I admire Tiko’s broad chest and shoulders as he removes his outer layer of clothing, revealing those ancient ruin-looking scars branded to his rich skin. When Tripoli takes his off, I suck in a breath at the beautiful sight of sleeves of tattoos on both arms, the images twining together and up over his rounded shoulders and down to his pecs. I’m looking forward to a closer inspection. From afar, the colors are bright and the black lines are sharp. Tattoos are not as common on Mars as Earth. Our lands are frugal and people make just enough money to live and enjoy night life. Extraneous spending is frowned upon. I find the markings fascinating and sexy.
I refrain from covering my eyes this time, opting instead to squint as the men begin to fight, their arms swinging so fast I hear the swoosh of knives slashing air. They don’t hold back, and there are many near hits where wrists are caught by opposing hands or kicked at the very last moment. For being the shortest, Tripoli is definitely the fastest. He seems to be able to move in and out of positions, while still keeping an awareness of exactly where his opponent is.
In a spin that happens too quickly to comprehend, Tiko jumps back with a shout and Tripoli is suddenly there, slicing a strong arc across Tiko’s chest. It’s so fast and so hard, that for a second I see a pink mark across his dark skin where the knife has passed over. Tiko hisses, his arms flexing out at his sides like an angry bear. Tripoli’s chest puffs up like a proud fox as Captain declares him the winner.
To my surprise, Tripoli does exactly as Devlar had, and strides in my direction. I allow a small smile to grace my lips as the men call out and clap for him. There is sweat at the edges of his brown hair, and when he runs a hand through it, the length on top stands up messily.
As he nears, I stand this time. He doesn’t stop; he simply walks straight up to me, grabbing my ass and lifting me to wrap my legs around him as he slides his lips over mine. The men are going wild, and I realize this is a game for them, trying to one-up each other. I laugh against Tripoli’s mouth as he bites my bottom lip and gives me a darkly promising look before setting me down and strutting back to the congratulatory men.
I happen a small peek at Captain Lexon, but he appears stiffly and purposefully turned away from me this time. His arms are crossed and his jaw is set hard again. He’s looking in the direction of his men, but his eyes are actually far away. It takes him nearly a full minute before his gaze clears and he calls them to order. I can’t help but wonder what he was thinking.
“Yahni and Milaz,” he calls.
A chill ripples across my skin when they remove their outer layers. I’ve never seen Yahni in anything but his black, long-sleeved dri-suits for working out. His skin…he had to have gotten the tattoos on Earth because I didn’t know of any place on Mars that could do that. He’s covered from the back of his neck down his torso and arms to the tops of his hands in wicked back swirls and spikes, like a hellish maze, strangely beautiful over the bulges of lean muscle. His lower legs are covered as well, making me wonder if all the skin beneath his small sparring uniform are inked too. I suddenly wonder if he’ll claim his kiss if he wins, and I’m chilled again with apprehension.
Milaz is probably the oldest of the soldiers. Mid-thirties? Perhaps even forty? He keeps his head smoothly shaved, but his face is another matter. The growth along his handsome jaw is thick, accentuating the fine lines that jut maturely from the corners of his eyes, proving his experience. He looks as if he could be a lead male actor in one of those action-adventure films. I remember Rawko’s warning that Milaz likes it rough, and I find my core reacting with a curious buzz despite my nervousness.
With a jolt, the men are grappling along the floor, and I’m snapped from my thoughts. This fight is ugly, as if they could shred one another’s skin, and they do. I soon see claw marks across shoulders. Blood on the mats. When Milaz pins Yahni’s neck to the floor under his shin, he’s rewarded with Yahni’s teeth sinking into his calf, a feral look of delight in the man’s eyes. Milaz shouts and grabs Yahni’s long hair, then they’re at it again, flipping and grunting, fists and knees flying with pounding sounds that resonate through the room. How can they stand it? A normal man would be knocked out by now. None of the other men appear concerned.
