Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 2

by Black, Jaid

  She wiggled and twisted, but soon he had her beneath him, hands pinned above her head. Her legs framed his hips and the dress bunched about her waist. Her large, dark eyes stared up at him, anger and uncertainty obvious in her expressive gaze. “Why would I imagine this? I’m not a…whore.”

  Imagine? Had she yet to accept this was real?

  Rather than delve into her first question, he dealt with her second point. He shifted her wrists to one hand so he could touch her face. “I know some men share their dancers. Females are extremely rare out here in the Territories. I have no intention of sharing you with anyone.”

  “So I’ll only service you?”

  Why did she sound so bitter? Were the microbes not accurately translating their words? “It’s been six Earth years since I’ve touched a woman. Four of those years I was waiting for you.”

  “No, you were waiting for—”

  He silenced her with his mouth. Her strategy was clearly to argue and complain until he lost his erection. Not bloody likely. His cock had stretched to full attention the instant his indicator light started blinking, and he was likely to stay hard until he’d spilled inside her at least three times.

  Keeping her wrists firmly pinned with one hand, he reached down with the other and tore away the small black undergarment. The dress was meant to give him easy access to all her soft female parts, but she’d obviously intended to resist him from the beginning. Well, enough of her nonsense.

  She was a Decadent Dancer—and he wanted to dance!

  A muffled cry escaped her mouth as he covered her mound with his palm. Her heat sank into his skin, promising greater warmth to come. He wanted to soothe her, didn’t want their first time to be quite this adversarial, but she needed to understand their positions were nonnegotiable. She was his dance partner. Her only responsibility was to “service” his body, regardless of how upsetting she found the word.

  Then a possibility insinuated itself into his mind and his heart gave a sickening lurch.

  Had they sent him a cursed virgin? Was she even younger than she looked? The thought of being a woman’s only dance partner had a strange appeal, but dealing with her fear and the pain he would cause while rending her hymen far outweighed the thrill of exclusivity.

  Vaden slowly worked his middle finger into her warm slit, amazed by the heat and softness. Her legs tensed against his sides, but his torso held her thighs apart. He easily found the center of her pussy—and slipped inside.

  Thank the heavens. She was not a terrified virgin. Just a stubborn female about to be plowed by a dance-starved man!

  Chapter Two

  Zoe was utterly helpless, and yet she wasn’t afraid. None of this was real, after all. Vaden was the personification of her darkest fantasies. He had the body of a barbarian warlord and the face of an elfin god. And as if that weren’t enough, he was so desperate for sex that he thought she was perfect. What more could any woman want?

  She hadn’t set out to expand her reality through chemistry, but now that she was over the rainbow, she intended to enjoy every minute of this incredible fantasy. Hopefully she’d come down with her mental faculties intact, and then she’d find herself a damn good lawyer.

  Vaden’s lips moved over hers, caressing and coaxing until she parted for his tongue. Even then he didn’t thrust inside like some overanxious schoolboy. He used finesse and an experienced man’s patience. It wasn’t surprising that he knew how to kiss. He was a figment of her imagination.

  His tongue slowly retreated as he lifted his head. “Are you ready to dance with me now? This will be much better for you if I don’t have to hold you down.”

  “What happens if I say no?” She stared into his silver-streaked eyes, pretty sure she wasn’t going to refuse. Some part of her psyche obviously needed this experience or her mind would have explored different images.

  “I’ll keep kissing you until you change your mind.”

  “Why has it been so long since you—”

  He took her hand and pressed it against his erection, his eyes narrowed and bright. “If you want me to be gentle, we need to stop talking.”

  “Fair enough.” His hand moved but her fingers lingered, emboldened by his obvious pleasure. Hallucination or alien or dream, he was the most desirable man she’d ever seen. She seemed to be trapped in this alternate reality, so why not enjoy the ride? Her fingers curved over his thickness then skated along his length, the clingy material no real barrier between his hardness and her curiosity.

  Should she ask about protection? She shook away the impulse. This wasn’t real!

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he said with a sexy smile.

  Of course he did. He was an extension of her own mind. “Do tell.”

  “We no longer transmit disease through sexual contact and what we’re about to do cannot result in pregnancy. Procreation is more complicated with my species.”

  “Which is?”

  “Paridagon.” He balanced on his knees as he pulled off his shirt. “My home world is Paridago, though I’ve not been home since I was a child.”

  She watched his muscles ripple and a silver pattern on his smoky skin shimmered in the diffused light. Unable to resist the temptation, she sat and raised her hand, tentatively touching his chest. “Are these tattoos?”

  “No, the pattern occurs naturally. Each marking is as unique as the loops on your fingertips.”

  Like rivulets of liquid silver flowing through fog, the intricate pattern began in the middle of his chest then branched out and expanded over his shoulders. It curved around his upper arms, ran the length of each forearm, then fanned out across the tops of his hands and formed individual strands that ringed his fingers.

  “It’s…beautiful.” She settled for the word when more masculine adjectives failed to do the pattern justice. “Is it only on your upper body?”

