by S. E. Smith
“Good, because human courting methods are a lot of work,” he grumbled.
“Really?” she laughed. “How do you court where you come from?”
“Like this,” he said.
He captured her upturned lips in a hard, passionate kiss, unleashing all of his pent-up desire. He slid his arms around her, lifted her up against his body and pressed her against his aroused cock. She parted her lips on a startled gasp, and he took full advantage of her surprise.
He swept his tongue inside her mouth. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held his lips locked to hers. Their tongues brushed against each other, the sensitive tips exploring and challenging. She responded to him with an urgency that reassured him she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
A groan of pleasure slipped from him. She tasted of wine and desire, and he swore he could get drunk on her kisses alone. His blood felt as if it were boiling with the energy building in the air around them. His cock was pressed against the jeans he was wearing, his testicles swollen hard as rocks.
He relaxed his hold on her, and she slid down his body. Once her feet touched the floor, he skimmed his hands over her body and cupped her face, pulling back and gazing down at her. She looked up at him with a passion-dazed expression.
“W-wow. That is… some way to court,” she remarked in a hoarse voice.
“I haven’t even started,” he promised.
She tugged on his hair, pulling his head down. “Do me a favor—keep it up,” she breathed before running her tongue along his bottom lip.
Their next kiss was deep and frenzied. Adalard lifted her off her feet again, Samara locked her legs around him, and she felt up every inch of him that she could reach. He returned the favor and they drove each other crazy as they slowly made their way across the galley, often falling against a wall in their passion. When they finally reached the sleeping cabin, they paused, panting, in front of the bed.
Samara unlocked her legs from around his waist and lightly pushed on his chest. He released her, allowing her to stand on her own feet and watched hungrily as she backed away from him and began undressing. He watched the movement of her fingers as she unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall to the floor. She bent over, unzipped her boots, and kicked them off. Her pants, panties, and bra followed until she was standing in front of him as bare as the day she was born.
He swallowed, his violet eyes glowing with desire. The colors swirling around him expanded outward, wrapping around her and caressing her skin with the same gentle stroke as his touch. She moaned softly and walked over to him.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, his gaze intensely connecting with hers. She ran her fingers along the scar on his cheek before skimming over his jaw and down his throat to the top button of his shirt. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and she began to undress him, pausing to press light kisses to his skin as she released each button.
He remained still as she slid his shirt off of his broad shoulders. She caressed his skin, memorizing every inch of his body as she unveiled it. She followed her fingers with her lips. His breathing grew heavy and uneven as she moved lower.
Her fingers were trembling by the time she released the button on his jeans and slowly pulled his zipper down. She started to kneel in front of him but he reached out and gripped her arms. She glanced up at him as he groaned and shook his head, his throat working up and down as he swallowed.
“I….”
He shook his head again. Her heart melted when she saw the impact her gentle seduction was having on him. This was a man who was used to being in control, and he was on the verge of losing it.
She tugged on his pants, and they slid down his legs. His boots disappeared and she gasped in surprise but soon forgot all about his boots as her eyes swept up to take in him standing before her in his full magnificent arousal. She moaned in pleasure.
“Love me,” she gently demanded.
His gaze turned to liquid violet. “Always.”
Like magnets moving in accord, she sank down to lie back on the bed, raising her arms above her head, and he followed her, caging her under him. He captured her lips in a deep kiss filled with tenderness and possession. She parted her legs for him when she felt his heavy cock pressing against her thighs.
“Oh, Adalard,” she whispered.
He moved down her body, kissing and exploring with the same care that she had given him. She stared up at the ceiling in wonder, focusing completely on the feel of his fingers as they brushed against her skin. She arched upward when he wrapped his lips around her taut nipple. He lavished each rosy bud until they were as hard as pebbles and aching for more.
Liquid fire burned between her legs, and she restlessly moved, brushing against his throbbing cock and drawing a hiss of pleasure-pain from him. Her need grew until she wanted to cry out with frustration.
You are so beautiful.
His soft words flowed through her mind. Mixed with the words was something else… a deeper meaning that she recognized but was afraid to believe. She closed her eyes when he moved down her stomach to her core. Her breathing came in shuddering gasps as he teased her with his lips and fingers. She lowered her hands and cupped her breasts. She pinched her nipples as he slid his fingers inside her.
She spread her legs wider, wanting more, too mindless with need to feel shy. Sparks flew through her mind as she tensed around his fingers. Her low mewing cry grew louder along with the pressure.
He withdrew his fingers, rose, and entered her. She wrapped her arms around him and clung to him as he slowly pushed deeper. There was no pain as he took her, only a fullness that felt wonderful.
She moved with him, wanting to draw out her orgasm. They fit perfectly, moving in a primitive dance. She opened her eyes and watched the expression flitting across his face. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever experienced and she wanted to burn it into her memory.
“Samara…,” he gasped.
She parted her lips as he thrust faster and deeper, his body shuddering as his control snapped. She arched her back at the intensity of each thrust. A silver thread wound through the colors surrounding them, brilliant and fragile at the same time. The thread spread outward, winding around them.
