Turning away with a dismissive toss of her head, she took two long strides to the door.
“Stop.”
“Is that an order, Captain?” she asked mockingly.
“Turn around.”
His tone brooked no argument. With a deep breath, she faced him, her chin high.
“Go to my bunk and wait for me there.”
Startled by his command and the smoldering heat in his eyes, Kraft had to clench her jaw tight before shock allowed it to fall off her face. Would he make her his whore just to assert his authority over her?
Cautious and respectful, she asked, “Are you ordering me to your bunk to…” She let her voice trail off because she didn’t know how to finish.
Stepping close, he lowered his voice. “You said you would honor the full of the contract between us.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jace strode down the hall and found Kraft standing by the door to his bunk. Seeing her dressed in his old flax trousers straining against her hips attracted him on a deep physical level, but his too-small yellow shirt now ripped and stained from a gunshot to her upper left arm repulsed him with a hefty dose of guilt. Kraft had damn near killed herself to protect him.
She’d been forced to put herself in jeopardy to save him from his own bumbling. He should have known the information Kobra gave him on the salvage job was flawed, but he needed the money and the job looked okay. Once again, even though he’d gone by the book, everything went wrong. He felt inept, ashamed, emasculated, and he’d taken his frustration out on Kraft because she saved him without a single thought to her own safety.
His decade of surviving the Fringe was a drop in the bucket to her shark-infested depths. Just by being a woman, Kraft opened herself up to a seamy-underbelly of the Fringe that he never had to deal with. Most established worlds, be they IWOG, WAG, or Fringe, still considered women chattel. Men could be bought and sold as labor slaves, but few were bought or sold as sexual slaves. Women were far more valuable commodities. Women could be sold as cheap labor, breeders, or thralls. A thrall, a sexual slave, especially an attractive woman with cooking skills, was the most valuable of all women on the Fringe.
Cook-whore.
Freeze-dried dreck in knowing hands could be most pleasurable. And if the cook-whore couldn’t cook all that well, then at least she could still whore. Even if the woman put up a fight, a strong man could force her to provide the basics of pleasure. Or drug her so she might not care so much. Or restrain her until she had no choice.
Kraft willingly cooked, willingly fought, and claimed she would willingly whore. By her own honor, she offered the full of herself up to him, but Jace sensed that she expected him to restrain himself by his own dictates of honor. Asking her to cook and fight was one thing, but asking her to whore? Well, that was an entirely different matter.
When she saw him approach, Kraft stood at full attention with her face demurely lowered. All at once he felt a foot taller than her when he wasn’t.
He’d ordered her to his bunk as a spur-of-the-moment way to get her to stop defying his authority. He never thought Kraft would actually obey. Now that she had, he wasn’t sure what to do with her. Feeling awkward and shy, he thought the first thing he should do was explain and apologize.
Embarrassment at her having saved him and his crew fueled his need to remind her and himself that he was in charge. As he drew close to her, he longed to reach out and touch her face. On a rush of emotion, he wanted to confess that he didn’t always know what to do, or how to proceed, and sometimes acted rashly, fueled more by his heart than his head.
As a captain, Jace wanted to ask for her help and make her his partner in crime. Perversely, he felt he shouldn’t need her help and should make her his partner in bed. As a man, Jace wanted to possess the full of Kraft. He wanted to protect her even though he knew he couldn’t. Worse, he knew he didn’t have to coddle Kraft, which only increased his longing to claim her as his bedwarmer. Beyond that corral of confusion, Jace knew Kraft shouldn’t have to protect him.
Instead of saying anything, he unlocked his bunk with a slap of his hand to the wall com. The metal catch released with a soft snick that vibrated the floor below their feet.
Her braless breasts jiggled against the worn yellow fabric of his secondhand shirt. The enticing movement caught his attention, and he forgot what he intended to say. Instead, he found himself imagining what she would look like topless.
