He smiled. “Thank you.”
“Um, why don’t you use that word?”
“In some circles pussy has certain connotations. One day I’ll explain.” He stroked again. His playful nibbles along her throat and ear lobe made her shudder as his fingers deftly brought her clit to a throbbing peak.
She held her breath as he slid a finger down to find her entrance. He quested inside and then retreated. Returned, again, this time angling to the right. A frisson of heated pleasure raced through her cleft. A sigh escaped from her, almost a moan.
“Good, now you’re relaxed. I can feel you, your essence. That’s what they call it on Rigel—Essence. It’s considered a gift, the highest compliment a woman may pay her man. Very nice. Don’t blush, it’s perfectly natural. I want you to enjoy me.”
He lay back on the bed, drawing her on top of him. His hands roamed up and down her spine, lower, raising her negligee to her waist.
Samantha halted his hands.
“Am I going too fast for you?” he asked.
“I know it’s silly after what we’ve already done…”
The lips of his sensuous mouth, now swollen from their kiss, broke into another lazy smile that made her every muscle constrict; pound.
He gently lifted her from his body. In one fluid movement he had drawn his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He took her hand, placed it on his chest and guided it down across the taut plane of his stomach, lower across his navel, lower to the erection straining against the silk trousers. With his other hand he tugged down the zip.
Rolling her onto her back, he leaned into her, his mouth descending to hers, while he pressed his length against her palm. Instinctively, her fingers curled around him.
“John,” she whispered.
“That’s my name.”
“You…um…feel different.” She went to look down, but he positioned his knee, blocking her vision. “What are you hiding?”
“Twenty centimeters of throbbing manhood.” He laughed.
“Oh, pleeeasssse.” She paused. “Twenty centimeters?”
“Give or take. How about you take and I give?” His teasing grin turned her inside out.
She hesitantly stroked his taut flesh.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, do that again. Please.” The last added in a hoarse, frantic whisper.
His mouth moved lower, across her face, down her neck, playful nips along her skin, down to her left breast and the nipple that he coaxed to a tight peak through the thin film of the negligee. His mouth claimed her other breast, the pressure creating an urgency that swept the length of her body. Grasping his cock, she pumped him while his hips rocked against her.
“That’s good, honey. It feels so good. Don’t stop.”
Her hesitancy gave way to confidence; she stroked, squeezed and stretched him, varying the speed and angle of each movement. He groaned.
Instead of allowing her to bring him to climax, he pushed her hand away. She heard his long inhalation, held, before a slow, controlled exhalation. His body shuddered as he fought to control the climax. Sensualators could delay it for hours or days, depending on the client.
“John?”
In response, he shook his head and kissed her deeply, completely, his tongue stroking against hers, mimicking that union she prayed would soon become reality. How she longed for him to be inside her spreading her wide, filling her.
He lifted her against his body. She felt his hardness through the prickle of raw silk. She fumbled with his belt. Patiently he waited as she tugged down his trousers, raising first one foot and then the other as she divested him of his pants. She drew her fingers over his ankles, studying the chain, delaying the moment.
“You’re gong to have to look at me sometime, Sam. Unless you really have an ankle fetish…?” His gentle laugh made her lift her gaze.
Samantha glanced at him. Naked. Beautiful. But—stars!
“What’s that thing you’re wearing on your…um…it’s red and green and silver!”
“Boy scouts are always prepared. I’m a careful guy. I’ve got a sheath with seven rows of ticklers, if you prefer?”
She stared at the sheath with its ridges, amusement warring with amazement. “You’ve been wearing that all night? Wasn’t it uncomfortable?”
“Yes to both questions.”
“I doubt you could ever be a boy scout. Too naughty.”
He laughed, ending it in a deep rolling purr. “Yes, way too naughty. I’m wearing this because it’s the law for me. Protected sex.”
“You don’t have to worry, I’ve had my shot.”
