The Commander's Captive

by Alix Nichols

  He’d already glimpsed it once before through the window of this bathhouse that she’d left open… on purpose, he suspected. But on that occasion, Nyssa had been sporting a full bush. He knew it was fashionable among noble-born ladies to remove all body hair, including their groin thatch. She must have given up on that habit.

  Until today.

  He stared, appreciative and unapologetic. The absence of pubic hair revealed the top of her nether lips, and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. If his hands had been itching to touch her breasts, now they burned to cup her sweet cleft, find her bud and rub it, plunge a finger into her heat…

  With a gasp, she turned away from him.

  She picked up a bar of soap and rubbed it over her throat and her round, full breasts. Then she slid her hand down to her tummy and legs.

  When she reached behind her, he opened his mouth to offer to soap her back but stopped himself at the last moment.

  She must ask for my touch.

  Rivulets of water ran down her face and shoulders, coming together between her breasts to kiss her serpent pendant and rush farther down, over her slit, and down her legs. She put the soap aside and lathered herself, stroking the sides of her breasts, palming underneath, squeezing lightly. Circling around their erect peaks without touching them.

  “Rub your nipples,” he rasped.

  She stopped moving and quirked a brow at him. “Your giving me directions wasn’t part of the deal.”

  He held her gaze. “Touch them, Nyssa.”

  Surprising him—and herself, judging by her confused expression—she did.

  His breath hitched.

  Her eyes bored into his as she closed her thumbs and index fingers around her nipples and rubbed.

  He stared, enthralled.

  Goodness, she was beautiful!

  Slowly, her eyes grew hooded and her gaze lost focus.

  Jancel knew doing this for his benefit aroused her as much as it aroused him. He detached himself from the wall, leaning forward a little in a pathetic attempt to get closer to her. But he didn’t step forward.

  Not yet. Not until she asks for it.

  His erection lifted his trousers like a tent pole. He nearly shook with the suppressed need to be all over her, in her.

  His breathing was pained when he rasped, “Between your legs now.”

  She closed her eyes and slid her right hand down.

  He groaned something unintelligible before he pulled himself together enough to say, “Spread them.”

  She bent her left leg at the knee and slowly opened it, pushing the knee to the side. Brushing her fingers over her folds, she rubbed the little pearl between them, up and down at first, and then in a circular motion. Her head tipped back and a flush of arousal reddened her face.

  In his whole life he’d never wanted anyone as much as he wanted this woman, not even his late wife.

  “Rub harder.” He’d meant it as a request, but the edge in his voice made it sound like an order.

  She seemed beyond caring if this was part of the deal. She rubbed harder, shifting the weight of her body against her hand, pressing her fingers into her slick, swollen flesh. Water slid down her face and body, making her skin silky.

  His chest rose and fell. It was getting increasingly hard to stay where he was.

  “Nyssa,” he whispered.

  My bristling wildcat. My purring little kitten. The woman I crave.

  Abandoning all decorum, he reached inside the waistband of his slacks and wrapped his fingers around the base of his member.

  She bit her lower lip.

  “Slip a finger inside you,” he ordered, vaguely aware that he should’ve asked more politely.

  But she obeyed his command the instant it was out. And then she went above and beyond, pumping, adding a second finger, pumping harder.

  His cock swelled in his hand until it was as hard as a metal rod. His balls stirred, working. “Open, show me.”

  She spread her folds. “Is this enough?”

  He ogled the bright pink treasure between them. “No. But I’ll make do.”

  Suddenly, all he could think of was her feminine nectar. How it would feel coating his fingers, his sex… How it would taste on his tongue…

  “Are you wet, kitten?” he asked.

  She laughed as water rained over her. “Is that a trick question?”

  “Inside, Nyssa.” He was too far gone, too crazed to smile at her joke. “Are you wet inside?”

  Her grin gave way to an entirely different expression. Intense. Sultry.

  “Why?” she asked in a husky voice.

  “I need to know.”

  She eyed him. “Bring your ass over here and find out.”

  14

  In two big strides, Jancel was under the shower. The spray soaked his white shirt and made it cling to his torso, reminding Nyssa how gorgeous his chest was. How gorgeous all of him was.

  With his gaze locked on hers, he reached for her center.

  She caught his wrist, laughing. “Not so fast.”

  His face fell.

  Oh, she loved his eagerness, the fervor in his dark gaze! The man was practically chomping at the bit. Naughty as she was, she wanted to tease him, delaying his reward and her own gratification.

  “Undress first.” Nyssa curved her mouth into a sly smile. “I need to see you.”

  She gave the sleeve of his shirt a gentle tug.

  “Careful—the sheaths!” He jerked his arm away.

  It was her turn to be taken aback. “The—what?”

  He lifted his eyes skyward. “Never mind. I forgot I’d changed into an unaltered shirt. You are in no danger.”

  She frowned, confused.

  Instead of explaining, he yanked his shirt off. “My lady’s word is my command.”

  She surveyed his chest approvingly. It looked even more desirable than the day she’d given him a massage.

  “Your trousers, now,” she said, omitting the please as he had done.

