“I want you to do whatever it is you do. With me. Teach me. Please.”
The little Please made his cock jump. “Darlin’, I have a huge hard-on, and I might have to make you relieve it.” Braden forced his voice to be careless, but he cared. Damn did he care. “You’re a celibate. Certified, registered—whatever.”
“I’ve gotten a dispensation.”
Oh, hell. “You know you’re killing me, love.”
“I’m not teasing.” Elisa watched him intently, the bad console distorting her lovely features. “Is there some kind of contract we need to negotiate?”
“What?” Braden dragged his mind back from his fantasies. “No, no. This is just between us, sweet baby.”
“All right, then what do I do? Meet you at Judith’s bar?” Elisa blushed. “I beg your pardon. I’m new at this. I am not sure how to approach you.”
I beg your pardon. Gods above, he was going to die.
Braden drew a breath and suppressed every hormone screaming at him. This couldn’t be real. He had to be asleep. This was a dream—a cock-hardening, come-inducing dream.
But no, there she was, on his crappy console, wide-eyed and asking him to be a Shareem with her.
Every muscle fought him as he reached toward the keypad. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he heard himself say. “I’m going to be busy for a while.”
His finger didn’t want to press the disconnect button. Braden almost had to force it with his other hand, his finger shaking like crazy.
Elisa gave him a shocked look, and then the screen when black.
Braden’s groan turned into a cry of anguish. His hand went to his cock, but it ached so much that touching brought more pain.
Elisa would call back. That was the game. Braden was level three. He had to make her beg for him. It was procedure.
Besides, he couldn’t really believe that a celibate, a declared one, had decided to throw off her robes and go for him. It had to be a trick, some way to lure Braden into committing the ultimate crime—touching a celibate.
The patrollers wouldn’t be able to terminate him fast enough. Maybe they’d terminate a few other Shareem with him just to prove a point.
Justin came out of his bedroom, a look of concern on his face. “You all right? I heard you bellowing like a hurt elephant.”
Braden wasn’t sure what an elephant was—some kind of creature from Sirius III he guessed—but if it sounded anything like Braden in anguish, he pitied it.
“Lady. Trying to hire me.”
“And this hurts you?”
“I want her,” Braden said. “I want her bad.”
“And she obviously wants you if she asked to hire you. So what’s the problem?”
“You’ve been off planet a long time. Shareem don’t get to have any woman they want. And if you’re level three, making them want you is what you do.”
Justin stared. “Damn, I’m glad I’m level two.”
“Yeah, but this is Bor Narga. Even if the lady says yes, you take a risk. And right now is a bad time to risk.”
“Why?”
Justin didn’t know Rees’s plans. Rees knew that Justin had come to town—he’d known even before Braden told him the day after Justin’s arrival—but Braden had no idea how Rees saw Justin fitting in.
“Trust me,” Braden said.
“You want this woman, right?”
“Yes.” The word was tight.
“So go for it. Screw being level three, screw Bor Nargan rules. Clock out and enjoy yourself.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“It is easy. I broke my programming—well, most of it. You can too, brother.”
Break his programming. Just as Elisa was trying to break hers. They could be program-breakers together, act like an ordinary male and female and enjoy each other.
Sure.
“She’ll call back,” Braden said. “They always call back. It’s a level-three thing.”
Justin pointed both hands at him. “You, my friend, are fucked-up crazy.” He grabbed his robes and breath mask and banged out the door.
Braden stared at the black terminal a little longer. Elisa would call. She had to.
She never did. Braden waited for an hour, then another, then he went into the bathroom and took a freezing cold shower.
*** *** ***
After twenty-four hours of agony, Elisa still hadn’t called back.
Braden was supposed to have the upper hand here. He usually did, and the lady always called him again, pleading. It usually took less than an hour, though he’d known it to go as long as forty-eight, when the woman in question had to debate long and hard with herself. Braden usually whiled away the time with other ladies, and in any case the waiting had never gone longer than forty-eight hours.
