by T C Archer
What the—she lifted her hands and drew a sharp breath at the sight of large, masculine hands. The movement made something tug between her legs. Heart pounding, she groped her crotch. A cock and balls filled her hand. Fontana fingered the balls, startled by the warmth that started to spread from her penis like a lava vent had opened in her groin. Her cock thickened, sprouting pleasure that made her heart pound.
She glanced to the right. Brent wasn’t there. She took an involuntary step backward, looked to the left, and did a double take. Brent had her body. He stood where he’d entered the bath, holding one breast and rolling the nipple of the other around between a thumb and forefinger.
“Wow,” he said in her voice, but it sounded strange, sort of what she sounded like on a recording.
Fontana put her hands on her own chest. Hard pecs were there under the tight skin, not the soft flesh of her breasts as she expected. She flexed, and the muscles moved. Her pulse jumped. Her nipples hardened a little to her touch, but the sensation was subdued compared to her female nipples.
She ran her hands down her flat, washboard stomach, felt the hard abdominals and the ridges, then continued over her narrow hips and down her—his—hard thighs. Running her hands back up, she found firm buttocks. Very firm. They were just as luscious and velvety as ever, now that they were hers. She flexed her butt cheeks and felt the power, recalled the first time she’d seen Brent. The sight of his steel buns had been a big part of why she’d chased him.
“How did they do this?” she asked, her voice a baritone that didn’t quite sound like him.
“I’m sure they know what they’re doing,” Brent answered in her voice.
Fontana took a step forward and faltered at the feel of the package swinging between her legs. She tugged the toga up and grabbed a handful. Her cock had grown large, and she couldn’t hold it and her balls in one hand. She shifted her grip to the shaft. It was unyielding and throbbed with yearning. She gave the thick tool a slow stroke. Pleasure flowed from the rod. She could feel it pulse, both inside the shaft and in her hand. She thumbed the mushroom-shaped ridge. Electric pleasure shot all the way to her scalp like a rolling thunderstorm.
“It must be the togas.”
She looked up when she heard her voice coming from him…her.
“The silvery threads must be like antennae catching our sensations and sending them to each other’s brain,” Brent added. He had found a spot to lounge on a bed of pillows. One hand was between his legs, the other was still working over one breast.
Her cock honed in on him like a heat-seeking missile. It almost hurt to be hard and alone. She lumbered over to him and settled on the pillows beside him, nearly falling, not accustomed to her narrow hips and broad shoulders. She stroked her cock. The hard rod pulsed in her hand, and her thighs quivered with pleasure. Surprised, she saw that she’d leaked cum on herself. Her cock wanted more than a hand. Her cock’s velvety head wanted to be covered. It wanted a warm, wet channel. Her hand was a poor substitute for a pussy.
She bent and tried to get her mouth around her throbbing erection. She couldn’t reach. So close. She struggled to bend more, pulling her cock closer, guiding it to her mouth. Even expelling all her air didn’t bring her mouth or tongue close enough to touch the sensitive tip.
A woman laughed, and Fontana realized it was Brent.
“You’ll never do it.” He leaned over. “Here, let me show you what it feels like.” He drew the crown into his mouth. Wet, warm pleasure spread down her shaft. She pulsed her cock. It wanted to thrust deep into his mouth. His lips hugged her rim. A moan escaped her, a deep rumble in her chest that sent waves of pleasure to her center. She thrust deeper, and he pulled back. She popped out.
“Hey.” She had to have him. She gripped her cock with both hands. It was as if it had a mind of its own. All she could think about was burying herself inside someone, anyone, and soon. “I have to have more of that.”
She let go of herself and cupped his breasts. The flesh was firm yet yielded and formed to her hands. His nipples were hard pebbles in her palms. “That’s nice. They feel so firm and soft.”
“And that tightens my pussy,” he said.
Her cock yearned for him. She couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but find his wet channel. No wonder men only wanted one thing. Her cock throbbed with need. The damned thing wouldn’t feel normal until it found some pussy. If she didn’t have release, she felt like her dick would break free and go in search of sex on its own. She stroked herself hard. That wasn’t working, and she couldn’t reach it with her own mouth.
