by Cathryn Cade
Of course, that was no longer an option for him. His days of being able to transfer on his own whim were over.
It had been years since he’d entered the Relaxation Program. Once he’d made it to second in command of a ship, he’d given it up as one of the costs of being a leader. But he’d been happy with it before. The ship had always chosen an adequate sexual partner. Nothing spectacular, but certainly someone good enough to keep him balanced.
After seeing his new major without her clothes, he felt like one of the bunnies Jigs referred to. He was more than ready to meet the woman his crippled, duct-taped ship had picked for him.
Stepping into the male side of the preparation chamber, he took a deep breath, suddenly having second thoughts. There were reasons the brass decreed that captains couldn’t sleep with crew, even in the Relaxation Program. There was no chance of being matched with an equal, no doubt at all he would be engaging in sex with someone who reported to him.
What did it matter now? He was stuck on this heap of junk for the rest of his career, never to be seen again. His whole life as he’d envisioned it was over. Done. Gone.
He’d been brought down by his own hubris.
Anger directed wholly at himself flashed through him, goading him into pulling the tab holding his uniform shirt in place. He’d give himself this one time, then he’d never come back again. Just this once. Afterwards he’d return to trying to be perfect.
In seconds, he was naked, staring at himself in the mirror.
Not bad, he knew. He kept himself in top shape, even here in the middle of nowhere. Sure, he’d been banged up a bit in the Alien Wars when he’d first joined the Troopers, but the laser scars were almost faded now. Not that his partner would ever see them.
With that thought, he stepped into the entrance hall. Automatically the door slid shut behind him, enveloping him in darkness.
The hum began, a low buzz which would rise to a screaming pitch if he or his partner tried to speak. He’d heard rumors of people communicating through sign language or drawing letters on each other’s skin, but there was no way he would let his partner know who he was. Ever. Besides, with only forty-five minutes between them, she wouldn’t want to know.
A dull green light glowed on the wall to his right, signaling the lock had popped on the door he knew stood before him. He ran his hand down the cool metal until he found the handle.
His cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He needed this so badly. Just the physical release would fix something that had broken inside him when he realized he had no chance of whipping the Ventura into shape.
Sliding the door open, he entered the small room which was the size of a large bed, the floor one giant mattress. Most patrolships had four or even six compartments. His ship had only one, jammed into a section of the cargo hold.
The air smelled vaguely of cleanser and purified recycled air. As he moved forward, it felt as if he swam through water, the air thick with the deadening sound-prevention waves.
Slowly he inched forward, drifting his hand along the soft cloth of the bedding below him. If she’s here, she’s short or not lying with her legs straight.
Or the damn ship hasn’t matched me with anyone. It’s probably a malfunction and I’m in here by myself. That would be my luck.
The chuckle rising in his throat faded as his fingers brushed a woman’s toes.
He stopped, curling his hand around her foot, keeping the touch harmless and light, enjoying the comforting heat of another human’s skin against his own.
The standard form he’d filled out had asked about every one of his secret desires and for some reason, he’d actually clicked the box which said he liked to touch/kiss/handle women’s feet. He’d never admitted that before, since it always seemed a bit weird and fetish-like to him. Most women hated to have their toes touched, recoiling in laughter, screaming that it tickled. But she must have said she didn’t mind or she wouldn’t be here.
He’d filled out his form with complete honesty because he’d assumed when he’d done it that he’d never be matched with anyone. He’d just been stepping through the process to make sure each stage worked and that the system was functioning at a certain level. When he submitted the final form, instead of being rejected due to his rank as captain, he’d received an inter-ship mail saying he’d be matched when an appropriate partner became available.
He’d planned to have the program fixed the next time they were in port, but by the time they’d arrived, there were hundreds of other critical issues which had surfaced, and he’d had to prioritize.
Still kneeling, he slowly massaged her feet, one in each hand, enjoying the feel of them. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman? It felt like a lifetime, even though he’d had a final night of fun before he’d left to join the Ventura four months ago. Still, he didn’t think any woman had ever felt this good before. All warm and alive and his for the span of forty-five minutes.
He brought her right foot up and kissed her instep. Inhaling deep, he searched for her scent, looking for some marker to drown out the annoying vision of his new major bending over to fix the communications equipment. This wasn’t the major, it couldn’t be. And he wasn’t going to be a complete ass and spend his time with his partner thinking about another woman. That just wasn’t fair to either of them.
At the end of his deep breath, he caught the faint whiff of flowers, real ones, expensive and sweet. Another indication it wasn’t his new major. She wasn’t the flower kind.
He lightly scraped his teeth along her instep, enjoying her jump of surprise, emboldened by the knowledge that she must like this, too, or she wouldn’t be here. He held her still as he captured a toe in his mouth, tasting clean woman and that same vague hint of floral.
Sucking lightly, he massaged her with his tongue, liking the way she relaxed her foot more firmly into his hands. With patience he rarely displayed and lately didn’t know he even possessed, he moved from toe to toe, licking and nibbling along at a leisurely pace.
All at once, she sat, her action snapping him from a pleasant trance. Her hands tugged at his legs, as if she wanted him to move.
He concentrated, letting himself become as pliant as possible, so she could do what she wished. When she didn’t take her own legs from his hands, he realized she was trying to stretch his body out alongside hers, so his head was at her feet and her head was at his.
A shiver raced down his skin as she stroked along the muscle in his calf. They were going to touch each other at the same time. Instead of lying still while he did all the work, she would explore him too. Gods.
He took a steadying breath, knowing he’d need every ounce of his legendary control to keep from imploding within minutes.
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