by Eve Langlais
Actually, more like she burned. The contact stole her breath. Then she couldn’t breathe even if she wanted to, given the heavy arm he threw over her. He held her tight. Warmed her from head to toe and in a few places that made her cheeks burn.
How she fell asleep, she couldn’t have said, but she did.
Next thing she knew, a hand cupped her breast, a thumb brushed over her nipple. A hard rod pressed against her backside, and her husband hummed as he nuzzled her hair.
Such small things and yet far more intense than the holodeck ever led her to imagine. Her lips parted in a soft sigh as his lips found her neck and slid over it. A trembling moan as he pinched the tip of her breast.
“I shouldn’t do this,” he murmured suddenly, pulling his hand away. Only to have her grab it and bring it back. She placed it on her breast.
“Touch me. Please.” She didn’t demand or order, but asked.
“This will make things complicated,” he murmured, the words brushing the skin of her neck.
“It’s already complicated. Why can’t we find something pleasurable in it?” she asked, dragging his hand lower then sucking in a breath when his fingers brushed over her mound.
He cupped her, bold and heated strength holding her most private part. She closed her eyes and held her breath, fearful that any sound, even a movement, would send him fleeing.
“Why are we naked?” he asked, his hand motionless.
“Because it feels good.” It did. She wiggled against him, and he uttered a soft groan.
“You shouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?” She squirmed again.
The hand cupping her squeezed. She gasped. His lips touched the lobe of her ear.
“It’s evil to tempt a man.”
“I’d say it’s more evil to keep teasing me.” She wiggled, giving herself a thrill as his fingers rubbed.
“Is this what you want?” His dragged a finger along the slit of her sex, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “You don’t have to answer, do you? I can feel it.” He rubbed his slick finger against her clitoris, and she moaned. His words rumbled against her as he continued to rub. “I thought I was dreaming when I woke up with you snuggled against me.”
And she thought she dreamed now, his heavenly touch making her shiver in pleasure.
“You are really here, though. Wet and ready.” He inserted part of a finger in her, and she tensed. “Tight. So fucking tight.”
He rolled her onto her back and poised himself over her. She stared at him, frightened and yet excited. Aroused and ready.
She went to drape her arms around him, but he shook his head. “Oh no you don’t, princess.” She might have protested except he chose to work his way down her body, starting with her jaw, then a slide of his lips down her neck.
He reached her collarbone and nipped her. She arched.
Every part of her throbbed with awareness.
His lips latched onto a nipple, and she cried out as her sex clenched.
“Damon.” She sighed his name, and he growled.
“Dammit, princess, when you say it like that…” He never finished his sentence, choosing to instead drag his lips down the silky skin of her belly, farther still to her mound.
Surely he wasn’t about to… He did, and reading about it, seeing it on screen, and pretending on a holodeck did not do it justice.
The first swipe of his tongue and her hips arched off the bed.
He pinned her down for the second. Then she lost track of everything as ecstasy attacked her body. Made her cry out. Climax. Cry out some more.
When he finally poised himself atop her tingling body, the head of him ready to penetrate, she was more than ready.
A satisfied smile pulled her lips. “Take me.”
“With pleasure.” He began to push, the head of him spearing her, and she held her breath—
The computer interrupted. “First Mate Falkner, you are required on the bridge.”
“Fuck.”
Chapter 7
Damon muttered “Fuck” a few more times between rolling off Michonne’s hot body, yanking on his pants, fabricating a new shirt, and doing a quick toiletry session. As he emerged from the ablutions room, it didn’t help to see her rosy-cheeked in his bed, her hair spilling over her naked shoulders.
“You’re leaving again?” she asked.
“You heard the computer. Work.”
“Can you at least give me permission to exit your quarters?”
“What are you talking about?” Only as soon as he asked, he knew. “Shit, you couldn’t leave the room yesterday. No wonder you were so mad. Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Computer, allow Michonne full access to my quarters.”
“Thank you.” The smile she gave him went right to his cock—his poor blue balls just sobbed.
“Uh.” Yeah, that was what the smooth first mate managed to say to the woman who’d come so gloriously on his tongue not that long before. The reminder didn’t help his frustration situation.
Which might have explained his scowl when he entered the bridge to see the captain had called most of his senior crew, which meant him as first mate, as well as the second mate, who usually worked an opposing shift to Damon. Which suited Lazarine just fine. She preferred the nocturnal hours on board. Both majors were there, being the chief medical officer, Karson, and that of the environment, Ivan. Einstein rounded out their party, her petite body dwarfed by her seat, one of the rare cases where a human couldn’t be fixed by modern medicine. Between her hybrid genes and being raised on a zero-gravity asteroid without access to the basics, Einstein never had a chance. But while her body might have crippled, her mind flourished.
The captain entered last. “I see everyone is here.” Everyone except Crank. The captain let the cyborg get away with insubordination. Everyone did. Poor guy suffered.
