by Cathryn Cade
He waited, leaning against the galley bar. He was hot, perspiration gleaming on his face and throat, his hair disheveled. As if someone had been running her fingers through it. His hooded gaze slid down over her, then back up to linger on the collar. The corners of his mouth turned up.
“I am here,” she snapped, stopping just inside the door.
“So I see. Close the door,” he said, his gaze running over her.
“I don’t wish to be enclosed in your tont with you,” she said, fighting for calm. “I was once again very embarrassed in front of my acquaintance, not only by your rude summons, but by your manipulation of this-this collar. I want it off, now please.” There, that had been polite but firm.
His eyes narrowed even farther. “Close. The. Door.”
“No, I really—”
“Zaë, now.”
Zaë closed it, and then stood before it, her back militantly straight, but her middle trembling. He was angry again, and this time it seemed to hold a reckless edge.
“Come here,” he drawled.
She shook her head and he moved, prowling forward like a large predator.
The collar vibrated again, this time just barely, but somehow on this setting it was worse, because it sent gentle shivers of sensation down through her, in the back down her spine, and in the front down to her breasts, which tightened under her thin dress.
“Mm-mm,” he approved, nearing her. “You feel that, don’t you, bunny? I can see your pretty little nipples. Hard as berries.”
She shook her head again, in denial that her body was responding in this bewildering way. “You must stop this. I can’t—” No, don’t say ‘I can’t bear it’, that betrayed vulnerability. “I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, you do.” He watched as she sidled to the left, toward the open space between the divan and a stack of cushions. “Your body likes it, it can’t lie. Reckon you can feel it lower down, now can’t you?”
It was true, the pulses of sensation had traveled down, down to gather between her thighs in a hard, hot pulsing knot. She pressed her thighs together, and then made a tiny sound as the motion only made it worse.
And he continued to watch her with that Tygerish gaze that saw everything.
“Come here, my Zaë,” he coaxed. “I’ll make it all better.”
“Oh, no. No, no, no.” She ducked to one side, away from the danger and temptation he represented.
Stark moved faster than any human should, and his hands closed over her hips, trapping her against the wall. The tont was firm but resilient at her back. He moved closer, looming over her, inundating her with his heat and scent—heavily overlaid with cloying perfume.
“Ugh, stay away from me,” she cried, grimacing. “I won’t let you touch you after you’ve been with another woman—especially that one. That’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.”
His silver gaze went molten with anger. “Yeah, I’ve been with another woman. And disgusting? I’ll agree. Spent nearly two hours wallowing in luxury aboard her cruiser.Playing to the woman, flirting and pretending to be seduced into doing what she wants.”
He leaned in, his face all she could see, his gaze holding hers as his hands dug into her flesh, branding her as his. “It disgusted me too, you consider that? Now, I want to feel clean, my Zaë. I want to bathe in your sweet freshness, to forget what I’ve been doing.”
To her horror, she wanted him too. Wanted his arms around her, his mouth on hers again, wanted him to do whatever he wanted, if only it would ease the ache pulsing between her thighs.
But the other woman’s heavy perfume lay on him like a miasma. A scent that made her ill, despite her body’s response to him, to the collar. How could he ask her to help him forget his own actions? And why had he been with that evil creature in the first place?
“In the two days I’ve been in your camp, you’ve been with three other women, Joran Stark,” she said, holding up three fingers between their faces to emphasize her point. “And this one is worse. She’s not one of your camp followers. This time, you’ve lain in the coils of a serpent. You’d better check for bite marks, for any moment the poison will paralyze you instead of just rendering you stupid and blind.”
He shook her, her head bobbling. “That’s enough. You don’t get to use your sharp little claws on me, bunny, unless they’re digging into my back because you can’t stand how good I’m making you feel. You get that?”
Frightened now, she shrank back. Mayhem blazed in his eyes, in the clench of his jaw, the flare of his nostrils. He looked angry enough to strike her, despite his promise.
“Show me you understand, my Zaë?”
She nodded.
