Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 2

by Black, Jaid

  He took a deep breath and released the discouragement, replacing it with determination. The soonest she could leave was one solar cycle. That meant he had one Earth year to convince her to stay.

  Pushing his hands into her silky hair, he paused for another long, deep kiss. “We can either take time to unload the bed or we can be creative.”

  “Creative.” She nipped his lower lip. “I’m tired of waiting.”

  Her claim made him smile. He was so hard he could use either of his cocks as a weapon and she was tired of waiting? The desk would probably hold her weight, but it was too narrow for true comfort. Instead, he positioned her in front of it, her forearms resting on the desktop, feet spread apart.

  “I should keep you naked, so all I have to do is bend you over the nearest piece of furniture.”

  She laughed and wiggled her butt. “Isn’t that what you’ve done?”

  He pushed his hand between her thighs and groaned as her wet folds closed around his fingers. “I think you missed me too.”

  She rocked her hips, lightly riding his hand. “I think you’re right.”

  If he hoped to be gentle at all, he couldn’t postpone this any longer. He squeezed the base of his minor cock and moisture beaded all over his shaft. “Have you ever taken a man in your ass before?”

  She shivered and her pussy tightened around his finger. Obviously, she was excited by the thought. “Only once, but I have a toy I really like that goes…back there.”

  “Let’s see how this compares to your toy.” He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself at both her entrances. Possessive heat spiraled through his torso and set his balls on fire. No human could give her what he could give. No one else would ever—

  He cut himself off. One step at a time.

  Zoe held perfectly still, naked and trembling. She was on a starship in a distant galaxy, about to surrender her body completely to the most captivating male she’d ever encountered. How had this happened? She’d gone from denial, to dread, to fury, to a sort of fragile acceptance all in the course of a day.

  Was she still in shock? Was that why everything felt right when Vaden touched her?

  He bent his knees and eased one of his cocks just inside her pussy.

  One of his cocks! Could anything be more alien? Or feel more amazing?

  His other cock pressed against her anus. He’d called this his “minor penis”. It was thinner than the other, which made it perfect for where it was going. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand cupping her breast while the other covered her mound. His middle finger sank between her folds and circled her clit.

  “Do you accept me, Zoe? Will you take all I have to give?”

  “Yes.” The word sent a thrill ricocheting through her body and her clit twitched beneath his finger. She pushed back slowly, driving her body onto his slick shafts. He was hard, but smooth and slippery and her body opened to accommodate him. She’d expected burning, maybe a little pain, but all she felt was blessed fullness. “Wow.”

  Unable to fight the instinct, she squeezed him as hard as she could and sensation radiated through her abdomen.

  “Don’t stop.” His finger flicked across her clit, encouraging the spontaneous clenches. “Do it again.”

  He was plastered to her back, his cocks completely engulfed within her body. She squeezed and squeezed, the back of her head pressing into his shoulder. Her pulse raced and her skin tingled, her muscles on the verge of cramping. “I feel strange, sort of edgy.”

  “I warned you.”

  “I think I need you to move.”

  Not needing any more encouragement, he pulled back then thrust hard. The motion accented the sensations and added to her restlessness. She slammed her hips back, doubling the impact of his next stroke, and pleasure detonated deep inside her.

  She screamed as her inner muscles contracted in rippling waves, but he didn’t stop. Each long, steady stroke created a new spasm, pushing the pleasure to a higher peak. Lights danced before her eyes and still he fucked her, filling her body with forceful command.

  He slowed for a time, waiting as she floated back down. Then he moved both hands to her hips and pounded into her even harder than before. Zoe had never understood how anyone could enjoy rough sex, but her body craved every aggressive drive, needing his frenzy.

  She lost count of her orgasms, couldn’t believe that he was still on his feet.

  Then he pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her, crossing them over her chest. He stilled and she thought something was wrong. Then his cocks swelled, stretching her tighter than she dreamed possible. He shuddered against her back, groaning with each distinct spasm. He came and came, his climaxes slow and rhythmic.

  “I never dreamed…”

  His voice was so thick with emotion, she turned her head and looked up at him. “What?”

  “When I contracted a dancer, I knew I would enjoy physical pleasure, perhaps even companionship. I never dreamed she would be capable of providing me with a true Paridagon joining. I am humbled and I am thrilled.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond to his mood so she just smiled at him. He carefully separated their bodies then swept her into his arms. Without a word, he carried her into the bathroom and into the shower. His hands glided over her body with something frighteningly close to reverence.

  When he reached between her legs, she grabbed his wrist. “I can do that.”

  “It’s tradition. Don’t deny me or I’ll be insulted.”

  She had no idea if it were true or if he just wanted to play with her pussy, but a few seconds later she didn’t care. Rather than arousing, his touch was gentle and soothing and she was a bit disappointed when he told the water to turn off and led her back into the main room of the cabin.

  He dried her with a towel and handed her the shirt she’d borrowed that morning. She pulled it on and found the red sash she’d been using as a belt. By the time she’d completed her ensemble, he was dressed again in his severe black uniform.