It was a cosmic experience, the vision so real that she tried to reach out and touch the thread, but her fingers passed through the sparkling ribbon. A tsunami of intense emotions flooded her. When she realized the emotions were Adalard’s as well as hers, tears burned in her eyes.
She dropped her hand to his shoulder, he bowed his head, and she surged up to capture his lips. He parted his lips, and she deepened the kiss, pouring everything she was feeling into it.
I love you, misha la warrior.
Chapter Eighteen
“What’s put that stupid grin on your face?”
Rob’s deep voice drew a low groan from Samara and she wiped the pleased, dreamy smile from her lips. Leave it to one of her brothers to ruin a perfectly fine day. Stiffening her shoulders, she turned and faced him.
“Obviously not seeing you,” she retorted.
Rob’s pursed his lips in annoyance, and his eyes flashed with a silent warning. She was beyond being intimidated. Now that she was on her own, she didn’t know why she had waited as long as she did to leave.
She turned her back to him again and carefully selected the last of the ripe tomatoes that she would need to make homemade spaghetti sauce for dinner tonight. Her hope was that if she ignored her brother, he would magically disappear. That hope died when he stepped closer and stood in her way.
“Excuse me. I need an onion,” she said.
“The jerk from Vegas is coming down tonight for the money Gary owes. He’ll be at the Cattleman’s at nine to collect,” Rob said, not moving.
She gritted her teeth, reached around him, and grabbed a large onion before she responded. “It’s not my problem.”
She tensed when Rob wrapped his hand around her arm. “We don’t have the money,” he said in a low vo
ice.
Do you need me?
Adalard’s soothing voice filtered through her mind. She breathed slowly and focused on keeping her thoughts under control. The last thing she needed was for Adalard to pop up unexpectedly in the middle of the grocery store.
I’m fine. I’m grocery shopping. I think I can handle this all by myself, she responded.
Adalard’s soft chuckle echoed through her mind, and she felt him withdraw. She sighed and returned her attention to her brother. He had released her arm and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“It’s different this time. This guy isn’t one of the local guys that we owe a hundred bucks to and can blow off. This guy is—“ Rob shook his head, pulled one of his hands out of his pocket, and ran it through his disheveled hair before he continued. “This is out of our league, Samara. He won’t stop at broken bones.”
Regret filled her. This was the first time in her life that she had ever seen Rob at a loss—and vulnerable. The problem was this situation was beyond her help. Even if she gave every penny she had, it would only be a band-aid trying to staunch a wound to a major artery.
“I have nothing to give you, Rob,” she said, lifting her chin and staring back at him with a look of sad resignation. "Gary will have to get himself out of this one. If he is worried about being physically harmed, then maybe he should contact the police. Annalisa can give him some advice. Or maybe—just maybe—he needs to disappear for a while.”
Rob’s expression hardened and he dropped his hand down to his side. “When did you become such a cold-hearted bitch? If that bastard kills Gary, it is on your head. Remember, it wasn’t just the money that Gary lost. You were part of the pot as well. He’ll come looking for you next.”
Samara winced when Rob poked a stiff finger against her shoulder before he turned and strode away. It wasn’t until he disappeared down an aisle that she realized she was shaking. She looked down at the large onion she was gripping like it was a lifeline.
Samara—
Adalard’s questioning voice flashed through her mind again. She looked around the produce section, noticing for the first time that the produce manager was watching her with a look of concern. She gave the older man a strained smile before she placed the onion in her cart, and began pushing it along the rows of fresh produce.
I’m okay. Rob caught up with me, she reluctantly responded.
What did he want? Adalard asked suspiciously.
A shiver ran through her at the dangerous edge in his voice. A wry amusement pierced her cloud of anxiety at dealing with her oldest brother. It honestly didn’t take long for her brothers to draw this kind of reaction from people—including aliens!
The same thing he always wants—to drive me crazy and take my money—not necessarily in that order, she sighed.
What did you tell him? I should have come to you, Adalard said in a disgruntled voice.
No, you should not have, and I told him that he and the others were on their own. I can’t save them from themselves anymore, she answered with a slightly sharper tone than she intended. I need to focus on what I’m doing. We can talk later.
She pulled up the wall in her mind and imagined putting a huge padlock on it for extra measure. Her mind swirled with what Rob had said about the man hurting Gary. She wasn’t concerned about the other part of Gary’s bargain. It wouldn’t be hard to dissuade the man from thinking she was any kind of prize. Besides, if she couldn’t convince the man to leave her out of the deal, she was sure Adalard could if push came to shove.
“Damn it all to hell,” she muttered as she finished picking up the items she would need for dinner tonight. “This is the last time. I swear this is the absolutely, positively last time I ever help those morons ever again.”