Will I turn into Crank if I lose my wife? Probably not since she indicated he’d die soon after. Still, it did bring a moment of pause to wonder if she was right, that their arranged marriage could work and maybe he’d end up truly caring for her.
Aren’t I already starting?
“Thanks for gathering. I wanted to talk to you before we land.”
“Land where? We are still two days out from the way station.” Damon frowned.
“We need to make a pit stop first. Here.” Jameson waved his hand, and a holomap appeared. A pulsing red point drew the eye.
“You’re taking us to La’zuun. Since when do you gamble?” asked Karson.
La’zuun was an asteroid that thrived on vices. Especially those frowned upon by most evolved societies. Yet even the most educated and intelligent retained a somewhat primal need for the taboo and the violent.
Places like La’zuun with its gambling, arena for bloodshed, and boudoirs for seduction—and pain—filled the void. And made great credits doing so. They were also dangerous places where the wrong bet or move could see someone playing the part of the next victim in the arena.
Given it was a place to relax, Damon asked, “Should we begin dividing the crew into away parties?”
“We won’t be staying long enough for that.”
An in-and-out affair. Damon cocked a brow. “Crew won’t like that.” Any docking time was considered sacrosanct. Even after centuries in space, humanity still required some kind of contact with the ground. To feel gravity, real gravity, tugging at them. Breathing real air.
“We can’t stay long because we’ll probably be coming out hot,” Jameson advised, a swipe of his hand enlarging the planet. A green and blue ball. Once a derelict hunk of rock, floating alone around a star, it had been terra formed at great expense and turned into a playground.
Ivan grumbled, “Can you not delay whatever trouble you’ve got planned long enough to give the crew some deserved down time?”
“They’ll get downtime when we hit the station in a few days,” Jameson said.
More than one face sported a grimace. “Not exactly the same,” Karson noted.
“I have to agree with others. As chief medical officer, I do think the crew could use a few hours in a place with grass and trees and people other than those they’re sick of.”
“We have grass in the conservatory, and if they don’t like the people here, then there’s the holodeck. We can’t stay.” Jameson glared all around, but while they followed the man fiercely and loyally, none had gotten there by being pushovers. They didn’t shrivel under his glare, and he sighed. “Fine. Twelve hours. No more. And make sure it’s clear we’re not staying. Anyone not on board at departure time will damned well stay behind.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” Damon snapped a salute.
Jameson smirked. “Years later and you still can’t do it right. No wonder you flunked out of the academy.” Being the galactic academy where the best and brightest of humanity’s soldiers trained.
Damon thanked all the stars he’d not ended up shoehorned into an awful career. Shuttling dignitaries. Dealing with colony problems. Getting killed in wars that didn’t mean shit.
“Now that we’ve dealt with that, our next dilemma. The first mate’s new wife.”
Damon grimaced. “Do we have to drag that out now?”
“I think by now everyone knows about your accidental wedding.” Jameson smirked. “But what you don’t know is that poses some difficulties. First and foremost being the fact that her father sent me to rescue her and, instead, my first mate married her.”
“Technically, she married me. I would have said no.”
“Won’t matter. You are her husband, and since you don’t have a family name, planet, or army behind you, her father is going to be less than pleased.”
“And what do you suggest I do about that?” Damon asked.
“Make her very, very happy.”
“I can give you pointers if needed,” Ivan remarked.
“Don’t listen to the sausage fest,” Einstein interjected. “Just be yourself.”
“I thought we wanted him to succeed in making her happy,” Karson noted.
Lazarine snickered. “Then he’s screwed.”
Jameson cleared his throat. “How about we let Damon figure out how to woo his wife on his own. I just want you to be aware in case we need to make a hasty departure when we do end up meeting with him. But I doubt that will be for a few days. In the meantime, I need you all ready for our upcoming La’zuun excursion.”
“Going to tell us why we’re here?” Karson asked.
“No.”
“But you’re pretty sure we will be leaving hot,” Damon queried.
“Probably.”
“Then I’d better warn Crank.”
Except Crank already knew. Which left Damon with nothing much to do. Everyone was already hard at work. He’d made the rounds twice already. He couldn’t avoid it anymore.
His room.
His wife.
What they’d started…
Why did he fear her? You heard what the captain said. You need to make her happy. It was a matter of life or death. Yet, the fact that he had to do it, had to make her the happiest woman alive, made him balk. What about what he wanted?
I want her.
Yes, he did, in the moment, for now. What about after they’d slept together? What about when they tired of each other? Surely their passion—even if ridiculously strong now—would fade.
It doesn’t fade with everyone. There were examples of relationships that lasted everywhere he went. He knew of numerous couples on board the ship happy with their choice.
He knew just as many that were happier to split.
The door to his room loomed in front of him. Behind it, a future he’d never asked for but had to accept.
The hardship. Married to a gorgeous, rich woman. The horror.
I’m an idiot. Since he couldn’t change things, he should embrace it. Embrace her. With his tongue. Again. Because she tasted so damned delicious.
