*****
Onalee stood in her small cabin onboard the Lurizians’ ship and smoothed down the dress she’d replicated especially for tonight. It wasn’t what she’d originally chosen to wear, but she was determined to take Clare’s advice and start taking her life into her own hands. This dress was the first step.
It was made of a silky material of deep blue, that was floor length. It had a conservative, “appropriate” neckline, but plunged in the back nearly to the top of her ass. That, coupled with the way it slid over her skin, made her feel feminine and sexy—exactly what she wanted.
Since her maid, Lena, hadn’t accompanied her, Onalee settled for curling her long hair, pulling it up, and pinning it on her head. It wasn’t anything as intricate as Lena could accomplish, but Onalee had purposefully left her at home. She’d wanted freedom this weekend—not to have people watching over her.
She knew she wasn’t completely alone: Forkan was in the room next to hers, also getting ready for the night’s dinner. Her hope was that after they ate, Forkan would disappear with whomever he needed to schmooze with, and she’d be left to her own devices. She knew exactly what she wanted to do with her free time.
Brogan and Conall had both said that they’d be onboard the ship. It was unlikely that either of them would be attending this dinner—only members of the High Council and foreign dignitaries had been invited—but she was sure that she could find them afterwards. Brogan couldn’t be working every hour of the day, right?
Her door chime startled her out of her fantasies. She quickly grabbed the jacket she’d replicated to match her dress, and threw it on to cover her bare back. If Forkan saw it, they’d argue—and that wasn’t how she wanted to begin her night.
“Come in,” she called.
The door slid open and her brother was on the other side, dressed impeccably in his formal evening wear. He crossed to her and kissed her cheek.
“Evening, sister-mine,” he greeted with a wide smile. “Ready to go further our cause?”
She repressed a sigh. Everything was a ‘cause’ with Forkan.
“Of course,” she replied with a smile, and linked her arm with his.
They walked to the formal dining room, stopping every so often to greet and chat with people they knew. Onalee was surprised by the sheer number of people that were at the event, but she didn’t see the two who mattered to her.
Not until she was seated at the large round table she shared with Forkan and a dozen others, did she hear a familiar male voice in her ear.
“You look ravishing tonight,” Brogan murmured low, as he leaned over her shoulder to pour blue liquid into one of her glasses. Onalee glanced up, and nearly laughed at his uniform. He was dressed like one of the waitstaff.
“Thank you,” she whispered back. “Is this your idea of blending in?”
“What better way to get up close to people?” he asked, his lips nearly brushing against she shell of her ear.
Onalee took her glass and turned to give him a witty reply, but he was already at her brother’s shoulder pouring his drink. Forkan ignored him, and continued to talk to the man at his right.
Onalee couldn’t ignore Brogan, not even if she’d tried. Her eyes tracked him as he weaved throughout the room, innocently pouring people’s drinks while studying anyone he came across for threats.
She watched the muscles under his jacket bunch as he held out the large pitcher, and nearly moaned when he bent over and his pants were pulled taut over his ass.
Even his generic uniform was a turn on.
More than once he caught her staring and winked at her. She drained the rest of her glass, and he immediately headed her way.
In her excitement to once again have him close, she knocked her napkin off of her lap and onto the floor. Before she could bend and retrieve it, Brogan was there crouched at her feet.
“Let me get that for you, ma’am,” he told her politely, loud enough for anyone to hear.
Under the table where no one could see, he picked up her napkin, then grazed his hand up her bare leg as he brought it up.
Something in her chest began to flutter, and an ache centered in the juncture of her legs. Too soon his hand was gone, and he held out the napkin for her to take.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, my lady?” he asked. Hopefully she was the only one who noticed the husky tone his voice had taken.
Her first thought was, Yes! She could think of a hundred things she wanted him to do for her. Sadly, none of them could take place in a crowded dining room.
“Not right this moment,” she replied while keeping eye contact with him. His stare grew more intense as he stood and bent over her shoulder to pour her more wine.
“Later, then,” he whispered in her ear. She shivered as he inhaled deeply. “By the gods, you smell amazing.”
His voice had rumbled so low that time that she barely caught his words, but she felt his intensity throughout her body.
Even though Brogan moved to another table to fill glasses, her skin felt tight and breasts ached. There was a fluttering of excitement and anticipation in her chest, making it difficult for her to maintain normal breathing.
“Are you alright?” Forkan asked from her side, jarring her. “You look flushed.”
“I’m fine,” she answered, raising her glass to take another sip of Lurizian wine. Before the rim reached her lips, Forkan took the glass out of her hand and set it in front of himself.
“That’s enough wine for tonight,” he declared, before going back to his previous conversation with the male at his side. A table of eyes were on them.
For the first time in her life, Onalee wanted to yell at Forkan. She wanted to rail. She wanted to smack his pompous face!
How dare he tell her she’d had too much to drink in front of a table full of people? She was not a child for him to parent any longer. She was a grown female: a female who was free to drink as much as she wanted. She was free to flirt with a sexy-as-hell male.
