by Mina Carter
Her fingers curled around the edge of the table as she held her breath. She’d known he was big…but hell, she didn’t realize quite how big! She closed her eyes and waited for the slight sting to wear off. She felt stuffed. Stretched more than she had been with any other lover…even a member of her own race.
It was as erotic as hell.
Heavy pants from behind her and the rigid set of his body told her that her lover was having some similar difficulties. “Bloody hell,” he gasped with his chest pressed against her back. “You’re so fucking tight. Hold still or I’m gonna come.”
He held her hips in a vice-like grip, his cock jerking and pulsing where it was buried deep in the confines of her body. Heat coiled low in her gut. She could feel everything, every tiny movement he made, even the pulse of blood through his turgid shaft. And she wanted more.
The ache in her pussy spread outward to her clit and her nipples. She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her breast. He took the hint and tweaked her nipple. Hard. Lyssa gasped, the sound which escaped more a keen than a moan.
He started to move and she was lost. He slid out of her slowly and then back in until his balls slapped against her aching clit. The slight stimulation made her clench around him. She smiled as he swore and slammed into her again. And again.
Then there was no stopping him, nor the slight whimpers and pleas that fell from her lips.
“You like that, do you, little kitten? You like the feel of a man’s cock buried inside you?” He talked as he fucked her, crude words that turned her on more than she would admit. “You’re so tight, I could fuck you all night.”
He leaned forward, his hand leaving her breast and trailing down her toned stomach. “In fact, I think I will fuck you all night. In every way possible. But first, you’re going to come for me. What do you think, do you want to come?”
“Please…yes, I want to come. Please let me come.” She was begging now, but she didn’t care. She needed to come, had to come. Wanted to come all over his cock and feel him come inside her.
His lips branded her neck as he swept his fingers over her clit. His cock pounded into her pussy and his hips slammed against hers. This time he didn’t tease her. His clever fingers slid against her clit with a skill she found breath–taking. Within seconds he had her standing on the edge, ready to fall off. Fall off? She was ready to throw herself willingly.
“Want to come, Kitten?” he asked again.
“YES!” she screamed, thrusting back against him as he flicked his fingers over her clit again and sent her spiraling into abandoned pleasure.
Even though he was tired enough to drop into the dreamless slumber all Empaths yearned for, JJ was still wide–awake in the early hours of the morning. Lying on his back in the center of the bed, he studied the ceiling. Curled trustingly into his side was the woman who, in a few short hours, had rocked his world.
Idly his hand stroked across her shoulders, stopping every now and then to brush the hair from the nape of her neck. He’d discovered that touching that particular spot lulled her into sleep. He did it again and she murmured in her sleep—a sound of contentment and satisfaction. JJ envied her peace.
All he’d wanted from tonight was a quick lay with a willing partner whose every thought and reaction weren’t laid out for him on a plate. Someone he couldn’t read and who could surprise him.
He’d gotten that and far more besides. The whole encounter had been deeper emotionally and spiritually than he’d expected or, with a new assignment in a couple of short hours, wanted. Now instead of sticking around and getting to know his little kitten, he was off to the arse–end of the galaxy looking after some old battleaxe… He shuddered as he recalled Admiral Reilly’s orders…
The admiral leaned forward, his dark eyes intent on JJ.
“Commander Meyers, I trust you understand the mission you are being tasked with here? We need General Ryland under control. Especially with the…issues with the Telatian Council. The last thing Fleet Command want is a veteran of the General’s standing rebelling and standing against us on this. The knowledge and contacts she has amongst the mercenary communities… Well, let’s just say if she wanted to field an army against us, she could easily manage it.”
No answer from him seemed to be required, so JJ merely nodded his head. He was an Empath, one of the fleet’s bulldogs, not a politician. He just did what he was told, when he was told.
