Hinekiri

by Shelley Munro

  “She’s purple,” Richard said.

  “Woof.” Killer sounded highly indignant, bringing a twitch of a smile to Richard’s lips. The dog looked as if she’d washed in one of the purple hair rinses some of the elderly women in Sloan favored. “Woof.”

  “Is she okay?” Richard asked.

  “She’s doing a lot of grumbling. That’s a good sign.”

  Killer’s head swiveled and she seemed to study her coat. She barked several times, sounding very piqued.

  “Shush, Killer. Later.” Hinekiri grasped his arm. “We’d better get to the ship before we run into more trouble.”

  Richard was all for that. His arm was bloody sore. “Do you have a first-aid kit on board?”

  “Why?” Hinekiri’s voice was sharp.

  “I have purple stuff on my arm. A bit flicked up.”

  “You should have told me. Let’s go. Move it,” Hinekiri ordered with a trace of urgency. She seized the metal rod and set a blistering pace powering away up the narrow track toward the crest of the hill with Killer following. Richard picked up the shovel and trailed Hinekiri and the decidedly purple dog.

  At the top of the hill, Hinekiri paused. Richard tried to focus on her rounded butt. Her form flickered and he shook his head to clear his vision but it didn’t work. Richard could barely see because his eyes had become so blurry. After transferring the shovel from hand to hand, he swiped the back of his hand over his eyes but it didn’t make a blind bit of difference. The spaceship shimmered in front of him. He shut his eyes then opened them but they continued to water. In fact, he felt damned woozy.

  The set of stairs came down with a metallic whine.

  Hinekiri cast him a worried glance. Richard intercepted it and tried to walk straight. His legs were wobbly and the weight of the shovel he carried made him feel off balance.

  “Go up the stairs.” Hinekiri stood aside to let him pass. “Leave the shovel down here.”

  The dog trotted up without hesitation. After dropping the shovel, Richard tried to follow. All he wanted was to sit before he fell. By sheer force of will, Richard forced his legs to maneuver up the stairs, dragging his uncooperative body up the narrow stairs one tortured step at the time. Panting, he made it through the door before collapsing on the floor of the spaceship interior.

  “Richard!”

  He heard the trace of panic in Hinekiri’s voice when he hit the ground. His hearing seemed to waver in and out while his eyesight wasn’t much better. A crashing sound roared through his head, drowning out every thought. He felt as if he walked in a long, white tunnel with no start and no beginning. There was nothing…

  “Me purple,” Killer yapped in distress.

  “I don’t care if you’re pink with black polka dots,” Hinekiri snapped, stooping to check Richard’s forearm. It was swollen and angry already. By the goddess, he was so big. How was she going to get him to her cubicle for treatment?

  “I adore black spots. Hip. Stylish.”

  “I’ll get a blanket, roll him on it and drag him,” Hinekiri muttered. There was no time to get help from Janaya. Not when she could treat him here with the medi-diagnostic machine. She placed her hand on his forehead to check his heat levels. He felt normal for a human. Generally, their core temperature was a bit less than a Dalconian. “Blanket. It’s the only way.”

  “What wrong with black spots?”

  Hinekiri ignored the dog’s rambling and hurried off to get a blanket. She had one of those gold thermal ones in the guest cubicle.

  The dog padded backward and forward in front of the reflective silver control panel peering at her likeness. Hinekiri sidestepped to avoid the creature and rushed back into main control. She spread the golden therm-blanket on the floor and rolled Richard. Yanking with all her might, she mumbled a low plea to the goddess that this would work. The therm-blanket slid along the matte silver floor of the spaceship with ease. A relieved sigh squeezed from her tight throat. She would manage. Fifteen Earth minutes later, she maneuvered Richard’s large frame into her guest cubicle.

  The dog followed her, complaining the entire way. “Fix me. I white dog, not purple dog. Purple ugly. Janaya think me purple people eater. Shoot. Bang. Zap. Killer dead.” She glared at Hinekiri, shaking her head so vigorously her ears flapped. “Then you be sorry.”

  “Out!” Hinekiri ordered with unusual steel evident in her tone.

  “Fix me now,” Killer demanded.

