Every day, she expected Nakashima's men to come bursting through the doors, guns blazing. But most likely, he'd get her through more devious, stealthy methods; a nurse with a toxic needle, a pillow over her face in the middle of the night. But every day passed, and every night passed, and she kept waking up alive.
And every day and night brought images dancing to her mind, old lusts and needs revived within her body. She lay in her bed, eyes wide to the darkness, picturing Greene's body above hers, thrusting into climax. She could clearly remember that moment when he teetered on the brink, falling over into bliss. Milo loved that split second of surrender, drawing it out and savoring it like fine wine. Now he was sharing it with Darah. Their connection was as real and palpable as her hand in front of her face. They were in love.
She recalled Milo's body in vivid detail, from the sparse, silky hair on his chest, to his cock, hard and thick, with a slight curve to the right. Grace recalled his salty taste, and her mouth watered in reaction. She remembered hot, passionate interludes, the pain of leaving him. The devastation of watching from a distance as he and Tammy Wallace had rushed out of an old stone church amidst a shower of flower petals and good wishes.
Even from her vantage point from across the street, she'd seen the joy on his face as he'd kissed his beautiful redheaded, ivory-skinned bride. He'd laughed then, and Milo was beautiful in his happiness. And then he'd caught sight of Grace as she hovered behind an old tree. They'd exchanged sad smiles. It was too late for them.
Years later, when she spied on Tammy's funeral, he'd looked worn and sad. She'd cried harder then than she had at his wedding. The first time, the tears were for Grace Chen. The second time she cried, the tears were for Milo.
She lay in the dark and remembered, and as her arousal began to elevate, another image joined the first, Darah with his dark hair hanging loose, wrapping them both in the shelter of his great wings. She craved the touch of both men. It had been so very long, and now that she was locked in a prison of plastic and oxygen, Grace was starved for human contact. And Darah Lash? He'd been the one to put the joy back into Milo Greene's eyes.
Milo was with an alien, not the woman who still loved him. She should resent Darah but she didn't. He had her gratitude.
I suppose it's really love when I want Milo's happiness more than I want the man.
Grace Chen was a rogue. She was a fighter, tough and dangerous. For the past five years, her life had been one of fear and struggle. Her Tiger's spirit had been steadily crushed by illness and terror and the never-ending hunt.
She knew she should be afraid of Darah, and yet the Thalian made her feel ... safe.
How very strange.
She sighed and shifted, scanning the room for intruders, and then settled back into her rest. She let her eyes drift shut.
In the corner, she'd seen him, a great, dark figure in the shadows, watching over her, guarding her sleep.
Darah was here, and she was safe.
* * * *
"I'm not quite sure what she's doing. Maybe she's finally snapped from the boredom."
Milo stood at the edge of Grace's environment, watching in admiration as she moved slowly, feet in place, a focused expression on her face as her hands drifted slowly from side to side.
Darah stood close behind him, not quite embracing Milo, but close. “It's not tai chi, is it?"
"No, she really doesn't have space in there to do a tai chi set.” They continued to watch as Grace ignored their presence, seating herself on the floor, legs crossed. She continued moving through patterns. “Qi Gong? I understand it has health benefits for the sick and feeble."
Darah grinned when he felt a spike of irritation from her. He nudged Milo with his hip. “I think her grandfather taught Qi Gong to elderly people in Wharf. That makes sense. She's not really strong enough to do anything else."
"Fuck you, Milo! You too, you damned bird!” In frustration, Grace rose, shoving her feet into slippers. “This is all I have space for, and I'm going crazy here!” She flopped onto her bed, shoving aside a pile of magazines and books. She bounced slightly, glaring at the men as they grinned at her anger.
"One more week, Grace. You can hang on."
"It's already been a month. I'm going crazy in here."
"We saw.” Milo couldn't stop the grin. Behind him, he felt Darah's warmth caressing his body, and knew if he leaned back, he'd feel a substantial erection. His ass clenched and his balls went tight at the suggestive pose they'd taken. What was Darah up to? This was for Grace's benefit.
