Whoever he was—friend, enemy, passing stranger—she was having the most erotic fantasy about him. The water pattered exactly where she imagined his fingers would go. Faster and faster the shower moved, as though adjusting itself to her rising excitement.
Nella cupped her own hand over herself as she lifted her hips high. Her moisture poured over her fingers, mixing with the water. She pressed herself hard, closing her eyes to the warm feeling, letting the water cradle her. If the man were beside her, he’d give her a warm smile, nuzzle her cheek, kiss her lips.
Who was he? Was this his house? And what kind of man had a shower that engendered these kinds of fantasies?
Nella cried out again as a dark wave of pleasure rose up to drown her. She fantasized his hands, his tongue, his lips, his smile—all swirling together into an erotic dream. She gasped for breath and collapsed down onto the bench again, panting like she’d sprinted a mile.
Nella lay still a while, calming, and the water calmed with her. It seemed gentler now, soothing, cradling her in her afterglow.
After a time, Nella blew out her breath, rose from the bench, and finally shut off the water.
No towels.
Naked, she stood beneath the drying unit opposite the shower, letting wafts of air dry her skin and keep her warm at the same time.
All right, now she was clean, dry, rested, and sated as hell, but she still had no clothes.
Nella returned to the bedroom. Her bedroom at home had cabinets built into the walls, hidden so that the wall resembled a smooth surface when everything was closed.
She skimmed her fingers over the panels and smiled as the wall rolled back, blending perfectly into the panel next to it. Inside the closet, she found drawers and hooks for clothes, but all were empty.
She searched the room for other cabinets, but found none. She had the bed, this empty closet, the fabulous bathroom, and that was it.
Nella speculatively eyed the door opposite the one that led to the bathroom. It would be locked, if she were a captive.
A slight depression marked the wall next to the door, deep enough for a fingertip. Nella touched the indentation, then blinked in surprise when the door slid open.
Beyond lay a softly lit hall, the air also carrying a spicy scent. Two more doors opened off this hall, and at the end was a lift.
So, not a captive—at least, Nella wasn’t confined to the bedroom suite. Before she explored, though, she needed clothes.
Nella stepped into the hall, the soft floor covering tickling her bare toes. It felt pleasant. No—more than pleasant, sensual.
That was it, this entire place had been constructed with sensuality in mind. On Ariel, Nella’s palace provided every comfort, but this house, wherever it was, promised pure, tempting sensuality at every turn.
Nella could not open the other doors in the small corridor, so they were no help. She retreated into the bedroom, snatched the sheet from the bed, and tucked it securely around her plump body. Carrying the end over her arm, she walked down the hall again and approached the lift.
It politely opened its doors for her. Soft, cool air ruffled Nella’s hair, and the scent changed from spicy to subtle, taking on a hint of flowers.
Nella stepped inside the elevator and was searching for finger controls when a male voice said impatiently, “Well? Where do you want to go?”
She jumped in alarm then realized that the voice came from a speaker. It was electronic, not human.
Nella had been given an implant when she’d turned fourteen that allowed her brain to master languages when she needed to. When she’d arrived on Bor Narga, it had activated to speed-teach her that language, though she spoke it with a slight accent.
“Up?” she suggested.
“Could you be more specific?”
“Not really. Where is the man who brought me here?”
“You mean Rio? Are you sure? I can take you to the kitchen for a nice bowl of soup instead.”
A very solicitous lift. “No, I want to talk to him.”
“Well, there’s no accounting for taste.”
The doors closed and the lift began a smooth journey upward. A long one. How many levels Nella ascended, she didn’t know, because the lift had no indicator.
The lift slowed again and the doors opened, spilling her into a wide room, softly lit and painted a quiet peach color. Faint music wafted on the very the edge of her hearing.
A door at the end of the room opened onto a room more brightly lit. Nella heard voices from it, and she slowed her steps, stopping where the shadow of her room met the light of the next. She looked inside, and caught her breath.