“I had this sheath especially made with the Christmas colors, red, green and silver with the ridges. Why I felt funny to you.” He grinned. “You’re laughing at me, but you can’t imagine the trouble I had to get it made. Anyway, I prefer a sheath to protective drugs because medication impedes the pleasure. This one will drive you crazy. Promise.”
Sam swallowed against her tight, dry throat. His penis reached up to his navel. Her heart lurched with the realization that he wore no underwear, that he had been wearing the sheath all night. Had he arrived, perhaps anticipating immediate action, to satiate her without preliminaries? Samantha’s nerves spiked at the thought.
“Now you,” he said, tugging up her negligee, bringing it over her head. He flung the gown aside and gazed at her. “You’re beautiful. Well worth the wait.”
I bet you tell that to all your clients. His lie was part of the game, included in the price. She did not care. “Can I do something?”
“Whatever…within reason. I’m not into kinky.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said.
“Maybe later we could experiment?” He smiled. “On the moon of Tau Ceti—no, maybe not.”
“What do they do?”
“I might show you, when you’re used to me. They like to have a ménage…they’re shifters and they can extend certain parts of their anatomy, so that they can enter their partner’s every orifice.”
“It sounds interesting.”
He laughed. “Honey, interesting is an understatement.”
“You’re not a shifter, are you?” Humans who had the ability to alter molecular structure to mimic other sentient life—some became sensualators and were in demand the length and breadth of the galaxy. But they were rare, expensive and insatiable. Especially the cats. He didn’t look alien, but one never knew and some had the ability to glamor themselves, so it was said. When it came to understanding the shifters—no matter the species—humans had more rumor than fact, as if the shifters were deliberately enigmatic. Well, who could blame them—after what humans had done to some of their kind?
She touched his hip bone, stroking.
“No, Sam, I’m Sol-human. Born and raised on earth. Does that disappoint you?”
“How can you disappoint anyone?” She meant it as a compliment, but for a second she thought she saw his eyes harden, narrow.
“Harimal, my half-brother is felinus.”
Sam paused, her mind echoing with the disclosure, with the pronunciations: Ha-rrrrimal and fe-lin-usss. “Your brother is a cat-shifter?”
“Mm. My mother was human, my father, felinus.”
She frowned at him. “And you wished you were, also?”
He lifted back to study her, his gaze narrowed. “Very perceptive for a…”
“For a what?”
“A human.” He traced his knuckles over her cheek. “My tastes are a hybrid of man and cat. Which would you prefer me to be, Samantha?”
“Yourself.”
His smile was tender. “Most women would demand the exotic.”
She shrugged. “A sensualator is exotic enough for me. I’m not most women, just Samantha. I don’t think I could face a felinus…or any shifter. From what I’ve heard, I’d be eaten alive.”
John laughed. “Honey, what makes you think I’m not going to eat you?”
She stared at him. “I…um…”
&nbs
p; “Cat got your tongue?”
“You’re playing with me!”
“Right now, you don’t understand what it is to play, but at the end of tonight, you’re gonna know its meaning good and proper.”
She reached out and ran her fingers across his cheek. His lips strained to capture her hand. She gasped as the liquid fire of his tongue swirled against her palm. Drawing off his hair-tie, she finger-combed his hair, smoothing it around his neck. Unusual, the texture of his hair. Like velvet, but not. She frowned.
“Is that all you wanted to do?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
“For…for you to…you know.”
“I need for you to tell me—exactly—what you want.” His gaze held hers.
The silence in the bedroom beat against her ears. “I want you to love me…thoroughly.”
“Love you? That’s a polite word, Samantha. Is love what you truly want? I’m here to fuck you. But if you have a preference as to how, then please be specific.”
Samantha flushed, then laughed as she saw the glint in his eye. “You’re teasing me.”
“I’m not. Yet. But I mean it, if there is something you want, a fantasy that will please you, then all you have to do is tell me. I can be very accommodating.”
