Nella raised her hips, wanting the water. She wondered if the shower had been programmed to rain on her in just that place with just enough pressure to make her wild.
It worked. She cried out in pleasure, then bit her lip as the sound echoed through the bathroom. She wriggled her hips, feeling the soft joy of the water sliding through her pussy.
If the dark-haired man were with her now, he’d lie beside her, his hair slick with water, droplets on his lashes and cheekbones. He’d lie on his side and trail his hand through the petals of her quim, teasing where the water did.
She had no idea who the man was. He could be an enemy—but then why had he stopped the assassin bot? Or he could want Nella for his own purposes, and need her alive.
Whatever he wanted, she was having the most erotic fantasy about him. She imagined him moving his finger around her clit, stroking and touching, tracing the path of the hair around her quim. He’d tease the button of her nub, moving its hood back and forth, back and forth.
The water pattered exactly where she imagined his fingers. Faster and faster it moved, as though adjusting itself to her rising excitement.
She cupped her own hand over her groin as she lifted her hips high, and came. Cream poured over her fingers, mixing with the water. She pressed herself hard, closing her eyes to the warm feeling, wishing it was his large hand stroking her.
Nella lay quietly for a while, letting the water cradle her as she slid her hand from her quim and relaxed from her climax. If the man were beside her, he’d give her a warm smile, nuzzle her cheek and kiss her lips.
Who was he, and was this his house? She shivered. What kind of man had a shower this sensual, and engendered such vivid fantasies?
She wished she knew whether he were enemy or friend. Even if he had nothing to do with Linginian, she had better play along that she was nobody, until she knew whether she could trust him. She blew out her breath, hating all this intrigue.
She got up from the bench and turned off the water.
No towels.
Naked, she stood beneath the drying unit on the other wall, letting wafts of air gently dry her skin and keep her warm at the same time.
All right, now she was clean, dry and rested, but she still had no clothes.
She walked back into the bedroom. Her bedroom at home had cabinets built into the walls, hidden so that the wall looked like a smooth surface. She skimmed her fingers over the panels as she walked by them. Ah, a catch. She pressed it.
She smiled as the wall rolled back, melding perfectly into the panel next to it. Inside, she found drawers and hooks for clothes, but all were empty.
She searched the room for other cabinets, but found none. She had the bed, this empty closet and the fabulous bathroom.
Nella rested her hips on the bed and looked at the door opposite the one that led to the bathroom. It would be locked, if she were a captive.
She walked to the door. A slight depression indented the wall next to it, deep enough for a finger. She touched it, and the door slid open.
Nella stepped back in surprise. Beyond lay a softly lit hall, the air scented like it was in the bedroom. Two more doors opened off this hall, and at the end was a lift.
So, not a captive—at least, she hadn’t been confined to this room. Before she explored, though, she needed clothes.
Nella stepped into the hall, the soft floor covering tickling her bare toes. It felt pleasant. No—more than pleasant, sensual.
That was it, this entire place had been made with sensuality in mind. On Ariel, Nella’s palace provided almost every comfort, but this house, wherever it was, promised pure, tempting sensuality at every turn.
She could not open the other doors, so they were no help. She retreated into the bedroom, snatching the sheet from the bed. Tucking it securely around her plump body and carrying the end over her arm, she walked down the hall toward the lift.
To her surprise, it politely opened its doors for her. Inside, soft, cool air ruffled her hair, and the scent changed, taking on the subtle hint of flowers.
She was searching for finger controls when a male voice said impatiently, “Well? Where do you want to go?”
She jumped, then realized the voice came from a speaker, and it was electronic, not human.
Nella had been given an implant when she turned fourteen that allowed her brain to master languages when she needed to. When she’d arrived on Bor Narga, it had activated to speed-teach her that language, though she still had an accent.
“Up?” she suggested.
“Could you be more specific?”
She thought. “Where is the man who brought me here? Is he still here?”
“Ah, you mean Rio. Are you sure? I can take you to the kitchen on level five and get you a nice bowl of soup.”
“No, I want to talk to him.”
The computer sighed. “Well, there’s no accounting for taste.”
The doors slid closed. The lift hesitated a moment, then began a smooth, swift journey upward.
However many levels Nella ascended, she didn’t know. She suspected seven or eight, but the lift had no indicator.
The lift slowed again and the doors opened, spilling her into a wide room, softly lit and painted a quiet peach color. A faint, harp-like music wafted through the air at the very the edge of her hearing.
A door at the end of the room opened onto a room more brightly lit. She heard voices coming from it, and she slowed her steps, halting just where the shadow of her room met the light of the next.
She peered inside, then her eyes widened and her breathing stopped.
The walls of the room were covered with mirrors. Standing before them, reflected back a hundred times, was Nella’s rescuer, tall and black-haired, his face hard and handsome.
He’d removed his leather tunic and stood clad in only leather leggings that hugged powerful thighs and a tight backside. His chest and shoulders bulged with muscle, and he had a slim black chain fitted around the massive biceps on his right arm.