As though in answer to Milo's unspoken question, Darah's hand came around Milo's waist, the warmth of his palm resting over his belly. He couldn't help noticing Grace's eyes following the movement of Darah's hand, her eyes dropping to Milo's groin before flicking away nervously.
He was teasing her! Damn flirt!
Milo sucked in a deep breath, remembering the original purpose of the visit. Reluctantly, he moved from Darah's hold and pulled a chair next to the clear plastic barrier that divided them. Not to be deterred from whatever purpose he had in mind, Darah moved behind the chair, looming over Milo.
Territorial. He was being territorial, but there was more going on.
Over the past weeks, they'd spoken of Grace, of her undercover work, her illness. They'd never spoken of Milo's deeply buried feelings for her. Nor had they addressed the attraction that simmered in Darah's eyes as he looked at the woman. The pressure between the three was building, and Milo not only feared the outcome, he anticipated it.
When the men wrestled on the bed together, when he plunged his cock into Darah's body, Milo often tasted her name on his lips, her ghostly image floating before his eyes, her beautiful face twisting in ecstasy as he climaxed in Darah's powerful embrace.
Darah knew, and Milo suspected that he shared that particular fantasy. But what about Grace?
He shoved those thoughts aside as Grace moved within inches of where he sat. She'd gained a bit of weight. Her curves were returning, along with the muscular strength that he associated with her.
She wore hospital issue clothing, a stretchy tank top and thin sweatpants. He could see the dark shadows of her areolas beneath the white fabric, and as he watched, her nipples went hard, pebbling before his gaze.
Behind him, Darah shifted, and Milo had no doubt where his focus was.
"There have been kidnappings...” He cleared his throat, uncomfortably aware of the rising tension in the room. “In the City, as well as here. Women are being taken, and we can't seem to get a handle on it."
"And you think I know something?” Her chin went up and her eyes sparked in indignation.
"I thought you might have some insight. Even though you've been outside the Red Flags for a long time, you've lived close to the streets. You might have heard something."
She searched his eyes, and then glanced up at Darah's somber face. He caught his breath as she looked back at him, as always struck by the strong, elegant lines of her face. She wore her thick black hair pulled back in a style that would be stark on most women. On Grace, it revealed exquisite cheekbones, the strong perfection of her features. He also recalled that face with the hair loose, falling around her face softly as she laughed. There hadn't been much laughter this past month.
She reached out, long fingers trailing down the thin plastic barrier, her eyes followed their progress. Milo waited.
"I heard rumors ... Tyreese...” She swallowed hard at the mention of her treacherous lover. “I heard Ty talking to his lieutenants. There were some people. He thought they were from another country. They were paying the Yakuza for women.” Her eyes met his once again. “Two women from our gang vanished after that. I finally realized that Ty had turned them over to Nakashima in lieu of the tithe he usually paid."
"Nephris.” Darah barely whispered, but the word cut through the room like a knife.
The Nephris had migrated from Earth during the early days of space exploration, centuries earlier. At the time they'd left,
they were a misogynistic cult, religious fanatics who hated women, viewing them only as a necessary evil.
"You think they'd come here for women?” Darah's hands settled on his shoulders. Milo could feel his tension. He reached up and gave one hand a comforting squeeze.
"They've taken women from the Thalian, as well as other planets. Their own don't seem to last too long."
Grace looked at them with horror. “That's what he called them ... he thought they were from Europe, maybe Central Europe."
"I must advise my superiors. It would seem that the Nephris are taking advantage of Earth's criminal networks to obtain their women. We will locate their ships and create an embargo. They'll be unable to enter this system."
"Will that stop them?” Milo glanced up at Darah's face, which was now grim. His fingers tightened slightly on Milo's shoulder.
"Their technology is still primitive. They will be using small, short-range craft."
That meant he'd be leaving. Milo's chest went tight with pain, which he immediately suppressed. He'd come back. Besides, Darah had mentioned his upcoming furlough. He'd be on the ship for many days. He needed to get used to the idea that they would be parted.
