“Just unfamiliar.” He grinned mischievously. “But I can fix that.” He snapped his fingers, and with his psi, he changed the parameters of her suit. Her suit began to groom her, tickling her mons as it removed the hair in the Rystani pattern that pleased him. When she glanced down to see that her formerly full triangle now resembled but a small sliver, she felt more exposed and vulnerable than ever.
But she held her breath, wondering how good it would feel if he ever got around to touching her newly bared skin. At the thought of him grazing his fingers over her, she quivered. Deep inside her, muscles clenched and tightened, drawing together in expectation of extreme bliss.
He surveyed his handiwork with obvious enjoyment, but still didn’t touch her. Why did he delay?
“Surely I am ready for you now?”
“Not yet.”
He stepped back, and she gnashed her teeth in frustration. When he left her in the air and walked around her, she feared for a moment he would simply leave her again. But he stepped to a wall compartment, and the materializer hummed. He returned with three bottles in his hand and a glint in his gaze that was beginning to warn her that she’d have to wait even longer.
He held up the largest silver jar, removed the stopper, and a spicy aroma filled the air. “This is Panzi Dust from Interferia Three.”
His materializer must be better equipped than the basic ones on Endeki. No machine on her world could make such an expensive potion. Although she’d heard the concoction was the ultimate aphrodisiac, she had no idea how it worked or exactly what it did or why the second scarlet bottle and the third tiny bottle were necessary, either.
He upended the silver bottle and poured the clear oil into his palm. After setting the bottles aside, he dipped his fingers into his palm, and oil droplets adhered to the pads of his fingertips. With careful precision he skimmed his oiled fingertip over her newly shaved mons.
“That tickles.” She would have squirmed, but of course his psi and the suit held her as immobile as the webbing had done. At first, she assumed the oil was a lubricant, with a fantastic scent that reminded her of cinbar and sugarelle. But as her flesh absorbed the oil, tiny arcs of electric energy danced along her nerve endings. She tingled, and he was by no means done. “Oh . . . Stars.”
He dribbled the oil over the pink flesh of her labella, carefully coating the outside perimeter, then the inside. Not once did he touch her yonia or her nerve center. Slowly he tipped her backward and gave the same attention to the skin between the cheeks of her bottom.
Just when she thought the tingling sensation might soon become too much—it stopped. He tilted her upright once more to apply the concoction to her areolae and nipples. She glistened under the lights in the shuttle, gritting her teeth at the tiny electric jolts on her breasts that followed the same pattern as before. If that was all the aphrodisiac did, she didn’t understand why he’d gone to such trouble. It was pleasant, but certainly nothing spectacular.
But then he blew on her flesh, sparking reaction that connected the tiny sizzles into one arcing current. At the sensation—like molten fire sparked with ice—she gasped and moaned. “What . . . have . . . you done?”
“What I wanted.”
“But—”
“Rystani warriors take what they want. Right now, I like having you at my fingertips.” Once again he took her nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. Then he tweaked her nipples.
“Ahhh . . . Stars.”
It was as if he’d turned on a switch. The oil magnified sensation. Hyperspace magnified it again. She was certain she would orgasm without his ever touching her sweetest spot or giving her his essence.
“I don’t think—”
“Thinking isn’t required. You’re enjoying my attentions. Admit it.” He tweaked her nipples again.
“Ah, please.” With the fiery and icy sensations, speaking was almost impossible. “You . . . don’t . . . understand. I need your semen . . . inside me . . . when I orgasm to, ah, ah, properly regenerate.”
“But delayed lust will help, yes?”
“I cannot—”
“You can.”
His fingers played lightly over her labella, and she had to remember to breathe. What he was doing felt so good. But not quite good enough. Every cell strained and tightened, yearning for release, but he gave her none.
“You will wait for your pleasure until I place my tavis inside you.” His tone was a command. Hard. Edgy.
His reminder almost made her flinch. Regeneration required his essence and her orgasm to combine at the same time. But how could she delay gratification with his finger finally finding and focusing on her sweet spot?
He tapped her with each word he spoke, shooting hot and cold sparks into her core. “You will wait.”
“You must come to me now.” She was losing control, and it was all his fault. “I can’t—”
“Time for me to help you out.” He held up the tiny scarlet bottle, unstoppered it, tipped up her yonia to catch the droplets, and shook them over her.
She was in the midst of fighting the budding orgasm, a battle that she surely would lose, and then the liquid splashed onto her. And snuffed out her yearning. One moment her body had been oh, so ready to orgasm—and the next, it was if he’d pulled the plug.
“What did you do?” She didn’t know whether to be furious that he’d deprived her of satiating her lust or happy that he’d stopped her from release before he was inside her.
He ignored her question, but his knowing expression told her that while she was confused, he was aware of exactly what was going on. He remained silent, apparently having no intention of clueing her in. When he went back to the silver bottle, again used the slick oil on her skin, she marveled at the time he was putting into their coming together.
“You’re starting all over again?” Her tone rose in amazement. She’d been so close, so right on the edge—and then pffttt. Zero.
“Mmm.”