  “You can explore to your heart’s content—after.” He grasped the hem of her dress and whipped it off in one smooth motion then urged her onto her back.

  He paused, the hunger in his gaze so painfully obvious it made her ache as well. She wasn’t sure why, but she raised her hands above her head and placed them as they’d been before. Only this time she was a willing prisoner, ready for the Decadent Dance.

  His hands glided from her upraised arms to her knees in a never-ending pattern of strokes and squeezes. He leaned down and kissed her mouth for a moment then moved on to her breasts. And not just her nipples. He licked and sucked every curve, swell and hollow. She arched against his lips and clutched the back of his head, no longer able to remain passive as her senses caught fire.

  She’d had sexual dreams before, though nothing had come close to matching the sensations zinging through her body. But this wasn’t a dream. She wasn’t awake. Her perceptions were being altered by whatever chemical compound the dress had contained. Right?

  Vaden tore his mouth from her breast and frantically unfastened his pants, then his gaze focused on her pussy and he growled. The feral sound sent lustful tingles bouncing through her body.

  Slipping off the foot of the bed, he knelt on the floor and dragged her hips to the edge of the mattress. Then he draped her legs over his shoulders and lowered his head between her thighs. Zoe looked down along her naked body and into the shimmering eyes of her alien lover. His gaze narrowed and his tongue slowly pushed between her folds.

  Oh yeah! Right there! He knew exactly where to touch and just how hard to press. She moaned helplessly and rocked against his mouth, pushing up into his lurid kiss, never wanting him to stop.

  His tongue circled and flicked, teasing her clit until she hovered on the brink of release. Then he shot to his feet and her legs slid to the bends of his elbows. He found the opening to her body and hesitated just long enough to coat himself with her cream.

  “Ready?” He sounded so delightfully desperate, she wouldn’t have refused even if she’d been afraid, which she wasn’t.

  She pushed to her elbows, needing to see th
eir bodies joining. Her eyes widened then narrowed as a wave of scalding pleasure blurred her vision. Vaden’s shaft shimmered with silver markings as it disappeared into her wet core. His pants bunched around his knees, revealing that the silver pattern was indeed echoed on his lower body.

  He drew his hips back and thrust deep and all thoughts of his markings disappeared. Her inner walls stretched tight around his thickness, each forceful thrust filling her right to the point of pain. Tangible, inescapable, real.

  Restlessness trickled into her comfortable haze as realizations buzzed through her brain. His rich scent was unlike anything she’d ever smelled before and everything about this felt wondrous and new.

  And real!

  Each touch, each brush of his fingertips, each thrust of his cock into her core forced her closer to the inevitable conclusion that this was no hallucination. His hips sped and her panic mounted. If this was really happening, where was she and how had she gotten here?

  He grasped her hips and cried out his pleasure as he spilled his seed deep inside her. Zoe felt each hot spurt. She fell back to the bed then covered her face with her hands. “I want to wake up now. Please, God, let me wake up.”

  Vaden stared down at his dancer’s stricken expression, torn between confusion and horror. His first instinct was to shake and berate her for her foolishness, but he looked closer and reconsidered such a harsh reaction. He hadn’t felt her pussy ripple around his cock, which meant she’d found no pleasure in their dance. Was that all there was to her odd behavior? Did she find his skills lacking?

  He carefully separated their bodies and shed his pants. Perhaps if they were both naked she would feel less vulnerable. He moved her to the middle of the bed and lay down beside her. Slipping his forearm under her pillow, he propped himself up so he could see her face.

  “It is not unusual for dancer partners not to finish at the same time.”

  “I don’t think the word ‘dance’ means the same thing here as it does on Earth, but let’s go back to the beginning. Where am I?” She sat up and scooted as far away from him as she could without leaving the bed.

  Rather than review all the reasons she should know her location, Vaden simply supplied the information. “You are on the Bron en Tarr, currently in Sector 219 of the Disputed Territories.”

  “You said you’re a commander.” She pulled back the bedding and covered herself with the sheet. “Is this your ship?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “I thought we were beyond all this.”

  “I thought…never mind what I thought. How was I brought here? All I remember is a sucking sensation that felt as if it would tear me apart.”

  She drew the sheet up to her chin, which helped with his concentration if not his patience. They’d already danced. Why play these games now? “Long-range transportation is especially hard on the human body. Regulations require a minimum of twelve lunar cycles in between voyages. That’s why I can’t send you back, even if I wanted to—which I do not.”

  “Twelve ‘lunar cycles’?” She paused as she either sorted it out or her microbes provided the translation. “You mean I’m stuck here for a year?”

  What was she hoping to gain by this foolishness? She was naked and in his bed and his seed was already inside her. It made no sense. “I contracted you for five solar cycles, sweetheart. You’re stuck here for five years.”

  Everyone had warned him not to contract an Earth woman. Their export regulations were ridiculous and their insistence on discretion convoluted interplanetary protocols. Vaden had no idea why Earth governments were so determined to keep their general populations ignorant of “alien” interaction, and it really wasn’t his concern. Zoe was. Human females could be volatile. They could also be passionate and almost as intelligent as Paridagon females.

