by Annalise
To his complete and utter joy and embarrassment, he came.
Evans stifled a giggle. When Link smiled and dropped his head on her shoulder with a sigh, she let the giggle warm to a soft laugh. She kissed his ear and stroked the hair from his brow.
His weight was comfortingly heavy across her.
His breath was warm on her brow as he whispered, “That was a surprise. I guess the anticipation got to me.”
They lay nose to nose. His pewter eyes were beautiful. She traced the shape of his brows, his nose, his lips.
He captured her fingertips in his mouth and sucked.
She couldn’t speak until he asked her to. Words crowded inside her mouth. Touch me. Lick me. Kiss me. Heat shot across her skin. Not being able to voice her thoughts made her hotter. Fuck me. Love me.
Love?
She’d loved him desperately once, but they’d agreed they had careers, dreams to satisfy themselves before they could satisfy anyone else. He’d gone off-world; she’d succumbed to the seduction of working as an agent for Homeland Security. And she’d never seen him again.
A thickness gathered in her throat. She looked away from the probe of his gaze. There were hidden cameras here somewhere. There always were.
She was an agent on a mission, she reminded herself. She was supposed to be investigating the sexual exploitation of AOAs at The Palace.
She was a miserable failure, a foolish woman who masturbated at night while she wallowed in memories of this man, a woman who held her breath each morning while she searched her list of tasks for an indication he might be among her clients.
“Talk to me,” he said softly, gripping her chin, rising on one elbow, and forcing her to make eye contact.
“Thank you for selecting me.” It was the required opening line, but she heard the need in her voice. Surely he could, as well.
Link bent his head and kissed her lips. Softly at first, then not so softly. He kissed her neck, her chest, nuzzled aside her robe and pulled it open. Cool air washed across her skin, swiftly followed by the heat of his mouth.
He kissed her navel, probing it with the tip of his tongue.
“Do you like that?” he asked, lifting his head.
“Yes. Very much,” she said the prescribed words, but she let her emotions fill her voice. This time, she was not lying to a client. She was speaking to a man she had loved. She ran her fingers through his dark hair. Thick hair, rough as raw silk.
“What would you like?” he asked.
Her watcher spoke, “The attendant may not express preferences. Feel free to indulge your every fantasy. Enjoy the pleasure of sexual gratification without heed to your partner’s needs or cares. Explore your partner’s body with the knowledge she is here to serve you.”
“Fuck you,” Link said to the voice. “What would you like?” he repeated to her.
She answered as she knew she must, but she took his hand as she said, “Whatever most pleases you.” She pressed his hand between her thighs.
“You’re very wet,” Link said, delving into her inner spaces with his talented fingers. He slid down her, licking a path to where his hand played.
He paused to trace a circle around the mole on her thigh. He’d always paid special attention to that particular spot, one of her many flaws. The Palace had wanted her to consent to its removal, but she’d refused. Now she was glad she had.
Link murmured something into her thigh and she knew what he’d said might reveal their previous acquaintance to the watcher had it been audible. The possibility added a fillip of danger to their situation, fueling her excitement.
He turned his head and, Sweet Sol, she was coming apart under his mouth as he sucked at her clit. How could he know exactly what to do to her?
Her orgasm would be a tearing joy. She knew it. She felt it building, giving rise to an intense, grinding need to scream. She stuffed the belt of her robe into her mouth and bit down in anticipation.
Link left off his ministrations and stood up. Teetering on the edge of completion, feeling robbed, bereft, she stared at him as he pulled off the rest of his clothes.
He took an inordinate amount of time to remove each garment and hang it up. Each fold was fussed over and adjusted until he was satisfied. His grin told her it was a deliberate move.
A memory of him doing the same thing years ago made her smile back.
“Take off that damned robe,” he ordered. When she stood up, he embraced her and tore it off for her. The seams parted with a ripping sound. In one swift motion, he wadded the pieces up and tossed them over his shoulder. He held her tightly against his body and sealed his mouth on hers.
She moaned as she relaxed against the hard length of him. How she’d missed the feel of him, the flex and flow of his sculpted muscles under her hands. The other encounters he’d purchased had not permitted her to touch him like this.
Locked in each other’s arms, they ended up on the floor, but he wouldn’t enter her when she grasped his cock and tried to guide him into her.
“Not yet. I want to watch you come. And I want to hear you. Loud and clear.” Link leaned away from her and grasped her nipples between his fingertips. “Don’t touch me again until you come.”
Her upgrade buddy interrupted. “For only a few extra credits you may avail yourself of a variety of restraints for your attendant. Maximize your pleasure by saying upgrade.”
“Not right now,” Link growled.
She tossed her head back and slid her hands under her buttocks. If she didn’t look away and didn’t restrain her hands, she would never be able to obey his order.
He licked her from chin to clit. The heat of her excitement was tempered by the damp trail his tongue left. Ripples of sensation spread out over her skin. Excitement sizzled as she struggled not to reach out to him. She wanted to lock her hands in his hair and guide him where she willed. She wanted to watch him as he feasted on her. Not being able to participate drove her crazy.