“And when I say we need her under control, that’s by any means necessary…” Reilly paused and flicked a glance over JJ. Unconsciously, JJ stiffened, he’d seen that sort of look before. “Up to and including seducing the bloody woman to get her under your sway. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yessir.” JJ’s reply was dry and automatic. It wasn’t the first time such a request had been asked and fulfilled. He just hoped the woman wasn’t too bad a looker, otherwise he’d be seducing her in the dark. Mind you, if she was that old, perhaps some heavy flirtation would be her limit and all he would need…
JJ snapped out of it as Kitten moved. He felt sick, knowing he had to leave her bed and, in the same day, seduce General Ryland. He didn’t hold out any hope that she’d hang around and wait for him to get back from his assignment. Someone else would snap her up, take her to bed and give her the pleasure he wanted to give her. Some other guy would romance her and get to spend his lust on the body JJ longed to claim for his and his alone.
Fuck it. Life just wasn’t fair.
3
Lyssa had been a marine for nearly three and a half decades and, as such, the morning reveille was firmly entrenched in her body clock. Her eyes snapped open, awake and alert on the stroke of oh–five–hundred. Like most of the fleet, the Arcadia operated on the twenty–six hour standard day. For a moment she just lay there, trying to work out where she was. Then it all came back to her in a rush of heat and memory.
Last night. Her human lover and the sex…oh gods, the sex. She wasn’t a prude, living in barracks for many years had put paid to that. Some of the things they’d done. The things he’d persuaded her to do with him, and to him, the things he’d done to her. It was enough to bring a blush to her cheeks.
Lyssa slid from the bed and stood for a moment looking at him. He was asleep. No doubt worn out from all that exertion, bless him. Her gaze roved over his face and body, committing every feature and line to memory. She wasn’t so naive as to believe that she would see him again. Even if their service to the fleet didn’t put them on assignments halfway across the galaxy from each other, then, soon enough, he was going to find out who and what she was.
In her experience, relationships didn’t last long after that. Either they were freaked out by her reputation, by the fact she was part–Telatian…which he knew, so she discounted that one…or by her rank. All in all, finding out they’d just done the dirty with the Rogue of Telat–Moire was enough to have most guys running for the hills screaming all the way.
Sighing quietly, she gathered her clothes and dressed. He didn’t stir even when she laid a gentle kiss on his cheek before heading for the door. It slid open and she paused for a second before stepping out to look back.
Her lips curved into a small smile as she filed the night before away carefully in her memory. The night a young human had taught her what passion was all about. The only night she’d ever allowed anyone to call her ‘Kitten’. Pity she’d never see him again.
An hour later, after she’d taken a shower, Lyssa stepped out of the lift and onto the bridge of her battleship, the USS Arcadia. The soft, fluid clothes of last night were gone, replaced by the same battledress the rest of the bridge crew were wearing. In her case though, the usual green belt was replaced by the black and red stable belt of the ship’s commander, and the tactical recognition patches on her arm marked her as a war veteran.
“Colonel Johnson.” She nodded as her second in command rose from the command station in the middle of the bridge.
Before she could stop him, a wry smile twisted his lip
s and he barked out, “General on deck!”
The gunshot noise of those present coming to attention filled the bridge. Drawing to a stop next to Johnson, she gave him a dry look. “You know that does my head in.”
Johnson shrugged. “Discipline. Does them good and you know it.”
“That it does, that it does. Just all that stamping gives me a damn headache.” Lyssa wrinkled her nose and looked about. Everything looked to be in good form and she could hear the communications chief in mid–conversation with station command about departure slots. “Got everything in hand here, I see.”
“Yeah, we’re just about ready for the off. You want the honor of taking her out?” Johnson motioned toward the seat in the center of the command triad. It was the traditional captain’s chair and flanked on the right by Johnson’s chair. On the left was another chair, one that had never been filled throughout Lyssa’s term as a battleship commanding officer, but would be today. The last place was reserved for the ship’s Empath.