Darah cupped a hand under Milo's chin, tilting his face upwards, and then leaning down to look Milo in the eye. “I will come back."
Milo found the truth in his eyes and nodded. Darah leaned down further, his lips meeting Milo's in a lingering kiss.
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Chapter Nine
Holy shit on a stick!
Grace stayed rooted where she stood as the two men embraced, mere inches from her. She very nearly felt the heat of their bodies from the other side of the thin barrier.
Her heart twisted as it so often did when she looked at Milo, at the man she'd surrendered in the name of duty.
Back then she'd been a stupid, stupid girl, thinking she could walk away, save the world, and then come back to find him waiting.
That's just not how it worked now, was it?
As Darah broke the kiss, those dark blue eyes of his flashed with unearthly light, meeting hers with a feral intensity. That intensity had been present from the time they met, and had been growing by the day.
She licked her lips nervously, noting that his eyes watched the movement. She stifled a shiver, feeling warmth and moisture escape her body.
You are the loveliest female I've ever seen.
She blinked, glancing at Milo to see what his response was, but he acted as though Darah hadn't spoken. She met Darah's eyes once more.
I feel his desire for you. I want you. I want us all...
She blinked, aware of a tickle behind her forehead. Grace stepped back, wrapping her mind around what was happening.
She'd heard his thoughts.
A smile slowly creased his face as Darah began to suspect what was in Grace's head. “Milo, stand up."
She watched as Milo slowly rose. Darah moved the chair away and stepped up behind the man once again. The look on the Thalian's face twisted her gut. Sweat bloomed on her skin as she watched the men move even closer to the barrier. Just inches away, Darah stopped, wrapping an arm around Milo's waist, his hand slipping under his jacket, into his shirt.
She watched.
Darah's wings slowly expanded. His head ducked, nuzzling at Milo's jaw. The other man's eyes dropped shut in pleasure. Darah began unbuttoning the crisp white shirt, his hand searching out Milo's hardened nipples. With his free hand, he pulled the shirt loose from Milo's black trousers.
"You wish you were touching him."
She met his eyes and nodded slightly. Grace stood perfectly still, watching the slow stripping of Milo. Darah's hand dropped, unbuckling Milo's belt, opening his pants. She felt her lips part slightly as Milo's cock came into view, hard and ruddy, a glistening drop running down the head.
"Shall I make him come for you?"
Her mouth went dry.
Step closer.
She obeyed the whisper in her mind, stepping forward until she pressed against the barrier. It was surprisingly supple, thin as silk. Darah pushed Milo forward. Through the plastic, she felt his warmth. Grace lifted a hand, palm open, and Milo reached up, placing his palm against hers.
She felt a painful hitch in her breath ... it felt so good to touch ... to be touched. She let her head drift forward, until their foreheads met, resting together. For the first time since she'd been brought in, Grace freely allowed memories to rush through her mind. Milo, nearly a decade ago, black hair glossy and bright in the sun; his grey eyes were sometimes moody and sad, but more often bright with laughter. She remembered seeing him that first time, a big white man in a black suit. He was quiet and dangerous, his fierce passion held under tight control.
From where she stood, looking down at his bare torso, she could see that he was still muscular, his abdomen still ridged with muscle. She looked down further, and saw the hand of his new lover, touching where she used to touch.
Darah's big hand clasped Milo's cock, stroking gently, slowly, as he watched her through hooded eyes. As he stroked, his hips rocked into Milo's ass in a gentle parody of the act.
"Milo, have you ever...?"
"No. Not yet."
He'd never allowed Darah to take him. He wasn't repulsed or afraid, she could see that. One side of her mouth pulled up into a smile. Without moving her head, her eyes shot upward, meeting Darah's gaze. A similar smile edged onto his face.
"Now that's something I'd like to see."
Her hand dropped. Through the barrier, she pressed her hand over Darah's large fist, pleased that the plastic had enough slack for her to roam a bit. She cupped her hand under Milo's testicles. He gasped, rolling his head until he was cheek to cheek with Grace.