It goes on for over five minutes, both men evenly matched in their strength and viciousness, until Yahni ducks a punch that throws Milaz off balance enough for Yahni to push him to his back with a knee that takes the air out of the other man’s lungs. Yahni grasps Milaz by the throat, his face savage. I have no doubt Yahni has killed before in war and relished it. In that moment he appears so overcome by the fight that his self-control is lost. I nearly stand and scream. Just as I think he’ll wrench the man’s head to the side to snap his neck, he stiffens and peers up at Captain Lexon.
“Win for Yahni,” the captain announces. My stomach lurches.
The men clap for him. Yahni stands there shaking, appearing to desperately rein in his crazed mindset. Rawko says, “Well, go collect your prize, mate.” Shut up, Rawko!
An awkward silence falls over the room as everyone watches Yahni reach for his towel and give his face a rough wipe. His head slowly swings toward me and I freeze, staring back into those inhuman eyes beneath sheaths of sweat-dampened hair. He runs the towel down his arm where red blood drips eerily down swirls of black ink and brown skin.
“Our definitions of ‘prize’ apparently vary,” Yahni says. Ouch.
“It’s just a kiss,” Rawko prods, clearly enjoying the awkwardness of the situation. “Who doesn’t enjoy a kiss?”
“Me.” Yahni’s voice is gravelly and frightening in a way that silences the whole room. Rawko shrugs, his boyish grin sliding into place.
“Well done,” Captain Lexon says, averting their attention to himself. “Go wash up for dinner.”
The men file out. All but Yahni take a final look at me as they go. I stand on quaking legs.
“Are you all right?” the captain asks when they’re gone. He stands five feet away from where I’ve stopped in the doorway.
“Fine,” I respond. I’m shaken, but I’ll be okay as long as Yahni continues not to take his rotation with me. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like that.”
“You’re safe,” he reminds me in a low voice that rumbles through my veins, seeping into my blood and traveling through me like a caress. “They might be animals in the ring, but they’d never hurt you.”
Maybe not, but Yahni wants to.
The captain reaches up absently and rubs the back of his neck as if in pain.
“Captain,” I say. “Will you allow me to massage you?”
His hand drops like lead and his face is now barren of emotion. “No. That’s not necessary.”
I say nothing. This man clearly has stress. Why won’t he let me tend to him, even in the smallest and most innocent of ways?
“All right.” I nod. “If you change your mind you can visit me at any time. Thank you for inviting me. It was nice to get out.”
His face remains impassive. “I realize now it might have been too brutal for you. I forget...” Indeed, he’s probably not accustomed to women and civilian sensibilities, in general.
“I’m fine,” I reassure him. “Good day to you, sir.” I turn to leave, taking my time when I don’t hear him move, and I sense he’s watching me go. Every instinct firing inside me says he likes what he sees, so I loosen my hips and let them sway a bit more than absolutely necessary. I swear to stars, when I hit the hall I hear a guttural exhale from inside the sparring room, and I smile to myself.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Be naked when I arrive tonight.
Oh, stars. I’m stark nude at seven fifty-five, pacing my room, anxious all over again.
How will I keep my composure if I answer the door like this? I’m likely to break into nervous giggles. I decide at the last minute to slip the fingertip gloves onto my hand and I leap into bed. I practice ten different poses, feeling ridiculous, before a knock at the door makes my heart pound. I opt for sitting up against th
e pillows with my feet tucked demurely to the side. With a flick of my finger, the door slides open.
Devlar stands there, staring at the sight of me. I wet my lips nervously until he finally steps in and the door slides closed. I don’t know what to say, so I remain silent. He’s just showered, and his red hair looks like iridescent nutmeg when it’s damp. He keeps it short on the sides, but the top is longer and wavy. My heart beats a steady rhythm as he makes his way around the bed, to the side closest to me, his green eyes darkening as they roam my skin.
His upper cheek and forehead are still discolored and swollen, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
“Reesa,” he says in greeting.
“Devlar.” Curse the shake in my soft voice.
