“Good.”
He drained his cup and she half rose from her chair, reaching for it. Creed shook his head, pushing back his own chair to stand. “Come on, I’ll show you some irridium. If you like.”
When she nodded again, he led her into the next room, which contained a huge, comfortable sofa in a U shape, and various ottomans and hover tables, as well as a huge holovid viewing area in front of a blank wall. But on a side wall hung a large light box. Inside, lit with tiny glowlamps, was an odd chunk of silvery metal larger than a man’s head but serrated and cratered, with jagged edges that flashed in the lights.
“There it is,” he said, pride swelling his chest again. “What we extract from the mountain.”
She walked over to examine the piece. “It’s beautiful. And certainly shiny. No wonder it’s used for jewelry as well as tech.”
“Toughest metal in the galaxy,” he said. “Can melt it, but you can’t destroy it.”
She nodded with clear respect. He liked that.
He also needed to get to the mine, or there would be no more iridium.
“Got to go,” he told her. “Be home for the evening meal.”
Felt weird saying that to a woman, a woman he’d fucked and would again. Almost as if they were—he shut that out of his mind, locking it in a compartment of solid cerametal. They weren’t and would not be together, not in that way. They had tonight, possibly tomorrow and beyond that he would not plan.
“Okay.” She turned, arms twined behind her back. He liked when she did that, it was such a graceful and uniquely feminine pose, and one he wouldn’t mind seeing when she was naked. “May I go for a walk? I’d love to explore.”
“Yeah, sure. But don’t go out of sight of the compound and let me or Lani know where you’ll be. There are catamounts, and skrog are quarking big although mostly peaceful.”
He waited to see that she understood and then lifted his chin. “See you.” Then he strode out to his hovie and glided off up the mountain.
And when he got home, he’d see to his next project.
* * *
Creed shocked the LodeStone techs by knocking off work early that afternoon for the first time. Nels, who knew about his guest, merely smiled. Creed knew damn well his foreman would let the others know about Taara too, but Nels wouldn’t say too much, because he didn’t know much.
Creed made sure he and Taara ate dinner together and then he asked her to come to his room in an hour, to give him time to think on their past encounters—not that he hadn’t already been doing that in every spare sec. He’d also run through what he’d learned in his ‘research’, and pinned it down to one particular scenario.
Thus, when she appeared in his doorway, clad in her filmy, peach kimono, he held out his hand and waited until she walked across the room to him. Her green eyes held a mystery that beckoned him in; her lips were soft and parted. Just looking into those eyes was enough to stiffen his cock like a club in his soft pants, but he ignored it for now. This was about a sweeter prize than just his own release.
When he put his hands on her robe, it seemed to melt away under his calloused fingers like spun sugar, sliding off her slender, toned shoulders, revealing her pretty breasts. Her nipples were soft, but under his gaze they stiffened into hard points.
His mouth watered. Without a word, he took her hand in his and backed up, pulling her with him to the edge of the bed. He sank down on the edge and pulled her between his thighs.
“Do you want me—” she began.
He shook his head and gave her a look. “Not this time. You don’t have to do anything.”
She gave a kind of shiver at that, which he liked as it made her breasts quiver. Reaching up, he cupped his hand carefully over one and squeezed. Her flesh was firm, but so soft, resilient. Her nipple tickled his palm and he drew his hand back far enough to rub the tip between his thumb and forefinger. Velvet, warm and responsive.
The other breast beckoned, hanging before him like tempting fruit. Leaning forward, he nuzzled her. Ah, so silky and warm against his face. Her scent filled his nostrils as he slipped his hand around behind her, cupping her ass in its thin layer of lii silk. Then he opened his mouth and did what she’d done to him, what he’d dreamed of doing to her... suckling her.
She made a little sound in her throat, not a sigh, nor quite a moan but in between. Her hands fluttered up, then settled on his skin, one on his shoulder, the other cupping the back of his neck. She leaned into him, her body flexing in his grasp as her head fell back. Through their thin clothing, his cock rubbed into the yielding notch between her legs. His eyes nearly crossed at the painful pleasure.