Braden would die if he had to wait two full days. And he didn’t want to touch any other woman in the meantime.
At the end of the longest twenty-four hours of his life, Braden called Elisa at her library. Elisa’s professional face filled his terminal screen, and Braden touched fingers to the image. Even that pseudo-touch relieved some pain inside him, if only a little.
“Serestine Quarter library,” her smooth voice came to him. “May I help—” Elisa broke off and leaned forward, her face-framing veil fluttering. “Braden? Why are you calling me here?”
“This is what you do,” Braden said. “First, you give me your word that this is no trick, that patrollers aren’t going to break in and haul me off to the cells for even thinking about touching you.”
Elisa blinked, startled. “They’d do that?”
“You’re celibate, sweetie. Sacrosanct.”
“But I have a dispensation.”
“Give me your word.”
Elisa nodded. “You have it.”
Anyone could mouth a promise, but the look in Elisa’s eyes told him she meant it.
“All right,” Braden said. “The next thing you do is, when you go home tonight, you send your servants on a vacation. I want no one in the house with you. I mean no one.”
Elisa’s brows shot up. “All of them?”
Braden relaxed enough to chuckle. “Yes, love, you’ll have to wash your own dishes and cook your own food. You send them away. You recode the keypad on your door, and you send me the code.”
“Why don’t you just come over when I get home?”
“Doesn’t work that way. Don’t expect me. You do what you usually do, and don’t look for me. All right?”
Elisa clearly didn’t understand any of this, but she nodded. “All right.”
“Good. Remember, send me the key code.”
Braden touched the disconnect, which was a little easier this time. His body knew that things were moving where they should be moving.
He smiled. She wouldn’t be able to resist watching out for him, waiting for him, anticipation of his arrival building up hour by hour, minute by minute. Her wanting would build up with her impatience and her nervousness. The power of the level three had already begun.
Braden groaned, got himself out of the chair, and went to take another cold shower.
*** *** ***
Elisa went home after her shift, told her staff that she was giving them a vacation to the cool mountains, all expenses paid, and sat back to wait for them to go.
She only had three servants in this house plus Alonda, a far cry from the twenty who’d waited on her at her mother’s house. Four servants, to the Way of the Sky, was simplicity.
Alonda gave Elisa a suspicious look and offered to stay and look after her alone, but Elisa remained resolute. The others were overjoyed with this unexpected bonus, packed their bags, and hurried off.
“Call me if you need me, m’lady,” Alonda said before she went. “I can be back here in an instant.”
Elisa promised distractedly and sent her away.
Elisa knew how to prepare her own meals and clean her clothes—she’d learned self-sufficiency at the retreat center. Even if she wasn’t certain about h
er choice of celibacy and her spiritual convictions, she was grateful for some of the lessons the Way of the Sky had taught her. Self-discipline and independence weren’t bad things.
She changed the code on her front and back door locks and sent the codes to Braden. He didn’t answer the terminal—she left a message.
Elisa spent the next three days trying to behave normally and failing. She went to work each day, half expecting Braden to appear there. She jumped every time the front door hissed open and every time anyone male entered the library.
Braden never came.
She tried to call him on the evening of the second day, but he didn’t answer. Elisa keyed off, leaving no message.
On the third day, she had to stay late for a meeting of the library board. The event with the art museum had gone off well, and the board discussed what to do better next year. Tired after that, Elisa walked the few blocks between library and home, hoping the cool night air would refresh her.
It didn’t. She was sweating as she entered her house, pulling off her robes down to her silk sheath. She unpinned her veils and let her hair fall down her back while she searched the house for Braden.
He wasn’t lurking in the sitting room or the hall, the kitchen, or the servant’s quarters. She checked every room, but Elisa was still alone. Sighing, she ate a light supper, bathed, and went to bed.
In the middle of the night she woke, her heart racing.