“If you’d like, I could put the harem outfit on.”
His gaze went from her chest to her mouth.
Lifting her lowered face a fraction, Kraft met his gaze, and whispered, “Someone placed the costume in my closet.” She flashed him that slow, lazy and sexy smile.
Jace had no idea who put the outfit in her closet, but he wouldn’t mind seeing her in that getup again. Fluffpink clinging and exposing the full promise of her undeniably strong and sexy body was certainly worth a second look. After seeing her in the revealing outfit, he knew her nipples were large and toffee-dark against her skin. He remembered the snug slit of her innie bellybutton drawing his gaze down to the wide pleasure of her hips. Between her lush thighs, he would find another snug—
“Should I fetch that costume, Captain?”
Her seductive, superior attitude dispelled all his thoughts of apologizing. Kraft didn’t worry one bit about him taking charge, because she assumed she had the upper hand. His blushing and backing off made her think she could say or do anything, and he’d just turn away. Normally he would have, but not this time.
Slipping a finger under her chin, he lifted her face until she met his gaze. Fathomless black eyes held a smirk that he wanted to quash in a sudden rush. For the first time, she didn’t flinch away from his touch. She melted to him as he stroked his finger across her full, sensuous lips. More than anything in the Void, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to taste every bit of her luscious mouth. Kraft had a body built for sin, but she had a mouth destined for seduction.
Jace lowered his voice as his mouth descended on hers. “Seems like a waste of time for you to put on all those complicated clothes when I’m just going to make you take them off.”
Her eyes widened.
Placing his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “Or did you want to dress up and then strip for me?”
She tensed and swallowed with an audible click.
He pressed closer. “I’ve never had a whore in my bed. If you’re familiar with the concept, maybe you could walk me through it.”
Kraft pulled back and narrowed her gaze. “After ten years of celibacy, I think a walk is all it would take.”
“Is that so?” Refusing to back down, Jace traced his finger along her ear to her neck. “Since it’s been a decade for me, I’m thinking you won’t be able to walk by the time I’m satisfied.”
Her jaw damn near hit the floor.
Jace took a perverse delight in shocking her, and her dismay made him even more determined to make her back down this time. Even if he had to say the most vulgar things in the Void, he would force her retreat.
“I can’t believe you’re surprised.” He stroked her lips with a forceful fingertip. “You can read me so well, right?”
She darted her gaze to the floor. “I told you, I can’t read you like that. I can read—”
Plush lips gave way below the thrust of his silencing finger. When her hungry eyes met his, he said, “Don’t try to distract me. I don’t care what you can read. You don’t have to read me. I’ll tell you what I want.”
Lowering his mouth to her neck, he nipped lightly. “I want you.” After pulling her mocha skin, marking her, he lifted his mouth to her ear. “I want you writhing and panting and sweating below my thrusting body.”
She placed her large hands on his chest, pushed him back and looked him right in the eye. The depths of her black gaze swarmed with heat, smoky and slightly unfocused. “You want me by force?”
He heard the catch in her voice and sensed her desperation. He smiled at h
er as he answered her question with one of his own. “How can I force you when sex is part of your contract, my lovely cook-whore?”
Kraft withdrew with a startled step back. She pressed against the metal door of his bunk and flattened her palms against the smooth durosteel to steady herself.
Closing in on her, he took a half-step forward and placed his palms on the door, encasing her with his arms. In a tingling rush, a fleeting ripple washed over his body, and he wondered if he could actually feel Kraft trying to read him through the door. He forced himself to contain the rush by focusing his mind and constricting his body to a tense stance.
Kraft stood taller. Confusion and fear darted across her expressive face. He wondered if the darkness in him caused her reaction, or if he’d succeeded in preventing her from reading him. Either way, he sensed his advantage.
Pressing his mouth to her ear, he whispered, “What’s wrong, sugar-britches? I thought you were all for this kind of dance between us, especially after what you said in the cargo bay.”