He teased her. He nuzzled and licked her. Each time she lifted her hips and prepared for the onslaught of her climax, he withdrew, turning his attention to her hip or her knee or her inner arm.
If he didn’t let her climax soon, she’d pull muscles or ligaments or something equally painful.
Wound tighter than she believed possible, she suffered his teasing in increasingly difficult silence. Unable to take the strain, she lifted her head and begged him with her eyes. His answering grin sent her into a frenzy.
Finally, silently, she arched her back off the carpet. Ecstasy swept through her, painful in its clenching power and intensity. She screamed.
Blindly, she groped for him, drew him into her arms, and cried out again as he thrust his cock deep into her sensitive body. He cradled her head in his arms, kissed her mouth, and thrust. Over and over. Quickly. Then slowly. Deeply, then just with the tip of his cock.
She grabbed his ass and hung on.
His body went slick with sweat. His testicles slapped her with each thrust. He sliced into her, carving a bloody trail, she was sure.
Then he came. He was silent as he shuddered under the onslaught of his climax, his body plunging into her in arrhythmic strokes.
The instant he was done, he fell asleep across her.
She stifled a curse and composed her features to neutral. Whoever watched must see only a bland indifference.
Link snored in her ear for an hour before abruptly waking and jerking out of her embrace. He rose on his knees and grimaced.
“Shit,” he said. “How long was I asleep?”
“About an hour,” she said, rising. “May I use the bathing chamber?”
“Sure. I’ll come with you.”
He leaned on the wash basin that slid from the wall and looked into the mirror, watching her as she sat on the toilet.
“I can’t believe I went to sleep at these prices.”
Link watched her face turn a blotchy red. He heard the hum of the toilet washing and drying her.
“I suppose you’d
have let me sleep all night,” he said.
“I am not permitted to interrupt your rest,” she answered.
There was a sweet red imprint of the toilet seat on her ass and thighs when she turned away and headed for the bedroom. He didn’t need a target to know where to aim, but if he had, there it was. Just thinking about it gave him another hard-on.
“Go lie on the bed,” he ordered. She didn’t even hesitate an instant. When he finished with the facilities, taking a long shower and getting a grip on his desire for her, he found her curled on her side, cheek in her palm. It was her turn to sleep.
He lifted the bed covers and got in. He woke her by sliding his hard cock into her. Her breathy little gasp took him back to another time, deep in the woods. They’d been camping, of all the fucking things—one of the few ways to get away from prying Academy eyes and ears. He’d awakened her the same way, thrusting into her wet core. She’d been wet all the time then, and naturally. Come to think of it, she was wet all the time now.
“Are you lubricated?”
“I am unimproved,” she said, her fingers curling over the edge of the mattress as he fucked her.
And he fucked her as hard as he could. He lifted her uppermost leg and buried his face in her hair. “Rub my balls,” he ordered and groaned when she reached between their thighs and did as he wanted.
But he couldn’t sustain the harsh tone or the quick thrust when she moaned. He heard not a moan of pleasure but a sound that told him he was the only one getting any satisfaction from their activity.
He jerked out of her and rolled to his back. A series of recessed lights dotted the ceiling. He wondered which ones also held optical equipment.
She turned and straddled him, sitting lightly on his cock. She licked his lips, kissed his cheek, and then took his earlobe between her teeth. Her words were but a whisper against his ear. “They will punish me if you are displeased.”
He thrust his fingers into her hair and tugged back her head. Her eyes were huge, glistening. Pleading.
“Sorry I pulled away,” he said, “My back hurt in that position. This is much better.”
Question filled her gaze, but then he couldn’t read anything in her eyes for she closed them, shifting delicately on his swollen penis.
His hands looked huge covering her small, sweet breasts. No signs of childbirth marred her skin. They’d wanted children, they’d agreed, but not until they’d been as far as man could travel in space, seen it all, done it all.
Fuck. He wanted to tell her that his first thought on leaving Earth had been of her. And he’d put her firmly from his mind soon after, seduced not by another woman but by the sensations of floating untethered in space, the earth but one planet in a sea of stars.
She leaned over and kissed his mouth.
“I’m hungry,” he said. “What’s available?”
“Whatever you wish. Simply speak your desire.” She kissed him again.
“That’s a double-entendre if I ever heard one,” he said, slapping her thigh, “but I meant I’m hungry hungry. As in needing a meal.” He dumped her onto her back, pulling free, and crawled out of bed. With an eye on the communications console, he said, “What’s to eat?”
A screen flared to life. “We have a wonderful array of choices today,” said a perky blonde with the same hairstyle as Evans. This woman was also wearing a uniform that said, Chef.
“I’ll have a bloody steak—and none of the ersatz stuff—and a good red wine. Slap something green on the side. Don’t ruin it with dressing or sauce, okay?”
“I think you’ll be as pleased with the gastronomic offerings as with the sensual ones.” The chef disappeared.
He and Evans ignored each other while waiting. She remained curled in bed while he stood by the window and admired the garden below, trying to identify the flowers. They were really too high to permit him more than wild guesses. A bird flew into the window.