He walked toward his door, which, recognizing him, slid open. “Princess, I’m home.” Declared to an empty room.
Where the hell had his wife gone?
Chapter 8
Her husband arrived wearing a thunderous expression. Perched on a stool that could swivel, she quickly turned her back and pretended she never saw him. A coy game, but one she’d learned along with how to manage credits, a household, and more. Papa made sure all his daughters received a thorough education.
She faked a smile for the man talking at her. Not to her. He was much too self-involved for that.
He—Lieutenant Gower something or other—finally paused talking about his greatness when her husband growled, “Move away from my wife.”
“Wife?” the man squeaked—apparently a trait among the crew—and fled.
“Well, that was rude,” she remarked, taking a sip from the concoction someone had labeled a drink. More like the fluid used to strip the color from her nails when she tired of it.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He bore a scowl that didn’t detract from his handsomeness at all.
“I am having a beverage. Care to join me?” She indicated the now vacant seat.
“No. You shouldn’t be here.”
Here being the hidden heart of the ship, known as Nexus by the crew, where the fun things occurred, such as needling her new husband. “I’m sorry, was I supposed to remain in our quarters? Perhaps waiting on my knees with your slippers in hand? Or am I simply not allowed to speak to anyone?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean, husband? Because it sounded as if you were forbidding me from socializing.”
“Socialize, yes, but you can’t flirt with other men.”
Her brow arched as he inadvertently admitted his jealousy. “I didn’t realize conversation was considered flirting now.”
“It’s not usually, however, Goweranski is a womanizer.”
“The lieutenant was wasting his time then. I am a married woman.”
“Which he obviously didn’t realize.” Damon scrubbed a hand through his hair. “We’re going to have to find a way to make it understood you’re off-limits.”
“You wish to mark me unavailable? I guess we could tattoo my face. Perhaps invest in a flashing sign that I can carry about stating your ownership.” She knew she teased, and yet she couldn’t help it. This jealous side of him fascinated and excited.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a ring.”
“A ring?” She looked at her bare fingers. “But that’s so archaic.” The use of rings had been a ritual employed by humans centuries ago and had long since been abandoned for other more permanent methods.
“I’m an old-fashioned guy.”
“So I’m discovering. And will you also be wearing a ring to state your status?”
“You already marked me.”
But not anywhere visible. Which meant the women ogling him across the room didn’t yet realize he was unavailable. She placed her hand on his arm. “I hear we’ll be making port shortly.”
“Don’t get too excited. We won’t be there long.”
“Are we docking for business?” she asked.
“Of a sort. I don’t know the details, and even if I did, I couldn’t tell you.”
“Understandable. Still, it will be enjoyable to visit.”
“No visiting for you. I’ll have to go with the captain, which means you’ll have to remain on board.”
A frown creased her brow. “Am I not allowed off the ship without you as a chaperone?”
“Usually, yes, but you can’t in this place. La’zuun is dangerous for women.”
“You are not allowing any females to disembark?”
Judging by the tightness of his jaw, only she was forbidden. “Only you, because you’re different.”
“How am I different?” She leaned forward, drawn to this man. Fascinated by the way he treated her, one moment acting as if he didn’t want anything to do with her, the next possessive. So very, very possessive.
“We don’t yet know
for sure if the Kanishqui commander has given up on you.”
He’d be foolish to continue trying. She’d made her choice, and even if the commander killed Damon, as a widow, she’d have more choice in her next husband. “Surely he didn’t follow us.” They’d streaked a number of times, enough to lose him.
“We’ve seen no signs of pursuit, but we can’t know if there are others who will be tempted by your wealth.”
She waved a hand, dismissing his concern. “My marriage to you has made my abduction worthless. My only merit was in my ability to wed and confer my wealth and status. If anyone is in danger, it’s you. Perhaps you should be locked away. For your protection of course,” she teased.
“I don’t need protection.”
“Are you sure of that?” She stepped off the stool and stood close to him, so close her body couldn’t help but heat, remembering his touch. The pleasure she’d felt at his hands and tongue were something she craved more of.
His arm curled around her waist and drew her near, pulling her up on tiptoe. “Do you need a lesson in my virility?”
He flirted with her, and she couldn’t help but smile. “Perhaps I do. Should we adjourn to our quarters that you might best instruct me?”
“Let’s go.”
He led her from the gathering place, his arm around her waist tantalizing her. Every so often they’d have to pause at a busy intersection, and he’d draw her close, tucking her into his warmth, not saying anything, to her at least. He briefly acknowledged the crew they encountered, his words to them short, almost terse. Dare she say, impatient.
Finally, they reached his room and its privacy. The door no sooner closed than she was pushed against it, his mouth finding hers for fervent embrace. They only managed that single passionate kiss before the ship announced the crew needed to get ready for docking.
“Fuck me,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against hers.
She could understand his disappointment, especially since his departure left her aching.
But he wouldn’t be gone forever. Damon had said it himself. They would only be at this planet for a short while. She just had to show patience. Await his return. Simple enough.