Spaceport: Paralyzer

by Marteeka Karland

  She oozed sex. Hell, she was a girl and she was attracted to herself. How screwed up was that?

  Starla turned on the water and splashed a little on her face and the back of her neck. This was going to take some getting used to. Taking an expensive-looking silk shirt from the back of the door, she put it on, buttoning it all the way to the top.

  When she looked at her reflection one last time, she stopped. Experimentally, she unbuttoned the top three buttons, exposing a fair amount of cleavage.

  Wow. Now, that was sexy.

  So, Tygor wanted to play with her. She’d give him a run for his money. When this was all over, she’d figure out how to deal with her heart.

  Exiting that bathroom was the hardest thing Starla had ever done. The last thing she wanted was to face Tygor at the moment, but if she did, she’d do it on her terms. She wouldn’t confront him as the attention-craving innocent who’d clung to him earlier. She’d be the woman he’d made her into. A self-assured, worldly woman who knew what she wanted and knew how to get it.

  She spotted Tygor immediately. He’d been leaning against the doorframe across the room, staring at the bathroom door. When she stepped into the spacious bedroom, he straightened lazily and looked her over slowly. He raised an eyebrow. “Everything all right?” His gruff voice was quiet and husky in the stillness of the room.

  “Perfectly,” she replied, not knowing exactly what to do, but determined to be as nonchalant about it as possible. She crossed the short distance to the bed and sat down, curling her legs underneath her with as much grace as she could. “My job was to protect you. Since we’ve established I can no longer do that, what’s the plan now?”

  For a moment, Starla wasn’t sure he’d answer, then he started moving toward her with all the grace and prowess of a great cat on the hunt. “The plan is, we do the last show tomorrow night, then split. We get back to the Continuum, then I get back to my job.”

  “Which is?”

  “Not your concern.” He said it absently, as if he wasn’t interested in the conversation at all.

  “And what exactly am I supposed to be concerned about?” Starla’s heart rate picked up. He hadn’t stopped his steady movement toward her and was only a couple feet away now.

  “About exactly how many ways I can fuck you before the show tomorrow night.” And he pounced.

  * * *

  She looked nothing like she was supposed to. Nothing like the woman he knew he’d never be able to resist. It was so bizarre, he almost felt guilty. He knew the woman he was mashed against, grinding his cock into her flesh, was Starla, but his eyes screamed at him that it wasn’t right. Sure, the woman he’d transformed Starla into was every man’s wet dream, but she wasn’t what he wanted.

  Shaking off his misgivings, he mashed his mouth to hers. Her lips blossomed beneath his, opening for his tongue when he sought entrance. He groaned and wrapped her tighter within his embrace.

  What the fuck was happening to him? He couldn’t get enough of Starla. Even this artificial version of her was better than anything he’d ever sampled. His need of her made him light-headed and unable to think of anything other than burying himself deep inside her. Nothing seemed as important as making love to her.

  With a little start, Tygor pushed her away from him slightly, but kept a firm grip on her. “This is intolerable.” He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but hearing them in truth seemed to break the spell she’d woven over him.

  “I’ll say,” she grumbled, clearly displeased about something. “Why’d you stop? I don’t remember telling you to stop.”

  Tygor couldn’t help the little grin. She looked as dazed as he felt. She rolled her shoulders and tossed her wild mane of hair as if she’d always had hair that length instead of the short-cropped hair she really sported. His eyes immediately fell to the generous breasts caressed by all that hair. His interest definitely sparked, but not as much as when she spoke. “You like what you see?”

  Tygor was shocked to realize he did, but only mildly so. What the fuck was the matter with him? How could he answer that honestly? When she slid down his body, unfastened his pants, and took out his cock, he realized he didn’t have to.

  Starla pulled his pants down to his hips. Without the slightest hesitation, she took him into her mouth, and with one deep pull, sucked the sanity straight from him.