“Are you ready?” she pleaded.
“I’m more than ready.”
Whatever he was doing was working to whet his appetite. He lifted his toga, exposing his pussy, the lips parted and pink with anticipation. She had never seen herself from this angle, and it was erotic. She had to get her shaft inside; then maybe the need would relax. She crawled until she was over him. He grabbed her shaft in his small hand and guided her in.
Wet warmth enfolded her, tight, slippery. Her head felt like it would explode. Both heads did. All she wanted was to bury herself deep inside him. So deep she would never have to leave. She intended to slide in slow, but desire compelled her to thrust. Pleasure erupted from her shaft. She pulled back and pushed herself home again.
Brent murmured something. She thrust home harder this time and felt the orgasm build, but she couldn’t slow down, couldn’t halt. Her only thought was one more thrust, then one more, then one last one, and her whole world became an explosion of pleasure. She pumped her seed into him, clenching groin muscles to squirt more, thrusting one last time. Her skin tingled and flushed all over. She stilled. Sweat covered her chest. His channel held her cock like a velvet glove. It was warm in there, and she wanted to do it some more, but her penis was too sensitive to move.
“Oh,” she rumbled. “That was bigger and stronger than any orgasm I’ve felt. Ever. No wonder this is all men ever want—and then they fall asleep. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”
“And yours are little bursts of pleasure that seemed like they were trying to build to something.”
She pulled out of him and collapsed on the pillows beside him. “Wow.” She wrapped her fingers around her limp penis. It wasn’t sensitive like it had been after orgasm, while she was still inside him. “Did you come?”
“I don’t think so. I had a couple little somethings.”
She tugged at her limp cock. “Sorry I came too soon. I couldn’t hold back, no matter how hard I tried. I want to do that again. I want you to feel what I do when your cock is inside me and I come.”
“You’ll have to wait a little while. I’ll show you something that gets me back up. Lie back and relax. The harder you try, the softer it gets.”
He reached between her legs. His small hand held her balls and kept them warm. It made her tingle all over. He worked them back and forth. The feeling was pleasant, relaxing, similar to how she’d felt when her cock was growing hard. She reached down. She was thick but not hard.
“Relax.” He bent over her.
One breast hung free; the other swung beneath the shoulder-drape of his toga. She cupped the exposed breast. Soft and pliable. Her large hand couldn’t hold the whole breast. His nipple hardened in her palm. This was how she felt to a man, to this man. Was he as excited as she’d been when he entered her? How could he last as long as he did? She had exploded almost right away, the pleasure was so intense. Everything he felt was intense. Even the nipple in her hand felt like it had a home there.
He took her stiff cock in his small hand, stroked its length. She felt that beat again as her blood pounded into her erection. He shifted lower, slid his mouth around the head. Heat deepened from her shaft. The strange need returned, the need to bury her cock somewhere wet and warm. He sucked the corona, then slid his tongue down her length. She sighed. Air cooled the head, sparking more need to bury it inside him. She massaged the warm, velvet tip.
�
�My juices taste different when experienced through your taste buds,” he said. “I so love the taste of you. Now, though, your taste seems—off. Nevertheless, you’re hard now.”
She stroked herself, sending fountains of hot pleasure in and out of her shaft. This time her erection didn’t throb so much. She pulsed it and felt it move in her hand. The need to burrow deep in his cunt was growing by the second.
“I’m ready. I’m going to make you feel it this time.”
She got on her knees and pushed him onto his back. Her erection already pointed at his pussy like it knew where to go. She grabbed the hem of her toga and drew it upward.
“Me too.” Brent wiggled his toga up over his hips.
Fontana pulled the toga over her head. A sense of rapid acceleration slammed into her. Her body shuddered, and she lay on her back. Brent was now back in his body and knelt over her, his erection in his hand. She reached down and felt her own pussy, wet and ready, and very female.