He suckled harder, drawing on her, then playing the stiff nub with his tongue. Enjoying her at length before turning his attention to the other breast. It tasted even better with the scent of her pussy rising up to him, tinged with her perfume. The male predator in him growled his approval of her readiness for more.
He drew back just enough to wrap his arm around her waist, pull her kimono off her hips, turn with her and lay her back on his bed, her lower legs dangling.
Her eyes flew open, and she opened her mouth as well. He pressed his fingers to her lips and shook his head.
“Only thing I want to hear from you is if you need me to stop.”
He raised his brows in a silent demand for an answer and she nodded slowly, the skin of her face brushing his fingers. Her gaze was focused entirely on him. On what he’d do next. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing quick. She was excited by his taking charge—she liked it. So did he— a lot.
On instinct, he slid one fingertip between her parted lips. Their gazes locked as she curled her tongue around it and sucked his finger into her mouth up to the first knuckle. He groaned.
“Fuck. So soft. Like you are here.” He laid his free hand on her mons.
She moved under his hand, her hips flexing up to meet his touch, her sparse curls caressing his palm. Looking down, he spread his hand, encompassing the space between her hipbones, and stroking the satin skin of her belly, then drew his hand down, to reveal the neat triangle of hair and what lay below.
“Gonna taste you,” he told her, sliding his hand between her thighs. His hand closed around her thigh, squeezing the muscle, then stroking the incredible softness of her skin.
She made a small noise, a kind of squeak and bit his finger in her mouth. His gaze shot up to meet hers.
“Bite me again, I may bite back,” he threatened, just because he felt so damned good, felt like teasing. He had a banquet of beauty spread out before him and he was going to taste it and then slake his hunger inside her as well. He could not remember ever feeling this level of hungry anticipation.
Her hand shot down to cover her mons. He eyed it, then decided to work around it. He used his free hand to part her thighs, pulling them gently but firmly apart, so her feet dangled above the carpet. Ah, now he could see all her secrets, even with the partial screen of her slender fingers. She was so delicate, he could not believe she took his cock in her here, could accept his girth and length driving into her, and without pain.
About time he rewarded her for that.
Leaning closer, he drew his forefinger up the seam of her labia, between her fingers. The softest part of her, now swollen and wet. Her heady scent filled his nostrils like the fragrance of hot syrup.
When his nose and then his lips brushed her, she shivered. She moaned and sucked his finger deeper into her mouth, so his palm rested on her chin, his other fingers cupping her face. She also let go of her mons and cupped his head in her hands. That was all it took to drive him crazy. He opened his mouth on her, put out his tongue and got a taste of her wetness. Sweet and musky.
He explored, driving his tongue as deep as he could into her folds. She liked that, shivering in his grasp and moaning higher. Remembering his lesson, he licked higher and found the swollen little knot of flesh hidden in her golden curls. The clitoris, one of a female’s seats of pleasure.
D
efinitely one of hers. When he flicked it with his tongue, she went wild, whimpering and speared her fingers into his hair, holding his head cupped in her hands as if afraid he’d get away. He would have assured her he wasn’t going anywhere, but he was too busy attending to the signs—rising agitation, then stiffening, then jerking in his grasp as she cried out again, a paean of pleasure that cut sweetly through the quiet of his room.
When she went limp, sinking back on the bed, he did several things in lightning succession. Stood, ripped off his pants, bent one knee on the bed and slid one arm underneath her to lift her higher on the bed. Then vaulted between her thighs and took himself in hand, forging carefully but swiftly into her wet, hot, still pulsing channel.
Bracing his elbow beside her, his other arm still under her, he flexed his hips and drove deep, then began to thrust in luxurious abandon. She liked that, he could feel her react immediately, hanging on to him as she worked to take him deep, rising up to meet him. Took exactly six long, splendid thrusts before he lost it and came so hard he gave a shout of pleasure into the pillow as he jetted into her welcoming depths.