  Where the fuck had she learned to suck cock like this? As protected and secluded as she’d been by the Vastus, he would have thought she’d have been a screaming virgin. Instead, she took to erotic pleasure like a worker at one of the many “blow-job” stalls scattered throughout the station. Tygor needed to think, but his eyes were crossing and his toes curling with every exquisite stroke of her mouth.

  He needed to stop her, needed to get control of the situation. If he was going to get physical with her, it would damned well be without magic to alter her form. He wanted that exquisite beauty who had come to protect him. Funny how he hadn’t given thought to her appearance until now, but then sex had a way of making such things important. Now that he thought about it, she was exactly the type of woman he’d always longed for, but that kind of strength of body and mind was hard to come by. Even being surrounded by the beautiful women following Darkest Knight he’d never met her like.

  Climax wasn’t far away. Two more strokes…

  But he pulled away and urged her further onto the bed. He followed her down, spreading her legs and dipping his face to her weeping cunt.

  Tygor inhaled deeply and couldn’t repress a growl of approval. Parting her lips with two fingers, he swiped her with his tongue from pussy to clit in a long, slow stroke. Starla cried out, spreading her legs wider and pulling her knees higher. She held his hair with one hand, pushing him closer to her.

  Her musky, feminine scent filled him, adding to his growing need. Their chemistry was electric, to say the least. Intense, overwhelming feelings welled inside him, and he didn’t know what to do next. Everything within him screamed for him to claim her, but he held back. This wasn’t right. He wanted Starla, not some aberration he’d created. Still, he could make this time with her pleasurable for her. Tygor closed his eyes and inhaled deeply once more before dipping his face to her cunt again, this time to stay until he was good and finished.

  Her flesh was wet and slick. Hot. Trembling. She quivered and whimpered beneath his touch, crying out with every swipe of his tongue. When he took her clit between his lips and sucked, she screamed, her body bucking beneath his so it was a struggle to hang on to her. Her intimate moisture soaked his lower face, but he stayed with Starla until her body stilled and her breathing slowed.

  “Sweet stars,” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” Tygor grunted. “And don’t forget it, either.”

  He stood, fastened his pants and extended a hand, which she hesitantly took, a questioning look on her face. “I thought you said --”

  “I know.” Tygor hated himself for this. They both wanted sex, and he was normally only too happy to provide, but not like this. Not the first time. Strange thing was, he didn’t know why. She was a woman. Like the countless numbers of women he’d had over the years.

  Only she wasn’t like the rest. They shared a common thread. The magic that stirred his blood stirred in hers, too. It bound them together inextricably, he instinctively knew, eternally. He would never truly be free of her, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He knew next to nothing about her, but she called to him. They might be together physically only one night, but he wouldn’t let it be meaningless. He wanted her to know she was special.

  Tygor shivered. This was so not like him. He hated magic. He really did.

  Chapter Four

  Damn Tygor to the seven hells and back. On second thought, he could stay there. Starla had experienced an event she knew would define the rest of her life, and he’d brushed her off. She was nothing more than a notch in his guitar neck.

  After helping her to her feet, the infuriating man hadn’t much more than looke
d at her before leaving the spacious apartment, and that had been the last she’d seen of him. It had been more than sixteen hours ago, and she had no idea when or if he was coming back.

  Frustrated, humiliated, Starla clenched her fists. He’d changed her appearance, changed her expectations for any physical pleasure she might have in her life, then left her to fend for herself.

  She groaned. Stars above, she’d never imagined anything could feel so good. Or hurt so bad. In less than an hour, she’d gone from being on top of the world of physical sensation to a depression that felt like a knife through her heart. She’d never felt so wonderful, or so terrible.

  And it was all Tygor’s fault.

  Fuming and feeling more than a little defiant, Starla went in search of clothing. She was going out.