First surprise then disappointment flowed over his face. “Damn.” His cock went limp, and he collapsed next to her. “We should have left the togas on.”
Chapter Seven
Ten minutes later, Fontana looked up when Brent entered the bath wearing another toga. The fabric, tied at one muscular shoulder, hung to his calves. Steam rose off the still water, shrouding him with a dreamlike quality as he skirted the languid pool. With careful precision, Fontana lounged against the throw pillows at the pool’s edge, then stretched. Satisfaction shot through her when his eyes dropped to her breasts where they strained against the white fabric of her toga.
He neared, and she plucked a grape from the bowl of fruit a serving ’bot had delivered, along with more dry towels and body sanitizer, which he’d placed near the pool’s edge. His eyes remained on her face as she brought the fruit to her lips and slowly sucked it into her mouth. When Brent reached the pillows, he lowered himself beside her and propped up on an elbow. Fontana tracked her gaze down the tanned legs stretched out alongside hers toward the pool. She released a quiet breath. He was beautiful.
Brent put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. “You look lovely.” He kissed her, soft and sweet. Her crown of olive leaves slipped a fraction when he drew back.
“I’m glad you think so. Want some grapes?”
He lounged on his side. “So I’m going to have a beautiful woman feed me grapes after all.”
She pulled a stem of grapes from the bowl and held it centimeters from his mouth.
He plucked the bottom grape off with his teeth. “Um. I could do this all night.”
That’s exactly what she was counting on.
“How long are you staying on Sagitariun?” he asked.
Fontana fed him another grape. “Another week.”
“Not nearly long enough.”
She laughed. “How long is long enough?”
He rolled onto his pillows and stuffed his hands behind his head. “A month would be a good start.”
“A month? Isn’t that too much of a good thing?”
His head shifted in her direction. A soft light entered his eyes. “With you? No such thing.”
She snorted. “Do they teach those lines at engineering school?”
“No way. That’s all me.” He smiled. “Where do you go from here?”
“I don’t know.” And she didn’t.
What would happen if she didn’t return to the Corps? Jenny wasn’t the first friend she’d lost. No one with fifteen years under their belt escaped the pain of losing someone. But Jenny’s death was by far the most unfair death Fontana had known in the field, and the only person whose death Fontana had contributed to.
But Jenny hadn’t been a field agent. She was a scientist, a Corps member who formed a hypothesis, studied the data, and then passed the conclusions on to people who then made strategic decisions. But knowing Jenny was a scientist, not a trained Corps officer, hadn’t stopped the Corps from placing her in the hornet’s nest.
Fontana released a slow breath. The hornet’s nest could wait until tomorrow. Or until her contact found out what was going on with that freighter in Draconian space.
She dipped a toe into the water and traced a figure eight. “You ready for a swim?”
Brent trailed a finger up her bare arm. “If that’s where you’re going.”
She flattened a palm on his chest and slid her hand up and under the shoulder strap of his toga. When she pushed the strap down his arm, a thrill skittered through her when the muscle tensed beneath her fingers. When had a man ever excited her so easily? Had she felt this way with Ray? In the beginning, they hadn’t been able to get enough of each other, but she didn’t remember it being like this.
Brent rose. He grasped her hand, and she shrugged aside the memory as he pulled her to her feet. Five years was a long time, and memories changed, especially when things didn’t turn out the way they were supposed to. Brent shook the strap from his arm, then pushed the toga from her shoulders. Fontana let the fabric slip from her body. His gaze dropped to her breasts, and the nipples puckered. He bent, and his warm lips closed around the hardened peak. Desire streaked through her.
He grasped her shoulders and held her against his mouth as he sucked. Fontana gasped at the pleasure that went taut from clit to breast. Her legs weakened, and she held on to his arms for support. He flicked his tongue against the nipple, and her pussy clenched in anticipation. When he shifted to the other breast, Fontana allowed her head to fall back. How long could she take this torture before she had to have his cock inside her? Ten minutes…two?
She straightened and looked down at his hips where the toga tented with the erection she couldn’t wait to get her hands on.