  “I’ll help you after Richard. You seem okay apart from being purple, but he’ll die if he doesn’t get treatment.” A tight lump of emotion in her throat prevented further speech. “Out.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes!” Hinekiri pushed the button to make the suction door work. Once it closed, she pressed the gravity control while holding on to Richard with one hand. It wouldn’t do for him to thump his head and do further damage. After securing him with bonds—she attached one to each arm and leg to hold him suspended in the air—Hinekiri inspected the spot where the Torgon acid had infected him. A round red area the size of a cup was shining on his arm. She’d have to immerse him in Dalconian healing liquid. It was all she had for his treatment. For an instant, she wondered if it would hurt him but there were no alternatives. Gritting her jaw, she deftly removed his boots, easing the gravity control bonds off one at the time while she floated at his side. Phrull. It looked as though the Torgon goo had splattered on his clothes as well. She might as well cut the shirt and trousers off since he wouldn’t be able to wear them again.

  * * * * *

  Where the hell was he? Richard tried to move but felt as weak as a kitten. His eyes fluttered open and he instantly wished he’d kept them closed. Panic seared his gut. His limbs jerked but she’d shackled him, leaving him suspended in midair with not a stitch of clothing. And to top it off, he had an intensely painful hard-on. The one thing that came to mind was Hinekiri had lied. The bloody alien was conducting some sort of test on him. Every bone in his body ached and muscles throbbed as though they’d been overused. Vigorously used.

  A soft swish indicated he was no longer alone. Hinekiri walked into his line of vision, petite and regal in a close-fitting, rainbow-colored robe that clung to her curves and swished to reveal a shapely thigh when she walked slowly around him.

  His cock pulsated and it wasn’t a particularly nice sensation. The panic inside increased. “What have you done to me?” Instead of a forceful demand, the words emerged in a whispered croak.

  “Richard,” she said.

  He thought he heard delight, but wasn’t sure he trusted his assumption, given she’d trussed him like a chicken ready to barbeque. It could be that she was glad he was awake so she could continue with whatever the hell she’d been doing to him. His cock chose that moment to jerk. Richard’s scowl darkened as he fought for control. One mighty fine clue to help solve the puzzle as to her activities. That and the fact she was naked beneath that rainbow gown. Her nipples were poking out, signaling go just like a bloody traffic light when it turned green.

  Richard suppressed a snort and tested the shackle on his left hand, moving stealthily so the bonds holding him didn’t creak. It wasn’t constructed from a familiar material.

  “Are you feeling all right?” She placed a cool hand on his forehead. “No wooziness? You don’t feel as hot as you were before.”

  “Before?”

  Richard thought back trying to remember what had happened. They’d found parts and driven out here. Then…then… “There was a purple pansy.” But that didn’t explain why he was in the room and trussed up tighter than a Sunday roast leg of lamb.

  “Nice pole, sailor.”

  “Where are my clothes?”

  The humor in Hinekiri’s face faded. “You collapsed after the Torgon toxin splattered onto your arm. You had an allergic reaction. I had to take your clothes off to cover your body with Dalconian healing liquid.”

  “Hmmm.” Richard cast a doubtful look toward his groin region. And how exactly had this rag
ing erection occurred? His eyes closed to slits, concentrating his glare on her face. “What else did you do?”

  Hinekiri made a tsk-tsking sound at the back of her throat. “Are you thinking bad thoughts, Richard Morgan? Do you think I had something to do with that?” She waved a languid hand toward his unruly body part.

  “What the hell else am I meant to think, woman?”

  “I would never force myself on a man,” Hinekiri said with quiet dignity. Just when Richard was beginning to believe her, she punctured his faith with an impish smile. “I have to admit I’ve imagined it a time or two. Having a man helpless and at my command. I’d dress myself in tight red leather with lots of strategic slits.” She waggled her brows up and down and stared into the distance as if she were pondering the scenario. “And a whip. I’d definitely have a whip. Maybe a feather tickler as well. A red one to match my leather outfit.”

  “Let. Me. Go.” A vein pulsed at Richard’s temple. The damn thing beat a noticeable tattoo. No doubt Hinekiri was having fun at his expense. The vein twitched again. He was getting on in years so he hoped the bloody thing wouldn’t pick this moment to burst. He’d prefer to retain some dignity.