He was not alone. In the center stood a bed—or at least a cushioned platform strewn with pillows. A woman had positioned herself on this, naked, on hands and knees, so that her backside hung over the edge. She’d twisted her red hair into a knot, leaving her neck free for the collar she wore. A silver chain hung from the collar and swung between her bare breasts.
Behind her stood another man, as tall and muscled as Nella’s rescuer. He had blond hair pulled back from his face and caught in a tail, bound once at his nape, and again halfway down his back.
He, like the woman, was naked. His backside was tight under a tapered waist, his hips firm, his arms corded with muscle. His cock, mirrored a dozen times, stood stiff and erect from round, heavy balls. He held a short whip in his left hand, and he also wore a slim black chain on his right arm.
“Rees,” the woman groaned. “Please.”
“I told you not to beg, Talan,” the man with the whip said softly. He flicked the lash lightly over her back, and she flinched.
“I’m sorry.”
“Open your legs.”
The woman obeyed, showing her folds wet and ready. Nella held her breath. The man stepped forward, positioned himself against her quim, and in one stroke, slid his massive cock inside her.
The young woman screamed, then her face relaxed into an expression of pure ecstasy. She moaned, rocking her hips to take his cock farther and farther. She looked up at Nella’s black-haired rescuer, who stood in front of the platform, watching them. “Rio,” she whispered.
The black-haired man skimmed his fingers across her face. She closed her lips around his forefinger, sucking.
He let her, watching her intently. His eyes were so blue that Nella could see them all the way across the room.
The scent of the lovemaking reached her, along with something else that made her senses tingle. Somehow, she could almost feel what the woman felt—well, not exactly—but she could vividly imagine the blond man slamming into her, and feel the ru
sh of joy, the release.
Nella moved her hand to her breast. The nipple pushed hard at the sheet, pebbling beneath her fingers. She pinched it, enjoying the tingle and the small pain.
Her skin grew hot and flushed. She had the burning desire to rip off her sheet, run into the room, kneel in front of her black-haired man and beg him to touch her too.
She’d never, ever had such feelings before. No man had made her desire him, no man had made her want to be bare in front of him.
The woman gasped and groaned. The man behind her slid in and out, in and out, his cock glistening with her wetness. He tapped her with the whip, and she cried out, jerking her hips.
“That’s it, Talan,” the man whispered, his voice ragged. “Squeeze me.”
Nella’s own hips jerked, and she snaked her hand down to her thighs. The sheet blocked her, but she pressed between her legs, the heel of her hand massaging her mound. “Yes,” she said under her breath. “Like that.”
She was so focused on the heat of her body and her aching pussy, that she did not notice that the black-haired man had gone.
That is, not until he slid his hands around her waist from behind and eased her against his bare, hard chest.
“Like it?” he murmured.
His black hair hung past his face in a long wave, and his eyes were completely blue—the irises widening until the white nearly disappeared. His skin was hot, hotter than a human’s should be. The black chain on his arm stood out on his brown skin.
“Who are you?” she asked, staring up at him.
“I’m Rio,” he said. “Who are you?”
His voice, soft and seductive, with a hint of hidden wickedness, willed her to tell him. With difficulty, she clamped her lips shut. She could not reveal her true name, yet, not until she was certain who he was and who he worked for.
“I’m…” She stopped, her mouth trying to form the right name anyway. Her brain felt thick, as though a fog wove perfumed tendrils through it.
“I’m—yours,” she said.
His eyes flared, the blue widening still further. “That’s dangerous, beautiful. Very dangerous.”
She didn’t care. She suddenly wanted every inch of danger he could give her.
Rio slid his hands upward to lift the weight of her breasts. Inside the bright room, the woman called Talan moaned her pleasure. The blond man pumped harder, his body tightly controlled, the whip brushing her back.
“Please,” Talan groaned. “Please, now.”
Nella’s mouth moved with hers. “Please.”
She did not know what she begged for. Her thoughts seemed not her own, as though someone else suggested she feel what Talan felt, want what Talan wanted.
Was the man, Rio, doing this? Was he a telepath? But she’d met telepaths before, and this was not quite the same.
Hot need spiked through her. Rio lowered his head and traced her shoulder to her neck with one stroke of his tongue.
“You feel it,” he murmured.
She could only make a strangled noise.
“You feel her wanting him. I can feel you feeling it.” He chuckled. “You can feel me feeling you feel it.”
His leggings stretched over his cock, huge and stiff, the incredible length of it pressing her backside.
“You want me there,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You don’t know why, and you are not ready to take me. I’d hurt you if I took you now.”
Nella dragged in a breath. His tongue moved to her ear, tracing the shell of it. His breath burned.
“It would hurt,” he murmured. “And you’d love it. I’m Shareem. I could make you love it.”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“But I won’t.” He teased the nubs of her breast with slow fingertips. “I’ll never hurt you. I’ll give you only the good kind of hurt.”
“The good kind?” she asked, confused.
“Watch them.”
The woman, Talan, was going crazy under the man’s pounding. She writhed and cried, and once more started to beg.
“Please, Rees, now!”