The walls of the next room were covered with mirrors. Standing before them, reflected back a hundred times, was Nella’s rescuer.
He’d removed his tunic and stood clad in leather leggings that hugged powerful thighs and a tight backside. He was tall and black-haired, his face as hard and handsome as she remembered. A slim black chain fitted around the massive biceps on his right arm.
He wasn’t alone. In the center of the room stood a bed—or at least a cushioned platform strewn with pillows. A woman had positioned herself on this, naked, on her hands and knees.
She’d twisted her red hair into a knot, leaving her neck free for the collar she wore. A silver chain hung from the collar and swung between her bare breasts.
Behind her stood another man, as tall and muscled as Nella’s rescuer. He had blond hair pulled back from his face and caught in a tail, bound once at his nape, and again halfway down his back.
He was naked as well. His backside was tight under a tapered waist, his hips firm, his arms corded with muscle, and he too wore a slim black chain around one arm. His cock stood stiff and erect from round, heavy balls.
“Rees,” the woman groaned. “Please.”
“I told you not to beg, Talan.” He flicked a short piece of leather lightly over the woman’s back.
“I’m sorry.”
“Open for me.”
The woman obeyed. The man stepped forward, positioned himself against her, and in one stroke, slid inside her.
The young woman cried out, then her face relaxed into an expression of pure ecstasy. She rocked her hips back to take his cock, then she looked up at Nella’s black-haired rescuer, who stood in front of the platform, watching them. “Rio,” she whispered.
The black-haired man skimmed his fingers across her face. She closed her lips around his forefinger, sucking.
He let her, watching her intently. His eyes were so blue that Nella could see them all the way across the room.
The scent of their lovemaking reached her, along with something else that made her senses tingle. Somehow, she could feel what the woman felt—not exactly, but as in the shower, she imagined the dark-haired man doing to her what blond man was going to the woman. She again felt the rush of joy, the release.
Nella moved her hand to her breast. The nipple pushed at the sheet, pebbling beneath her fingers. She pinched it, enjoying the tiny bite of pain.
Her skin grew hot. She became consumed with the desire to rip off her sheet, run into the room, kneel in front of her rescuer, and beg him to touch her too.
The woman, Talan, gasped and groaned. The man behind her thrust again and again. He tapped her with the short whip, and Talan cried out, jerking her hips.
“That’s it, love,” the man whispered, his voice ragged. “Squeeze me.”
Nella’s own hips jerked, and she snaked her hand down to her thighs. The sheet blocked her, but she pressed between her legs, the heel of her hand massaging her. “Yes,” she said under her breath. “Like that.”
She was so focused on the heat of her body and her aching need that she never noticed that the black-haired man had gone.
That is, not until he slid his hands around her waist from behind and eased her back against his bare, hard chest.
“Like it?” he asked.
His black hair hung past his face, and his eyes were completely blue—the ir
ises widening until the whites nearly disappeared. His skin was hot, hotter than a human’s should be. The black chain on his arm stood out on his brown skin.
Nella swallowed. “Who are you?”
“Rio,” he said. “Who are you?”
His voice, soft and seductive, held a hint of hidden wickedness. With difficulty, Nella clamped her lips shut. She could not reveal her true name—not yet, until she was certain who he worked for.
“I’m . . .” She stopped, her mouth trying to form the right name anyway. Her brain felt thick, as though perfumed tendrils wove through it.
“Yours,” she finished.
Rio’s eyes flickered. “That’s dangerous, beautiful. Very dangerous.”
Nella didn’t care. Right now, she wanted every inch of danger he could give her.
Rio slid lifted the weight of her breasts in his hands. Inside the bright room, the woman called Talan moaned her pleasure. The blond man thrust harder, his body tightly controlled, the whip brushing Talan’s back.
“Please,” Talan groaned. “Please, now.”