With her back to his bunk door, she lifted her face and the whole of her body until she met his gaze with level intensity. Since she couldn’t force him to retreat verbally, she now tried to force his retreat with the fierceness of her gaze, and it almost worked.
He fought down the urge to step back by moving closer. She radiated the scents of cooking, but below, he found that enticing hint of her musky perfume. Her scent was rich, intoxicating and alluring. He wanted to find the source of her fragrance and lose himself in it.
“Just give me the order, Captain Lawless, and I’ll ride you until we both collapse.”
One fleeting vision of her proudly riding astride him caused him to blush and turn away. The triumphant look on her face clarified she thought such a command a distinct impossibility.
She seemed pleased that she’d finally forced him to back down. He watched Kraft’s pulse jump below the smooth skin of her neck when he closed in on her and said, “That’s an order I’m not likely to give.”
Her lips parted in surprise. She lowered her face but not her gaze.
“I wouldn’t order you to ride me because I like to be on top.”
He forced her chin up so their lips came close without touching. “Stop giving me that submissive face when you’ve got nothing behind it but arrogance.”
Kraft stood tall. “I thought you preferred submissive women?”
“As a matter of fact I do.” Tracing his finger along the open V of her shirt, he smoothed the fabric against the curve of her breasts and popped open one of the small wooden buttons. “Do you like submissive men?”
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, but it caught in her throat. When he looked down, he discovered her nipples were pressed tight against the soft yellow fabric of his old shirt.
He chuckled and stroked the barest brush of his fingertip over the swell of her nipple. “Obviously not.”
Pulling back, Kraft lifted hungry eyes. “Are you taking me to your bed, or are you planning to fuck me in the hallway?”
The vulgarity hit him like a cold water slap, but he would not retreat. “Don’t swear at me. I don’t like it.” For a brief moment, he almost told her to go. This had gone far enough, and no matter what darkness filled him, he could not command her to his bunk. Once behind that closed door, all his self-control would vanish in a consuming fire of need, but he had yet to taste her mouth. More than anything, he did not want this moment with her to end until he’d kissed her.
Coldly, he said, “I prefer a wife in my bed. Seems to me I should take my whore in the kitchen.” He inclined his head toward the galley doorway.
With a dismissive lift of her chin, Kraft strode into the darkened galley. He followed, his gaze riveted on the sway of her fanny below the soft homespun of his secondhand trousers.
The luscious scent of dinner still wafted through the silent kitchen. Jace turned the lights low. With his hands to her hips, he lifted her to the counter, placing her below that oddly misplaced window in the ceiling.
“Rather dangerous place for a tryst.” She pressed her legs together. “Anyone could walk in.”
“It’s late, and everyone is in bed.” Running his hands up her thighs, he gently forced them apart. “If anyone interrupts, I’ll just order them to leave. That’s one of the benefits of being the captain—I get to order everyone around.” He stepped between her parted legs and settled his hands on her hips.
Kraft sat very still, as if waiting for him to pull her forward, so he didn’t. The anticipation of feeling her fully pressed to him was intoxicating enough. Just the thought of possessing her made him strain against the front of his trousers.
Along with swirling desire, a fear trickled down his spine like rainwater. He’d already gone too far to back down without losing face, and a deep masculine pleasure filled him when he thought about commanding a woman far stronger than himself. He wanted to know if Kraft would let him or fight him. Adrenaline surged with the thought he might very well die for his perverse curiosity.
“There’s a dark streak in you, Captain Lawless. You want your crew to see us like this.” Kraft placed her hand to his chest and toyed with the black hairs that peeked from below his shirt. “You want them to know that you took me down a peg by making me submit to you.”
“Perhaps.” He tightened his grip on her hips. “But then again, I don’t really care what they think.”
“Yes, you do.” She lifted one brow as she popped open the top button of his shirt. “I usurped your authority today. You’re doing this to reclaim your power.”