“I’m sure you can.”
“Is that censure in your voice, honey? I am what I am. You want the illusion of a lover; you want me to whisper undying love in your ear? Do you really want the lie, when the truth is so much better?” He studied her. “Does it disgust you that I’m not fully human? Your friends seemed to think it wouldn’t matter to you, when they made the booking. I have to disclose my breed to the client—another law…” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.
“But that’s discrimination! Doesn’t the Galactic Equal Rights Tribunal—?”
“You should have seen the draft law before the Tribunal watered it down. Certain groups have always lobbied against shifters.”
Sam stared. “But felinus and humans fought and died side by side in the starlord wars. That’s all the thanks you get?”
He stroked the back of her hand. “Don’t worry about it, honey, shifters have powerful allies. Starwatch, for example; its directors know how to fight for us.” His gaze was intense. “Is my breed acceptable to you, Samantha?”
She touched her lips to his.
“So you would like for me to stay?” He purred.
“Yes.”
Taking her in his arms, he bent his head to her neck and licked. Samantha squeezed her eyes shut. Beneath her hands, she felt the rippling of muscles as he moved against her; his fingers gently feathered over her body, kneading, squeezing, massaging. Lower and lower his palm worked. Two long, strong fingers stroked across her mound. She opened her thighs, arching upwards, inviting—no! Demanding. She allowed the sex-lethargy to creep over her, focusing her attention on her body and its pleasure; to live for the moment…
John felt her honey-warmth spill over his hand and smiled inwardly. She was ready for him, as he was for her. How he ached to bury himself deep within her. But it was too soon. She had waited a long time for this release, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt her. It might kill him, though. He shivered with the pleasure of her soft hands tracing across the small of his back, skimming—in all naiveté—his favorite meridian point. Soon, he’d teach her how to manipulate it; the thought made him shudder, his gut cramping with the most delicious anticipation.
His mouth teased down her breasts, tormenting each already contracted nipple to tight buds. Lower his mouth quested, sucking, licking, scrolling around her navel. He exerted a tentative pressure on her thighs, a silent question that she silently answered by opening her legs wide. He drew her knees up so that she rested her feet on his shoulders.
Settling against her, his fingers parted her folds as his hand braced against her pubic bone. She held her breath. Slowly, deliberately, his mouth devoured her. His tongue swirled across her clit, teasing it lightly, drawing it to a peak. Her thighs trembled as a wave of pleasure rippled outwards. One of his fingers, then two crept inside her. A movement in and out, a nudge to one side, then the other. The pressure within her built. He halted; fingers and tongue, waiting. Holding. Denying.
“John, I can’t stand it anymore!”
“I think you could if you really tried.”
“Please.”
He blew across her nether-lips, cooling the heated flesh. His tongue lapped. “You want more?”
“Mmmm!” It was all she could say. Words were forgotten, need, passion making her mute. His mouth feasted on her as his fingers began their gentle, yet inexorable massaging to that pinnacle he had denied her. Her temples throbbed in unison to the tempest between her legs.
Her climax came, a sudden release of heat; a tension, painful and harsh bursting forth from her.
“Do you want me inside you, now?” he asked.
“Mmmm...”
Impatiently, Samantha waited for The Moment.
He lay beside her and kissed her. She tasted her own musky self on his lips and tongue. Moments later, he moved away and kneeling between her thighs and bracing himself on his outstretched arms he used the crest of his penis to trace a line across her stomach, probing downwards, finding her folds. His erection slipped back and forth across her sex. Her hand fisted around him, holding him.
“Now?” he asked.
Their gazes locked before he lowered himself into her.
Samantha gasped. A moment of panic quashed her desire.
He halted. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re so big, and it’s been a long time. I don’t think I can. And you’re vibrating! Is that what that sheath-thing does…?”
“You like it? Is it too much?”