“Good. Now stop being scared of me,” he ordered. “I’d never hurt you.”
“You c-can’t order me not to fear you. That’s not at all logical.”
His head went back, and then he lifted his chin, although his gaze was still stormy. “Sorry. You’re right about that. But those other women are none of your business. None. As for today, did you leave this tont after I told you not to?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “But only because I—I was afraid for you.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. Only, not sure I believe you.” He examined her expression. “You were afraid, or jealous?”
She shook her head, but he merely gave her a look that said he knew better. “You saw me with her. Why’d you call her a serpent?”
“Because,” she spat. “I’ve seen her before. Several times. You see, Storm, your new lover is a—a sadist. She enjoys toying with helpless beings.”
“What? Explain.”
“Oh, yes. She likes to watch them suffer, the more the better. She would taunt us, walking among the cages where they kept us, enjoying a drink and food while we watched, hungry and thirsty and frightened. She enjoyed our reaction more than her food and drink. She liked it even better when the guards brought her one of the slaves to humiliate and hurt. She—-”
“Stop,” he said. He pulled her to him, her face pressed against his throat. “Stop. Fucking hells, Zaë.”
He was truly enraged now, she could feel his big, powerful body shaking with it. But now it wasn’t aimed at her. And as he cradled her in his powerful arms, she felt him fight for control.
“Lucky for that bitch I didn’t know earlier that she was that bad. I would’ve strangled her...slowly.” He tipped her face up to his. “When you mentioned crazed slavers, I thought you just meant Vadyal and his men. Did she touch you?”
“Not me,” she said. “But others. I watched her beat a Pangaean so badly he didn’t wake for hours. She laughed when he screamed, Joran.”
He made a deep sound in his chest, a feral growl that sent every hair on her body standing straight up with visceral alarm.
“All right, that shit ends now,” he said, his jaw set like steel.
Without letting go of her, he touched his ear and spoke. “Pede? Yeah. Our guest gone?”
He listened for a moment and nodded once. “You have eyes on her? Right. I want a double guard on the camp tonight. Now enjoy your time with your woman. This may be our last quiet night for a while.”
Then, apparently he was done talking. With a swift move, he bent to thrust one arm behind Zaë’s knees and lifted her high in his arms. Shocked, Zaë hung onto him as he carried her through the tont to his bedroom. Her heart leapt with fear and excitement as she saw the big bed waiting.
He laid her on it, and then held up his hand, palm out, his eyes narrowed. “Do not move. You get me?”
She nodded, but eyed the door. Maybe she could just tiptoe out while he was distracted.
He shook his head. “Don’t even think about it, bunny. I’ll catch you, and I’ll punish you.”
“Punish me?” She sat up, and squirmed backward in the pillows, her feet tangling in the dress. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
The beast winked at her, a slow insouciant gesture that made her frown in deep suspicion.
“Hurt you? Hells, no.
Turn your sweet ass red with my palm again? Tease you until you beg me for release? Oh, yeah.”
He sauntered away, discarding clothing as he walked. She gaped at his bare, broad back and then at his tight, bare buttocks and long, muscular legs. When he disappeared into the lav, she gave a sigh of relief. But it turned to a startled squawk as the collar began to send little pulses of vibration through her, some strong enough to make her gasp, some so mild she barely felt them.
“Joran,” she wailed, squirming. “Make it stop.”
He laughed, a low taunting sound that echoed through the partly open door of the lav. “Not yet, bunny. Now remember, don’t move. And don’t touch yourself. I get to do that.”
She lay there, body quivering as the vibrations made her aware of every inch of her body and how the fabric of her dress felt against her skin, the bed underneath her, even the press of her own flesh as she squeezed her thighs together again.
The showerdry splashed in the background, followed the puffs of the dryer. Then the stall door clicked open. She stared at the door of the lav, mesmerized as it opened to reveal Stark.