I’m even free to choose mates for myself.
Her angry, wayward thought caused a small gasp to leave her lips.
She risked a glance up, past the other people eating, and saw Brogan a table over. He had a scowl on his face, his jaw tense and eyes squinted. Of course he’d heard what Forkan had said. The fact that he was angry brought back some of Onalee’s happy glow.
She was twenty-five, several years past the legal age to mate. There was nothing holding her back but Forkan, and she was bone tired of him telling her what to do; tired of denying herself things that she wanted in order to appease him. She wanted more—so much more.
It was time to take her life into her own hands.
Brogan watched Onalee throughout dinner, especially after her brother had been a snarky dick. She hadn’t argued with Forkan, but he could see flashes of anger cross her features. After that, her expression had been defiant, and he was dying to know what realization she’d come to.
Unfortunately, now was not the time, nor the place. He forced himself to walk away from her, and focus on table after table of people. He watched, listened, and even felt, for anything untoward. The royal family hadn’t arrived on the ship yet, but there was still much to look out for.
Luckily, his shift was almost done, both as a waiter-in-disguise, and as a Guard. For events like this, he was never off-duty completely, but periodically gave over his leadership role to others so that he could get some rest.
As long as he stayed onboard the ship, he could respond to anything within a few minutes. That gave him a lot of leeway.
He could go wherever he wanted for the next several hours, and he knew exactly where he wanted to be: in bed, and not by himself.
Sounds of feminine laughter brought his eyes to Onalee again. She was laughing, her palm on the sleeve of the male at her side.
Proprietary anger rolled over Brogan. Who was that male? How dare he make Onalee laugh like that? How dare he encourage her to touch him?
It was
a good thing Brogan hadn’t actually been hired to work at the dinner, because he was sure he’d get fired for the way he stared at the male with murderous rage in his eyes.
Before he could go over and bludgeon the male upside his head with the wine decanter, Onalee handed something small and thin back to the male (what the hell was it?) and rose from her chair. She said something to Forkan (which he barely acknowledged) thanked the male at her side, then began walking towards the exit—towards him.
Brogan quickly worked his way around the table to position himself just right for her to have to walk past. As she did, she winked at him, slipped a piece of paper into his jacket pocket, and walked away.
He watched her go, her hips swaying under her dress. Right before she got to the doors, she slipped her jacket off, revealing inch after inch of her bare back. The air punched out of Brogan’s lungs, and blood centered in his groin, making his cock stand in his pants.
She turned at the last second and smiled at him, before exiting the dining room.
“Can I get some of that wine?” an older male asked from a nearby table.
“Sorry, I’m off-duty,” Brogan replied, to the male’s astonishment.
He walked towards the sideboard, the pitcher in front of his groin to hide his obvious arousal. His hand went into his pocket, and he pulled out a name card with Onalee’s name written in flowing script. On the other side she’d written, “Come find me.”
Fuck, yeah, he’d go find her.
A quick trip through the employee door, and his uniform was discarded, another disguise at the ready. He threw on a jacket, and was still buttoning up his shirt as he walked down the hallway Onalee had just taken. He could just smell her clean scent as he prowled onward.
At an intersection, he assumed she’d head towards the atrium, but in that direction, he immediately lost her scent. Instead, he regained her delicately floral trail headed towards the lifts that would take her to the cabins. He growled low in his throat at the thought of her waiting in her cabin for him in that long silken dress; her back completely exposed to his hands, lips, and tongue.
A woman sidestepped him with a wary glance, and Brogan realized that he must look feral. He felt it. Onalee was playing with fire.
He already knew which room was hers—it was one of the few he knew by heart. He entered the lift, and messaged his team on his wristunit to tell them he was done for the night. They knew they could contact him if there was a great need.
No tonight, he pleaded. Please just give me tonight.
CHAPTER 13
Brogan didn’t second guess himself as he stood outside Onalee’s door. He rang the cabin’s bell, and the door slid open. There she stood, perfect and beautiful in her gown, just as he knew she’d be.
He stepped inside and the door automatically closed.
“Lock it,” Onalee told him. He eagerly complied. “I didn’t think you’d be here so quickly,” she added.
He half chuckled as he began moving towards her. “Are you kidding? The gods themselves couldn’t keep me away.”
She smiled, but it was tinged with nerves. The closer he got, the more he noticed that she was shaking, her pulse was too fast, and there was tension in her expression. He took a deep breath and willed his own body to calm.
He stopped in front of her and brought up a hand to finger the strip of fabric on her shoulder. “This is an incredible dress.”
“I replicated it for you.”
His brows rose in surprise. “For me?”
She nodded. “I knew you’d be on the ship, and was hoping you’d see me in it.”
He took a step forward, placing them nearly chest to chest.
“Oh, I saw it alright,” he told her huskily. “And I love it, especially the back.”
His hand slid down her bare back in a light caress, and she arched. Goosebumps rose on her skin, and she drifted forward, bringing their bodies together. He felt her nuzzle her face into his sternum, and his muscles tightened. She was like a feline, arching and purring against his body, and he’d barely put his hands on her.
