The Bid

by Jacquelyn Frank

  With that parting directive, Hanna turned away and marched off down the hallway. Jhon paused only to cock a brow at Ashanna, a simple way of expressing his amusement over the exchange. Then he followed in Hanna’s wake as she led him away in a flutter of silky brown fabric. For the first time he found himself going up the mosaic stairs to an upper level of the House. She passed many doors, all of which had old-fashioned hand grasps for opening them, as opposed to the technological alternatives. At the end of the hall, Hanna pushed open a set of double doors that opened into a room flooded with rosy sunlight. Every wall except the one on the side they had entered from had been made to view the out-of-doors seamlessly. It appeared as though the room was at the end of a wing and the walls on three sides faced out onto the landscaping of the property.

  Here Jhon could see so much more than he had from his rooms. The sheer enormity of the city around them alone had been completely ill-conceived in his mind. He swore softly under his breath as the panorama around him showed miles and miles of densely packed but tidily rowed buildings. The most startling aspect was how clean and white everything was. With a few exceptions, every building had a white exterior; only the trim on them seeming to vary. The result was a brilliance that dazzled the eyes and boggled the mind. It also made it easy to pick out the green-blue foliage of the parks, the red clay–colored roads mapped everywhere throughout, and the fact that there was an enormous area circling around the center of city that was nothing but colorful tents and banners of cloth.

  “The main bazaar,” Hanna said quietly from her place before a wall several steps away from him. Her back was to him, so he wondered briefly how she knew what had caught his attention. Then he became more focused on her tightly indrawn body language, the way her arms hugged tensely across her chest.

  “I am guessing Ashanna is a bit of a trial?”

  Hanna snorted, marking the observation as an understatement. “Asha doesn’t understand the difference between necessary risk and unnecessary risk.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “I hope you do.”

  He bristled at the implied insult. “Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means it’s very hard to have power and restrict yourself from using it no matter how justified you might think it is! You are a freedom fighter by trade, Jhon. How easy do you really think it is going to be for you to walk the streets acting the part of a slave, unable to stand up for yourself or others?”

  “Just when did this foul temper of yours become about me?” Vejhon demanded. “For your future reference, Hanna, my entire existence on Wite was about holding back my impulses to fight my way through each and every one of the Cree. I lead the most powerful force of freedom fighters, yes, but we’re also the most effective because we don’t go off half loaded and with our pants around our knees!”

  “Led.”

  “What?” he snapped.

  “You said you lead them.” Hanna turned to show him the distress etched over her features. “Don’t you mean led? Past tense?”

  Damn. Shit.

  “Yeah, I guess I do,” he sighed. “You have to give me a break here, Hanna. It’s a lot of change in a short time.”

  “And not much of it is for the better,” she noted bitterly, turning back away from him.

  Feeling like a jerk for his slipup that implied he would rather be somewhere else, Vejhon walked up behind her and cupped his hands around her shoulders gently. He rubbed his thumbs over the taut muscles along the back of her lower neck.

  “I doubt my choice to stay with you less and less with every passing second, Hanna,” he said softly against her hair. “Any misgivings I could conceive of are fading quickly. And it’s true, I haven’t been out in your world yet and it will probably really piss me off when I do face it, but it’s part of the trade-off, isn’t it? Here’s a warrior’s analogy: You can have incredible muscle mass, or you can have amazing agility and flexibility. There’s only one delicate point of balance where you can reach the best of both worlds, and it takes a lot of work to maintain it just right once you do achieve it.”

  He tugged her, turning her in his hands until she was meeting his eyes. “I’ve never been afraid of hard work, Hanna. I’ll do what it takes to find balance. Don’t lose faith in me before I even have a chance to try.”

  “Asha has had this power all of her life, and yet she has never found balance.”

  “I am not Ashanna,” he felt compelled to point out. “She is young and spoiled; I am a man of experience and discipline. I already know what my weaknesses are and have worked hard to manage them. And Hanna,” he said quietly, leaning forward to press warm lips to the rise of her cheek, “knowing how important this is to you makes it equally important to me.”