  The smile dropped off Hinekiri’s face, replaced by a grim scowl and a taut jaw that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a pugilist. She glided to the door.

  Panic roared through Richard even as he admired the sway of her backside. “Where are you going? You can’t leave me bound.” He glared at his erection and swallowed. As he watched, a bead of pre-cum formed at the tip. What the hell? Heat suffused his face. He fought the cuffs encircling his hands and feet, uncaring that Hinekiri could see how uncomfortable he was with this weird situation. She’d already seen him at his worst. His gut wasn’t as flat as a younger man’s and his face bore the wrinkles of experience. Any man would feel this way, waking up bound with a hard-on. Even a young man in his prime.

  Hinekiri opened the door, but instead of leaving, she whistled. “Killer! Here, Killer.”

  Richard heard a dull bark. The dog, who was still very purple, galloped into the room at top speed. Momentum took her halfway across the room then she suddenly rose into the air. The expression on the dog’s face was one of astonishment and Richard chuckled despite himself.

  “Woof. Woof.” Killer’s legs scrambled as if she was trying to run. The move shot her upward. Her head struck the ceiling with a dull thud.

  “Woof.” It was a cry of pain and fright.

  “Don’t panic, Killer. I’ll get you down. Keep calm.” Hinekiri seemed to bend her knees—Richard wasn’t one hundred percent sure since her gown covered her legs—and she floated toward the ceiling. She controlled her ascent better than the dog. Before she hit, she waved her arms and hovered. Reaching out, she scooped up the little purple dog and calmly descended again. She glided over to the door, let Killer out and moved back to him.

  Understanding dawned in Richard. He was bound for his own safety. But that didn’t explain the painful erection. “What is this room?”

  “A guest cubicle. All our private cubicles are gravity enhanced.”

  “Why?”

  “Our scientists have found it is easier on the body and it decreases the aging process if gravity is adjusted upward when the body is at rest. How’s the arm?” Hinekiri trailed a hand across his bare chest.

  His skin jumped beneath her stroking fingers. Every bit of blood not already in his groin region zapped south. “The arm is fine. Other parts of me are not.”

  Hinekiri licked her lips, leaving them moist and shiny. “So I see, sailor.” Her fingernails scraped over his pectoral muscles, alternatively stroking and scratching until he shuddered.

  “Enough.” Richard’s eyes remained fixed on her body. In truth, he didn’t really want her to stop, but he was getting to the stage where embarrassment was becoming a deciding factor. He gritted his teeth, struggling to maintain his dignity.

  “I haven’t used Dalconian healing liquid on a human before. The balm has drawn out the poison from your system, but this…” She smirked when she studied his groin. “Seems to be a side effect of the healing process.”

  “Will it go down?” He’d never used pills to get it up before but imagined this was how the drug must feel.

  “I don’t know.” Hinekiri pursed her lips, attracting his attention. The need to taste her lips again was a fever in his blood. The twinkle in her violet eyes told him she knew of his desperate need to touch. “I managed to complete the repairs while you were healing. I’ve put the ship on autopilot after doing a couple of test circuits around Sloan. We have a few hours…” she trailed off, one brow arching in a silent question.

  “Touch me.” Richard’s voice was hoarse with need.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage.”

  Richard snorted. “I’m in pain here. Be gentle with me.”

  “I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Hinekiri smiled. “I have plans. A holiday together. Ten days exploring Africa, watching the sunset, tasting the local food and spending our nights together. Lots of loving. A romantic interlude. How does that sound? Do you still want to go to Africa with me?”

  “Yes to everything.” Richard’s heart punched his ribs, and it wasn’t thoughts of watching a beautiful sunset that increased his pulse rate.

  “Good. I’ll leave you bound for the moment because it takes time for the body to adjust to the gravity, but I promise not to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. How about a safe word?”

  “A safe word?”

  “Hmmm.” Hinekiri’s hand swept down his chest and across his belly. Richard sucked in his gut, holding his breath as he wondered what she was going to do with that hand. “Maybe the knowledge bank is out of date. What I mean is we’ll agree on a word that you can use if you want me to stop doing whatever I happen to be doing to you.”

  “How about stop? That sounds like a great word,” Richard said dryly.

