They warmed under his scrutiny, the strange gray-green hauntingly beautiful. Kieran kissed her eyelids, loving the feel of her lashes on his lips.
His body held hers in place. Kieran was mostly naked, having stripped down so Katarina could heal him, but Felice still wore the coveralls.
Kieran seized the clasp that held the coveralls closed and jerked them open to her waist. “Off,” he said. “You’re not allowed to wear clothes, unless you have my permission.”
Fire danced in Felice’s eyes, making his cock ache. “Or if someone else comes over?”
“Unless you have my permission,” Kieran repeated. “If another Shareem or his lady, or Judith, sees you naked, too bad. They can’t have you.”
“Oh.” She looked puzzled. “Why would they want to have me?”
Kieran couldn’t stop his laugh. “You’re joking, right? Judith was ready to come here with me and climb all over you. And she’d never even seen you.” His laughter died. “But they don’t touch you. Not without my permission. Now . . . off.”
Felice quickly pushed the coveralls from her shoulders and kicked them from her legs. She was naked beneath, which Kieran had known from the way the fabric had caressed her. He’d been hard since they’d gotten home.
Gone were her inhibitions from when she’d first arrived, and Kieran’s heart warmed. He’d taught her to trust him, at least with baring her body.
Felice’s skin was soft to his touch. In spite of her fighting ability, and the fact that she’d been worked hard and had plenty of muscle, her skin was silken, a joy to his fingertips.
Kieran leaned to the collar again, but this time bit her throat. “Suck me,” he said.
Felice’s eyes widened, but Kieran didn’t need to explain. After giving him a quick, stunned look, Felice slowly slid to her knees. Kieran took a step back and slid off his loincloth, twisting it in his big hands.
He was going to come just watching Felice study his cock, which was stiff and aching, her lashes sweeping down as she looked it over from balls to tip. Her lips parted, her tongue touching them with moisture. Kieran tightened his hold on the loincloth, holding in the climax that would kill him before she even started.
He didn’t have any of his crops or floggers at hand, so he snapped the ties of his loincloth across her back. “Suck,” he said sternly.
Felice jumped at the slap of the cloth, though it would have nowhere near the sting of the lash. She steadied his cock in one trembling hand and kissed the tip.
“No.” Another snap. “Suck.”
Felice only smiled, because she knew she was making him crazy. She licked the underside of his cock, a teasing flick of tongue. Fire raged from that point of contact, and then she slid her mouth over him.
Holy fucking shit.
Kieran held his breath as Felice closed her eyes and began to suck. She pulled him straight into her, without fear, without shame. She rubbed the underside of his tip with her tongue, her mouth moving, making his breath catch and his throat dry.
“Hell,” he whispered.
Felice increased the intensity, and Kieran groaned. She was punishing him—yes—maybe for giving her so much ecstasy yesterday, in this very same room. Why could Kieran not be angry for that? Oh, yeah, because it felt like heaven.
He laced his fingers through her hair, bunching it in his fist. Felice held on to his hips, strong fingers pressing his skin, eyes closed in concentration. He should have bound her, her hands behind her back, while he commanded her, but gods of the universe, her holding him and doing him like this was too damn good to stop.
Kieran tapped her with the laces of his loincloth, gently mimicking how he’s use a flogger or crop. Spank her while she sucked him—that would have both of them wild.
“No, no, no.” Kieran heard the words come out of his mouth as he fought his climax.
He should have the control to let her suckle him until her mouth was raw, and still he wouldn’t come. Then he’d punish her for not bringing him off and make her start again.
That’s how the scenario was supposed to go. Kieran’s balls were tight, burning, his seed wanting to flush out of him into her. He groaned, letting go of Felice’s hair and the loincloth to ball his fists until his nails indented his skin.
No use. He was going to come.
“No!” he shouted. Kieran tore himself out of her mouth, which hurt, and Felice sat back, staring up at him in surprise.