  The sentiment was so unexpected, so rife with a feeling of tenderness and respect that Hanna felt shock rippling through her mind. She had not thought to earn such things from him so quickly, if at all. She had all but forced this new life on him, her desperation moving her to manipulate him with every tactic she could conceive of. To her, this was no different than an arranged marriage. There would always be chemistry, their cat natures making it an integral part of what was between them, but she had not fooled herself into thinking this would ever be a love match. She might have hoped for it, but she had already sensed Vejhon had little experience in such emotions, and even less desire to try them.

  Friendship, companionship, lovers…these she hoped for. All other hopes she kept quieted down and resigned to the place in her mind where foolish girlhood fancies belonged. There had never been any guarantee that just because a slave would suit physically and come to trust her, it would lead to the deep, abiding love her mother and uncles had so luckily discovered. She was just lucky to have found him at all. Blessed. Blessed to have the chance to free her next brother from his captivity in the Otherside once Jhon learned how to shift for himself, allowing them to come together in animal form.

  Hanna drew back and beamed at him, the smile heavy praise for his thoughtfulness and his efforts to appease her worries. He smiled back, the grin so full and unexpectedly charming on him. It was probably ill practiced, considering his life growing up on Wite, but perhaps that was part of its enchantment. It was honest. An irresistible flash born of his genuine pleasure. It made her heart melt warmly in her chest. If she made him happy, if she could only make him content, perhaps he would find a measure of peace living on her world.

  Unable to resist such a charismatic lure, Hanna reached up for his mouth. At first she just nipped and sipped at his lips, the fine shape of his mouth coming together as his smile faded to better accommodate her teasing, brushing kisses. His thick masculine hands came up to engulf her around the sides of her face and head, cradling her between rough, lifelong callouses and the strength of sudden intensity. She smelled the aroma of his skin and body, the tangy sharpness of blood that still seeped pungently from reopened wounds. She recalled that it was her duty to tend those wounds, to see that he healed properly. Unfortunately she lost the recollection the instant his mouth asserted itself against hers, his tongue probing with sly confidence between her lips.

  His kisses always seemed to obliterate her. She had always delighted in the ways of a man who knew how to take command of a kiss, but Vejhon was an aspect she had never quite encountered. There was something, an essence of intensity in his confidence perhaps, that always seemed to add so much depth and dimension to the ways he took her mouth. She was used to being aggressive and even a bit demanding, and she still was, but when Jhon kissed her as he was then, she could easily just sink against his body and let him make his own way across her senses.

  Jhon felt the boneless slide of her body against his and he slid his hand down the length of her back to get a good hold of her. Supple silk slid between his hands and her skin, a sensuous echo of his molding caress. Gods, how he loved the shape of her! The sleek underlayer of muscles and the soft padding of femininity accentuating the hypercurvaceous dip of her lower spine; the tuck o
f her taut waistline that flared as his hands moved upward until the weight of her divine breasts was filling his palms, her chubby nipples already protruding between his fingers teasingly.

  Hanna gasped good and loud when her back connected with the icy cold stone wall behind her. The difference between it and the hot flesh of the man along her front sent chills of contrast bursting wildly over her. Her reaction made him chuckle low in his throat, the deep timbre of his voice making him sound almost devious. The taunting toying of his fingers around her sensitive areolas only added to the perception.

  “Have I told you how much delight I take in these plump and pretty nipples you have?” He drew away just long enough to scoop up the hem of her dress, pushing it quickly up to her shoulders and exposing the assets he so admired. He stared at her breasts for a long minute, his fingers drawing along their outer sides until his hands were acting like a frame for her chest. “The perfect finish to perfectly lush breasts. See how you fill my hands, Hanna?” Jhon demonstrated, cupping her and molding her with gentle thoroughness.