“That feels good,” she told him.
“On your back?”
“Mmmm…” she moaned.
He chuckled. “It’s about to get a whole lot better.”
She raised her head to look him in the eye. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He was smiling as he lowered his head and took her lips in a kiss. The first few were gentle, until she made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded to Brogan like a surrender. He added pressure, and she responded in kind. She anchored her fingers in the lapels of his jacket and held on.
Brogan was enjoying their kiss so much that it took him a moment to realize that Onalee was inexperienced… maybe completely inexperienced. She moved her lips against his, but the motions were unschooled and clumsy. He smiled to himself and took over.
He laced a hand into her hair and moved his lips against hers, taking over the kiss and showing her how to move. She repeated his motions, and shifted firmly against his body.
Her breasts pressed into his chest, and he suppressed a groan. He did, however, lick her bottom lip ever so gently. She inhaled swiftly and mirrored the gesture, running her tongue along his lip in return.
On the next swipe he opened his mouth, and their tongues touched. She moaned low in her throat, and the sound traveled straight to his groin. His cock pulsed, now fully engorged, and he locked their lips together with more force than before. His tongue followed hers into the recesses of her mouth and stroked, tasting her and the drinks she’d enjoyed earlier.
Onalee moaned, making his cock pulse and beg to be released from the confines of his pants. Brogan denied himself, knowing that when he took off his pants, he’d need to be inside her.
His whole body was humming with tension, the need to be inside this female—his female.
He unlocked their kiss and trailed his lips along her jaw, hoping that a change would give him a moment to calm. It didn’t work. She smelled even more divine on the delicate skin of her neck. He breathed her in and groaned, causing her to shiver.
“I love it when you do that,” she told him breathlessly. “How do I make you do it again?”
He smiled against her skin. “You’ll have to experiment to find out.”
“Mmmm…” she moaned, and reached to trail kisses up his neck.
Both of his hands went to her back to anchor her body against his, but his hands wouldn’t stay still. They ran up and down her back, then onto the globes of her ass. He gripped them with enough force to press her against his aching erection, and Onalee moaned.
“Do it again,” she demanded.
He obliged, this time arching his hips forward slightly so that he rubbed against her.
“Brogan,” she moaned as her fingers began unbuttoning the front of his shirt. He barely let her get the last one undone before he was whipping it, and the jacket, off of his body.
Onalee stilled as her eyes trailed over his upper torso. He felt the heat of her gaze.
“I’ve never seen a male like you,” she told him softly as she raised her hands and began running them over his skin.
His muscles bunched where she touched him, and sparks flew to his hard shaft when she skimmed her nails over his nipples. She watched him closely and repeated the gesture. His hips pushed forward into her belly. She seemed to like the effect she had on him, but he was more interested in her body at the moment.
Brogan’s hands settled back at her hips, and his mouth on hers. He massaged her lips as he brought one hand up to cup the underside of a breast. Her hands moved restlessly on his chest, so he skimmed a thumb over her nipple.
She pulled back abruptly and looked at him with dazed eyes. He did it again, followed by palming her entire breast in his hand. He massaged the globe gently, and she moaned, her head falling back.
He latched onto her neck, nibbled, licked, and kissed as his hand molded to her breast. Her nipples pearled perfectly, making hi
s mouth water. Before he knew it, he’d sunk to his knees, and had taken one puckered nub into his mouth.
Onalee cried out as he tongued her through the fabric of her dress. She held his head to her, as his hands roamed down her legs and back up, going under her dress as he went. Her legs were long, her ass pert. He massaged her butt with his hands, while his mouth moved from one breast to the other, until she squirmed.
“Brogan?” she moaned.
He almost felt sorry for the female. He was getting her all revved up, and she didn’t have enough experience to know what to do about it.
Hasn’t she ever touched herself? Brogan wondered, then had to shift focus away from that errant thought. Picturing Onalee on her bed, legs spread, while her fingers worked her wet pussy, was definitely an image that would cause him to lose control.
Instead, he focused on the real female in front of him.
“I’ve got you,” he told her, before skimming one hand up along her inner thigh towards her center.
One finger glided along the lips of her pussy, and she gasped, clutching his shoulders. She spread her legs a few more inches, and he nearly burst when his fingers found her already wet for him.
For a moment he just rested his head against her stomach and felt her silken paradise. She felt unbelievable, and so fucking perfect that he was at a loss.
Her trembling legs broke him out of his reverie. He stood, grasping her under her ass as he went, and carried her to the bed. He laid her back with her butt at the edge, knelt on the floor, and looked up her body. She was beautiful, all flushed with passion, her chest heaving.
He slid his hands up her legs again, moving her dress up to her waist, and got his first glimpse of her pussy.
“Oh, baby,” he groaned, “you’re perfect.”
He leaned in, urging her legs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders, and latched his mouth onto her.
Brogan would like to say that he took his cues from Onalee, that he went slow since it was her first time, but that didn’t happen. After the first taste of her arousal hit him, he was lost.
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