  “Agreed. Your body is well-preserved.” Her hand lingered, the pressure of her fingers light and very, very distracting.

  “Thanks. I think.” Richard wondered what Hinekiri would come out with next. She was so different from Felicity—confident with not a shred of hesitation or self-doubt. Ten days… “When are you going to show me yours?” Damn, where had that come from? He glanced at Hinekiri to gauge her reaction and let his breath ease out when he saw her broad grin. When it came to sex, he was a little behind the times. He’d bet Hinekiri could teach him a thing or two. A bark of laughter erupted. An old dog learning new tricks. Hell, he might even enjoy learning something new.

  Hinekiri’s hand continued to sweep down his body. Richard’s breath caught. He shuddered. And then she wrapped her warm hand around his cock. He froze as desire kicked him squarely in the gut. She massaged his erection. Firmly. A heavy, pulsating sensation pumped through his body. Richard’s eyes drifted shut to concentrate on every sensation. He smelled her perfume—heady with the same citrus scent as his soap. The soft rustle of her gown sounded in time with the beat of his heart. Her hand released his erection.

  “Please.” His eyes flew open. “Don’t stop.”

  “I have no intention of stopping, sailor. Lie back and enjoy.” She gave him a bright, toothy smile then leaned over his floating body.

  Richard felt her warm breath on his balls seconds before she took him into her moist mouth. Her tongue lapped delicately across the extended tip of his cock. Richard held his breath, unable to believe she would love him this way. It was intimate. Personal. His breath eased out with a hiss. Damnation, her mouth was soft. Wet. Teasing. It felt damn good the way she licked across the head of his cock.

  Hinekiri used suction, drawing lightly on his shaft. The shockwaves ignited a fire inside, the sensual pleasure better than anything he’d experienced for a long, long time. His body quivered and he couldn’t prevent thrusting his hips upward and digging deeper past her lips. He made a dark sound low in his throat and she glanced up to meet his gaze. Her eyes flashed full
of devilment, fuelling his carnal fantasies—hell, taking them to new heights.

  “Oh man.” Words failed him so Richard went with touching, trying to communicate silently. He threaded his fingers through Hinekiri’s hair, tearing the blonde locks from her normally immaculate style. “Hinekiri,” he whispered when the cuffs binding him in place rustled and creaked.

  His balls drew tighter beneath her ministrations. The wet rasp of her tongue brought another groan, husky and heartfelt. He wondered if his heart would pound right out of his body due to the attentions of her talented mouth. She seemed to know exactly what to do and when, what he needed. Each quick flick of tongue, each draw of her mouth on his flesh stoked the fire roaring through his throbbing body. Another thrust. His hands tightened in her hair, but she never stopped licking and sucking, laving his swollen, sensitive flesh.

  His hips pistoned as release crawled to the surface, shimmering in his balls, gathering momentum. Hinekiri took him deep, her cheeks hollowing when she worked him. Strands of her hair rubbed against his scrotum, the delicate brush of her fragrant-scented locks, combined with the heat of her mouth, pushing him into an explosive release. He gasped, his entire body jerking and restraints clacking with the force of his ejaculation.

  Gradually, his body relaxed, his hold on her hair gentling.

  Hinekiri pulled away and licked her lips with a hot, saucy grin. “Sailor, you do that so well.”

  “Let me see you. Touch you. Take off your gown for me.”

  “I’m not young and beautiful.” Hinekiri tossed her head, her hair falling in a golden stream down her shoulders. “I’ve never been beautiful. Interesting perhaps,” she mused, her lips curling into a self-depreciating smile.

  “My father always used to tell me beauty is in the eye of the beholder. To me, you’re attractive.” He held out his hand in a silent demand for her to move closer. “You’re everything I could want in a woman. You have beautiful eyes—kind eyes. Your smile makes me want to grin in return and your hair.” Richard eyed the curtain of blonde hair that reached halfway down her back now he’d tugged it loose. “What man doesn’t want to trail his hands through hair like yours? It’s a male fantasy to have a woman’s hair pooling over his body as he loves her.” He traced her lips with his thumb. “You make me laugh. Hinekiri, I don’t want to be with anyone else. Besides, I’m no oil painting.”