Hers To Cherish (Verdantia Book 3)

by Knight, Patricia A.

  A soft gasp fled her lips as the cold solution warmed. The insidious tickle of the nanobots’ increased movement and her ungoverned writhing in reaction began. A thousand nibbles titillated the pink buds of her nipples and streaked riotous sensation to a clit already tortured by the touch of a million phantom strokes. Ramsey sat and watched her suffer as the uncontrolled stimulation pushed her closer and closer toward orgasm. She could no longer silence her pleading mewls of helplessness and they echoed in the room and grew in frequency. Every fiber of her being concentrated on staving off the impending climax as she thrashed uselessly in her binding.

  With a quiet inhale of breath, Ramsey stood and climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs. His heavy cock probed and stretched the entrance to her hot pussy in a promise of male possession.

  “Ramsey, I’ll come. I’ll come.”

  He answered her with a grunting surge into her depths, his engorged staff distending and stretching her needy flesh, the base of his cock bearing down on her tortured clit.

  “So, come.” His dark growl preceded the heavy blanket of his weight compressing her body into the luxurious bedding. His arms wrapped her upper torso, and his nose nested in the hair behind her head.

  “God! Ramsey!” Climax slammed through her and her hungry pussy milked his engorged organ in wave after wave of uninhibited contractions. The vast pleasure rocked her soul-deep. His low groan vibrated her rib cage, but his heavy body lay on her, quiescent, relaxed. Ram hadn’t come. If anything, his cock swelled further, pressing an unbearably sensitive place high inside her, stretching her sheath to the point of painful fullness.

  The first waves of her first climax had not fully receded before Steffania realized with unease that the nano-bots on her nipples and clit pushed her remorselessly toward another. Climax again consumed her and again the heavy contractions of her inner sheath convulsed around the thick, breaching fullness of Ramsey, still as hard as when he first entered her.

  He grunted a guttural, “Good.”

  He still had not come. His dead weight and the téad de ghrásta ropes immobilized her. She could only lie opened, penetrated, forced into paroxysm by the indefatigable nano-bots. Once more, she felt the inevitable rise of orgasm. The inexorable stimulation of the bots pleasured her body, while her internal imaginings hit every previously fantasized setting. It was the stuff of her most fevered dreams made real, complete to the man she cast as lover. Once more, her body jerked helplessly in the throes of ecstatic convulsions, her slick inner flesh sucking the male engorgement impaling her. Yet, Ramsey’s supine weight never moved. His muscles remained relaxed.

  “Again,” he growled. “Again until I come.”

  And so began the excruciating procession of climax building upon climax. Pressed into the bed by Ramsey’s weight, immobilized by the téad de ghrásta, Steffania concentrated on augmenting her involuntary contractions with the forceful, purposeful clenching of her interior walls.

  “Yesss, like that. That’s the way of it,” Ram instructed in a guttural rasp.

  Steffania drowned in the sensations of her body – the indefatigable climb, the breaking apart in a cataclysmic explosion of pleasure, the abbreviated resolution before the cycle started once again. She began to dread the imminent rise, for still Ram lay upon her as if dead. The stretching fullness of her sheath and the now frequent twitches of his cock within reminded her he yet lived. Finally, when she thought the insane pleasure would drive her mad, his heavy body shuddered and warmth spread inside her.

  She begged, unashamed. “Make it stop. I can’t take any more.”

  In silence, Ramsey pushed himself up and slipped free in a flood of tepid fluid. Steffania immediately felt the loss of his penetration, his fullness. Had she not been so desperate for surcease from the insidious nano-bots, she might have murmured a complaint. As it was, released from the press of his burdensome weight, she took her first deep breath since the start of ‘torture by orgasm’. Ram reached over her for the amber solution and neutralized the oh-so-efficient little bugs.

  “Thank you,” she breathed softly as he spread the soothingly cool neutralizing solution across her over-stimulated nerve endings.