Kieran grabbed her under the arms, pulling her to him. He crashed back down onto the sofa, quickly positioning Felice on his lap facing him, her thighs wide to straddle him.
He thrust up and inside her before he made sure she was ready—something Kieran never did. But his body had taken over, his Shareem metabolism wanting this woman, all of her. Now.
Felice gasped, her eyes wide with shock. Kieran felt a stab of fear that he was hurting her, then Felice laughed. Her head went back, and she began to ride him, holding him as she moved her hips against his.
Kieran cradled her, hands on her buttocks, as they rocked together, her breasts moving in soft undulations in time with their thrusts. He loved this. Watching her beautiful face, her eyes, her laughing mouth. Holding Felice while she made love to him.
He could do this all day . . . but his body had other ideas. Felice had wound him up in mad excitement, waves sweeping over him. Kieran heard his shouts blend with hers as they reached for the ecstasy and found it.
Together. Holding, laughing, kissing. A sweetness Kieran had never known stole over him, and he gathered Felice’s warm, collapsing body against him in wonder.
*** *** ***
Kieran lay in the dark of his bedroom, on his side, while Felice drowsed in the crook of his arm. Every once in a while, he kissed her, and she’d sleepily kiss him back.
What was he doing? The way sessions usually went, Kieran would run through his procedures, tailoring each to the particular woman’s needs—which he decided; had nothing to do with what she told him. The women didn’t always understand what they really wanted.
The entire process could take a few days to a week. At the end, the woman would be thoroughly sated, happy, and at peace with whatever demons Kieran had helped her get over.
What he did not do was cuddle up in bed with the woman as though they were a pair of soppy lovers. Lifemates. People who wanted to be together. Always.
Kieran was aware the sessions he did weren’t about him. They were about the woman, and he was for hire.
With Felice, all was different.
A new idea formed in Kieran’s head as he lay beside her. He could be with a woman because he wanted to be with her.
His heart beat faster. He caressed Felice’s breast and kissed the lips that sent him a languid smile.
Be with a woman because I want to be with her. Kieran turned this idea over in his head, examining it from several angles.
He wanted to be with Felice. Always. Screw that she was a runaway slave and that he was trying to help Rees get the Shareem off this stupid planet. Those were details, distractions.
The most important thing now was to figure out how to keep Felice with him. No matter what Rees wanted, no matter what the Shareem wanted, no matter what the patrollers wanted.
The importance of things rearranged themselves in his mind, and he knew he had to fight to be with Felice. Forever.
Chapter Nine
Judith closed up her bar in the wee hours of the morning—she’d not open again until noon the next day. People liked to run errands and get things done, before heat took over, but by early afternoon, it was time to sit down and have a cool drink.
She started to crank the doors closed, thinking of a nice shower and a sleep, when a man ducked around the closing metal.
“Too late for a drink?” he drawled.
Judith’s fatigue fled. “Mitch!” She launched himself at him and threw her arms around his neck. “When did you get back?”
“Just now.” Mitch’s eyes flickered in surprise at her exuber
ance, but he returned the embrace and gave her a long, if dusty, kiss. “You miss me that much? With all the Shareem crawling all over you?”
“I swore off Shareem,” Judith said, her enthusiasm undimmed. “They can deal with it.”
“Their loss.”
Mitch’s smile curled warmth through her. He wasn’t as big as the Shareem, being only six or so feet to their six and a half and seven feet, and he didn’t have their bulk. But he was as honed, as handsome as any of them, with his sand-colored hair and blue eyes in his tanned face. Mitch was a cargo pilot, freelance—someone had something to haul, he hauled.
His ship was small, enough for a limited run, but not enough for the Shareem who wanted off Bor Narga.
Judith knew he’d come on business, to report to Rees, but all she wanted was to wrap herself around him. And not just for sex. Judith had experienced every sexual technique she could with Shareem—she’d been with seven at a time once. The Shareem liked her, and when all eight of them had collapsed into a tired heap, they’d taken care of her and made sure she was all right.