Afterward, he moved lazily in her just because it felt too good to stop. And groaned as she came again, her pussy milking the last of his pleasure. But finally, he lifted his head, and looked down at her. She looked the best he’d seen her look yet, even wet in the pool. Her eyes were half closed, dreamy, and her face was soft, her mouth curved up in a little half smile.
He smiled to himself. “Guess I did that right.”
She focused on him, and smiled back, her gaze strangely shy. “Mm-hmm.”
And being full of himself and his triumph, he stupidly didn’t stop there.
“Did some research,” he said, stroking his hand down over her bare thigh. “What women like. Decided if I enjoy this, you should too.”
And that’s when, to his shock, she lost it.
“You did research?” she hissed, her face scrunching up in fury. With maybe a flicker of something else … fear?
Creed kept his gaze on her. What the hells? What did she have to be afraid of? A few secs ago she’d been wrapped around him, her pussy squeezing his cock like a secret fist, her face soft and beautiful with release, her voice soft in his ear as she called his name, breathlessly.
“Uh, yeah. You’re taking care of my needs. I wanted to ... make sure you got yours.”
“No.” She shoved at him, her hands planted on his shoulders.
“No?” Now he was beginning to get irritated. Okay, he was past that. Anger and something that felt uncomfortably like hurt balled in his chest, hot and jagged. “Why the hells not?”
She succeeded in shoving him off, though only because he let her. She shot up to sitting, and scooted across the bed, away from him, giving him a fine view of her full ass, not turning until she was on her feet, reaching for her robe.
“Because,” she sputtered, her cheeks red. “This—this isn’t about me, it’s about you. I don’t—I mean, you don’t need to do anything for me. It’s not part of our contract and I … I don’t want it.”
Then she scurried out of the room, her robe fluttering behind her as if he were chasing her.
Creed was left sitting on his bed, alone. What the seven hells? He’d had her shivering around him, a bundle of feminine pleasure one sec and angry the next? She didn’t want the melting ecstasy she induced in him? Why the fuck not?
He’d wanted a woman for a long time. Now he had one. But he sure as quark didn’t understand her. He shook his head. No wonder males commiserated about women over drinks, confounded by the workings of their minds and emotions.
Okay, he was done trying to figure her out and he wasn’t linking Joran again. He’d use tech again, this time a different kind.
He linked into a program designed by a crazy but brilliant Indigon. The program took in the information about a situation and then used Indigon intuition and empathy that had somehow been infused in the program to come up with answers, in this case about why a woman would reject a man intent on returning the favor of intense physical pleasure.
What he came up with had, according to the program, a ninety percent chance of being correct. It shocked him, and then tickled him, to the point that he was grinning like a mischievous kid when he considered what he was going to do next.
Chapter Eleven
It took Taara a long time to settle down, even after a hot showerdry and changing into an ensemble of cream lii silk knit, trimmed with spider lace. The short, off-the-shoulder top fit like a glove, as did the snug skirt, but the fabric was so light and stretchy it almost felt as if she was not wearing anything at all. She tucked her hair up in a messy knot, scowled at her flushed cheeks and turbulent gaze in the mirror, and stepped into a pair of little embroidered flats.
Then she paced her comfortable, quiet bedroom, with quick jerky steps. She was shaking, her heart racing, tears pressing at the back of her eyes. She felt as if she was coming apart inside. What was wrong with her? Why was she so upset? She’d shocked herself as much she had him with her explosion.
She should be happy that he wanted to please her. For goddess’s sake, the last time they’d been together she’d been angry that he had not taken the time to do so. She must be going crazy.
It was just that she was already deep in shifting sands here and she did not need him deciding to seduce her, too. Making her want him more than she already did. Making her long for more. For a dream she hadn’t let herself dream for years, that she’d meet a man, a strong man who’d want her for his own and they’d have a place in the galaxy where they could be safely together, where she’d look after him and he’d look after her.
