by Joanna Wylde
Now she tried to infuse each touch with the love and need she felt for him, the unity that had come between them in the conception of this child. They were bound together with ties that could never be broken, ties that made them stronger and better. They were more than the sum of their parts.
His flesh grew warm beneath her hands and she felt some of his tension draining away. He looked less tense, too. He had draped one arm up and over his head, his breathing was slow and steady. Even his erection looked less urgent. He was still hard, but without the tightness that she associated with his greatness need. He was content in the moment.
She moved her hands lower, rubbing his upper stomach.
A new tension was building in him now. His muscles were tightening back up. He threw one arm over his eyes, and allowed other hand to grip the sheet. She continued her slow, steady motions and the skin of his fingers grew white with tension. His stomach muscles hardened with every touch, then he gasped.
“I can’t take too much more of this.”
She laughed, bracing her hands against his chest and swinging one leg over him.
“I’ll be the judge of how much you take,” she said lightly. He grunted.
She positioned herself so that the head of his erect penis just brushed her opening. Then she lowered herself just a bit, teasing him with her touch. He shuddered and tried to thrust up at her. She pulled away.
“None of that.”
He nodded beneath his arm, lips tightening. Bethany paused, waiting for him to settle down.
She lowered herself over him again, once more teasing his most sensitive spot. He shivered, but this time managed to keep still. Encouraged, she pushed down slightly.
She could feel the wide head pushing into her, and for one moment she nearly sat straight down on him. It would be so easy, so fulfilling to simply swallow him with her body. She knew that if she did, his hands would come up around her hips, guiding her movements. They had done this what seemed like a thousand times—he always ended up in control, bringing her to pleasure. She had insisted earlier today that they be partners; this was her chance to express that partnership. His needs would come first. She couldn’t just let him take over and do the work for her.
So she gritted her teeth, lowering herself once more. She could feel him slowly sliding up into her body. His length pushed her open, inch by agonizing inch. She paused again, forcing herself to stay controlled. Breathe, she reminded herself. Remember to breathe.
She started moving a third time, sinking down over him until the pressure from within was almost painful. He was so large, filled her so completely, that she wondered for an instant if she’d be able to take him. But just when she thought it was too much she hit bottom. She sat across his hips, his length fully embedded within him. She paused, allowing herself to adjust to the tight fit.
She opened her eyes, unable to remember closing them. She was startled to see her own fingers braced against his chest, clutching him so tightly that her nails were white. She forced herself to release them, one finger at time, and was shocked to see the tiny, half-moon shaped marks that were left there.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. He grunted, and lifted the arm away from his face. His eyes met hers, steady and serious, then he spoke.
“It felt good.”
She giggled, made suddenly nervous by the intensity of his gaze. He was so big, so much stronger than her. He could pick her up and break her without even thinking about it, yet he lay before her submissively. Every muscle in his body was tight with tension, ready to take her and make her his. Instead, he was giving her a choice. He wasn’t allowing his instincts to control the situation.
He really was willing to trust her.
She closed her eyes and flexed her fingers against his chest. Then she deliberately squeezed him from within. He grunted, quivering with need.
“Please…”
She pushed herself up, then plunged back down over him. His cock rasped against her, filling her with chills that were almost more than she could handle. How could one man give her so much pleasure? Everything about him—his smell, his skin, the sound of his breathing—aroused her. She pulled back and plunged down over him yet again.
Taking him into her body was much easier this time. He still felt big, but her fluids eased his way. Braced against his chest, she pumped again. This time his hips pushed up at her involuntarily, as if he could no longer keep himself from joining in the dance they had started between them.
Earlier she had wanted full control, but now she no longer cared how they came together. It was enough that they did, that their bodies smacked against each other with every stroke. Perspiration broke out across her skin, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, too. It seemed to bind them closer together, her wet flesh sliding across his with every stroke. Her entire body was filled with tension, and every time her clit slid down his length it grew stronger. Her heart pounded, her breath grew ragged. Moving was becoming harder. She desperately wanted to go faster, harder, but coordinating her thrusts with him was difficult. Then her hand slid off his sweat-slicked chest, and she collapsed against him. They both stopped moving, each sucking in air in with deep gasps.
“Why don’t we change positions?” he said softly. “You’ve been doing all the work. Why don’t you let me take over for a while?”
She laughed, then pushed herself upright..
“Nope, I started this,” she said. “I’m going to finish it. Remember, I can take care of myself.”
He chuckled too, and she narrowed her eyes in mock anger.
“Tease me?” she asked. “I’ll show you what it means to tease.”
She squeezed him from within again, taunting him.
“You win,” he said in a grating voice. “Stop, you win. I’ll just lie back and let you take advantage of me.”
She giggled, then moving slowly on him, ground her hips against his in a circle. She kept it up for thirty seconds, but by then it was backfiring on her. With each slow rotation, her clit moved across his pelvic bone with tantalizing force. She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate, but it was too much.