The air had changed, something subtly different.
A warm hand on her wrist made her jump, and then the weight of a hard body pressed her to the mattress. A padded manacle replaced the grip on her wrist, snapping snuggly in place.
“My librarian.” Braden’s breath whispered on her cheek. “I’m here to teach you so many bad things.”
Chapter Eight
Elisa swallowed, barely able to draw breath. “What things?”
Braden pressed his fingers to her lips. “No questions.” His voice was stern. “You trust me, or I leave.”
It wasn’t in Elisa’s nature to not ask questions. She drew another breath, but his fingers grew heavy.
“You trust me,” he said. “Do you?”
Elisa waited, debating, while she felt the warm length of his body next to hers. Then she nodded. After all, she’d been the one who’d asked him to come.
Braden lifted her unbound hand and kissed her palm. “This hand stays free. You’ve never touched a man, am I right?”
Elisa nodded again. Her heart danced in her chest.
“Touch me, Elisa. Get used to me.”
In the darkness, Braden guided her hand to his shoulder. She found bare skin, smooth and warm, no fabric in her way.
She halted. Was there no clothing all the way down? Goddess, be with me. Elisa glided her fingertips along Braden’s back, over the curve of his spine, down, down.
Nothing stopped her. Braden lay still, letting her touch his back, sculpted from the best genetics in existence. Elisa stopped when she reached the firm cushion of his buttocks.
Braden’s teeth flashed in the gloom. “Keep going, sweetheart.”
Elisa swallowed again. She made her fingers move, smoothing her touch over his backside. His skin was cooler there, his buttocks smooth mounds, muscles tight.
“Touch and learn,” he said, voice dark. “I have to go slowly with you, my librarian. I don’t want you fearing the feel of me.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Braden bit her lower lip. “Shh.”
“But that wasn’t a question,” she protested.
He bit her again. “I see how this is going to go. Lots of spanking in your future, darlin’. Now touch me. All of me.”
All of him. Elisa drew her hand up his spine again, fingertips still tingling from the encounter with his backside. She slid her touch around his shoulders, tracing the muscles to his chest.
Braden made a soft noise as she drew her hand across his pectorals, propping himself on his side so she could reach him. The hair on his chest was wiry, and while she stroked it, her fingertips found his nipple.
It was flat and small, so different from her own soft areolas. Elisa traced it, and Braden’s sigh became a groan.
She pulled away. “I thought only women liked their breasts to be touched.”
“It’s erotic for all of us, love.” His grin returned. “Are you saying you like your breasts to be touched? How do you know? Are you out begging men to touch them every night, breaking your vows, naughty lady? Or do you do it to yourself? Still naughty, but more fun for me.”
Elisa had never dreamed of touching herself, not before she’d met Braden. “I’ve read about it.”
Braden laughed, shaking the bed. “You’re precious. Keep touching me, sweet love. I didn’t tell you to stop.”
“Being celibate doesn’t simply mean not having sex,” Elisa said as she flicked her finger over his nipple again. “It means indulging in no sexual thoughts at all.”
“Hush, love. Later, you can teach me all about the Way of the Sky and how wonderful it is. Right now, you’re learning the Way of Braden.”
And what a fine lesson it was. Elisa reluctantly left the tight point of his nipple to stroke down to his abs, tight and smooth. His navel was a gentle indentation, and she lingered there, not daring to move downward.
“Why do you have a navel?” she asked. “If you were developed in an incubator?”
“So we’d look more human, of course. And that was a question. Which I’ve forbidden.” Braden laced his fingers through hers and led her hand firmly to his cock.
Elisa sucked in her breath. She’d never touched a penis before, had never even seen one outside an anatomy text. And then it had been cross-sectioned to show the inner workings. Not very appealing.
Braden’s was hot and hard, his skin satin smooth and stretched tight. Definitely appealing. His breath came faster as Elisa skimmed her fingers down the shaft, touching in wonder.