  “See how you fill mine?” she countered wickedly, her unnoticed fingers suddenly announcing themselves as she cupped him through the fabric of his pants. Hanna ran a strong finger down the obvious length of his shaft, her thumb teasing at the head while her entire palm sought to nuzzle him. She even slid low so she could cup the malleable sac beneath the erect rod.

  “Gods, what you do!” he hissed, unable to help reaching to back his hand to hers, pressing her into him while his teeth clenched tightly together. “I swear I haven’t felt this randy since I was first in the service.”

  “Just how old are you?” she asked impishly, the mischief in her eyes purposely baiting.

  “Old enough to take my hand to your ass, princess.”

  “That’s ‘my Lady princess’ to you, slave,” she taunted him.

  “Why, you little…” As though he would make good on his threat, he grabbed her shoulders and whipped her around in an about-face, pressing her against an only slightly warmer slab of stone. She yelped as her heated nipples and breasts contacted the chill surface, and then again when she felt him scoop up her gown in back and expose her bottom to the priming smack of his hand against her. Hanna instantly went to turn back around but he affixed a powerful palm between her shoulders and held her pinned to the wall. “Uh-uh,” he scolded in a hushed voice near her ear as his body crowded into her from behind. “Might as well enjoy the view, sweetheart. You’re going to be facing it for a while.”

  “Jhon!”

  He ignored her, instead concentrating on fitting her finely rounded ass against the swollen length of his cock even as he started to free himself from the bind of his clothing. Keeping her firmly in place, he took a long moment to caress each soft blue cheek individually, reaching as far down the backs of her legs as he could each time without giving her the opportunity to escape his superior leverage. Then he rubbed himself against her again, his cock settling right along the niche between both of those luscious curves. She was so damn warm, and unbelievably soft. Nothing could possibly be as soft as Hanna’s skin.

  Hanna felt the heavy weight of his erection lying against her, and her heart was pounding hard in anticipation and the excitement of her vulnerability. She knew he couldn’t…wouldn’t hurt her, but there was a lot he could do that could escape the borderline of violence and avoid setting off the slave band he wore. A band she was supposed to have replaced by then. She had already had a special mimic made up for him. Just like Najir, the band would appear like any other, but it would no longer serve the purpose of a deterrent to violence.

  “I wonder how deep a shade of lavender we could achieve on this pretty bottom of yours?” he mused, smiling when the muscles of her buttocks and thighs tensed against his. But before he took his own query to heart, he took a moment to pull her hands above her head, laying her palms loosely against the stone, to keep her from giving in to the urge to push against the wall. “Don’t push away,” he warned her, just enough deadly intent lacing his tone to make her swallow hard.

  Arm cuff or no, she knew better than to take him less than seriously. To prove the point, Jhon slid his hand over the front of her hip, following the V of her leg and hip crease into the valley between her legs. Hanna felt his knee nudging hers farther apart, the intrusion of his muscular thigh forcing her legs wider and wider. She wanted to comply because she knew his fingers were seeking sexual treasures, but at the same time it was opening her up to vulnerability where he was nuzzling up behind her.

  His fingers did dip into the heated, moist flesh he’d exposed, but it was only the lightest and seeking of touches. “Hmm, hardly wet at all,” he tsked softly in her ear as he jolted her with a sudden cupping of her pubic bone in his palm. He took a single step back and pulled her right along with him. The action severely accentuated the bend of her waist, thrusting her bottom out and resetting her wide stance with even less leverage than before against the wall. Now she had to brace her hands just to keep her sense of balance. “Oh yeah, that’s damn pretty,” he breathed roughly after leaning back a little to inspect his handiwork.

  He took another step back, sacrificing the warmth of her body against his aching sex so he could take a good look at her. Now he could see the soft blue tinge of the skin of her bottom as it shaded darker and darker until it became the intimate darkness of her pussy. He could even see that precious second clitoris she had in its place at the edge of her vaginal opening. He wasn’t sure if giving her a good smack on her irresistible backside was going to result in him taking a floor nap, and that she hadn’t offered the answer didn’t mean anything, but he was definitely willing to take a chance.