“Nope. She’s all yours. Is he—“
Johnson followed the direction of her gaze and nodded. “About ten minutes ago. He’s in your office.”
“Great.” Lyssa sighed and turned toward the door at the back of the bridge. Just what she didn’t want, a bloody Empath poking around her ship and into her crew’s heads. She had to find a way to get rid of him quickly, for all their sakes. Short of resorting to outright murder and venting his quarters to space, she was coming up blank.
The walk along the bridge was one of the longest she’d ever made, yet it was over within seconds. The dark green door slid open to reveal the familiar inside of her office…and a tall male figure standing looking out of the picture window.
Lyssa’s lips pressed together in annoyance when she noted the fleet uniform. Didn’t this prick know the Arcadia was a marine boat? She cleared her throat as she walked in and stopped in front of her desk.
“Improperly dressed on the first day is not going to win you any favors, you know…” she paused for a moment and spun the transfer papers on her desk around. “Commander Meyers. Regardless of your abilities or who put you on my ship, I expect you to adhere to the ship dress code.”
“Well, I would have researched more last night, but, you see, I went for a drink and met the most beautiful woman this side of the Ceras–tella supernova.”
The tall figure at the window turned.
Lyssa’s eyes widened as recognition flooded through her.
“Hello, General Ryland…”
She was shocked, that much JJ could tell. Hell, he was shocked.
The last person he’d expected to walk through the door wearing the uniform of a marine Major–General was the woman he’d spent the night with. The woman who’d sneaked out before he’d woken up. The same woman who turned out to be the ageing battle–axe of a marine he was supposed to seduce into co–operation.
Ageing my arse, he scoffed mentally, there was no way she could possibly be the fifty–two her record stated. But then, he had heard that Telatians aged differently from humanity.
“Or should I say Kitten?” he carried on, smoothly falling back on the old Empath mannerisms. Never admit doubt, never show doubt, never show ignorance of anything—even if he had no clue what was going on. Always project superiority.
Yeah, that worked with humanity, but this woman had the blood of the feared snake–nomads running through her veins and three decades of hard service under that belt. The red lines that bisected it marked her years as a battleship commander. JJ tried to work out how many, but lost count. There was more red than black, that was for sure. She’d probably taken command of her first battleship before he was even born.
Gods, he wanted to kiss those lips again. No matter how much they pursed in annoyance. He wanted to pin her against the back of her door and strip that combat uniform from her, kissing her until her anger faded and she was panting his name again.
She got herself under control and the startled look disappeared from her amber eyes. “General Ryland or Ma’am will be sufficient. I’m assuming you’re the Empath…” her eyes spat fire at the very word. “That Reilly’s assigned to me.”
She looked at his transfer papers again, then pressed her thumb into the carbon seal on the bottom right. The seal glowed for a second as it recorded her imprint. She handed him the papers back, taking care not to touch him. JJ got the feeling she’d prefer not to touch him willingly again.
Just as well some of his plans for her didn’t actually involve her consent, not verbal consent anyway. By the time he was finished, she’d be willing and eager for anything he wanted to do to her.
“I am indeed, Ki—Ma’am.”
She motioned him out of the way and took her place behind her desk. Even though her thoughts were shielded by her Telatian blood, JJ could read the relief in her body language once the wide expanse of wood was between them.
“I don’t play games, so you might as well know now. I do not like Empaths. My crew are all good people, so I do not want you screwing around with their heads. You do that…” Her voice was as cold as steel. “And I will find a way to leave you on some isolated planet in the arse–end of beyond. Do we understand each other?”
“Perfectly, Ma’am.”
“Excellent, dismissed. In case they didn’t teach you that one in the fleet, it’s marine for ‘get out of my sight’.”
“As you wish…Ma’am.”