The Loft Casino and Hotel
Las Vegas, Nevada
Alberto Frank Armeni Campeau looked down along the vibrant avenue from the Penthouse atop one of his recent acquisitions. The Loft would be rebranded over the next six months and absorbed into the Campeau Empire of fine hotels, restaurants, resorts, and casinos around the world. He sipped on the wine delivered by the hotel manager. The 1954 Bordeaux Blend Red from Chateau Mouton Rothschild, Pauillac, France was excellent but not enough to keep the manager on. The very expensive accountants he used had discovered the man enjoyed the hotel’s fine vintage wine as much as he enjoyed gambling at its tables.
A knock at the door drew his attention. A glance at his phone showed that Jack DeSimone, his Head of Security, had arrived. He pressed the buzzer to unlock the door.
“Mr. Campeau, the helicopter is ready when you are,” Jack announced.
“Thank you, Jack,” he responded.
He finished his wine, placed the empty wine glass on the side table, and strode toward the door. Jack held out a bespoke Canali burgundy ultralight cashmere coat. He slid his arms into it and adjusted the collar.
“How much do you want to bet they don’t have the money—only the woman?” he inquired.
“I never bet, sir,” Jack replied with a neutral expression.
“That is why you are still with me,” he remarked. He pulled a pair of black Salvatore Ferragamo gloves from his pocket and slid them on. “Let us hope they have both. Do you have the information I requested?”
“Yes, sir,” Jack replied.
“Excellent. Let’s get this over with, I have matters to attend to here,” he replied.
Jack bowed his head in acknowledgement and pressed the button for the private elevator door that led to the helipad. Al stepped inside, turned around, and faced the door. He felt no remorse in taking advantage of Gary Lee-Stephens’ greed and intoxication. The man and his brothers had been arrogant and crude.
His brief visit to Casper had been unexpected thanks to a flat tire. The parking lot at the Cattleman’s Bar and Grill had been relatively empty. A need to relieve himself led him into the establishment—and a local group playing poker.
Normally, he would have dismissed the group. None of the men or women sitting at the table were in his league. The games he played in could be worth millions.
The group’s rude remarks, namely from a man called Jerry Lee-Stephens, about his clothing irked him. He seldom responded to such behavior, but the man had stepped into his personal space. Alberto had grabbed the man, drawing a response from his companions. His offer to play a game of poker quickly diffused the situation.
In the first hour he purchased several rounds of drinks, lost a few thousand dollars, and then struck back with a vengeance. In less than half an hour, he had emptied the pockets of all the players except for one, who refused to cave.
Gary Lee-Stephens had raised the bet to ten thousand dollars—on credit, of course. Alberto had started to turn down the offer until Jerry threw in a photo on top of the pile of cash. While the young woman in the photo wasn’t remarkably beautiful, there had been something about her eyes and her smile that pulled an almost primitive response from him—something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. He was intrigued by the potential he saw in the young woman, and by his curiosity to see what would happen when she discovered her brothers had offered her up like a broodmare to the highest bidder.
The memory of his amusement that the woman in the photograph wouldn’t appreciate her siblings’ stupidity made him smile. His unexpected agreement had surprised himself. He was never impulsive. Gary had tried to withdraw the offer of his sister, but it was too late. Alberto accepted the deal—and easily won. His victory did not go over well with the brothers which made his win even sweeter.
Pride goeth before the fall, he thought with amusement as he strode toward the helicopter.
“I have a full crew tonight. They are already in Casper. We’ll be ready should there be any incidents like the last time,” Jack stated.
“Very good,” he responded.
Chapter Nineteen
Adalard appreciatively sniffed the delicious aroma of the cooking food as he entered Samara’s apartment. He could hear her moving
around in the small kitchen area. Soft music played in the background.
He removed his jacket and placed it on a hook by the door. A knock beside him caused him to turn in surprise. He opened the door and saw Bear standing outside with a nervous, lopsided grin on his face.
“Hey, Adalard. How are you doing this evening?” Bear greeted.
Adalard frowned when he saw the other man holding a bottle of wine. It took him a moment to realize that Bear was staring in awe at the glowing flowers in his hand. It was too late to hide them.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded.
“Oh, good! You’re both here on time,” Samara greeted with a warm smile.
“Both…?” he asked with a frown.
Samara wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes. I ran into Bear at the gas station this afternoon and invited him over for dinner.”
Be nice! He just found out his grandmother isn’t doing well and he is having a rough time, she cautioned.
“It smells delicious,” Bear greeted. He belatedly held out the bottle in his hand. “I brought some wine.”
Samara took the bottle. “Thank you. Dinner is almost ready. Why don’t you two go into the living room? I have some appetizers set out.”
“I have some flowers for you,” Adalard added, holding them out to her. He had changed them to look like the bouquet Ann Marie had set out at the main house.
Samara smiled up at him while Bear stared at the new bouquet with a perplexed frown.
“They are beautiful. Thank you,” she murmured.
“Weren’t those different a moment ago?” Bear mumbled in a confused voice.
“A play of light on them,” he causally responded as Bear continued to stare at the blooms with a bewildered expression.