  Vejhon rubbed his hand soothingly over his target area thoughtfully, smiling a little wickedly.

  Old, eh?

  The sharp popping sound in the air actually seemed to come before she felt the smack. She had been tensely anticipating him pulling away from her to make his play against her flesh, but he’d done the entire recoil so fast, and so hard, that she had no idea it was coming until it was over. She cried out in delayed surprise and sensation as fire burned over her flesh, running up her back, down her leg, and straight across the vibrating lips between her thighs.

  “It was”—she gasped for breath—“just a question!” She panted softly after the powerful sting began to fade. “You’re the one always talking about your youth like it was eons ago!”

  Well, she should have expected the second smack after that, she thought with a long, breathless cry caught in her throat in the wake of it. Mercy, the man was strong! And the way he spanked his hand against her she felt the print of his palm long after the actual strike, right down to the location of his pinky finger. He drew his hand away from her and she tensed, but to her shocked senses he placed his finger at the very base of her spine and drew it straight down through the sensitive valley between her bottom, over the tight cobalt bud he came to first and then on over her perineum to the lip of her vaginal entryway. The caress had her in shivers of unexpected pleasure, as did the realization that he had discovered a much more satisfactory appearance of her sex’s secretions. He dipped his fingers into the slick honey and then reversed his erotic path up to her spine, wetting her with her own fluids the entire way.

  Vejhon stepped back up tight against her, the throb of his aching cock ferociously demanding the contact. He slid both hands down to her hips, his thumbs reaching to pull her cheeks farther apart until his tumescent flesh was lying in the slippery little river he himself had painted over her. He could hear her sexy little panting and saw the edges of the flush on her face. Jhon was not generally a selfish lover, although he could remember a lot of times when he had been selfish, a hazard of his career and, very likely, his sex. But this was probably the only time he could recall the high color on his woman’s face meaning so damn much to him. In fact, the more she reacted, the more stellar his own reactions. Still being selfish in the end, he supposed, but at least with worthwhile mo
tivations for a change. What better motive than to make Hanna feel good? To make her come for him?

  Hanna moaned noisily when he shifted against her and stroked his throbbing penis through the path between her labia, soaking himself in her while at the same time stimulating more of the heated liquid from her excited body. Once he was entirely lubed by her he could hardly find it in himself to remain very patient. Especially when she kept tilting her hips trying to catch him with her fitted body.

  “I shouldn’t make it this easy,” he growled at her as his fingers slipped through the dampness lightly coating her skin.

  “Neither should I.”

  With that, she dropped forward onto her knees, the slipperiness of her body freeing her from his grasp instantly. She had already turned around by the time he went to fish after her, but he stopped still when she reached to grab his pants by the waistband, easing them down over his abused skin. She helped him step out of them and then sat back on her heels to look him over thoroughly, a small frown marring her expression.

  “I should be tending to these,” she murmured softly, moving forward to touch a particularly deep furrow at his right quadriceps. She leaned over, displaying the long line of her spotted spine to him as she gently kissed the wound. Slowly then, her tongue snaked out and ran over it, the contact alone soothing the soreness away for him. Then the lick became a kiss, then a flicker, and another slow kiss that climbed up the skin of his thigh. Her breath tickled and stimulated the gold dusting of hair on his leg, this time making him the victim of an erotic chill that raced straight to his excited cock.

  When her hands bracketed his lean hips, she paused to watch the rippling flex of tension that made the muscles of his legs jump out into definition. Then she focused fully on the impressive rod bulging eagerly only a few inches away. He was of a fine length, but it was his thickness that fascinated and thrilled. The gradation of color on his skin, from the translucent tan along the shaft that showcased fat, pulsing veins in distension, to the deep flushed purpling all along the smooth round head: this made for a virile display that seemed purposely set for attracting a woman. The right woman. This woman.