She orgasmed suddenly, body stiffening and clutching him fast. Through her own release she heard him shout his. Then his hips spasmed against her and she could feel his seed spurting up within her body. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her until she collapsed against his chest, spent.
They lay there in silence, and she listened to his heartbeat slow as he calmed down. He wrapped both arms around her and held her close. She fell asleep, happier than she’d even been in her life.
Finally, she had found her partner.
* * * * *
Jess held Bethany for several hours. For the first time, he understood how she could have left him on Barengaria. She had done it because she didn’t have a choice. She had seen their situation so clearly even though he’d been oblivious. There was a tiny being, a new life growing within her. That child deserved a safe, happy and healthy life. It deserved love; it deserved protection.
Everything he had failed to provide Calla. Bethany wanted those things for their child.
Sure, he had managed to take care of Bethany. But she had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t need him. She really was capable of caring for herself. She even had a safe place to go. Logan would provide her with more than Jess could ever hope to give her, he thought despondently. Bethany didn’t need him, and he hadn’t given her the opportunity to choose to be with him. From the beginning he had forced himself on her, taking what she wasn’t willing to give freely and holding her captive when she wanted to go.
He’d put her in a cage. What kind of animal was he?
He couldn’t hide the truth from himself any longer. She deserved more than he had to give and she deserved choices in life. He lowered his head, allowing himself to drink in the scent of her hair one last time. He kissed the top of her head and slid out from under the covers. She would be free now.
* * * * *
Bethany woke up and stretched, enjoying the delicious looseness in her arms and legs. Everything was finally all right.
Jess was already up, nothing unusual in that. He usually woke before her, especially now that she was pregnant. She needed more sleep than she ever had before. Her stomach growled, and she rolled out of bed feeling light and happy. Had Jess eaten yet? She felt like a big breakfast… Maybe they could even go out to eat on the station. At one of those restaurants she liked so much.
There was no sign of Jess out in the main room, so she ambled up toward the cockpit. He spent much of his free time up there, studying the piloting tables. She called his name as she walked down the hallway, not wanting to startle him.
There was no response, and sudden chill hit her. Where was he?
The cockpit was empty, so she jumped when the computer’s soft voice spoke.
“Message waiting.”
“What?”
“There is a message waiting,” the computer repeated. “Would you like to play the message?”
“Yes, play the message,” she said slowly. Tension built within her, and a slow burning started in the pit of her stomach. With a whirring noise, a small vid screen rose from the control panel and flickered to life. Jess’ beloved face looked down at her. His expression was grim.
“Bethany, I’m sorry to do this without talking to you first,” he said slowly. “I didn’t want to just disappear on you, but I also wanted to give you the freedom to make a choice for yourself. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could trust myself to do that if I spoke to you face to face.”
Suddenly it was hard for her to breathe. She sat back in the pilot’s chair heavily, forcing herself to listen as he continued speaking.
“I understand now that you don’t need me, that you can take care of yourself. I’ve never given you a choice to be with me, and I haven’t even listened to you when told me how foolish it was to chase Jenner halfway across the sector.
“I realize that you were right about that. Killing her was a waste of time. Calla is still dead, and I’m still a failure. You and the baby deserve more.”
She shook her head, wondering how he could be so stupid. He never listened to her, not when she told him he was wrong, and not when she told him she wanted a partner. Why couldn’t she communicate with this man?
“I’ve programmed the ship to take to you Logan,” Jess continued. “You’ll be there in less than three weeks. He’ll be expecting you. I’m staying here on the station. I’ve got half of our money, and I’m ready to apply for my pilot’s license. You don’t have to worry about me any more.”
His hand in the image reached toward her, almost as if he were trying to touch her through the screen. She reached one arm up toward him, then pulled it back, feeling foolish. He was just reaching out to end the recording…
But instead of flicking off, he pulled his hand back and looked out once more.
“I know it’s weak of me to even tell you this, but there’s a part of me that isn’t ready to give up hope. If you want to get in touch with me, I’ve got a room at the Pilot’s Hostel in Quadrant Four. I’ll be here until I get word that your ship has left.”
He reached out again, and this time the image disappeared. The vid screen rolled silently back down into the control panel, leaving Bethany to stare thoughtfully at the space it had occupied.
She stood up and stretched. How could he misunderstand like this? she asked herself again. Hadn’t they been through enough? She sighed and walked slowly back to their room. She needed to take a shower and get dressed. Goddess only knew how long it would take her to find this Pilot’s Hostel place…
Chapter Eighteen
Jess sat in the bar, drinking a rich, dark glass of beer. It was good stuff, some of the best he’d ever tasted. Every few moments he would check his message box on the counter-top terminal. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting. Every time it showed up blank he was filled with both relief and fear. Relief that the ship hadn’t left the station yet; fear because she hadn’t tried to contact him.