He reaches out to curl a strong hand around one of my ankles. With a gasp, I’m yanked toward him, flat on my back. He grasps under both my calves to pull me the rest of the way and spread my legs so he can look down at me. All of me. He makes a sound like, “Mmmm,” deep in his throat. I’m breathing harder now, and I can feel the pulse of my heart in between my legs where every nerve ending has peaked.
In half a second he strips himself bare, and I’m admiring those strong thighs. The abs that turn to a “V” that dips downward toward a proud cock at attention. I surprise myself by reaching for it. He tenses and lets me stroke him, but not for long. Soon he grasps under my knees again, and he’s pulling me, lining me up with the tip of his cock, and shoving himself into me. My back arches at the sudden sensation of being filled, and then all I can do is reach down and grab the edge of the bed as he begins to ram into me.
The methodical slapping of our skin combined with his grunts and my rhythmic cries becomes a cadence that fills the room. He watches my breasts as they bounce up and down with each thrust. Then he drops my legs, still deep inside me, and leans forward to flick his tongue over one of my nipples. I wrap my legs around his ass and my fingers twine through his damp hair, pulling his face closer. I want more than the teasing licks he’s giving.
He seems to know it, because a smirking grin grows on his face as he peers down at me, and his tongue flicks my other nipple, making me inhale sharply and cling to him harder. His mouth comes down on mine and we’re kissing fervently as he moves inside of me, swiveling his hips then arching, swivel-arch, swivel-arch, until I’m on the cusp. My breaths are short and I’m clawing at his back. That impish smirk returns and he abruptly pulls out, making me moan in agony.
Dev juts his chin up in a silent command for me to move to the middle of the bed, which I do, and he climbs up. He flips me over and shoves a pillow under my lower belly, then uses his knees to shove my legs together as my entire body is pressed to the bed and pillow. He pulls my arms above my head, which is turned to the side as I gulp for air. I’m in some sort of grappling move, I’m sure of it. The hard length of him presses against my ass. The slickness on his cock allows him to slide up and down my crack, making me wriggle and whimper. I try to move beneath him, but he’s covering me too hard.
He eases up just enough to allow me to push my ass a couple inches upward, and then he’s sliding hard into me from behind. His chest hits my back and his arms hold mine down above my head. Even the tops of his feet are pressed over the backs of my ankles. I’m covered in Devlar and it’s so tight between my legs with the press of my thighs and the movement of his cock inside of me. My body takes over and I’m bucking as much as I can, pressing down into the friction of the pillow and back up into his hips, and then I’m coming apart. My head raises enough to shout my pleasure. Devlar chuckles darkly in my ear.
With the odd angle of my body, though, I feel as if I’ve only had half an orgasm, and my body is needy for the other half, the button of my clit throbbing.
He slides out and rolls me over to my back. Next thing I know, my legs are straight up in the air with my ankles on his shoulders, and he’s ramming into me again, his hands tight around my thighs. My hands fist in the blankets as he lifts my hips and then literally stays still as he moves my body up and down to grind against him. His arm muscles bulge with the weight of my body.
Oh, stars. I’m so close. A shattering moan escapes me, and the bastard pulls out again. I release an agonized wail of need as he all but drops me. He falls to his back and grabs me by the waist, hoisting me up across his lap. I begin to slide down, trying to connect with him again, but his hands tighten on my waist to stop me. I can’t help but to rub myself against his abs, wetting him.
“Devlar, please,” I breath.
“Ah, fuck,” he groans as I grind my nub against his taut skin. I reach back and take his slick cock into my hand.
I feel his fingers squeeze into my skin as he shoves me down and we’re finally joined again, both of us crying out. I sit straight up, my palms on his abs, and I move my hips. This is nothing like riding Colonel Ravarsh. I’m going crazy with the need to grind against him. With no thought to what he wants, my body takes over and I’m greedy. My eyes, which have been shut tight, open to find him watching me with unabashed hunger, green eyes blazing like an earthly forest. His head is slightly lifted, the tendons in his neck flexing.