  Turned out, Tygor kept a variety of women’s clothing -- if one could call the skimpy scraps of cloth that would barely pass as dental floss clothing. She selected a micromini skirt of black leather that barely covered her ass with a waistband that stopped just above her pubes, the tallest spike-heeled shoes she could find, and nothing else. Her now waist-length hair would cover anything else that needed covering. If it didn’t -- she shrugged. Who gave a flying fuck? She’d probably be more dressed than many of the women at The Haze, anyway.

  As she made her way to the lift that would descend the few floors to The Haze, she garnered a few admiring stares. At first, she almost preened at the attention, then she was uncomfortable. She probably looked ridiculous. Either that or she was just paranoid.

  Starla was about to go back to Tygor’s room when she heard Darkest Knight’s music filtering down the hall. Like a moth to a flame, she made her way toward the loud, crushing music. It beckoned her. Teased her senses. Now that she knew the sinful pleasures Tygor could inflict on her, his music was not only appealing, it reminded her of the way she wanted him to take her.

  Hard.

  Driving.

  Exciting!

  He was everything she wasn’t. Everything she wanted to be. The new body he’d given her was only an external change. It would take more than fancy spells to change what was inside her. Tygor was a rogue. She was the obedient daughter of a powerful organization. No wonder she was attracted to him. Good girls always fell for the rogues.

  As she neared the bar, Starla’s normal quick, purposeful gait slowed. The drums vibrated through her body, and she found herself walking to the beat of Tygor’s call. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and let the deliciously sexy music wash over her in wave after wave of sound. Everything about it screamed of Tygor. It wasn’t just his voice -- his presence seemed to be woven into the essence of the amplified sound growing steadily louder and louder until it almost overpowered her.

  When she stepped into the bar, Starla was swept into the crowd, becoming part of the lifelike entity. Bodies pushed and slammed into each other almost violently, but Starla instinctively knew it was a dance. The yells and screams and intense physical contact were all part of the quintessence of Darkest Knight.

  Men and women jumped up and down in front of the stage, hands raised in adoration and the hope of touching a member of the band. Some of them did. Some received more than a simple touch, also. A few were swept up for a kiss or a quick feel on stage by someone not actively contributing to the music.

  As she looked around the bar, there were couplings happening all around her. Some were just making out, others were fucking vigorously. Everyone was swept into a den of luxurious depravity, and she wanted to be a part of it. When she was lifted up into the air by several sets of hands and swept over the crowd, she was.

  Starla let her body go lax and allowed herself to be carried over the crowd on a multitude of hands. It was like riding a wave of people who were taking her straight to Tygor. Would he be pissed? Would he even care? She closed her eyes and let them take her where they would.

  When the impersonal touches of the crowd disappeared, she found herself surrounded by a breath of warm air. She knew the second it took hold of her it was Tygor’s magic. It called to her, touched her in a way no other’s magic could. It called to her own abilities, as well as her body.

  She turned until she could see him, as his magic surrounded her, lifted her, caressed her. She was encased in his magic like a cocoon and floated over the crowd for everyone to see. Tygor still screamed his lyrics out, but he looked directly at her now, his full attention focused on her, it seemed. The crowd screamed even more, and she was in the spotlight. Her hair floated around her in a black curtain as if she were in zero gravity.

  Slowly, as if she were part of the production of Darkest Knight, she drifted toward the stage, pulled by Tygor’s magic. Starla reached the stage, and though the band continued to play, Tygor took three swift steps to snake an arm around her waist, fist his other hand in her hair and force her head back. Forced her to look directly at him -- as if she’d be able to take her focus from him. With all the animalistic hedonism of his music, Tygor swooped down on Starla and fused his mouth to hers.

  Bliss! This was total, utter bliss! Electricity seemed to ignite around them, sparking stinging sensations on her skin. Her lips tingled where they mashed erotically against Tygor’s. His tongue snaked into her mouth, and Starla’s head swam. Her legs wobbled and she might have sunk to the ground if Tygor’s strong arms hadn’t held her upright. Her whimper of need should have been embarrassing, but nothing about this encounter was normal.