Proving exactly how creative he could be, this time he ignored her breasts and the area between her legs. He spread the oil on her face, careful to keep it from her eyes. He smoothed it over her lips, and as she waited for the tingling sensation to begin anew, she recalled it had been much too long since their last kiss.
Leaving no part of her flesh untouched, he worked in the oil behind her ears, into her scalp, down her neck, and over her collarbone. She expected the same tingling icy/hot combination as before, but instead, her cells seem to stand up and shimmy. Her gaze flew to his hand. He was using the same bottle, but nevertheless the sensation was different.
Stronger.
Whatever had come out of that scarlet bottle must have changed her skin’s reaction to the oil. Blessed Stars, if before she’d been fire and ice, now she was sizzling.
Never in her life had she longed so badly for a man to touch her breasts or her mons. But the maddening Rystani ignored her, and when he flipped her facedown and applied the oil to her bottom, she almost cried in frustration. She wanted to lift her buttocks higher, spread her legs wider, guide his hand to where she was weeping with need.
Lust.
It’s only lust.
You can’t die from lust.
When he moved on to the backs of her thighs, she let out a sob. “Xander. Pleassssse . . . I’m not used to waiting.”
“When the need becomes too much for you, I will ease your discomfort with the scarlet bottle.”
Oh . . . by . . . the goddess. He meant to build up her tension, incite her lust . . . and make it disappear. How many times would he repeat the cycle? She wanted to cry, hit him, but passion held her in its lusty grip. She wanted to scream at him, but the only sounds coming out of her mouth were tiny coos of encouragement.
Deep into Boktai, she was losing herself in the storm of need he’d created. No man had ever
done such things to her.
He flipped her back so they faced each another. She licked her lips and tried to make him realize that what he was doing had no bearing at all on regeneration. “I can’t stand another cycle of waiting. Delay is pointless.”
“You don’t understand.” Again he took the scarlet bottle and used the unguent to cool her down. “Better?”
Again the tension eased from her, allowing her to think. He could do whatever he wished, whenever he wished. Knowing he intended to do a good job—if only so he didn’t have to mate with her again soon—was causing conflicted feelings.
Perhaps it was because his lovemaking was all about her. Endekian men satisfied their own needs, and if the woman’s cells regenerated, that was simply a byproduct of the process. But Xander was attempting to give her pleasure, and his attitude made a world of difference. Sure, he was commanding, demanding, dominating—but the choices he made were for her satisfaction and satiation.
After taking several calming breaths, she asked, “What don’t I understand?”
“Waiting increases your pleasure.”
She shook her head. “You’ve taken away the tension.” She wanted to wail, pound her fist, shake in rage. That he would take her right to the brink of the cliff but refused to allow her to plunge over was frustrating, infuriating, and had no sane rationale.
Xander grinned happily, rubbing his palms together. “The tension I took away . . .”
“Yes?” she prodded.
“It’s all going to return at once, in one giant rush that’s so powerful that you’ll be thanking me for a week.”
“What?” She’d never heard of such things. Her gaze shot to the bottles. Surely they had to be empty.
But then he held up a third golden bottle so tiny that she’d forgotten about it until now. “This is the nectar of heaven.”
She thought he would place the newest liquid on her. But with a psi thought he made his suit transparent, revealing his beautiful body and bronzed skin. His shoulders were as broad as Sedan Mountain. His muscular chest tapered to a hard stomach, and every part of him was equally gorgeous, masculine. Her nerve endings reacted to the stimulation of seeing him by dancing happily. His tavis, the Rystani word for “root of man,” immediately stiffened. Without hesitation, he very carefully worked the oil over the part of him that would enter her.
She eyed him with curiosity. “The oil will give you pleasure?”
He shrugged. “Completing a task to my best ability gives me pleasure. Pleasing you will give me pleasure.”
If she’d been a gambler, she would have bet he was finally going to enter her. But she was no longer needy. The wondrous tension was gone, and she wanted to rage at him for stealing her pleasure.
But then his mouth angled over hers, and his fingers delved into her yonia. Fingers that were coated with the oil he’d just smoothed into his skin. She moaned into his mouth as the tension came raging back, stronger than before. It was if he’d turned on her engines and flooded her with fuel. She revved with an intensity that would rocket her to the stars.
“Let me touch you,” she growled into his mouth.
“No . . . Not yet.”
7
ONCE XANDER HAD coated his tavis with the last vial, her need linked with his on the most elemental of psionic, cellular levels. Since she couldn’t control her psi, their connection wasn’t mental. He’d had to rely on reading her body to know if he was arousing her. Between her dilated eyes, the hitches in her breathing, and her gasps, plus her hardened nipples, there could be no doubting her excitement. Once the chemical formula kicked in, it was if her body were calling to him and he no longer had to guess; he could know what she felt and what she wanted on a biological level.
Before he lost himself in the heat of mating, he adjusted his suit’s filters to prevent him from impregnating her. Done with his preparations, he turned his attention back to Alara. He wasn’t surprised that his body reacted to her. After all, what male could resist such beautiful golden curves and molten passion?