He lifted his head and met her gaze. “How’s that for starters?”
She grasped the toga and gently pushed it down across his cock and off his hips. Thick and long, his shaft bobbed from within a light thatch of hair. Fontana wrapped her fingers around the girth. She loved the way he felt between her fingers, soft and hard at the same time. The paradox was delicious.
“I might have to have my way with you this instant.”
Brent grinned. “I like the way you think.”
He grasped her waist and braced himself as he slowly thrust into her fingers. The crown glistened with precum. He was ready. He captured her mouth with his as his cock withdrew, then thrust a second time.
A growl rumbled from his chest before he broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against hers. “Much more of this and I’ll be done before I’ve even started. We came here so I could get to know you better. Let’s take that dip.”
Reluctantly, Fontana released him and faced the pool. She took the three steps into the hot water, Brent behind her. At the bottom of the stairs, he grasped her hips and pressed close so that his cock nestled in the crook of her ass. Fontana walked until she was breast deep, and then he stopped her. Tiny laps of water licked at her nipples.
Fontana scanned the pool. By some trick of perspective, it wasn’t as big at it looked, only about three meters wide. She started to face Brent, but he held her firmly in place. His hands left her hips and palmed each butt cheek. Contentment rippled through her at the feel of his broad hands covering her flesh. His thumbs slid between each side of his cock and her buttocks. She stilled as he spread her cheeks. His shaft slid downward until the head reached her opening.
Her breath caught when he spread her wider, and the mushroom tip rubbed slippery against her hole, then eased inside a fraction.
Brent eased inside a little more, then drew back just as slowly. A mental picture flashed of Brent’s engorged cock slipping inside the tight entrance to her ass, and her stomach did a flip. He slipped in deeper this time, and she gasped at the pleasant burn.
He paused. “You all right?”
She nodded, unable to speak. He gave a low laugh and eased deeper. Her heart pounded, and she had the sudden urge to jam her ass backward and impale him balls-deep. He pulled her flush against his ch
est. His chin brushed the top of her head as he reached around and slid a finger into her curls. She melted against his large frame, aware of the thick rod that stretched her rectum. His finger massaged her clit. A moan slipped past her lips.
His finger moved faster, and she rocked against the digit. His cock slipped all the way inside. She stilled as her muscles softened around his cock. Brent released a heavy breath, then parted her pussy lips and inserted a finger into her channel. Her legs trembled. He was fucking her ass and her pussy! His free hand grasped her hip and urged her forward into a rocking motion. Fontana thrust against his finger, then pulled back, ramming his cock deeper.
His sharp intake of breath was unlike any aphrodisiac she’d ever experienced, and Fontana increased her speed. The hand on her hip slid around her waist and held her firm. She reached back and covered his ass with her hands. Muscle bunched with every push of her buttocks against his groin. Pressure built in her channel. She rode his finger as he fucked her ass. She kneaded his buttocks. She was on the edge. Any minute—he ripped his cock from her ass.
“Brent,” she cried.
He turned her toward the pool edge. “Grab the edge.”
She tried to make sense of the words. Desire muddled her thoughts.
“The edge,” he rasped, “grab it.”
Fontana grabbed the pool edge. Brent reached past her and grabbed the bottle of body sanitizer. He nipped the back of her neck, and she shivered. Water rippled, then he tossed the sanitizer onto the towel and bent her forward. When he grasped her hips and rammed his cock into her channel, she gasped. The head crashed into her womb. Pleasure ripped through her. She braced herself as he pulled back, then rammed harder, faster. She gave a strangled laugh. And she had thought she would be the one to fuck him.
Orgasm burst through her. She threw her head back. His thrusts lifted her feet off the tiled floor. Her breath caught as his cock dug into her womb. Another orgasm rolled over her, harder than the first. She screamed, and he came so hard inside her, she felt his cock pump cum into her. Brent ground his shaft against her, milking the last vestiges of pleasure from her, then slid his arms around her waist and pulled her tight against him.