  Besides, he had debated whether or not to participate in the program for so long, the only contracts left had been for Earth women.

  Zoe’s lovely eyes looked into his with such misery he nearly dragged her back into his arms, but then she opened her mouth and began to speak.

  “Please, just listen for a minute. I bought the dress from a man in the city where I live. He also gave me a booklet, but I had no reason to think the story was anything other than an amusing tale. And the only thing I signed was a credit card receipt.”

  “What was explained in the booklet?” The contract contained a basic history of his people. He now suspected she’d read the contract and didn’t realize what she’d read.

  Her eyes widened and she stared past him into nothingness. “Oh my God. I knew I’d heard that name before.” She blinked away the memory and looked at him again. “The booklet was all about the Paridago wars. According to the story, you won glorious battles against the Stagen hordes, a race of beings both cruel and ruthless. After much sacrifice and bloodshed, the war was all but won. All that was left was to negotiate the borders, but the bureaucrats failed, leaving the territories in dispute. So it fell back to the warriors to keep full-scale war from breaking out all over again.”

  He snorted. “That about sums it up. We’ve had no choice but to stay and fight while less honorable men returned to their comfortable lives back in the inner systems. Of course, their lives are only comfortable because we’re foolish enough to hold back the enemy.”

  She nodded as understanding gradually focused her gaze. “The war has gone on decades longer than anyone imagined, so female companionship has become a real problem.”

  “To say the least.”

  “When I read the story, it made me think of mail-order brides.” A wistful catch came into her voice as she used the unfamiliar term.

  “I don’t understand the reference.”

  “At times in human history, females were scarce in certain parts of the planet where I live. Men had no choice but to offer money, or land, to lure women to their remote locations.”

  Was that the source of her discontent? She wanted compensation for dancing with him? “A large transfer of funds should have taken place when you agreed to be my dance partner. I didn’t expect you to do this for nothing. If the contract had been executed properly, you would have lived comfortably on Earth for the rest of your life once your obligation was concluded.”

  “Then I’m glad I was basically kidnapped. I’m not a whore.” She seemed even more upset than before and he had no idea how to defuse her.

  He’d saved and gone without even the most basic luxuries for the better part of two solar cycles so he could purchase her contract. Granted, he now had a dance partner, but it galled him to know he’d been robbed.

  No, they’d been robbed. The money was meant for Zoe and if she hadn’t received it, then it stood to reason the man who sold her the dress had. Whether or not she wanted the money, Vaden intended to investigate the crime.

  She folded her legs beneath her and tucked the sheet under her arms. The sheet stretched just tight enough that her nipples made tempting shadows beneath the stark white material. Desire sparked within him, reaching for the surface, ready to play. He snapped his gaze back to her face and released another sigh. How could he help her not feel like a whore when her primary purpose for being here was to dance with him?

  “Let’s talk basic vocabulary,” she suggested. “What does the word ‘dance’ mean to you?”

  He grinned, his gaze drifting back to those shadowy nipples. “How about if I demonstrate?”

  “Are there more than one kind of dances? You referred to what we did as a Decadent Dance. What other kinds are there? Better yet, what’s the generic definition for the word ‘dance’?”

  If this would settle her down and ease her anxiety, he’d indulge her. To a point. “A dance is any series of movements that has no other purpose but pleasure. Dances can be innocent, or joyous, or celebratory, or downright decadent.”

  She nodded then fell silent for a long time. “Are events ever held so that people can dance with each other?”

  His cock had already started to rise. He wasn’t sure how
long he could indulge her need for chatter. “I think I remember such things from my childhood, but obviously nothing like that takes place on a border ship.”

  “What makes this a border ship?”

  The question seemed self-evident, but he clarified. “It patrols the borders of the Disputed Territories.”

  “How many women are on board this ship?”

  “Including you?” She nodded. “Sixteen.”

  “And how many men?”

  “Three hundred and ninety-two.”

  She just stared at him as the color drained from her face.

  “Zoe, you are mine.” He let his tone ring with finality then he reached for her, amazed when she didn’t flinch away. “No one will touch you but me. You are safe.” She seemed too stunned to move, so he scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom, enjoying the warmth of her small body as she snuggled against his chest.

  He set her down inside the shower stall and activated the spray with a voice command. She didn’t say a word, but those big, dark eyes watched every move he made. When water needed to be rationed, chemical foam replaced the soothing mist, but they’d taken on supplies three days before.

  “What’s your fascination with various forms of dance?” he asked as the water saturated her dark hair.

  “That’s how I make my living.”

  “What?” Her casual admission shouldn’t have bothered him. She was the one who’d balked at being labeled a whore.

  She laughed. “Not what you’re thinking. On Earth, people not only enjoy dancing. They enjoy watching others dance.”

  “People pay credits to watch you—”

  “Not Decadent Dancing, you pervert.” She flung a handful of water toward him. “The other kinds, joyful, playful, even sorrowful dances. We express all sorts of emotions and tell all sorts of stories through movement and music.”