  He removed them together with his underwear, grinning at her slacked jaw as she eyed his proud member.

  She shut her mouth and lifted her eyes to his face, frowning.

  “What is it, kitten?” he asked.

  “I haven’t had sex in over a year… Much too long.”

  “It’s been long for me, too.”

  She turned her left cheek to him. “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re hot.” Her fingers went to her lips as her gaze dipped back to his shaft. “You’re able. Why not?”

  He shrugged. “No time to find a girlfriend. No wish to do it with prostitutes.”

  “Turn around,” she said, surprising herself.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve seen your naked back—and it’s a work of art if I do say so myself—but I have yet to see your ass.”

  He squinted. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “As you wish, my lady.” He turned around.

  She gasped at the sight. “If you come to your senses one day and quit your army job, you could model for sculptors.”

  He chuckled.

  A ray of the setting sun caressed the length of his body.

  Nyssa reached down and placed a hand on a cheek of his tight ass, then moved to the other one.

  “Gorgeous,” she muttered under her breath.

  Sliding her hands over his hips, she wrapped her arms around his torso, palms flat on his stomach, and pressed her entire length to his back.

  He covered her hands with his, and they remained that way for a moment. Then he spun around, turned her back to him, and walked her to the wall. Her heart lurched with anticipation—and then with joy, when he pressed his much larger body into her back.

  He nuzzled her nape, kissed her neck and shoulders. When he bent his knees, his shaft pressed against her backside, hot and impatient.

  Will he push inside me now?

  She spread her legs a little, struggling not to
beg him to do it.

  But he drew away instead.

  Nyssa looked over her shoulder to discover him crouched down behind her.

  He grabbed her thighs, nudging them wider apart. “I’ve been dying to do this.”

  He gave her a long, rough, slow lick of his tongue, front to back—all of her.

  Already crazy with arousal, she came undone. Another lick, and the throbbing of her inner muscles continued instead of letting up. Jancel flipped her around again and buried his face in her mound. She lifted one leg. He pushed it higher still and thrust a finger into her heat, pumping, while his tongue laved her pearl.

  Incomprehensible sounds rushed out of her throat as wave after wave of pleasure surged inside her.

  He slipped another finger in, withdrew both, and rubbed the tips over her entrance, pressing a little.

  She groaned and whimpered with pleasure. “Get your fingers back in.”

  When he did, she shuddered.

  His thrusts picked up speed, increasing her pleasure, kindling a new fire between her legs. She carved her fingers into his hair. Her blood rushed to her head, rang in her ears, and sizzled with lust. Jancel pumped his fingers in and out of her, his rhythm fast, relentless, and unbearably sweet.

  Soon, her little noises coalesced into one endless, throaty moan.

  With her hands in his hair, she gyrated her hips and drove them up and down. Pleasure built, fiercer and more primal than anything she’d experienced before. Within minutes, her climax exploded inside her, then built again and exploded again, and again, and again. The world ceased to exist beyond the flicks of his tongue and the frantic rhythm of his fingers.

  Then, suddenly, she couldn’t take any more.

  Panting, she pushed against his forehead. “I need… a… respite.”

  He pulled his fingers out and stood.

  Nyssa slumped against him, limp like the fruit jelly the cook made for dessert on Sixth-days. Her knees wouldn’t hold her. Jancel wedged her between the warm, wet tiles of the wall and his own hard body.

  “I want more,” he whispered in her ear.

  She knew what he wanted.

  “Yes,” she whispered back. “Goddess help me, yes.”

  “I’ll get the towels—”

  “No!” She gripped his arm. “I want it now. Here.”

  A thrill shot through her veins as she uttered those words. With the need to feel his hardness under her fingers overwhelming her, she smoothed her palm on his erection.

  His eyes hooded. When he opened them a brief moment later, they were ablaze.

  She grew wilder still. “Take me now.”

  The fire in his eyes searing her, he grabbed the back of her thighs and heaved her up.

  Yes, yes, yes! It was happening. She trembled as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, locking her ankles against his ass.

  He swung her around to the other wall, blocking the spray. His member nudged her folds. She clung to him, bit his earlobe, and wriggled to align his tip with her entrance. When his shaft brushed her inner lips, she whimpered.

  And then he penetrated her.

  F-f-finally! She arched, her neck straining and her head tipping backward.

  Being filled and stretched by a man she desired—the man she’d wanted half her life—aroused her in such a powerful way it staggered her. And the friction, ah, that delicious, slick, hot friction inside her! She’d missed it so.

  He gave her another long, deliberate stroke of his groin. She gasped, panted, even sobbed a little with every exquisitely thick inch he pushed into her. The joy of it was almost more than she could bear.

  Her body shuddered.

  He began to thrust with a measured rhythm, but as he progressed, his pace grew jerkier, and his thrusts deeper and harder. Perspiration beaded his forehead. His grip tightened, his fingers digging into her flesh.

  Nyssa’s pleasure snowballed.

  She wanted it all, everything he had to give, everything she’d craved for so long. Arching into him, she rocked her hips, kissed and licked his forehead, nose, cheeks, lips and jaw—everything within her reach.