  “I need to return to work. I’ve neglected my duties long enough.” He sounded genuinely reluctant. “Before I go, would you like to explain why you rearranged the furniture?”

  “I wasn’t finished, but I’ll show you what I have so far.” She looked around the disorganized room and pointed to the desk they’d utilized so recently. “Please stand over there.”

  His gaze narrowed, but he ambled to the desk then leaned against the edge and crossed his arms over his chest. “Carry on.”

  The tender lover who’d insisted on washing her so intimately was once again buried inside the autocratic commander. She’d seen the transition often enough now to find it amusing. Well, he’d allowed her to take a virtual tour of his world. It was time for him to see a glimpse of hers.

  “Computer, loop playback, file name ‘It’s Just the Rain’.” She’d just started to work out the choreography when he’d returned to the cabin. She’d have to let the music flow through her and express herself as best she could. Unfortunately, the music was several layers of her own voice, which she found more than a little distracting. But she loved the song and she loved to dance.

  She closed her eyes and listened, concentrating on the lyrics instead of the delivery. Then she raised her arms and opened her eyes and told the story with her body. She spun and arched, stretched and leapt, carefully centering her weight each time her damaged ankle came into play.

  Loss and longing swept through her as the melancholy song began again. She allowed the emotions to flow, guiding her steps and shaping her movements. She thought of her friends and family, the home she might never see again. Sophie’s image drove the pain deeper and Zoe’s body expressed her grief. She had to let go of the world she’d known and focus on the future. This was strange and unexpected, an opportunity beyond her wildest dreams.

  Her gaze collided with Vaden’s and a new wave of feelings inundated her mind. Hope swelled, pushing out her sadness and lightening her steps. She spun faster as she thought of the ple
asure they’d shared and the mysteries she’d yet to uncover. This was far more than an incendiary love affair. Her warrior elf had given her an entire galaxy to explore!

  Excited and energized, she reached the end of the song and halted the playback. She kept her face averted for a moment, afraid to look at Vaden, unsure of his reaction to something so…alien.

  He moved away from the desk, stepping into her line of vision, so she turned her head and looked at him. “That voice was yours?” Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, she nodded. “And these movements are what humans call dancing?”

  Again all she could do was nod. This was what she did, who she was. If he rejected her art…

  There could be no future for them? Had she really allowed herself to open that door? “I know it’s strange. I just wanted you to—”

  He placed his fingers against her lips, his gaze more silver than blue. “I have never seen anything so beautiful or heard a more poignant sound. I can’t decide if I should lock you away so no one else will realize what a treasure I’ve found, or…”

  “Or?” Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely contain her happy tears.

  “Even I understand such beauty is meant to be shared.” A tear escaped the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. “Why are you crying?” He caught the tear with his knuckle then wiped her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

  “Earlier, I was ready to kill the man who sold me that ridiculous dress, now I feel like I owe him everything.”

  He smiled. “Do you think you can be content in a world without music?”

  “Obviously, I’ll simply make my own.”

  He brushed his mouth over hers then pulled back and asked, “Can others be taught to make those sounds?”

  “It’s called singing, and many can, others cannot.”

  “Would you be willing to try?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Many of the other dancers have complained that they have nothing to occupy their time while their men are working. Would you be willing to teach them how to move as you move and sing?”

  “Teaching others how to dance—as I was just dancing, not as you like to dance—was my occupation on Earth. If the other women are interested, I would enjoy teaching them.” She looked around and laughed. “We’ll have to find a better place for the lessons. This room is really not big enough.”

  “I’ll find somewhere for you, perhaps one of the smaller cargo bays.” He kissed her on the forehead and heaved a heavy sigh. “I really need to go, but I really don’t want to.”

  “Go on.” She slapped him on the ass, feeling wonderfully empowered. “We have the rest of our lives to play house.”

  His gaze brightened and he echoed, “The rest of our lives?”

  She wasn’t about to make it that easy for him. “I’m stuck here for at least a year. We’ll see what happens after that.”

  He swept her into his arms and kissed her with slow, tender insistency. “Until tonight.”

  She waited until he’d gone to let out a joyful shout. Her life had gone from mediocre to miraculous in the span of a day—and she was never going back!

  Sahara Heat

  Diana Hunter

  Prologue

  Fine grains of sand drifted under the tent flaps, swirling in small eddies over finely woven carpets, not stopping their dance until they rested against a mahogany chest nestled beside a chair of sandalwood. A hand, long since bereft of life, rested on the lid in a final caress, a silk robe nothing but tatters around the bones. Far across the Sahara, a small breeze, warmed by the sun, transformed into a wind and, picking up speed and sand, became a storm that roared across the empty dunes. And when it reached the tent and its lone occupant, the dust storm swallowed it whole, covering it from the sight of men.

  Chapter One

  “You want me to do what?”

  Carla stopped in the middle of the mall and pulled the cell phone from her ear, staring at the touchpad as if she could read her friend’s face to determine if she was pulling one of her usual practical jokes. From the speaker, she could hear Angie uttering reassurances.