With Mitch, everything was different. Sex with him was more . . . intimate. That was the only word for it.
With Shareem, it was wild and crazy—and then nothing. When sex was over, they shut off, finished and ready for the next woman. Judith and Mitch, on the other hand, could lie together in bed all day, talking, laughing, feeding each other when they were hungry. It was so warm and loving she could drown in it.
“You seen Rees?” Mitch asked after another kiss. “What time is it here?”
“Four in the morning. Sun will be up soon. Rees is probably with Talan, doing whatever it is crazed Shareem do with the ladies they love.”
Mitch could be cruel and say something like you ought to know, but he never did. He knew damn well she’d been a Shareem slut and had enjoyed sex, sex, and more sex, but Mitch never condemned her for it.
He slid his hands to her waist. “Time to say hello, then.”
“Seems like it.”
Mitch pulled Judith all the way into his arms, and she lifted her leg and wrapped it around him. He planted a hand under her ass and grinned at her. “Been thinking about you all the way across the stars.” He kissed her again, his voice going low. “My girl, waiting here for me.”
“I’ve been thinking about you too,” Judith said. “Missing you.”
“Yeah?” Mitch nipped her nose. “How much?”
“Want me to show you?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Judith unwrapped herself from him, finished closing up the doors, unzipped her coverall, and let it fall. “This much.”
Mitch’s slow smile returned as he looked at her bare body. He shrugged off his flight jacket and let it drop to the floor. “Worth every mile,” he said.
He lifted her, kissing her, their kisses moving from welcoming to fiercer and more demanding.
They never made it upstairs. Mitch showed her in the next few minutes that a barstool could be the most erotic of places. Every texture of his shirt and pants on her naked skin heated Judith’s body to the breaking point.
When Mitch finally slid inside her, bracing her on his hard cock, Judith’s climax hit her before she was ready. Mitch’s generous smile sent her over the top, as did the warmth in his eyes.
*** *** ***
A few streets away, Felice woke to an empty bed. Kieran wasn’t gone, though. Not like yesterday. She knew that as she rolled out of bed and snatched up the second pair of coveralls—the first ones were probably still on the floor in the living room.
She felt Kieran’s presence, though she couldn’t say how she did. But she knew, before she opened the bedroom door to see him coming out of the kitchen, that she’d find him. He bore something on two small plates, and when he saw her, he handed her one.
A pastry of some kind, decorated with fruit Felice had never seen before—berries, she assumed. “What is this?”
“Breakfast.” Kieran carried his plate to the couch, plopped himself on it, put up his feet, and stuck half the pastry into his mouth.
Felice tried one of the bright red berries, which looked a little like an Earth raspberry, but not quite. She tasted sweet, juicy flavor, and quickly ate another.
She sat down on the sofa next to Kieran, who was concentrating on his breakfast. “Kieran,” she said. “We should talk about a few things.”
“Why?” Kieran lifted the second half of his pastry, cream dripping from his fingers. “It’s always better not to talk. Too many things are ruined by talk.”
Felice regarded him carefully. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it’s true.” Kieran took another large bite of the pastry and went silent while he chewed.
“You never asked me again how I learned to fight,” Felice said after a few moments.
Kieran shook his head. “Changed my mind.” He licked a dab of cream from his thumb. Hard to concentrate while watching his tongue take up the bit of cream and curl it into his mouth.
“Don’t you want to know?” Felice asked, her throat tight. “Why someone who can fight like me ended up a cargo-hauling slave?”
Kieran took a leisurely sip of water he’d brought out with him. “Nope.”
“Don’t you care?” A little pain touched her heart.
“I do care. But I don’t want to know, if knowing makes you go away again.”
The pain in her heart changed to sudden warmth. “Oh.”
Instead of continuing the conversation, Kieran lifted a berry and eased it toward his mouth. He took his time biting it, and red juice stained his lips and fingers.