As he went to draw away, she grasped his buttocks. “No, I want this. I want you. All of you.”
“Do you?” His narrowed gaze held hers. “You look as if this is an ordeal, not a pleasure. I’m sorry.”
He went to pull back, but her leg thrown across the backs of his thighs restrained him.
“I want you. I’m tired of being afraid.” The last said in a whisper and she regretted it the moment the words escaped her.
“Afraid?” he demanded, snarling. “Has someone hurt you in bed?”
“A long time ago. Now, sssh. I insist. Please.”
John settled against her, his knees taking his weight. He entered slowly, giving her time to grow accustomed. He kissed her gently, tracing his lips and tongue over her mouth, cheeks, neck, while his hands and fingers stroked, soothed. He lifted and aimed inside her to the right. He heard the subtle catch of breath in her throat. Good. Slowly, her hands spread over his back, her finger tips pressing into his flesh. He teased her some more, as he kissed and stroked.
Her essence flowed around him as her woman’s muscles imprisoned him. It took all his will power to control the urge to bury himself to the hilt. Five years without a man, she had told him that. Now he knew it to be true; despite her arousal, she was tight. Ignoring his own body screaming for release, he focused instead on extending her pleasure.
One centimeter in, and then retreat, slowly he probed her, the sheath straining, pulsing—for them both. It was a delicious massage of every inner muscle and Sam thrashed on the bed in delirium, pain, pleasure, passion.
“John, now.”
“No, honey. Wait.”
He smiled to himself. He was going to tease her, fuck her good and proper as she deserved. He would truly make her head spin, to turn her inside out before he soothed her from inside out. Make her his, truly his.
He slipped his hands beneath her buttocks and raised her, rocking his hips against hers, easing his full length into her. He drew back, resting at her entrance, to return again to full possession. Again and again, the slow seductive rhythm that she began to match. His languid pace increased until they moved as one, a tempestuous joining.
He came, paused, then continued t
o surge against her. She pinioned her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles, holding him fiercely.
She was almost at the brink when he halted. Unfastening her legs he turned her sideways. Lifting her, he drew her back against him and raised her left leg. He entered her again. With one arm holding her to him, he used the fingers of his other hand to caress her clit as he fucked her, slowly, deeply. His tongue teased up her neck, returned to lave her nape. A gentle bite, a soothing kiss, a swipe of his tongue. Bite. Kiss. Lap.
Sam shivered as inside the delicious pressure-pain built and built. Lights danced before her eyes. Her body strained against the hand that worked her, bucked against the flesh impaling her. A moment of suspended awareness, she felt certain she would explode. She screamed.
“That’s it, honey, give it all you’ve got.”
And she did. Wave upon wave of excruciating pleasure. She writhed against him as his body and fingers continued to stroke her. Her next climax matched his. They cried out together. With one long, slow, deep thrust that seemed to stretch forever, he drove into her and calmed…
Samantha opened her eyes. Beside her, the bed was empty, with only the indentation in the pillow and the tangled sheets to remind her that she had not slept alone.
Correction…not much sleep had occurred.
She raised herself on an elbow. He must have left as soon as she had fallen asleep. Satiated sleep after hours of making love.
No, not love, she reminded herself. Sex. He had been her Christmas Night gift and whatever the cost, he had been worth every credit. John, a gentle lover. Insatiable. Inventive. She blushed to remember what he had done, what he had coaxed her to do to him, to herself. Together.
They could teach those shifters on Tau Ceti a thing or three.
He had exorcised her fear, the memories.
If only…
She winced at the thought, the longing—that for them there could be a future. He was a sensualator. With him there could be nothing more, just a night of pleasure, paid for. But—oh God! Once she had him, how could she forget the sensations…? How could she forget him?
She couldn’t.
She would have him again. Soon. Her body tensed at the thought. Pulsed. If only he was still here, she’d screw him senseless.
StarlightComplete Page 2