I can feel my nerves unraveling, sparking, and my chest is heaving. My nails dig into his abs. He roars and then his hips are rising and falling. He bucks me up and down, and I grab hold of his waist to hang on. His grip on my hips is hard and tight as he holds me up and fucks me from below. My core shatters in an explosion of stars—sound rips from my throat of its own accord. Together we come hard for what feels like forever, and then his hands release my waist and I fall forward against his chest, spent.
His cock twitches inside of me as it relaxes, and I gasp at how sensitive I am to that small movement. Devlar runs his hands down my hair, soothing my back.
“You have no idea how bad I needed that,” he murmurs. “I might’ve killed someone if I had to wait another day.”
I smile to myself at his masculine dramatics. When I sit up, he shudders as he slides out of me. I plan to go to the restroom to clean myself, but he surprises me by reaching an arm around my waist and pulling me so that he can lay his head in my lap. As I peer down at his naked body, I can see the bruising and scratches.
“Did you take a healing tonic?” I ask.
He snorts. “No.”
This makes me frown. “There’s no shame in it.”
“That shit weakens you. There’s no time for tonics on missions.”
I sigh and run my hands over his skin. I feel him shiver and see the reddish hairs on his arms stand up. Upon closer inspection of his freckles, some appear strangely light, as if they sparkle. I run a finger over one spot.
“Turn off the lights,” he commands.
I’m confused, but I obey with a wave of my finger. For a moment we’re in complete darkness, and then I inhale as flickers of light shine beneath my hands. My eyes widen. There are markings on Devlar’s body that glow.
“Iridescent tattoos,” he says quietly. “I got them on Keplar.”
I feel him roll to his stomach so that I can see his back, and the dots begin to take familiar shapes.
I tilt my head. “Constellations?”
“It’s the Milky Way,” he says. “Capricorn sky. My zodiac.”
I stare in wonder at our galaxy, but it’s from Earth’s view, not Mars. I’m familiar with how some of the constellations look from my Earth astronomy classes. My finger trails over the big dipper when I find it. Devlar’s head in my lap shifts downward and I can feel the warmth of his breath between my thighs. He breaths deeply and my hands still. When his tongue darts out and licks right between my folds, air fills my lungs in a rush. I shove my hands into his hair and my thighs squeeze around his face. I’m so sensitive right now.
He chuckles and wrenches my thighs open, just to show me he can, but he doesn’t lick me again. In the darkness he takes my legs and presses them back until my knees are practically by my ears and I’m pressed hard into the mattress. Devlar shifts then enters me—already hard agai
n. But this time, I’m mesmerized by the stars I see in the darkness as his body moves, as if I’m outside and the night sky is having its way with me.
CHAPTER NINE
I wake in the pitch darkness, confused, to the sound of a ding and bright text displaying on my wall screen.
DEVLAR. IT IS 11:07.
I gasp and shake the heavy arm that’s draped over my waist. By the stars—we fell asleep! Devlar sits up in a flash and I flick on the lights. His hair is a mess, and he’s dressing faster than I thought humanly possible. I hold up my thumb and speak into it. “My apologies, sir. We fell asleep.” My words type onto the screen and I send it to the captain.
SET AN ALARM NEXT TIME.
“Yes, sir,” I whisper into my thumb and send it. Devlar is out the door without a backward glance. I flick a finger to turn off the wall screen and make my way to the bathroom. Does that grump have nothing better to do than to watch hall monitors and clocks all evening? When I finish cleaning myself I realize the sheets are a mess. I pull off the comforter and sheets, balling them up and sending them down the laundry shoot.
I press the bedding button on the wall, and a panel opens in the ceiling, robotic arms deftly pulling a new fitted sheet around the mattress. As I wait, I say to my thumb, “Do you ever rest, Captain?” I hesitate, then send it.
His response is immediate.
NO.
“I can help you with that,” I say. “I’m a well trained masseuse. I can come to you.” I send it before I have a chance to change my mind.
Into the Stars Page 5