She brought her hand up, running it over his hard belly, up to his chest. Darah had stepped back, returning with the chair. He worked quickly, stripping Milo of his shoes and then his pants. “There ... put your foot on the rung of the chair."
Milo followed his instructions, turning his head back to watch Darah. “You came prepared ... Did you plan this?” He had an anxious smile on his face.
"No, I didn't plan, but it's good to be prepared for any eventuality, don't you agree?” Darah's head was bent as he readied himself. Grace felt Milo jump a bit. She smiled wickedly. She remembered the feel of cool, slick lube going on, going in.
She leaned forward and whispered, “You're going to like this, Milo, I promise. Do you remember the first time we did this?"
He did, and his cock jumped at the memory. Grace moved as close as she could; the barrier limited their ability to hold one another, but they could still share warmth, and she could help him balance. She peered around his shoulder. The Thalian had opened his own pants. His erection was rigid and enormous, now glistening with lube. His cock was long, broad and curved up to his belly. Even flaccid, he was probably huge!
Her aching, empty passage clenched hard on nothing.
Darah reached around, grasping Milo's erection, stroking, caressing, bending down to rain kisses along his neck and throat. Slowly, his wings opened, and Grace recognized that his posture was one of arousal, with just a touch of dominance. Milo wouldn't take well to being dominated, and from the look in his eyes, Darah was well aware of that fact.
She spoke, hoping to divert his attention from his slightly overbearing lover. “When he starts to enter, relax, bear down."
"I know.” And he did know. He'd just never been on the receiving end. He looked down into her eyes. Their faces moved together, and through the thin plastic, they kissed. Grace felt his tongue stroking her lips, his hand roaming her body, gliding up to cup her breasts.
Impulsively, she pulled the thin top off, leaning closer, pressing her body into his.
"The rest ... take the rest off as well.” Darah watched her strip, his eyes hot as flame. She stepped back and slowly turned away from the men, bending over to lower her pants, and then looked over her shoulder before turning.
&
nbsp; "What is on your back?” Darah's voice was harsh, almost choked.
"It's a tiger. Tell him about your tiger, Grace."
"Later.” She stepped back to the men, tugging at the plastic, drawing as much slack as she could. While she couldn't wrap her arms around them, she was able to bring her leg up, hooking it around the back of Milo's knee. She ground her mons against his thigh, a pole dance on living flesh.
"Do you remember, Milo, that time at the strip club?” Her voice purred into his ear, and Milo felt his arousal rise another notch. For Darah's benefit, he let the memory glide through his mind. Grace on the stage in a smoky room, sultry music driving her into an orgy of skin and limbs, fucking the pole, for all to see, but for his eyes only.
"Amateur night. You put the pros to shame."
Her laugh was husky with arousal, and again she rode him. This time, she rubbed herself against his swollen shaft. He wished he could feel her crisp curls, the slip of her juices. He ran his thumb over her swollen nipple, smiling to see her face go still, those golden eyes losing focus.
Behind him, Darah moved close, his arm looping around Milo's chest. The Thalian watched Grace with feral intensity, his rigid, hot shaft sliding up the crease of Milo's buttocks, coming back down to begin his invasion.
He shifted Milo's elevated leg, opening him just the slightest bit. Milo felt pressure as Darah began to penetrate that virgin opening.
"Bear down,” he rumbled. Milo's breath caught in his chest as a slow burn told him that he'd been breached.
"Breathe, Milo.” Her voice was low and seductive, and once again, Milo lost himself in her eyes, in the movement of her body.
The retreat made him groan with unexpected pleasure, enough pleasure that he was eager for the burn, the deep, dark invasion. Again, and then again Darah pressed in, and pulled back until his shaft was buried gloriously deep, wedged tight inside of Milo's body.
The rhythmic thrust began gently, easily, and Milo found himself wedged between the two, caught in a state of blissful weakness. As Darah fucked him from behind, Grace ground her mons onto his swollen cock, keeping him hard, his pre-come trickling, slicking him up. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to sink balls deep into her body, but he could only look and touch through the sheet of plastic that kept them apart.
Black Planet: Tiger Eyes Page 6