  His glacial grey eyes met hers and his lips twitched in a faint smile. He released the ropes binding her legs and with a groan of relief, she unbent her knees and shook out the cramps in her legs. Ramsey’s strong hands massaged her cramped knees and thighs as she moaned with pleasure. In silence, he freed her arms and unbuckled the cuffs on her wrists. Ram rubbed each wrist with gentle fingertips, soothing away the marks of the binding and then placed each arm across her belly.

  He moved to stand at the side of the bed and methodically coiled his rope, his movements unhurried and painstaking. He glanced at her from time to time, impassive, unreadable. His shoulders slumped, his eyelids closed, and then he straightened with a shake and resumed his methodical task. Fatigue had carved deep grooves on either side of his mouth. Through eyelids surfeited with relaxation, Steffania realized she observed a man functioning through force of will.

  Now she lay as if dead. Any movement seemed beyond her but the bathroom with its warm water and soap beckoned. The slippery cool of Ram’s semen and her own juices puddled beneath her bottom spurred her to attempt the journey. Her arms threatened to collapse as she pushed herself to a sitting position. She scooted forward and stood but her knees buckled. With a grunt of effort, Ramsey caught and steadied her against his hard body. Their eyes met once more and Steffania wished again that she could read his mind. He had not spoken since his guttural instructions but the intelligence in his eyes told her his brain remained engaged, focused. Ram released her, his arms falling away. She swayed. He reached a hand to her shoulder and steadied her and Steffania staggered into the bath.

  When she returned, Ram lay in the bed. He held the covers open for her and she wilted into position next to him. His strong arm banded her waist and spooned her to him, then relaxed in a languorous drape, his arm and leg trapping her against him. His nose nuzzled and then buried itself in her hair.

  Steffania lay physically wrecked, incapable of movement. But mentally? Her brain whirled as she examined what she knew of Ramsey DeKieran. She puzzled over his contradictory behavior – his harsh and insensitive words – his gentle treatment of Pansy and his quiet aftercare of her. At any time in the last three days, he could have made obedience to his demands impossible. He had not. He had asked for her trust and shown her extremes of pleasure she had not imagined possible.

  Who was this man and what was she to him? Steffania wondered if she would ever know. She confessed to a carefully protected part of herself that with every passage of another day, the importance of an answer grew. She feared that with each new dawn, she surrendered another small bit of her heart to Ramsey DeKieran. It would hurt when Ramsey walked away from her but she doubted she could stop him. She knew it was too late for her heart.

  Pansy. She needed to tell him about Pansy’s odd behavior, but wrapped in the arms of Ramsey DeKieran, safe, satiated, exhaustion claimed her and she knew nothing else.

  Chapter Eleven

  Steffania scrubbed her eyes and peered at the wall clock. It read mid-afternoon. A heavy male leg sprawled across her stomach and immobilized her. Ramsey sat upright against the headboard, flipping through a data tablet, the occasional tap of his fingers audible in the quiet room. Seeing her awake, Ramsey removed his leg and shifted his position. Blinking, Steffania propped herself up on her elbows. Her regard shifted to Ramsey.

  {The Estella Racha left dock at NT 14:35 hours. It is now NT 15:00 hours. I’m still here.}

  Ram kept reading but responded to her statement with a guttural affirmation.

  {Ramsey – why?}

  He glanced at her, an eyebrow arched in question.

  {You could have ensured I was on that vessel – but you didn’t. Why?}

  Ram held her glance for a long moment then frowned. {The answer to that is obvious.}

  S
teffania shook her head. {Not to me.}

  He shrugged negligently and returned to his data tablet. {I didn’t want you to leave.}

  She flopped back and stared at the ceiling, stunned. A warm sense of happiness at his answer permeated her and she ruthlessly repressed it. She told herself she was happy because she remained to complete their mission. She wished her staying was because he wanted her – really wanted her. But, personal feeling would never sway Ramsey DeKieran. She had simply proved her worth.

  {I’ll contact DeTano and tell him not to expect me.}

  Ramsey looked up slowly. His voice betrayed no emotion. {Not necessary. I spoke with him mid-morning yesterday.}

  {Mid-morning yesterday?}

  He held her eyes for a long moment, then nodded slightly and returned to his data tablet.