Clean, damp, his hair combed back sleekly from his angular face. And all he wore was a pair of snug underpants. He was so beautiful. His broad shoulders, muscled arms and legs, the broad plain of his chest with its dark triangle of hair arrowing down to lean hips with indentations that arrowed down into his low-slung underwear. His torso was bisected by a thin trail down over his flat belly that led the same direction.
And possibly the most impressive part of him, certainly the most frightening, was the long, hard shape outlined by his thin knit pants. His penis. She’d seen it, seen him using it on that blonde. The memory hurt, but it didn’t ease the needy ache inside her.
He reached the bed, and set his hands and knees on the end, his gaze locked on her. Then he crawled to her with a slow intent that froze the breath in her lungs and set every molecule of her being vibrating with the collar.
“I washed that bitch off of me,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. “Now you’re gonna help wash her off my soul.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” she said instantly. Her voice quavered like her belly as he loomed over her, his arms and legs bracketing her body.
He smiled slowly. “Yeah, you do, baby.Just lookin’ in those big blue eyes of yours, you’re doin’ it right now, and I’m gonna teach you the rest.”
She shook her head. “No. No. Not after you’ve been with her.”
He leaned back on his heels, and reached for the hem of her dress, lifting the light fabric up to bare her legs. “Baby, I didn’t fuck her, I swear—sooner laser myself than dip my cock in that.”
“You didn’t?” Zaë let him work the fabric up higher, baring her hips, and the tiny lace panties she’d purchased.
He shook his head once and then stilled, his gaze riveted on her mons. “If I’d known you had these on under there, I would’ve taken this dress off first thing.”
He let go the dress to touch her hip and trace his fingertips along the line of lace. His touch was warm, but still it sent a deep shiver through her.
“Stop,” she pleaded. “Turn it off.”
He looked up at her under his lashes, and smiled. “Oh, baby. That’s not the collar anymore, that’s all you. Reacting to my touch.” Watching her, he repeated the caress, his fingertips wandering off the lace onto the tender skin of her inner hip. His smile deepened. “Feel you shiver under my touch, like you’ve never felt that before. That’s sweet, my Zaë. So sweet.”
Bracing himself on one hand, he leaned over her, his long hair falling around their faces, a curtain hiding them from the world. He smelled of man and soap and temptation.
“I’m not your toy,” she managed, pressing one hand to his chest to hold him away. She was immediately distracted by the feel of him under her hand, hot and firm, satin skin and the intriguing dusting of hair that tickled her palm.
“But I’m in the mood to play,” he murmured. “And here you are, a soft little bunny in my bed. Perfect playmate.”
“I’m not a—” she began, but then he kissed her. His mouth closed over hers, his lips warm and firm. Once again she was surprised that a man’s lips would be so soft—especially his. They didn’t look this tender. Or so magical that when he nipped at hers with them, she wanted to open her mouth for him, part her own lips to let him tease her more, with soft brushes of his lips over hers, little nibbles as the corners of her mouth that enticed her hold very still, so that he would not stop.
That she would want to kiss him back, and reach up to hold on to his shoulders to hold him there for more. That when his tongue slipped in and touched hers, she would shiver with pleasure. Or that he would taste so good, that she would want more, want his tongue in her mouth, his lips sealed with hers, his big body settling on hers, pressing her into the bed, his hard hips cradled between her thighs.
He lifted his head at last and leaned his forehead on hers, taking a deep, uneven breath. “Fuck me,” he whispered, as if he were laughing at himself, and his own fallibility. “One thing you can do, my Zaë, is kiss.”
Pleasure curled through her, hot and sweet. Her toes curled, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
“Like to do more,” he went on. “A lot more. But I’m not goin’ to.”
“Why not?” she asked and then clamped her mouth shut, her cheeks hot.
He traced the curving line of her jaw. “Because, bunny, you’re a virgin. Not going there. Don’t need you getting the idea it’s more than fucking. And if you have someone, waiting for you somewhere, I don’t want you feeling dirty when you leave here.” He smiled slightly at the look on her face.“Some beings place a high value on only mating with their chosen partner. You could be one of them, have a man who’s one too.”
