The corner of his eyes crinkled again, and one side of his mouth lifted. He slid his fingers out of her, and then stared down at her with a smug and deliberate expression. Her pulse quickened as she realized his intent. He was denying her a quick release; he was going to draw this out.
He pushed her legs further apart and positioned himself at her opening, pressing gently but not entering. He paused, waiting, and she whimpered, urging him to continue. His eyes darkened with desire and he moved his hips, sliding into her effortlessly with one long smooth glide, until he was sheathed fully inside her. Then he stopped, as if waiting for her to adjust to the feel of him. He was watching her carefully, his full attention focused on her.
She waited breathlessly for him to begin moving. He felt exquisite inside her. But he didn’t move; he just stood there, looking down at her with an unreadable expression. She wiggled her hips impatiently, signaling he should continue. His half-smile deepened, but his eyes burned her with their intensity.
He pulled out almost all the way, and she feared he was leaving. He didn’t seem like a man who wanted caresses and tenderness, but maybe he expected or wanted more from her. She tried to clamp her legs around him, to hold him inside, but he put a hand on the inside of each knee and pressed down, holding her legs apart and her hips pressed to the bed, making her unable to direct him in any way. She was spread open before him and could only passively receive his thrusts—he controlled everything. That realization sent molten heat boiling through her.
He pulled almost all the way out again and then slowly slid back into her, letting her feel every agonizingly sensual inch of his long, slow descent. Pleasure rippled along every nerve ending and her womb tightened. Then he repeated the motion—slowly out and slowly in. She was stretched perfectly around him and could feel every movement he made. She whimpered and tried to move her hips, to encourage him to go faster, but he had her pinned quite effectively. She flopped back on the bed with a groan, a plea escaping her lips. “Derrick…”
“You in a hurry or something?” he asked, and there definitely was amusement in his tone. He knew damn well exactly what he was doing to her. “We’ve got all night.”
He had her wound so tight she thought something inside her would surely break. She whimpered and shifted beneath him in frustration, trying to increase the friction. His mouth tipped up and he relented slightly, increasing the speed of his long, smooth thrusts just enough to increase the frisson of tension inside her so that it started building toward something instead of just simmering beneath the surface.
He continued to move smoothly and slowly, watching her intently all the while, and she realized he was studying her, learning what she liked. The combination of his intense scrutiny and the throbbing need inside her was too much. Her emotions overloaded. She grabbed the bed covering in both hands, whimpering incoherently as her back arched, straining toward him.
His hands on her knees tightened and he suddenly thrust hard; she came apart in a flash of incandescence, pleasure exploding through every nerve in her body. She bit her lip to keep from crying out but couldn’t stop a long, guttural moan from escaping as waves of pleasure washed over her.
However, his hips didn’t stop moving. He continued his long, deliberate thrusts through her climax, pushing her toward another peak with the same unhurried rhythm he’d used to drive her to the first crescendo.
Oh God, she thought as the spring inside her began to wind tight again, battling against the loose-limbed warmth spreading through her. She wasn’t sure she could handle another explosive burst like the one that had just rocked her.
She looked up at him, meting his eyes. He was still watching her with intense concentration, but one side of his mouth curved up again with that sphinx-like smile—part indulgent and tender, part arrogant and commanding. That possessive, lust-filled look sent a lightning strike of arousal through her, pulling her insides taunt; she quivered like a bow-string, ready to fly apart once more.
She groaned, unable to form words, and strained for release. He shifted, pushed deeper, but didn’t provide relief, holding her, instead, on the edge of the abyss. Soon, she couldn’t bear the tension, and she moved beneath him, trying futilely to find leverage to raise her hips to ride him to completion. His eyes never left her, taking in the interplay of every emotion, every feeling, flitting across her face, and somehow being so exposed made her even more aroused. She whimpered fretfully, tears of frustration threatening to spill over, as she clutched at the bed and fought to reach climax. He complied with her wordless demand and slid his hands down her thighs so that his thumbs met at the sensitive nub at the apex. He stroked it with feather-light caresses as he thrust hard within her. She was pushed over the top once more, pleasure so intense it burned like fire shattering her, and this time, a cry was ripped from her as she crested.
Chapter Eleven
Her face was an open book, revealing everything she felt. Every twinge of arousal, every stroke of pleasure played across her face so clearly, he felt it, too. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.
Things had started off a little rocky, with her just staring at him like she’d been turned into a statue. Stripping off his clothes had finally startled her out of her stupor. He’d been surprised by the jolt of arousal he’d felt when she’d taken off her own clothes. She didn’t have the overt, exaggerated curves and ample figure he tended to like on a woman and yet everything about her had seemed perfect, and some of his vaunted control had slipped. And then she’d laid back on the bed, looking both innocent and wanton, her wide eyes filled with a combination of uncertainty and lust, and a bolt of desire so strong he was nearly undone had sizzled through him. It had taken all of his will power not to lose control right then. That struggle had increased the moment he found her ready for him, despite the fact he hadn’t even touched her. He’d meant to do things right—kiss her and stroke her into a fever, but she clearly hadn’t needed any of that. He’d wondered for a moment if her arousal had anything to do with him at all, but then all the times he’d caught her staring at him, especially his chest, followed by blushing and avoiding looking him in the eye came to mind. He’d thought she was always looking at his chest instead of his face because she was timid and shy; now he wondered if maybe, instead, she’d been fantasizing about him without his shirt on. That thought pleased him greatly.