“You’re a quick learner,” Braden said. “Do you do research, my librarian?”
“I’ve read plenty about anatomy.” But this was different from clinical drawings and holopics. Oh my, yes.
“If you know so much about anatomy, tell me what you’re touching right now.”
“Your shaft. And this is the head.” Elisa found the skin stretched tight there too, but the head itself a little springy, softer flesh than she’d imagined. Elisa had pictured penises to be ramrod hard, like steel, made to penetrate the tight corridor of a woman.
“Yep, that’s the head.” Braden’s words died into a groan. “You can call it what you want. The cap, the tip, the purple helmet of the warrior, whatever. Or the best one—the thing I want to put in my mouth.”
Elisa jerked her hand away. “Mouth?”
Braden seized her wrist and guided her hand back to his cock, which felt hotter now. “This isn’t working. Please, I’m dying here. Listen to me begging for you.”
Elisa smiled. “You feel alive to me.”
“Baby, you’ve been torturing me since the day you looked at me over your desk and asked if you could help me. I’ve been craving you ever since. Goddess, don’t stop.”
Braden’s entire body went rigid, his eyes closing, his face tight under the lights that had risen automatically to partially illuminate them.
“Am I hurting you?” Elisa asked in alarm. He looked so drawn and tense.
“Hell, no. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t . . .” He broke off and groaned. Braden fitted her fingers around the shaft and pulled her hand up with his. “Like that. Keep doing that.”
He let go, and Elisa stroked by herself. The hot hardness of him excited her, and she loved how his tip bumped her palm. Braden rolled over onto his back on the big bed and propped himself up on his elbows, letting her get to all of him.
He was beautiful in the artificial light, a man stretched out for her pleasure, stark naked on her sheets. Elisa adjusted herself so her tethered wrist wouldn’t pull her, and continued. Braden’s hips came up a
s she pumped, and his head went back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, breath ragged. “I’m so sorry about this, love.”
Why was he apologizing? This was fun. Elisa explored his cock with all curiosity. Braden stopped trying to guide her and simply lay there with his head back, face softening in ecstasy.
What power. To make this huge man tame to her touch was exciting.
“Do you like that?” Elisa asked as she ran her fingertips around the base of his cock.
Braden’s jaw clenched. “Hell.”
“I believe you do.” Bravely, Elisa dipped her hand to his balls, which she found tight like the rest of him.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
Elisa tickled his balls with her fingertips then grasped his shaft again. There was nothing to be afraid of. Warm man, skin and sweat, so human. She brushed her thumb across his tip, startled to find moisture there.
“Are you . . .” She groped for a word and couldn’t find one. Ejaculating sounded so clinical.
“Coming? Not yet.” He opened his eyes, Shareem blue filling them. “Very soon. Keep going, baby, please.”
Elisa swept some of the moisture from his tip down the shaft, liking how even that little wetness lubricated things. She understood now why people used oils—oil would make him so slick that her hand would glide up and down with almost no friction. Elisa could stroke him and pump him as fast and hard as she could. She wanted to.
“Did you bring any oil with you?” she asked, eager to experiment.
“Shit.” He was panting.
“I want to use some.”
“I’m the Dom, sweetheart. You’re supposed to obey me.”
“But it would be fun.”
Braden broke her hold to roll over and reach to her bedside table, where he’d left a valise. In seconds, he was back in position, his penis standing straight up, a bottle in his hand. He worked out the stopper and more or less dumped oil onto the base of his shaft. Then he jammed the stopper back on, and dropped the bottle, sealed tight, onto the mattress.
Elisa happily smoothed the oil onto him while Braden lay back again, weight on his elbows, watching her.
She’d been right about the oil. It made everything slick, easy to maneuver. This wasn’t frightening at all. Braden spread his legs, and Elisa smeared the oil all over his penis, down beneath his balls.
Tales of the Shareem, Volume 2 Page 23