  Steffania collapsed on her back, anger beginning to ignite. She had tortured herself with anxiety for more than twenty-four hours when Ram knew she wasn’t leaving? She rolled to her feet, dragging part of the bedding around her and faced Ram. {DeKieran.}

  He sighed and put the tablet down, his entire attention now on her. {You said you wanted to stay. Have you changed your mind?} He tipped his head in challenge.

  She pressed her lips together tightly then took a deep breath and slowly let it out. There was no way to win. {No. I want to stay.}

  He grunted and resumed his reading. {Then I see no problem.}

  Steffania straightened, closed her eyes and counted to ten – and then counted to twenty. When she opened her eyes again, she asked, “You do not train today?”

  “Mmm, no. Today is an off day.”

  “I didn’t think to ask you about how the Games work. What is the procedure? How are these games organized?”

  “The games begin tomorrow with a mêlée of sixteen fighters. When eight are left standing, they will be divided into two teams of four. The next day, those two teams will fight each other until two individuals remain. Those final two will vie for the title of Dominion Games Champion, similarly waiting until the next day.”

  {Have you given any thought about how we will access Narr’s estates if you lose?}

  Ramsey’s eyes never left his data tablet. {I won’t lose.}

  The assurance in his voice brought a wry smile to her face. {What about that questionable humanoid – the one who tried to drown you in Vxloncian brew?}

  Ramsey stilled. His lips pursed and he nodded slightly. {Yes. The Khlossian could be a problem.} He went back to his perusal of the data tablet.

  She shook her head at him in irritation and stole a quick glance toward her UniLinc 4.5 in the one “blind spot” in the room. A three-dimensional, cross section of Veacon Narr’s main residence revolved in mid-air. Glowing red traceries delineated the security layout. Steffania studied it carefully to make sure she understood what she was seeing. The vast majority of Narr’s security resided in an extensive basement and sub-basement complex. Curious.

  {DeKieran, I am going to disable the bugs in this room.}

  His eyes flashed toward her then back to his reading. {Yes. I need a briefing on the results of your data miner program. I studied that hologram this morning, but damned if I could make anything of it.}

  After bathing, applying makeup and wrapping the ridiculous scraps of diaphanous nothing around her hips, she carefully disabled the spies in the room. As she finished disarming the last one, Ramsey sauntered out of the bathroom, wiping his face with a towel, dressed in nothing but form-hugging black knit briefs. His muscles bunched and flowed with a liquid fluidity that reminded her of a predator at the top of the food chain. By all that’s holy, you are a fine looking man, Ramsey DeKieran. She shook herself mentally at his sudden grin. Shit, shit, shit. Comm-disc. His grin broadened but thankfully, he didn’t comment. Heat suffused her face and her ears became hot. Pink sand cats, pink sand cats, pink sand cats – think, pink sand cats.

  Ramsey stood beside her, so closely her nose detected the smell of clean male. Pink sand cats, pink sand cats.

  “What am I looking at?” He gestured at the slowly rotating, 3-D display projected above the UL4.5 in bright green.

  “This is a holograph of Narr’s main house and its security. The glowing red lines delineate the security feeds. The pulsing lights are physical access terminals – with either video feeds to a central guard console or security doors,” she said levelly, pointing with her finger at each area of interest. “There were several other estate buildings but none of them showed the level of security or the numbers of living entities that the big house had. I decided to concentrate my efforts on it.”

  “What’s all this?” Ram’s finger circled the lower levels where crimson predominated.

  “I don’t know.” She caught his eyes. “I would like to ask Pansy.”

  Ram wrinkled his brow and looked a question at her.

  “She knows more than she’s telling. I wanted to say something to you yesterday, but...well . . .”

  “Hmmm,” Ram interrupted. “Call Pansy.”

  When the violet-eyed beauty entered the room, she saw the holographic display and halted. The look of inquiry on her face vanished, replaced by stark terror. She whirled and bolted from the room.

  “What the –?” Ram frowned. “Bring her back.”

  A slithering thump sounded from outside the door. Steffania ran into the hallway then crossed to Pansy, crumpled on the floor. The tiny beauty’s mouth gaped open in silent, wracking sobs.