She’d whimpered then and flexed her hips, impatiently seeking him, and he’d had to wrestle the urge to bury himself to the hilt inside her back under control. Luckily the bed was too small for him to make love to her properly; he’d realized too late they should have gone to his quarters as the bed there was bigger. However, the fact that he had to stand ended up being a boon as it put enough distance between them for him to keep a modicum of control. It also gave him a great vantage point to watch her.
She moved restlessly beneath him, tears of frustration shimmering in her eyes, as she hovered on the peak of her third orgasm. She whimpered—a combination of plaintive and aggravated—and tried to raise her hips. He bit back a smile; damn, but she was impatient. She definitely didn’t like being teased—or denied.
She flopped back against the bed, panting. “You bastard!”
Immediately, he froze, afraid he’d hurt her.
She whimpered again, this time more urgently, and clutched at the bed covers.
“For fuck’s sake!” she muttered, trying to raise her hips again. Her ankles were up around his waist, and she dug her heels into his backside, trying to pull him deeper into her. A string of muttered, incoherent, expletives followed.
He relaxed and bit back a smile, even as his own groin tightened in response to her frantic demands. Her mindless need was driving him dangerously close to the edge.
He resumed moving inside her. She arched beneath him, her head rolling back, and she gasped, apparently nearing the apex once more. Fretfully, her head thrashed back and forth as she writhed beneath him, seeking a movement that would push her over the brink
.
“Look at me,” he said. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so harsh, but he was so close now, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back, and he wanted to see her face when she came apart.
She complied; tears of frustration and need glinted in her eyes, and she whimpered as she stared up at him with a pleading look.
A primitive compulsion to answer her need swept over him. He tried to hold back, to draw out her pleasure further, but the urge was irresistible. He lost control and began to thrust hard, burying himself in her over and over. She cried out and shuddered around him. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back his own release, but to no avail. His own end came hard and fast. In a moment, it was over. Kyra fell back against the bed, panting.
He stilled and stared down at her, breathing heavily. Her face was streaked with tears and her brow beaded with sweat, and she was gazing at him with a tremulous, uncertain expression. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The desire to close the distance between them, to take her in his arms and soothe away her tears, to smooth the hair back from her sweat-soaked brow and feather kisses across her face until she was calm again, swept over him.
Gently, he disentangled himself from her. She was still sprawled in the middle of the bed and he pushed her to the side and squeezed in beside her. He could only just fit if he lay on his side with one arm draped over her. He felt her tense for a second. He thought maybe he should say something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. He hadn’t lost control like that in a long time. It was damn embarrassing. Sheepishly, he racked his brain for a way to reassure her that, after a brief respite, he’d be ready for a second go round—one in which he’d give her a lot more pleasure than the three hasty orgasms of round one.
His eyelids were growing heavy, and he fought against sleep.
“Just give me a sec,” he muttered thickly.
Then his eyes drifted closed.
Kyra frowned at the assorted spices on the counter, trying to decide what to add to the Re-Conned “meatloaf” to make it taste even a little palatable. She wasn’t sure what Harlan had done to make it achieve the consistency, texture, and taste of glue. She’d been assigned by the captain to clean the empty passenger quarters to prepare them for the new occupants coming on board, so she’d asked Harlan to set the Re-Con she planned to use for that evening’s meal to soaking. Apparently, he’d added way too much water. Somehow, she needed to try and salvage this. This would be one of the last meals she’d be cooking for the crew. They’d depart New Antigua later today, and in three days they’d reach New Dominica.
Ivy entered the kitchen, a rosy smile on her face as usual, but there was a “bursting-to-tell-a-secret” tinge to it.
“Afternoon!”
“Good afternoon,” Kyra said, wondering what in the world Ivy could be so excited about.
Ivy leaned casually on the edge of the island, clearly feigning interest in what Kyra was doing. Kyra bit back a smile and pretended not to notice Ivy’s clear desire to spill the juicy gossip.
“So,” Ivy said, tracing a finger on the counter in an apparent attempt to act casual, “I ran into Derrick coming out of your room this morning.”
“Oh.” Kyra wasn’t sure what to say to that. Ivy was smirking, and Kyra had the idea that the other woman might be making fun of her.
At that same moment, Vienna stepped into the room. Her eyebrows went up in surprise; clearly, she’d heard what Ivy had said. “Finally got your man, huh?”
“He’s not my man,” Kyra replied defensively, feeling a nip of something she couldn’t identify—Frustration? Disappointment? Regret?
Ivy leaned on the counter and lowered her voice. “Can I ask… you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I’ve always wondered… how was it? With Derrick, I mean?”
“Oh come on,” Vienna scoffed, coming to stand on the other side of the counter. “Derrick? He’s a minute man if ever I laid eyes on one.”