  A harried mother pushing a stroller and towing a toddler gave Carla a dirty look for her sudden stop, so Carla put the cell back to her ear and moved to a nearby bench, where she could sit and wrestle with her friend’s request in relative privacy.

  “Angie, slow down. Tell me again what you want, in short, simple sentences.”

  “Listen then! My partner and I have a great find. I really think this woman’s story needs to be told.”

  “What woman’s story? And isn’t that what you usually do?” Carla asked, confused. Angie had been a working archeologist ever since they’d graduated from college together. “I thought you guys dug up bones to find out their stories.”

  She heard Angie’s long-suffering sigh wafting through her phone from six thousand miles away. “Among other reasons, yes. But I’m not asking you to write a nonfiction report. This needs something more. It needs a real writer’s touch.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Despite Angie’s compliment, Carla couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Her career track had been decidedly spottier than her best friend’s.

  Graduating with a degree in theater, Carla had begun teaching high school English to pay the bills while she worked to get her acting career on the road to stardom. Although she had managed to get a few small walk-ons, acting hadn’t panned out and she’d turned to writing as an outlet for her creative muse.

  While working her day job, Carla began to write romance novels, selling her first manuscript after two long years of collecting rejection slips. She was still proud of her stack of rejection letters. They represented her perseverance and determination to succeed at something.

  And she had. Just last year she had finished teaching in June and tendered her resignation, finally making the move from teacher to full-time writer.

  She was far from a millionaire, though. While it was true she occasionally traveled to a location to soak up the atmosphere, she really didn’t have the time or money to jet off to the Sahara Desert and research some old bones.

  Angie’s powers of persuasion, however, were in full swing. “I mean it, Carla. What we’ve found out is incredible. Josef, my partner—you remember him; he’s the gorgeous hunk I keep telling you about. Anyway, he’s the lead archeologist on the dig and he’s coming back to New York to make a presentation to the museum. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to fly all the way to Egypt on spec. I want you to meet with Josef in New York and get him to tell you the details. I promise you, you’ll be hooked.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just trying to set me up on a blind date from the Sahara Desert?” Carla remembered the disastrous last time her friend had tried to set her up with someone.

  Angie laughed. “Not this time. Promise. This is totally on the up and up. Tell you what—just meet with him. Listen to the story. He’ll give you all the bare facts. What I want you to do is fill in the details. I think, once you hear him through, you’ll want to write this woman’s story in all its glory. If I’m wrong, then just thank him for his time and walk away. Deal?”

  Carla sighed and glanced around her comfortable suburban setting. At least meeting him in New York meant not flying to the hot Sahara. “Deal.”

  * * * * *

  Why am I so nervous? Carla stepped off the elevator and straightened her suit jacket for the sixth time since entering the building. All she was going to do was listen politely to what the man had to say, thank him for his time and send him on his way. Angie’s intentions might be aboveboard, but Carla still suspected she was being set up.

  No matter what story the archeologist had to tell, she wouldn’t be interested. She already had far too many irons in the fire, with two books in edits, two more manuscripts partly finished and an article due to The Romancer on how to maintain the delicate balance between character and plot and still keep the romance hot. The last thing she needed was another p
roject.

  A middle-aged secretary led her into a small meeting room, informing her that Dr. Anderson was held up in another meeting and would join her as soon as he finished. With a smirk, the secretary closed the door behind her as she left.

  Wonder what that was all about? Shrugging, Carla looked around the small, windowless room. Several artifacts hung on the walls and she wandered from one to another, whiling away the time.

  When a few minutes stretched into half an hour, she plopped herself into a chair and drummed her fingers on the table in irritation. Her time was just as precious as “Dr. Anderson’s” and she could be home, working on one of the stories currently clamoring for attention in her brain.

  The second hand on her watch ticked toward forty-five minutes. With an impatient push, Carla shoved herself away from the small table and yanked the door open, intending to vent her anger on the smug secretary before departing the building in a relieved huff.

  “I’m not waiting any longer. You can tell Dr. Josef—”

  So intent was she on yelling at the secretary, Carla body-slammed a wall that shouldn’t have been there. She reeled backward, off balance…

  A tall, brawny blond god caught her, and she gasped.

  Dr. Josef Anderson, Ph.D., caught the woman before she fell to the floor even as he fought to maintain his own balance. Grabbing her waist, he instinctively pulled her close, one part of his brain registering several important things as he battled to keep them both upright…

  Her hair was burnished auburn and fell in waves past her shoulders. The waist beneath his hands was small, yet he felt the strength in her muscles as she recovered her balance. And she wore the most wonderful perfume that reminded him of sunny spring mornings in the desert after a midnight rain.

  Then she spoke—and his initial image of the woman splintered.

  “If you’re Dr. Anderson, you’re forty-five minutes late. I’m tired of waiting. I’m leaving.”

  Josef still held her tightly. “You’re welcome for my catching you, Ms. Braun. I’m so happy I could prevent you from falling and hitting your head on the table, saving you some stitches or, at the very least, a big goose egg.”