What was she thinking? When would she be out of his life for good? Would he ever be able to forgive himself for losing her? He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice it when someone slid into the seat next to him.
“Can you please bring me a glass of water?” a familiar voice asked the bartender, and for a moment he thought he was dreaming. He turned to look at her, trying to keep the longing he felt out of his face. He’d pressured her too much already, the last thing she needed from him was more force. She had to make her own decisions.
“How are you doing?” he asked, doing his best to sound casual. As if his entire life didn’t rest on her answer.
“Not too good, Jess,” she said softly. She looked at him, those beautiful cat eyes that he’d loved from the first minute he’d seen them gazing deeply into his own face. “I woke up this morning and found myself all alone. Now, instead of eating breakfast I had to come hunt you down. Why are you doing this to us?”
He opened his mouth, then closed. What was he supposed to say?
“I was pretty angry when I first got your message,” she said softly. The bartender brought a glass of water over and she took it, murmuring, “Thanks.”
He waited as she drank deeply. She put the glass down, the lightly traced the rim with one finger.
“But I realized something,” she continued. “Being angry with you wasn’t the solution. I love you for who you are, Jess.”
His heart froze.
“And I guess that means loving you even when you do things I can’t understand.”
“What are you saying?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Oh, Jess,” she said, turning to him. “I really don’t get why you’re doing this to yourself. How many times have I told you I love you? How many times have I made it clear I want you for my partner?”
“You’ve also made it very clear you don’t need me,” he said, shaking his head.
“Of course I don’t need you,” she replied. “I’m a grown woman. I’m capable of living without you. I’m not a child. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you, Jess. You’re my man, we’re a family now. How could I ever be happy without you? I love you.”
She leaned forward, kissing him on the mouth. He didn’t respond, still trying to process what she was telling him. She really did want to be with him.
She pulled back, sliding off the barstool and standing beside him.
“Let’s get back to our ship and get out of this place,” she said, holding out one hand to him. He nodded slowly, and took it.
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” he replied. “Where are we going? To Logan?”
“We’ll see,” she said, a strange little grin playing across her face. “I think it’s my turn to pick where we go. Some place warm, maybe. And definitely no Pilgrims or slaves.”
“Yes m’am,” he replied, smiling back at her. “I’m up for anything you want.”
“Good,” she replied, laughing and shaking her head. “Brace yourself, Jess. I’m in a strange mood, so things could get interesting. Let’s see what kind of future we can find for ourselves, hmm?”
Epilogue
Logan stood alone on his balcony.
He could see his entire city from here, the shining capital that his family had ruled for centuries. Once his father had stood here too, telling his young son stories of the star system that would one day be his to rule. He had always imagined doing the same with his own son, Soren.
Instead he had spent five years as a slave, less than a man.
For all that, his return to power had been almost laughably easy. His people had rallied to him upon his return, turning on the revolutionaries and slaughtering them as Logan strode through the city toward his palace. Millions had followed him, singing songs and throwing flowers in his path. Several times he had been forced to stop. They all wanted to touch him, to hear his voice and remember the
good times. Nobody could have guess how bad life would get once revolutionaries had crept into his palace wearing gas masks five years ago. Every electronic security system had been subverted, and loyal guardsmen were slaughtered as they lay unconscious. A reign of terror had followed and millions suffered.
Many of the conspirators were already dead. Thousands more waiting in the prisons below the castle, damp, dark pits his earliest forefathers had carved out of the living rock to encase their enemies. Now his men were questioning those prisoners, demanding answers and ripping the truth from the very fabric of their brains.
So far no one had been able to give him the information he sought. Somewhere, out in the city or in the hills beyond, his son still lived.
Every other member of his family was dead. His brothers, sisters…his lifemate, Linnea. They were all gone, but Soren still lived.
Those of his loyal friends and counselors who had survived the assault thought he was crazy. There was no reason to believe the child had survived. He had been less than a year old when the revolutionaries had struck the palace. His caretakers were all slaughtered, and while the child’s body was never found, there was no reason to hope. The destruction in the nursery had been terrible; many bodies completely destroyed before they could be identified. How could a child survive something like that? Entire sections of the palace were ultimately vaporized during those tense, horrible hours…
Despite that, Logan knew in his heart Soren lived. He could hear the child’s heart beating deep within his soul, just as he had been able to hear Linnea’s heart stop beating. He had felt it the instant his lifemate had perished. Her dying screams echoed in his dreams, though they had been miles apart when the attack came. A part of him died with her and only the hope of finding his son had kept him alive. Logan leaned forward, willing himself to feel the life of the city, calling out silently to his son to answer him.
Of course, there was nothing. He was no sorcerer to reach outside his body for the truth. Even the priests and priestesses of the Goddess, many with powers beyond his ability to comprehend, believed his son was dead.