Her insight into his motivations clarified that she could still read him on some level, but he refused to back down until he had tasted her. Once he knew the full of her mouth, he would never touch her again.
“Maybe this is the only way to make you understand that I’m in charge of this ship, and everyone on it, including you.” He leaned close to kiss her, but she turned her head away before he could. Confusion washed over him. She seemed willing to let him touch her, but she would not kiss him, and he wondered why. Was all her pointed flirting just an act?
“I’m not disputing your authority, Captain. You don’t have to do this in order to discipline me.”
“You make it sound like I’m going to turn you over my knee and paddle your butt.” He paused. “Not that it isn’t an intriguing idea.”
Fury drew her brows low. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Keep defying me, and I might.” With an insistent stroke of his fingertip, he pushed the V of her shirt apart until he exposed the inner curves of her breasts. Her soft skin melted under his touch. She arched back with a sigh of encouragement.
“Captain—”
“Silence.”
Harsh and impatient, the command rushed from his mouth. Using the length of her bound hair, he pulled gently until he exposed her neck, making her vulnerable to him. He nipped her flesh as his voice shook a tremble in her body.
“If I want you to speak, I’ll tell you what to say.”
She tensed, and he thought he’d finally pushed her too far, but then she gripped his shoulders, encouraging him.
He kissed the space between her breasts as he worked the small wooden buttons of her shirt apart. Pounding blood coursed through him and echoed her pulse. Lips pressed to her flesh felt each push of her heart mimic his. He cupped her breasts through the worn yellow shirt, and her nipples tightened below his fingers.
She leaned back, balancing herself on one hand against the counter. With a soft moan, she cupped his head, trying to draw his mouth to her breast, but he refused and continued to tease the inner curves with his lips and tongue. She uttered a groan of frustration that became a gasp of surprise when he gripped her hips and pulled her tight against him.
Her heat burned through his trousers, arousing him beyond rational thought. Jace felt drugged yet alert. Digging his fingers into the flesh of her bottom, he held her still as he stroked slowly against the center of her spread legs.
>
Ten years of painful, lonely celibacy turned his gentle thrusts to gripping intensity. Losing control, Jace uttered her name with a breathless plea. He wanted her, all of her, here and now. He didn’t care if a member of the crew entered the galley. In his current condition, he didn’t think he would notice. Nothing existed for him but Kraft. The intoxicating pleasure of riding his swelling need against the slick moist heat of her trapped behind his castoff trousers rendered him an animal. He damned himself to the hot place for what he was doing, then damn himself even more for not insisting she wear a skirt.
Blind with passion, Jace pushed aside Kraft’s shirt, lowered his head to her breast and took her swollen toffee peak into his mouth. He rasped his tongue and the sharp hairs of his new beard against the sensitive bud of her swelling breast.
Yanking her shirt from her pants, Kraft pulled it off and flung it away. She angled him to her other breast with a guttural command in a language he didn’t understand, but he didn’t need to.
Lifting and pressing her breasts together, he used his rough beard, his lips, his teeth, his tongue and his softly twisting fingers to provide the pleasure she sought. He pulled away and discovered her eyes closed, her head moving side to side, and her breath catching and releasing with delirious need. He cupped her beautiful bare breasts with his hands and firmly twisted her nipples between his fingers and thumbs.
With a startled gasp, she drew close and wrapped her legs around his hips. She lowered her hands to grip the tense muscles of his buttocks. Arms and legs working in tandem, Kraft crushed him against her so tightly he could barely move.
The power of her body, the painful press of his need, the passion of her embrace, compelled Jace to lift her from the countertop and plaster her against the thrust of his body.
Kraft curled around him, embracing him with strong arms and solid thighs. Only layers of clothes separated them. Even though she was heavy, adrenaline and lust filled him with power. Kraft felt feather-light in his arms.
Thief: Fringe, Book 1 Page 12