Before he’d understood that her biology triggered her need for sex, he’d been shocked by her behavior. No Rystani woman would act so immodestly. However, Alara had had no choice. A man could become accustomed to such a mating ritual with very little effort.
Their voyage could be a long one, and having Alara for his companion would be very sweet. He relished the way she’d accepted his taking control. Oh, she might have fought the idea at first, but she didn’t deny her enjoyment.
Her body had trembled under his hands. He marveled at the texture of her skin, so golden, so soft; he could have spent hours stroking her, but he could read the impatience in her eyes. Since he didn’t know her well enough to gauge how much waiting she required to fully regenerate, he’d wanted to make certain he upheld his part of their bargain. Between the increased sensations in hyperspace, her own biological drive, and the exotic oils, he’d hoped she was right where she needed to be. Now he knew. She was ready. Excited. On edge.
Xander had always loved adventure, and exploring this woman’s body was fascinating. Kissing her pleased him. Her scent pleased him. Her marvelous golden breasts with luscious pink nipples that responded to his touch pleased him.
Now that he could literally feel her nerve cells calling to him, it took all his willpower to hold back from plunging inside to heat her up one more time. Breaking their kiss, and immediately missing the exotic taste of her lips, he traced a path to her breasts. Taking the tiny bud between his teeth, he nipped and circled his tongue, enjoying her coos of pleasure. At the same time, he loosened his psi hold of her suit. Immediately, she writhed, and when she realized she was free, she reached for his tavis, grabbed him, wrapped her legs around his hips, and drew him inside.
Slick, hot, her tight muscles clenched him. Astonished at their strong connection, with her blazing touch stimulating his own heat, he wouldn’t last long. With a psi thrust, he tried to regain control of her suit. But he’d become lost in her primal mating urge. Her hands grasped him, her legs locked around his hips, and he could not slow his excitement.
He held her shoulders and thrust into her, determined to hold back for as long as possible. He would take her higher, longer, harder. He would make certain she regenerated every cell.
Sweat beaded on his chest, his back, his brow, and his suit could barely keep up. She was riding him, urging him on with hands and lips, and her legs wound around his waist with an enthusiasm that he easily matched.
Then his mouth found hers, and the sweetness and spice of their coming together exploded. His own release was powerful, but with their nerve cells connected, he felt her shifting, shimmering, breaking, and shattering into a billion points of light.
He held on to her. Barely. Breath ragged, senses spinning, heart slamming his chest, he couldn’t think. He could only marvel at the exotic woman in his arms. As his pulse finally slowed and he relaxed, he drew her against him.
She tensed, then snuggled her head against his chest. Entwined, they slept.
WITH XANDER RESTED and his mind once again in functioning order, he opened his eyes to find Alara staring at him. But he had no idea what she was thinking.
“How are you?” he asked, uncertain what type of conversation she expected. He for one, certainly hadn’t anticipated enjoying her so much, or finding her skin so soft, her hair so silken.
She licked her lips, which seemed raw and parched. “I’m fine.”
Her voice was raspy. With a quick psi order to the materializer, he called up a drink and pressed it into her quivering hands.
She sipped slowly at first, then finished the drink in long, graceful swallows. For a long moment, she kept her eyes downcast. After fortifying herself with a deep breath, she captured his gaze in hers.
“Thank you.”
He quirked a grin and sat beside h
er on the shuttle’s couch. “I suppose I should say the same.”
The way she shrugged, the way she turned to the side, told him her pride had been wounded by her need to mate, by what her genetics forced upon her. He had the inexplicable urge to caress her chin, turn her face toward his, and kiss away the shame, but he resisted. They’d had sex, not intimacy. He wouldn’t overstep his bounds.
“Dr. Calladar, the interaction was pleasurable for both of us. But you are on the road to recovery, and now more than ever, I require your full cooperation on this mission.”
Before introducing her to his crew, they dined in the shuttle, giving him an opportunity to tell her about the virus. As a scientist, she was clearly interested in the spread of the plague across the galaxy, and any lingering effects of their wild mating were washed away. When she spoke with concern for all their people, she sounded warm and compassionate, giving him hope for success.
But she finished her meal in silence, apparently deep in thought. He liked that she didn’t need to fill the quiet with extraneous chatting. When the meal was done, she spoke simply. “I will do my best to help find a cure for us all. Again, I thank you for the regeneration. For keeping your word.”
Xander kept his annoyance in check. Of course he’d kept his word. But perhaps the men on her world did not.
Their mating had been unhampered and adventurous, and yet Xander was amazed by how much he’d enjoyed touching her and holding her. He’d never expected their encounter to give him so much pleasure—especially because she was an Endekian.
Still, he was far from suffused with joy over the situation. She had done nothing wrong, of course. In fact, after she’d stated her needs, he’d given her little choice about how things progressed. So the problem didn’t reside in her, but in him.
Coming to her, filling her needs, gave him satisfaction on a level he didn’t understand. They’d shared pleasure, but they remained strangers. Perhaps that was what threw him off.
He’d taken other women, but none had been Endekian, of course. While he found dealing with different peoples and cultures fascinating, it could also be confusing.
The Ultimatum Page 10