  “Pansy.” Steffania knelt next to the weeping slaaf. “Pansy, talk to me. What’s wrong?” Steffania might have been addressing the wall for all the response Pansy made.

  Unable to endure the petite woman’s heartrending silence, Steffania gathered her into her lap like a small child. She held her and rocked her back and forth. “Whatever it is, I’ll help you. Please, stop your crying and talk to me.”

  The little beauty clutched fists of Steffania’s hair and wept silently onto her bare breasts. She seemed incapable of stopping her outpouring of distress.

  “What is going on out here?” Ramsey, now wearing a pair of synth-leather pants, slumped against the doorframe. “Steffania?”

  Steffania shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know what to do for her. She won’t stop weeping long enough to speak. Maybe you can get something out of her.”

  With a sigh, Ram walked over to stand looking down at Steffania and the sobbing Pansy. “Give her to me.”

  Steffania gently disentangled Pansy’s hands and leaned back to allow Ram to gather the woman into his arms. Childlike, Pansy immediately burrowed herself into Ramsey’s hold. Ram walked into the bedroom, moved to the low chair and sat. Pansy curled into a tight ball on his lap and clung to him. Steffania wondered what could cause a mature woman to behave in such an infantile fashion.

  “Sweetheart, speak to me.” Ram’s low voice rumbled softly over her almost silent sobs. “Pansy, calm yourself. Talk to me.” His broad, capable hands ran up and down her back.

  Little by little, Steffania watched the woman’s shudders quiet under Ram’s paternal touch.

  “I can’t go back there. I’ll die,” Pansy whispered. “But I can’t do what he says, either.” She glanced fearfully at the exact spot on the headboard where the sound recorders hid and then to the corner statue that concealed the vidcorder. Another wave of wracking sobs convulsed her small body.

  Ram frowned at Steffania. “Who is ‘he’?”

  “I don’t know.” Steffania shrugged. “Pansy, I disabled the ‘spies’ in this room. You can speak freely.”

  Ram continued to pet the tiny woman. “Shh. Pansy, you must talk to me. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

  The brunette murmured a garbled, “He can’t hear me?”

  “Steffania says not,” Ram said.

  Pansy looked at him dubiously.

  “She is a very unusual slaaf. I believe her.” Ram pushed Pansy’s hair back from her face and tilted her head up to him. “Now, who is ‘he’?”

  “S
trom Kella,” Pansy choked out. Her initial response opened the floodgates and the whole story poured forth.

  Pansy had noticed early on that Ramsey lacked the featherweight armatura, the impenetrable body armor used by combatants from technologically advanced planets. Certain one of the sponsors would remedy this lack before the games started, she remained silent. When it became obvious to her that no one would step forward to assist this man who had been so kind to her, she resolved to obtain some for Ram. The previous day, Pansy had left the villa with the service crew at mid-day and returned to the residence of Dominus Metrios. She knew the dominus had several extra sets. She doubted he would even know one was missing.

  “That is where you went,” Steffania commented. “I came out and you were gone. I wondered.”

  The violet-eyed slaaf looked up at Ramsey with a weak smile. “That is what the black bag holds.” She pointed to the, as yet, unexamined sack on the floor. “I thought I could slip in and out while Dominus Metrios trained.” With a shudder, she snuggled further into Ram. “The Enforcer observed me entering a cab and stopped the driver.”

  “What was Strom Kella doing at Dominus Metrios’ villa?” Steffania asked.

  Pansy shook her head. “I don’t know. Dominus Kella asked what I was doing. I couldn’t lie to him.”

  Steffania winced. No, Pansy couldn’t lie to anyone about anything. The woman was transparent.

  “I told him I wouldn’t do what he wanted. He told me he would send me back to Veacon Narr for a session in the ‘quiet room’ if I disobeyed.” Again, the tears started. “I will lose my mind if I go back there.” Pansy broke into quiet sobs.

  Ramsey’s low voice interrupted her. “What did Strom Kella ask you to do and what is the ‘quiet room’?”