“I told you not to beg me,” the blond man said. His voice was tightly controlled, but contained an edge of wildness. “I told you I’d punish you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Too late, sweetheart.”
He whipped her. Slap after slap landed on her thighs and her buttocks. Nella flinched, as though she could feel every sting. But it was not pain, it was…
“Release,” Rio whispered in her ear. “Beautiful release.”
In the mirrored room, Talan screamed. She came, her body jerking and arching. Behind her, Rees let her, rubbing her now with the whip instead of slapping her. He ground into her, pumping hard, his face set.
Then he cried her name, his head falling back, his voice deep and broken.
He wrenched his cock out of her, still erect and incredibly big. Talan whimpered. He scooped her up and laid her down on her back. Then he covered her with his big body and entered her again. Their hips met and met again, both shuddering with need and release.
Rio reached past Nella and touched a control on the wall. The door went dark, silently blocking out the couple in the mirrored room.
Chapter Three
Damsel in Distress
The woman sagged back against Rio, as though released by strings, her pheromones swamping him.
Mmm, yes.
She’d cleaned up well, like Rio had known she would. Her hair, gloriously red, was slicked back from a round face and lay warm against his chest. Brown-gold eyes with flecks of gold, framed with thick, red-brown lashes, turned up to him in trepidation.
She held the sheet with pretty, plump arms, trying to hide her body, but in truth, the sheet only emphasized her curves. When Dr. Laas had undressed her in the bedroom, Rio had raked his gaze over every inch of her flesh, unable to stop himself. He’d wanted to devour her.
Dr. Laas, with her knowing smile, had advised Rio that he should let the young woman rest first.
Her lips were lush, full, the lower lip a bit plumper than the upper. Parted now, they gave him a glimpse of her tongue touching her lower teeth. He wanted to dip his tongue behind her lip and taste the ripeness of her.
She was breathing hard from witnessing the very erotic scene between Rees and Talan. Those two could set fire to a fire retardant.
Rio’s own need threatened to burn him from the inside out. Any other day, he’d have asked Rees to let Talan take his cock in her mouth and give him release, but he hadn’t wanted that today. He’d seen his red-haired woman in the shadows, felt her curiosity and wonder.
He’d wanted to hold her while she caught the swamping wave of Shareem pheromones, so he’d slipped out of the room through another door and come up behind her while her attention had been fixed on Rees and Talan.
Now she looked up at him, startled, trying to control her longing and not understanding any of it.
“What are you?” she breathed.
She had a delicious accent, the r slightly rolled, the vowels elongated.
“A Shareem,” he said.
“What is a Shareem?”
“Me. I am. And Rees, in there.” He gestured at the door. She followed his gaze, even though the door was closed, and her pheromones increased, tickling his skin.
“You liked watching him fuck her,” he said softly.
She flushed, which made her cheeks an enticing pink. “I don’t—I don’t know anything about it.”
Something warm flowed through him, and he smiled. An innocent.
Talan had been an innocent before Rees had given her lessons. Talan had fallen in love with her teacher, and Rees with his so eager pupil.
Maybe, just maybe…
Rio had already missed the transport Rees had set up for him by rescuing this woman. Maybe he could enjoy himself with her while waiting for the next one. Maybe he could taste the lady and lap her up.
Why did he keep thinking of her in terms of something to ea
t? Mmm, there was another good idea.
His Shareem hormones kicked in, in a big way. For weeks he’d thought about nothing but meeting the transport and getting off-planet. Since his return from Canyon Roble, where his Shareem friends Maia and Rylan had set up housekeeping, he and Rees and Talan had discussed nothing else.
One pretty woman in distress, and he’d thrown it all away.
Well, shit, was he supposed to leave her to die? The floating machine must have been sent by patrollers to stop him leaving the planet. She’d gotten hurt, and it was all his fault.
The only reason the patrollers hadn’t followed up and arrested him was because he’d gone to ground in Dr. Laas’ hidden lair.
But then…
Incongruities broke through the thoughts in his boiling, horny brain.
“Wait a minute, what were you doing in that alley?”
Her eyes widened, the gold sparking, and her gaze flicked away from his. She was trying to think of a good lie. He could taste it in the shift of her body scent.
He leaned to her. He smelled her breath, sweet-spice, sensed her heartbeat quickening. “I thought the attack was for me,” he said. “But now I’m thinking it was for you.”
“For me?” she asked, as though surprised.
“What I can’t figure out is why. Besides being sexy as hell, you don’t look like you could hurt anyone.”
“Sexy?” She stared.
He smiled, feral and hard. “Sexy. You know the meaning of the word? You’re not from Bor Narga. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, I have had a language implant.”
“You can afford a language implant, but not decent clothes?”
“No,” she stammered. “My money, it was stolen.”
“Uh huh.” He smoothed her hair from her face, drawing his fingers through the curls. “I don’t believe you.”
Panic, now. His nostrils flared, taking in her scent.
“Don’t be afraid,” he gentled his voice. “You can trust me.”
His Shareem voice had been created to calm women. A woman had to be calm to take a Shareem, especially one like Rio. Calm and happy.
Rio Page 2