“Humph. You’re very certain of your prowess. Maybe I don’t want to do more with you.”
He lifted his head, and gave her a look. Then he simply smiled, a wealth of smug knowledge in his silver gaze. “Yeah,” he said. “You do.”
Now she was angry again. “Oh, and how do you know this, Storm? Using your Indigon powers again, are you?”
His brows flew up, and he stared at her. Then his eyes crinkled at the corners, his face creased into a beautiful, infuriating grin, and he burst out laughing.
Chapter 21
The bed shook with the force of The Storm’s deep, rollicking laughter. Zaë felt it all through her body, beguiling and as always, maddening.
He tipped his forehead down to hers on one last chuckle, his breath gusting on her chin. “Ah, bunny. My Indigon powers. I forgot there was such innocence in existence. You must’ve been living in cloisters of some kind.”
“Get off me,” she demanded, shoving at him. “I’ve had enough of your making fun of me. I repeat, I am not your toy.”
He shook his head, grinning down at her, and moved to trap her between his arms, one of his knees planted between her thighs. “Not making fun of you, my Zaë. Well, maybe a little. Just finding it hard to believe you’ve so little experience with sex.”
He cupped her cheek in his hand and bent his head to brush a kiss over her lips. “A man knows when a woman is aroused, sweetheart. The way she looks at him, the way she holds her body, her head. And other changes. Your berry-hard little nipples, and the way you pressed your thighs together. There’s an ache there, between them, right? A kind of hollow wanting that can’t be eased except with the right touch.”
He kissed her again, and she let him, and then lay still as he went on, his voice like warm honey, his silver gaze holding hers mesmerized. “And I can smell you. Smell your sweet pussy, sending off pheromones like a homing beacon. And if I touch you here—” she flinched as his free hand cupped her mons over the thin lace and silk of her panties. “—you’re wet. Your body’s way of easing the way for me to come inside you, deep inside you, and soothe that ache.”
She didn’t realize she’d made a sound until a soft moan emerged from h
er throat. She closed her eyes tightly, but there was no hiding. His hand tightened, his fingers rubbing her panties into her. It felt so good she couldn’t stop herself from moving, arching up into his touch, offering herself to him.
He kissed her again, hard, his head tilting so he could take her mouth. His tongue slicked inside, taking possession of hers before withdrawing to sup on her lips. He groaned, flexing his hand on her.
“I have to touch you, baby. Swear I won’t fuck you until we know who you are, but I have to have just a taste.”
His fingers delved under the thin barrier of her panties, tracing the swollen seam of her labia. She cried out at the shock of sweetness, and he kissed her again, hard this time as he repeated the caress, his fingers slicking deeper.
She’d touched herself of course, but his fingers, much larger, rougher, male, felt so different. And they weren’t guided by her, but by a man who knew just what to do and did it, not quickly but with ruthless skill.
He explored her, sliding one long finger deep inside her, stroking it in and out several times. Zaë moaned again, hanging onto him as the strangeness of the sensation sent her shivering and arching under him. The succulent sound made her eyes fly open. She was that wet?
“That’s it,” he crooned into her mouth, his slitted silver gaze watching her. “Fuck, you love it, don’t you, baby? So responsive. See how you like this.”
His finger still inside her, he slicked his thumb in the moisture of her folds, and set it gently on the swollen bud nestled in her damp curls. Zaë lost control, bucking under him, rubbing herself on his hand.
“Oh, yes, please,” she gasped, then kissed him, begging wordlessly for what she craved.
“Mm-m,” he approved. “Is this what you did to yourself last night?”
She nodded. “Yes, but I…oh!” It hadn’t felt like this.
He gave it to her, circling his thumb around her clitoris, massaging it in a light and practiced rhythm. Then he hooked his finger inside her, pressing on a magical spot on her vaginal wall. Sweetness imploded inside her, and she clung to him, a high, thin moan bursting from her throat. Her orgasm was so much stronger with something inside her.