Nella’s mouth moved with hers. “Please.”
She didn’t understand what she begged for. Her thoughts seemed not her own, as though someone suggested she feel what Talan felt, want what Talan wanted.
Was Rio doing this? Was he a telepath? She’d met telepaths before, but this didn’t feel quite the same.
Rio lowered his head and licked Nella from her shoulder to her neck.
“You feel it,” he whispered. “You feel her wanting him. I can feel you feeling it.” He chuckled. “You can feel me feeling you feel it.”
His leggings stretched over his cock, huge and stiff, the length of it pressing her backside.
“You want me there,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You don’t know why, and you are not ready to take me. I’d hurt you if I took you now.”
Nella dragged in a breath. His tongue moved to her ear, tracing the shell of it, breath burning.
“It would hurt,” he said. “And you’d love it. I’m Shareem. I could makeyou love it.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“But I won’t.” He teased the tips of her breasts with slow touches. “I’ll never hurt you. I’ll give you only the good kind of hurt.”
“The good kind?”
“Watch them.”
The woman, Talan, was going crazy under the man’s thrusting. She writhed and cried out, and once more started to beg.
“Please, Rees, now!”
“I told you not to beg me,” the blond man said. His voice was tightly controlled, but contained an edge of wildness. “I told you I’d punish you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Too late, sweetheart.”
Slap after slap of the strap landed on her thighs and her buttocks. Nella flinched, as though she could feel every sting. But it was not pain, it was . . .
“Release,” Rio whispered in her ear. “Beautiful release.”
In the mirrored room, Talan screamed, but with pleasure, her body jerking and writhing. Behind her, Rees rubbed her now with the whip instead of slapping her. He ground into her, pumping hard, his face set.
Then Rees cried her name, his head falling back, his voice deep and broken.
He wrenched himself out of her, still erect and incredibly big. Talan whimpered. The man scooped her up and laid her down on her back. Then he covered her with his big body and entered her. Their hips met and met again, both shuddering with need and release.
Rio reached past Nella and touched a control on the wall. The door went dark, silently blocking out the couple in the mirrored room.
Chapter Three
Damsel in Distress
The woman in Rio’s arms sagged back against him as though released by strings.
Mmm, yes.
She’d cleaned up well. Her hair, gloriously red, was slicked back from a round face and lay warm against his chest. Brown eyes with flecks of gold, framed with thick, red-brown lashes, turned up to him in trepidation.
She held the sheet with pretty, plump arms, trying to hide her body, but the sheet only emphasized her curves. When Dr. Laas had undressed her in the bedroom, Rio had raked his gaze over every inch of her, unable to stop himself. He’d wanted to devour her.
Dr. Laas, with her knowing smile, had advised Rio that he should let the young woman rest first.
Her lips were lush, full, the lower lip a bit plumper than the upper. Parted now, they gave him a glimpse of her tongue touching her lower teeth. He wanted to dip his tongue behind her lip and taste the ripeness of her.
She was breathing hard from witnessing the very erotic scene between Rees and Talan. Those two could set fire to fire retardant.
Rio’s own need threatened to burn him from the inside out. Any other day, he’d have asked Rees to let Talan take his cock in her mouth, but he hadn’t wanted that today. He’d seen his red-haired woman in the shadows, felt her curiosity and wonder.
He’d wanted to hold her while she caught the swamping wave of Shareem pheromones, so he’d slipped out of the room through another door to come up behind her while her attention was fixed on Rees and Talan.
Now she looked up at him, trying to control her longing and not understanding any of it.
“What are you?” she asked.
She had a delicious accent, the r slightly rolled, the vowels elongated.
“A Shareem.”
“I’ve never heard of that. What is a Shareem?”
“Me. I am. And Rees, in there.” Rio gestured to the now-closed door. “You liked watching him fuck her,” he said softly.
She flushed an enticing pink. “I don’t know anything about that.”