“Oh no,” Kyra countered quickly, a blush rising to her cheeks as warm shivers of pleasure tingled down her spine at the memories of the previous evening.
“No?” Ivy asked, surprised.
“Mmm, mmm. That man turned me inside out.”
“Really?” Vienna said, clearly not believing her.
“Really.”
Kyra could understand Vienna’s surprise. Everything about the previous evening had been unexpected, from him asking her to accompany him in to town to his sudden invitation to have sex. And as for the sex… Dear God, the sex. By the time he’d moved to take his own release, she’d basically been unconscious from pleasure, too limp and wrung out to do anything to help him.
After he was done, she’d expected him to get dressed and leave. To her surprise, he’d flopped down on the bed beside her. The bed was narrow, barely enough for one regular sized person, and he was huge. He’d pushed her—gently—to the side to make room and then collapsed half beside half on top of her. She’d been too surprised to say anything and then, by the time she’d recovered enough to speak, he was already snoring. She had fallen asleep soon after. When she’d woken up, he was gone. She hadn’t seen him since.
“She’s blushing!” Ivy crowed in amusement, her mouth curving in an ear-to-ear grin.
That only made Kyra blush more furiously.
“She’s in love!” Ivy crowed even louder.
“I am not,” Kyra said, but the words sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.
Vienna shook her head, looking somber. “Can I give you some advice?” She didn’t wait for Kyra to answer before continuing. “A man like Derrick… he ain’t lookin’ to settle down. If he gets any notion that you’ve got feelings for him, he’ll high tail it for the hills. You want to hang on to him? Then bury those feelings down deep.”
Kyra dropped her eyes to hide the sudden tears that sprang to them. Just because she recognized the truth in Vienna’s words, didn’t mean they didn’t hurt. “Oh, I know,” she said, trying to keep her voice light and upbeat. “A man like Derrick… well, even if were looking for a woman, it wouldn’t be me. I’m not his type. A man like him—he’d want someone big and tough and strong like him. Someone like… well, like you.” She lifted her eyes to Vienna, meeting the other woman’s gaze and holding it.
“Me?” Vienna laughed. “Derrick and I are like oil and water. But yeah; Derrick’s not romantic or big on feelings—or talking; he’s more practical. Stow any ‘love’ talk and focus more on tangibles—like what you have to offer.”
Kyra’s face fell. What she had to offer? To a man like Derrick, she had nothing to offer. She hadn’t forgotten his words in the cargo hold that she should consider being something other than a cook and look to settle somewhere other than on a First World. Obviously, he didn’t think, in the grand scheme of things, cooking was all that worthwhile as a skill—or that she was skilled enough at anything to earn a First World settlement permit.
Ivy made a sympathetic sound and put her hand over Kyra’s. “Awww, now, come on, you never know…”
“Would you even want a big, dumb, selfish, surly ox like that, anyway?” asked Vienna. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen that man smile.”
“He’s not dumb—or selfish!” Kyra said, surprising herself by how quickly—and forcefully—she jumped to Derrick’s defense. But the accusation was completely unfair. If nothing else, he’d proven the untruth of the selfish part last night. He’d centered the entire night on her—leaving her nothing to do but receive pleasure while he did all the work. No man had ever focused so singularly or intentionally on her before. And the way he had watched her—so focused and intent. She shivered just thinking about it.
Vienna shrugged, but Ivy grinned knowingly. “Well, I think you two go well together. I hope he realizes what he’s got.”
Kyra didn’t expect there was much chance of that. A few hours hustling pool and one night of sex as their only significant social interactions hardly seemed the basis for a relationship. Kyra had no illusions—the o
nly reason he’d invited her to play pool was because she’d been at hand. Same with the sex. He’d been bored, and she’d been the closest woman.
Still, falling in love with a man that couldn’t hardly stand to be in the same room with you most of the time was humiliating, and she did have some pride. She pasted a smile on her face and met Vienna’s eyes. “He was bored, and I was handy, that’s all. Besides, I’m not a complete idiot; I don’t have any skills needed for a Second World and Derrick doesn’t have any for a First World, so there ain’t much future there, anyway.” He’d asked if she’d stay on the Mercy if given the chance but hadn’t seemed terribly broken up about the fact there was no chance of her being able to stay. And he’d pooped all over the idea of living on New Dominica. He’d made his position very clear. He thought her dreams foolish and had no interest in sharing them.
“Uh huh,” Vienna said, her eyes a little too knowing.
What did it matter? They would arrive in New Dominica in three days. There wasn’t much likelihood of her getting Derrick to fall head over heels in love with her in that time—even if she could follow Vienna’s advice and convince Derrick that having her in his life offered some sort of tangible benefit—one great enough to tempt him to leave the Mercy. That hardly seemed likely. At most, if she were lucky, they might have a couple more nights together and that was it.
Kyra looked down and focused on slicing vegetables, trying to ignore the fact that the thought of arriving at New Dominica no longer made her feel excited or hopeful; instead, she felt just the opposite. How had she gone from excited to despondent in only four and a half weeks? And what was she supposed to do now that her dreams were in tatters?
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