And now here she was with this beautiful, lonely man, whom she’d just learned was also a hero. She’d spent her life in awe of the legendary Zhen-Lou vigilantes, most of the galaxy had. To learn that Creed Forth had been one, that when she touched him she was touching a living, breathing crusader … it was too much.
It wouldn’t last. This was a business deal. And that was all it could be. Because … because … she hadn’t the courage to go for more. She was about as far from a hero as one could get. She was a coward, one who was barely holding on to her resolve.
She perched on the edge of one of the comfy chairs, arms wrapped around her middle, rocking back and forth as misery threatened to overcome her and hot tears burned at the back of her eyes. She felt as if she were being split in two emotionally.
She wanted Creed, but she didn’t want to want him. If she did, that meant what they did together was important. And if she let him be important to her, if she let him in … she was afraid she’d never get him out. He would split her stunted heart wide open.
She’d closed herself off from people after her parents died, she knew that. She loved Daanel, he was her cousin and she understood how to love him. He was her friend and her only family. Kiri had snuck in too, and was now a dear friend.
Damn Logan Stark to the seventh hell. He was the one who’d brought her here, given her a taste of this. Forced her to let Creed Stark into her life. She was so tired of being buffeted by forces beyond her control, from the sandstorm that had taken her parents to the gangers who’d destroyed her and Daanel’s chance of happiness on Earth II, to Stark’s demand that she come here.
Finally, in Creed’s bed she had gained some measure of control. She was the experienced one in this relationship. Now he’d taken even that from her. And at any time, either he or Stark could jerk this fragile peace away, send her back to her old life. Creed, released from his celibacy, would find some other woman and probably marry her, bring her here and treat her like a queen.
And Taara would be left with a broken heart—again. This time would wreck her for good. Because she’d been a girl when her parents died. Now she was a woman, and if love and lust took hold of her, she’d never get loose from their toils.
Sniffling, Taara turned away from her own reflection. She wanted Daanel, or Kiri, wanted to have a pity party with someo
ne who understood and would sympathize. And she couldn’t even have that.
Her comlink chimed, reminding her that just to put the fizz in her drink, it was time for her weekly link with Daanel, time to once again convince him she was partying it up on Serpentia while searching for stylish clothing in the markets there.
To her relief, he was not available, so she left him a quick message, detailing the false itinerary she’d set up for the week, with the help of some minion in Stark’s employ.
Then she signed off. Seeking solace, she wandered out onto the wide balcony outside her room. The sun had gone down behind the eastern mountains and the air was merely warm now, instead of hot. The scent of sun-heated evergreens drifted down the mountain on a gentle breeze.
“I know why you got angry at me.” The soft, deep voice behind her stiffened her body in instinctive defense, although she didn’t move from leaning on the railing, back arched and legs crossed.
As Creed Forth joined her at the rail, she continued to gaze out at the golden, peachy glow gilding the tops of the mountains, and casting lavender shadows into the river bottom. The river itself was silvery, the brush along the banks shadowy green. Although the beautiful scene failed to penetrate now.
As always when he was in the vicinity, she could focus on nothing else. Every part of her was aware of him, but she would not show it.
“Oh, I wasn’t angry. Just explaining how it should be with us.” There, she sounded sweet and reasonable. Sort of.
“Yeah, you were angry.” There was a smile in his deep voice. No, a grin. A smug, self-satisfied male kind of grin, as if he had her all figured out. Well, so big lizard balls, as Daanel liked to say.
She gave him a sidelong glare, her fingers tightening on her forearms.
He was smiling at her, mostly with his eyes. How did he do that? It was distracting and did funny things to her belly. She didn’t like it, not a bit. She didn’t like what he said next, either.
Creed of Pleasure; the Space Miner's Concubine (The LodeStar Series) Page 12