“Damn.” He watched it plummet and disappear into the foliage, he assumed, though the angle was wrong for him to know for sure.
“Oh no,” Evans said, appearing at his side. She spread her palms on the glass and peered down. The sight of her, lean body tipped so earnestly toward the glass, arms spread, head bowed, hair a dark curtain concealing her face, stiffened his cock.
He stepped behind her and grasped her hips. Her head bumped lightly against the glass as he fucked her. He leaned forward and cupped her breasts, deepening his thrusts, staring out the window at the setting sun.
The buzzer alerted him that his meal was ready. He quickened his pace, then fell still. He’d wear himself out before his time was up at this rate. He wasn’t eighteen anymore. He hadn’t taken any drugs and had no credits to buy them if he discovered he couldn’t get it up hours from now.
The harsh sound of his gasps filled the room while he stood, hands on hips, and tried to control his lust. She slowly turned, leaning against the glass, her mouth open, her chest rising and falling as rapidly as his.
“That would have been a good one. For me at least,” he said. “But dinner calls.”
A hatch near the door held his meal. With chagrin he realized he’d not ordered anything for her.
As if he intended it all along, he plopped the tray, with its huge steak and mammoth bowl of salad greens in the center of the bed.
“Come here,” he said when she showed no signs of joining him.
She crawled across the mattress and knelt opposite him. And licked her lips. He poured the excellent red wine into the only wine glass and held it out to her.
“Attendants are not permitted to drink alcoholic beverages,” said his ubiquitous monitor. “There is an array of beverages for her selection beside the bed.”
Damn. He’d forgotten the drugs. Either they didn’t mix well with alcohol, or else her drinks were laced with more of whatever they’d already given her.
To his relief, Evans made no move toward the refrigerated hatch. He sliced a piece of steak and offered it. She leaned over and slowly closed her mouth around the tip of the fork as carefully as if it were the head of his penis.
His erection, not quite tamed, reared its head when she slowly settled into a cross-legged position. The pose revealed all of her to him. Her curls were damp. There may not be any sauce on his steak or salad, but she was dressed with an intoxicating mix of his come and her juices.
A shaft of primal pleasure sliced through him. He cut more steak, bit it off the fork with a growl and offered the next to her. But he held the fork just out of her reach and she had to lean on her hands to reach it across the wide tray. He held the steak out with one hand and slid his fingertips into her curls with the other.
She licked her lips and wriggled on his touch.
“Wonderful,” he muttered.
The salad was a peppery mix of greens he didn’t recognize. He plucked one feathery leaf from the mix and reached out and teased her nipples, first one, then the other, until they were tight points.
As she nibbled her next piece of meat, he combed and separated her tiny curls so he could see her better, see the swollen, elongated shape of her clit.
Back and forth they shared morsels of steak. His cock stood hard at attention throughout. Between the meat courses, he used pieces of greens to tease and tickle her clitoris, nipples, lips, and belly.
Slowly, she relaxed and began to smile. Her lips glistened with the juices of the meat. Her clit and nipples were taut and when the plate was empty, he shoved the tray aside, pulled her by her knees to the edge of the bed and spread her legs.
He knelt before her and pressed his face between her open thighs. Her scent filled every breath he took.
The heady Sara Evans scent he remembered so well. Whatever they’d done hadn’t erased it completely.
Her desire slicked his tongue, fingertips, and face.
“Please,” he said, coming up for air. “Climb over me.”
He put the tray on the floor and stretched out on the bed. She gifted him with her body
, straddling his, giving him total access while taking his penis into her mouth.
He alternated watching the swing of her small breasts with laving and teasing her clit. No matter which he paid attention to, he felt the tremors of her desire. Small sounds issued from her throat and she suddenly froze over him, her body stiff, and quivering. It was a tremor he knew she held in check.
He wanted the wild abandon he remembered from the past.
Capturing her hips in his embrace, he pulled her hard against his mouth and did not let up his teasing. She began to wail, buck and thrust against his mouth. He was awash in her juices.
He came in a quick pump of his seed into her mouth. He shouted at the ball-aching, gut-twisting, pure thrill of it.
Chapter 8
Evans watched Link sleep. He had a bruised look about his eyes. Simple fatigue. He’d made love to her four times. The agony of not being permitted to awaken him made her resort to subterfuge. She shifted sharply on the mattress and coughed.
As she’d hoped, he finally turned bleary eyes toward her and for a moment looked disoriented.
She licked his ear. “Wake up. You have only thirty minutes remaining.”
“Let’s eat.” He groaned when he sat up.
“Shall I order for you?”
“Us.” He said it simply. “What would you like?”
“An orange.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself.
“Okay.” He shrugged as if he did not remember the time he had sectioned an orange and fed the wedges to her one at a time, dripping the juice down her bare chest, then lapping the nectar off with his tongue. It had been the prelude to one of their sweetest lovemaking sessions.
Or had it only been sweet to her? He didn’t appear to remember.
The breakfast tray held her orange, already sectioned, arranged like flower petals around a strawberry center. His food, burned toast and black coffee, looked as stark and uninviting as a lunar landscape.