  There were hundreds of people screaming and chanting all around her, and she never once thought to feel anything but joy and lust. Tygor’s hand at her waist ventured lower when she steadied on her feet. She was acutely aware of his palm sliding from bare leg to bare ass as he slipped it underneath her miniscule skirt. His mouth never left hers, and his tongue refused to vacate her mouth, which was all right with her. She had her own tongue deep inside his mouth, as well.

  She loved the taste of him. Salty. Tangy. Male. The more she got, the more she wanted. She knew in her heart she’d never have enough of this incredibly sexy man.

  Starla was vaguely aware the music had stopped. The crowd, however, was louder than ever. With a roar like the animal he was named after, Tygor scooped her up. He stood before the crowd with a wild, almost vicious, look on his face, as if protecting something he was determined not to let go without one hell of a fight.

  “Mine!” His roar carried over the crowd in a burst of sound. It didn’t quiet the screaming people, though. If anything, it made them worse. They were as hungry for sex as Starla was.

  This time, she was the one fisting her hand in his hair. With a sharp yank, she exposed his throat and latched onto him with her mouth. She licked and sucked, the sweat on his skin sharp and tangy. When she nipped, she felt his intake of breath, but he didn’t push her away. He held her tighter. Suddenly, the need to mark him was paramount. Their emotions seemed to be as intertwined as their magic was. Pulling hard with her mouth, she sucked at his neck. When she let go, there’d surely be a hickey the size of the arboretum.

  Tygor’s head spun. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to have a complete breakdown during a performance. Thank the stars this was the finale. With any luck, everyone would simply think it was part of the show.

  Needing desperately to bury himself inside Starla until his eyes crossed, Tygor opened a magical gateway to his suite and stepped inside. Posh would know what to do. It wasn’t the normal ending to their show, but the guitar player could close without him. He had to. Tygor wasn’t giving any of them any choice. He had to have Starla, and he couldn’t wait a minute longer.

  For the first time since he’d learned how to open a portal, he stepped from one place to the next as if he’d simply walked into the next room. There was no awkwardness in his gait, and he didn’t stumble once as they entered his bedroom. Starla was still latched onto his neck, and it stung where her mouth sucked. But it was nothing compared to the tingling and stinging created by their combined magics.

&nb
sp; The air sizzled around them, and Tygor had the vague thought that he should be concerned, but it left him the second Starla wiggled out of his arms and sank to her knees in front of him.

  “Oh, no,” he croaked out with difficulty. “You do that and it will all be over.” He grabbed her by the waist and tossed her to the bed. “First things first, though.” With a wave of his hand, he returned Starla to her normal appearance. She looked down at herself, horror and confusion on her face.

  She grabbed the comforter on the bed and pulled it around her, covering that powerful, beautiful body. The sight of her now nearly caused him to lose what little control over his orgasm he had left.

  “Why’d you do that? Change me back!”

  Tygor blinked. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected from her. He narrowed his gaze. “I will not have our first time together be so blatantly ‘staged’.” The thought of taking her in a costume was unthinkable. Not only did he love that tightly muscled body of hers, it seemed important to him for her to know he found her perfect in every way. This was more than a convenient dalliance for him, and he wanted it to mean as much to her. “I want you. The real you. No untruths. Nothing less than everything you are, and I’ll give you the same in return.”

  Her anger seemed to evaporate, and Tygor saw the young, sexually inexperienced woman he’d expected from the beginning. “But didn’t you like the other body better? You made it. It’s been my experience male mages with the ability to morph themselves and others give them an appearance more pleasing to them.”

  “No.” He knew he looked as annoyed as he sounded. “I changed you to throw off whoever is following us. I gave you a look that was nothing like what you really are. That doesn’t mean I liked it better.” He wanted to jerk the comforter away from her. That she covered a body that he wanted to claim for himself angered him more than he wanted to admit, but whatever had caused her to see herself as less than perfect almost enraged him.