Felice swallowed. “Are you saying that you don’t want me to go away?”
“Yep.”
Felice set her untouched pastry on the table. “But I have to go. You know that. I need to find someplace I’ll be safe. And free.”
“So do I.” Kieran lifted another berry and wrapped his tongue around it, drawing it inside his mouth.
Felice got lost in watching him for a moment, then shook herself. “Aren’t you free here?” she asked. “I mean, relatively. Slavery is illegal on Bor Narga.”
“It is. But Shareem aren’t people. No one is allowed to own us anymore, but we aren’t allowed to own ourselves, either.”
Felice started to ask him to explain, but she thought she knew what he meant. She’d seen the patrollers hassle Kieran, noted the wariness in Shareem eyes when she’d walked into the bar. They’d assumed her to be trouble before they’d even known who she was.
And why had Kieran been wandering around the dockyards the day he’d stumbled upon her? If the place was restricted to Shareem?
“Why did you go back to the docks last night?” she asked.
Kieran finished his berry and sucked the juice from his fingertips. Felice got distracted again watching his mouth pucker over his finger, and slowly suckle . . .
He was trying to distract her, damn him. “Kieran,” she persisted. “Why?”
Kieran ran his blue gaze up and down her, his eyes narrowing. “Did I tell you that you could put on the coverall?”
“No . . .”
“Then take it off. Now. And no more talking.”
Felice stood up. All right, if he wanted to play it that way . . .
She very slowly unfastened the coveralls and let the top slide down her arms, baring her breasts. She paused a moment, then brushed her already tightening nipples with her fingertips. Kieran’s gaze fixed on her, going hot and even more blue.
Felice continued to peel away the coveralls, her fingers brushing her body all the way down. She touching the swirl of hair between her legs, it already moist, as she let the coveralls fall to the floor.
Kieran couldn’t look away. She felt his gaze intently on her as she stepped out of the coveralls and pushed them aside with her foot. She was bare, her only adornment the collar at her throat.
Kieran relaxed back into the cushions, his eyes warm. “That’s better.”
“So why did
you go to the docks?” Felice asked.
Kieran growled. He came off the sofa and hauled Felice against him. “I said, no more talking.”
He wasn’t comfortable with words, Felice had already gathered. She’d watched him grope for the right ones whenever he spoke to her, as well as when he spoke to others. He was also very good at avoiding questions.
He avoided them now by stopping her mouth with hard, bruising kisses. He wore a thin tunic, and she could feel every hollow and plane of his body beneath it as Kieran scooped her against him.
Kieran’s mouth went to her neck, her throat; he lifted her so he could close his mouth over her breast. He suckled her as sensually as he had the berries and their juices.
Felice bathed in the feelings as she cling to his arms—the pull of his mouth, the bite of his teeth, the shivery fire that burned her. For so long now, Felice had shut herself off from emotions and sensations, burying them deep so she’d feel no pain, no grief, no fear.
Kieran was all about feelings, a man made to spread them to others. The people who’d created him had tried to suppress his needs and desires, but Felice had seen them, raw and stark, inside him.
Especially when he’d said I don’t want to know, if knowing makes you go away again.
Felice stroked his hair as he licked and nipped—sleek and clean, light catching the rich, dark depths.
Kieran raised his head and let her body slide down his, wonderful friction. “I want you to stay a week,” he announced.
Felice blinked. “Why a week?”
“That’s how long it will take before you’re done. It’s how long it always takes.”
Felice had no clue what he was talking about, but she sensed the importance of what he was asking her.
She had to leave; she knew that. But the thought of leaving this man behind while she ran again, seeking safety, made her balk. She might never see him again.
Or she could hide here, wait for TGH Corp to get tired of looking for her. She could leave when she was sure the company had written her off as a loss and departed the planet again. They’d not risk losing money on costly cargo for one missing worker. Not when they could simply buy another.
Kieran (Tales of the Shareem) Page 8