden was sweating. “Just touch my face. Don’t be afraid. Please.”

  Her eyes flickered at his plea. Would she help him or turn frigid and flee?

  What he’d done a moment ago—brought her off, even with fantasy alone—was a legitimate reason for her to run to the patrollers. Braden would spend his last hours locked in a cell with transparent walls, unable to release, which would probably kill him faster than the patrollers could.

  Elisa lifted her hand. Soft fingertips touched his cheek, and Braden closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “That helps?”

  “A little.”

  Elisa traced his cheekbone, her touch cool on his hot skin.

  “I still want you,” he said in a low voice. “And I know I can’t have you. So now I want to spank your pretty ass for teasing me.”

  Elisa jerked her hand away. “Spank?”

  Braden opened his eyes, which he knew must be molten blue. “I’m level three, love. It’s what we do. A little discipline never hurt anyone.”

  “Discipline?” She looked startled but not afraid. Sweet librarian.

  “I’d love to teach you,” he said. “And instruct you how to touch me. Spank you when you get it wrong.” Braden was sweating, breathing ragged.

  “I’m hurting you again,” she said in concern.

  “A little, sweetheart. But it’s a good hurt.”

  Which would get worse until he released. We fuck or die.

  Braden wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when Judith came noisily in through the door that led to her private stairs. “Sandstorm’s over,” she said.

  The gritty slaps on the door had ceased, and Braden hadn’t even noticed.

  Judith focused on Braden and Elisa sitting so close, then the flush on Elisa’s face. “Damn it, what did I miss? I step away for ten minutes . . .”

  Elisa abruptly got to her feet. “Nothing at all. What do I owe you?”

  “It’s on the house. I never charge during a sandstorm.” Judith switched her gaze to Braden. “Don’t tell me nothing, Braden. You look sated and yearning at the same time.”

  Braden adjusted his leggings, stifling a groan at the brief friction of cloth on cock. “I was telling Elisa a little fantasy I had about her.”

  “Fantasy. That can be fun.” Judith smiled. Judith thought fucking four Shareem at once fun too.

  “It’s late,” Elisa said. “Can you call a taxi for me?”

  “Taxi?” Judith laughed. “In this neighborhood, this late, after a sandstorm?” She swept up their empty ale cups, still laughing, and went to open the storm doors.

  “Trains don’t start running until dawn,” Braden said. “Don’t you have your own car and driver?”

  “I gave them up as part of the Way of the Sky. We live simply.”

  “Hey, if you like simple, you’d love my apartment. But don’t worry, love. I have friends, and they have transport.”

  Elisa wasn’t certain she wanted to leave. She knew she should—she had to be at the library when it opened, and Alonda would grow alarmed if she didn’t return tonight. The overly protective housekeeper might even call the patrollers, and then the world would know that Elisa n’Arell had gone to Pas City alone with a Shareem.

  But to be stuck down here with Braden, in this strange world, was exciting and strange. Elisa would have to think hard about what he’d made happen to her, but she didn’t regret it.

  “I’d be grateful,” she said to Braden. “And I’ll pay them.”

  “Sweetie, I don’t think Brianne d’Aroth needs your money.” He rose, skimming his fingers across her shoulders as he left the table.
<
br />   “Brianne?” Gods, he was going to ask the granddaughter of the ruler of Bor Narga to give Elisa a ride home. The woman who was living with two Shareem—who’d just gone home with those two Shareem. “Won’t she be . . . busy?”

  Braden laughed. “Of course she will, and I’ll enjoy the hell out of interrupting them.” He disappeared into the back hall, where Elisa saw him leaning over a console.

  Judith returned to wipe off the table. “You’re a celibate?” she asked, sounding interested.

  Elisa picked up her robes from the stool and folded them over her arm. “I took the vows.”

  Judith sent her a dark look. “Do me a favor, sweetie. Don’t tease him. Shareem aren’t like us. If Braden can’t have you, don’t hurt him pretending that maybe he can. Cut it off and let him go.”

  Elisa regarded her in surprise. “I had no intention of hurting him.” How could she, anyway?

  Judith’s eyes softened. “The Shareem can be enticing, I know. But the garbage about them not having emotions is just that—garbage. So don’t mess with them, all right?”

  She sounded so protective that Elisa wondered. “Are you and Braden . . . ?” She glanced toward the back room, where they could hear Braden laughing. The sound of it warmed Elisa.

  “Lovers?” Judith finished. She grinned. “No, not in the love sense of the word. He’s a friend. A good friend. I don’t like seeing him hurt.”

  Such an odd night Elisa was having—visiting Pas City for the first time, with a Shareem no less, having her first ever orgasm, and now a barmaid looking her in the eye and championing that Shareem.

  “I assure you I have no power to hurt Braden,” Elisa said. “I believe he is teasing me. I’ll go home, and he’ll be finished with this game.” Why did something inside her just die a little?

  Judith gave the table a final swipe. “I don’t think so, honey. You’ve been bitten, and you’ll want more. I kind of envy you, your first time with a Shareem, but I then I kind of don’t.” She straightened up, folding her cloth. “It’s going to be rough.”

  Before Elisa could ask what she meant, Judith walked away and Braden returned. “All set, baby. Brianne’s driver’s on his way.” He slid his arm around Elisa’s waist. “Aiden says hello, but what Ky said was unrepeatable.”