JJ smothered a smile and headed for the door. His kitten was rattled. Good, it was just how he wanted her. He allowed a sigh to escape as the door slid shut behind him. Ignoring the curious looks of the bridge crew, he walked across to the lift. From dreading this assignment, JJ was ready and eager for anything General Ryland…his Kitten…could throw at him.
He had a long wait. Three long and frustrating weeks later, the only contact he’d had with Lyssa was in the morning operational meeting. Since the rest of the senior staff were also present, it wasn’t anything he could remotely describe as quality time, either as an Empath or simply as a guy interested in getting the hard–nosed but incredibly beautiful commanding officer into bed.
“So that’s decided then. We’ll enter the system ahead of time and do a little snooping about before we make our introductions.”
Lyssa’s voice drew him back to the present as she addressed the group in the briefing room. Comprised of the Arcadia’s battle staff, the room was so full of green and hoorah that JJ was sure if he cut any of the occupants in half, they’d have ‘Combined Fleet Marine’ running all the way through them.
“Ryder, you’ll be taking bravo team. I want you guys to drop in here…just below this mountain ridge. Got some reports of terrorist activity down there. Find one and get his take on things with the government…” She flicked a glance around the room. “Because as we all know, one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter. I want to make sure we have all the facts before we start brokering deals that affect them all on the say so of a minority.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
One thing JJ had to admire was the way Lyssa ran her ship. It was tight and slick. Every person had a place. They knew what it was and what was expected of them. To a man, they were all absolutely dedicated to their Commanding officer. JJ could see why. The reports he’d read put her down as hard–edged with a backbone of steel and zero compromise when it came to getting the mission done.
What the reports missed out was the fact she was also a good listener and she made the effort to get to know her people. Like the fact she knew that Jenkins’, one of the lowliest maintenance techs down in engineering, had a cat called Bob who he’d had to send back home to keep his elderly mother company and that Sally in ops had a thing for Kethan on the tactical squad. How she kept it all straight in her head, he had no clue but she did, talking to most of her people on a daily basis and filing the information away for future reference.
In fact, the only person on the ship she didn’t talk to was him. A fact that was getting un
der his skin more than JJ would have liked to admit.
“Okay, unless there are any questions or objections, that’s the plan—Yes, Commander Meyers?”
Because she rarely looked at him directly, JJ was reduced to raising his hand like some kid in kindergarten.
“Thank you, General. I have a question. You’ve listed the beta team and the ops support teams, but who is leading Alpha team?”
The eyes of everyone in the room swiveled to fix on him and JJ suddenly realized what a goldfish must feel like. It was as if everyone in the room already knew something and he’d been gauche enough to ask a dumb question. Then it clicked into place and he knew the answer before she replied.
“I am. If that’s everything, we’re now at T–minus eight hours. Get some rack time…chill out, whatever floats your boat as long as it doesn’t involve drink. Dismissed.”
“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”
The door to the ship’s gym burst inward, almost coming off its hinges as a furious Meyers burst through it. Down here in the bowels of the ship the state of the art electronics gave way to the less technologically complex. For one, it kept the weight of the ship as a whole down. Lyssa didn’t see the point in over complex solutions to simple problems. Wouldn’t hurt her crew to open a few doors like people had for millennia. Besides, simple door hinges were a lot less expensive to repair when annoyed Empaths stormed through them.
Flat on her back on the weight bench, Lyssa ignored his demand and carried on lifting. Smooth and controlled, in time with her breathing. Like all marines, she liked to keep in shape, more so as she got older, but she liked to work out alone. She wasn’t sensitive about her body per–say. She just made an effort to keep slim and toned.
Marine–issued workout gear displayed a lot more of her golden skin than she was comfortable with in mixed company, especially when physical exertion brought through her scales. Her crew all knew that so they all avoided the gym when they knew she was in there. Not so her new Empath, it seemed. Resentment and fury at him sizzled through her veins. Resentment at him being here in the first place and fury that he thought he could just waltz in here willy–nilly and disturb her routines.