  His pounding grew frantic. She could sense he was as close to his release as she was to hers.

  On his next hilt-deep stroke, her inner muscles clenched around him and her legs began to quiver. Convulsing inside and shaking outside, Nyssa opened her mouth and let out a deep, wild cry of completion.

  Through her rapture, she heard him groan her name as the hard length inside her began to throb. He pulled out, eased her to her feet and pumped his hot seed onto her tummy.

  When he was spent, he pulled her closer so that they were both under the spray. He picked up the soap. Gently, he cleaned her and then lathered his own body.

  His demeanor was relaxed, boyish.

  “You look like someone who just got laid,” Nyssa said.

  She expected him to respond with an ironic quip, but he simply grinned at her. “I feel good, kitten. I’d forgotten that feeling.”

  She stared at him, unsure how to react to his admission.

  Mischief touched his eyes. “But now that you reminded me, I’m going to want more of it.”

  He gripped her nape, angling his head for a kiss. “A lot more.”

  15

  Jancel hadn’t meant to take Nyssa in the bathhouse.

  The plan had been to get her all hot and willing, maybe finger her a little, and then move to his room, where he had a pitcher of contraceptive blue cosh tea ready. He could only blame his lack of restraint on the rum in his system.

  But it was all right. Just like the inhibitor pills that he hadn’t been able to procure, cosh tea could be taken both before and after the sex.

  He glanced at Nyssa, who’d put on her blouse and pants, as he led her to his room. She’d be relieved when he’d offer the tea to her. An unwanted pregnancy—by him and while held captive—was bound to terrify her. Just as it terrified him.

  Once inside his room, she climbed onto his bed and beaconed him. “So, you say you want more?”

  “Oh yes! But first things first.” He filled a glass from the pitcher. “Drink this.”

  She screwed up her eyes. “Another Baylian vaccine?”

  “No this is local stuff—blue cosh.”

  Understanding flickered across her face.

  Incomprehensibly, she pushed the glass away. “I won’t take it.”

  “It’s to prevent—” he began.

  “I know what it’s for.” She gave him a duh look. “But it makes me nauseous.”

  “I don’t want you getting pregnant,” he said bluntly.

  “Neither do I. We’re in full agreement on that point.”

  “Then drink it.”

  “I’d rather take an inhibitor pill.”

  He spread his arms. “I wasn’t able to find any.”

  “They’re easy to come by on the black market.”

  “Not the suppliers I’d reached out to, apparently.” He sat down next to her on the bed. “Can you give me a name of a supplier you’ve used in the past?”

  She squirmed uneasily. “I never bought them myself. It was always my lovers who took care of that.”

  “Well, same here.” He smirked. “Since my wife passed, I’ve only been with a few women. And they took care of that, too.”

  “I’m sorry about your wife,” she said. “Can you believe it I didn’t even know until recently that you’d been married?”

  “It was many years ago.” He looked away. “And it didn’t last long.”

  They kept silent for a while.

  “Anyway,” she said at length. “I’ve tried blue cosh tea twice. Both times it made me really sick, for days on end. It felt like my body wanted to expel all my insides just to make sure the tea was out.”

  He stared at her, brows drawn.

  “I don’t want to take that stuff again.” She scooted closer and touched his cheek. “Besides, it’s very unlikely I’ll get pregnant after just one time, and considering you withdrew be
fore you came. You know that, don’t you?”

  His frown deepened. “One time? I was hoping—”

  “I mean, one night,” she corrected herself.

  “Just one night?”

  She nodded. “Between now and tomorrow, you can take me as many times as you want to and are able to. In fact, you’re strongly encouraged to do so.”

  “What happens tomorrow?”

  “You give me that extremely important piece of intel, and we go back to the way we were before tonight.”

  “You won’t stop wanting me.”

  “I want a great many things,” she said. “Doesn’t mean I act on all those wants.”

  All right. If this was how she wanted things to be between them, that was how they’d be.

  He stood up and removed the towel from his hips.

  She ogled him.

  He divested her of her shirt and pants. “Turn around, kitten.”

  She gazed at him questioningly.

  “On your hands and knees,” he clarified. “For starters.”

  An hour after midnight, when neither of them was able—or willing—to have more sex, he lit his bedside lamp and fetched them some food from the kitchen. They wolfed it down. Then they snuggled in his bed with his arms wrapped around her and his leg draped over hers.

  As he was beginning to drift into sleep, she lifted her head and propped it on her elbow.

  “You gave me lots of orders tonight,” she said, “in the bathhouse and here. And yet I didn’t mind.”

  He peeled his eyes open. “Does that surprise you?”

  “I normally hate being told what to do, but tonight… I didn’t.”

  “It turned you on.”

  She nodded. “I’m just trying to figure out why.”

  “Because”—his face crinkled up—“I have a natural authority, kitten. You had no choice but to submit to it.”

  She flapped her hand in dismissal. “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  “No, I’m really serious, Jancel.” Her face was adorably determined. “I’d like to understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “Why someone like me—someone who values freedom above all—why didn’t I mind you taking charge, dominating me?”