Something warm flowed through him, and Rio smiled. An innocent.
Talan had been an innocent before Rees had given her lessons. Talan had fallen in love with her teacher, and Rees with his so eager pupil.
Maybe, just maybe . . .
Rio had already missed the transport Rees had set up for him by rescuing this woman. Maybe he could enjoy himself with her while waiting for the next one. Maybe he could taste the lady and lap her up.
Why did he keep thinking of her in terms of something to eat? Mmm, there was another good idea.
His Shareem hormones kicked in, in a big way. For weeks he’d thought about nothing but meeting the transport and getting off-planet. Since his return from Canyon Roble, where his Shareem friends Maia and Rylan had set up housekeeping, he and Rees and Talan had discussed nothing else.
One pretty woman in distress, and Rio had thrown it all away.
Well, shit, was he supposed to let her die? The floating machine must have been sent by patrollers to stop Rio leaving the planet. They’d shot him, the dart went into her, she’d nearly died, and her death would have been his fault.
The only reason the patrollers hadn’t followed up and arrested Rio, he figured, was because he’d gone to ground in Dr. Laas’ lair.
But then . . .
Incongruities broke through the thoughts in his boiling, horny brain.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “What were you doing in that alley?”
The woman’s eyes widened, the gold sparking, and her gaze flicked away from his. She was trying to think of a good lie.
Rio leaned to her. He smelled her breath, sweet-spice, sensed her heartbeat quickening. “I thought the attack was for me. But now I’m thinking it was for you. What I can’t figure out is why. Besides being sexy as hell, you don’t look like you could hurt anyone.”
“Sexy?”
He smiled, feral and hard. “Sexy. You know the meaning of the word? You’re not from Bor Narga. Do you understand me?”
“I have a language implant.”
“So, you can afford a language implant, but not decent clothes?”
“My money, it was stolen.”
“Uh huh.” Rio smoothed her hair from her face, drawing his fingers through the satin smoothness of it. “I don’t believe y
ou.”
Panic, now. Her eyes went tight, her face pale.
“Don’t be afraid,” Rio said gently. “You can trust me.”
His Shareem voice had been created to calm women. A woman had to be calm to take a Shareem, especially one like Rio. Calm and happy.
The pulse in her throat slowed somewhat, but she watched him warily, as though suspecting he was doing something to her emotions. And maybe he was.
Rio stepped away, letting her go, proving he could.
Man, that was hard. Opening his arms and letting her scramble away from him took discipline. Rio wanted to grab her again, wanted to haul her to him and hang on.
Want her, his senses whispered. Want her bad.
She stepped on the trailing sheet, and it came loose. She clamped it to her chest in time, but the flash of pink flesh sent Rio’s temperature soaring. One shapely hip curved from behind the sheet, beckoning him.
Rio folded his arms across his chest, fists balled, his cock so tight it hurt. Erotic thought after erotic thought poured through his brain, starting with him going to her and yanking the sheet all the way off.
What joy it would be to put his mouth all over her. She’d be kneeling in a submissive posture, head bent, glorious eyes downcast. He’d see the gleam of her gaze as she watched him sideways, her hands decorously behind her back, only her eyes showing defiance.
His cock rose even harder, pressing the stifling leather. “So, did you like Dr. Laas’ shower?”
Another blush, this one spilling down her neck to her collarbone. “Yes.”
“Thought you might.”
The blush increased. Rio wished he could have watched her lying under the jets, while water spilled over her lush body. Dr. Laas had programmed all her showers to seek and find erogenous pressure points. From her embarrassment, this lady had obviously experienced a few of those pressure points.
“Who is Dr. Laas?” she asked quickly.
“This is her house.”
“Was that her? In there?”
Rio shook his head. “That was Talan d’Urvey and her lifemate, Rees. Friends of mine.”
Tales of the Shareem, Volume 1 Page 19
