by Jaye Peaches
No more second chances. The man was a disciplinarian to the core, an attribute she’d encountered little on her home world. Sanctions were less physical, more materialistic—the removal of personal possessions or fines had some impact on her behavior. The rest of the time, she got away with pushing her luck.
She closed her toolbox. “All is good. Sir,” she added.
He followed her out and sealed the door with his palm print. “From now on, you can’t get in here without me.”
“Anywhere else out of bounds?” she asked.
“My quarters. Now, it’s time for supper and then you can go to bed.”
She closed her eyes and quickly counted to ten in her head, holding back the barbed remark forming on the tip of her tongue. Staying out of trouble was going to be so tough. She smiled, dragging the corner of her lips up into her heated cheeks. “Of course. Sir.”
Something nagged away in her head as she sat opposite him in the small mess and ate supper, which bore the same features as breakfast: bland and tasteless. “Marshal,” she began tentatively. “I get that you’ll punish me if I disobey, but I’m an incentive kind of girl, it has to work in my favor to obey you.”
His lips twitched slightly as he considered her question. “I’m not freeing you.”
“Oh, no, I assumed that was far too big a reward,” she said sweetly. She wriggled her wrist and the metal band flashed under the lights. “This?”
“The restraints? They stay, for now.” He pursed his lips as she continued to offer him her most demure expression, but she stopped short of fluttering her eyelashes. “The ankle ones could be removed if you continue to be good.”
“Thank you, sir.” She toyed a little with her food. On the one hand she was pleased with his capitulation; however, she wanted to break Mason’s rigidity down and find more of the man behind the facade. When his eyes sparkled or his lips curved upward into a near smile, she felt a buzz shoot through her, like a wave of energy. “You mentioned a wife. You’re obviously not married and I wondered why.”
“No, I’m not married.” He immediately glanced down.
She’d offended him. “Sorry. That was impolite.”
“It was. My marital status is of no concern to you.”
Throughout the rest of the meal, she remained quiet and when he escorted her to her cell, the door left unlocked, he turned on his heel and walked away.
Throwing herself on the bed, Jade regretted her question. Being nosey had its benefits. It got her the connections she needed to escape Malimor and meet up with the relief teams, but it wasn’t working with Mason. His reluctance to share personal information bothered her more and more, and after a restless spell asleep, she rose and had a shower. If she lay in bed any longer, she’d touch herself and imagined things about him instead. Top of the list was fucking. Why was she thinking about sex all the damn time? She didn’t want to think of the answer—it only added to the things bothering her.
* * *
Mason peeled off his clothes and left them in a heap on the floor. It was uncharacteristic of him not to tidy up, but his emotions were churning and he needed a cool shower. The water bounced off his shoulders and ran rivulets down his thighs. He tried to ignore his hardened cock, the rush of blood that pulsated around his groin and he focused his mind on other less tumultuous things. It proved futile. He turned the temperature down another notch and the frigidity began to work. He felt calmer, less on the verge of imploding.
She’d asked about marriage. Wives. Women. Topics he preferred not to discuss with anyone. They’d tried on Ixzar to find him a compatible wife and none of the available women from his Stratum had met his needs. He hadn’t put much effort into the process and it had been noted by his superiors. They couldn’t understand his reasons for delaying the inevitable.
She, the sweet Lila, was gone from his life and he suspected others had played a part in her disappearance. When he’d gone to find her, he’d been informed she had been moved to a new division and a new location on the other side of the planet. Why he’d felt so disappointed by her absence, he couldn’t fathom. She wasn’t a member of his Stratum and wasn’t expected to be compatible with either his character traits or physical demands. The whole point of the Stratum was to ensure mates were highly compatible. She wasn’t the right caliber, a fellow law enforcer had warned him.
“Don’t go there, Mason,” he’d said. “Think about it—Lila isn’t right, you know it.”
According to Mason’s austere father, compatibility was the cornerstone of good marriage, not romance. His mother had kept quiet and nodded in approval, like she always did when his father spoke with authority. It was how he’d been raised and he, too, assumed he’d want a meek wife nodding at his feet. Lila might have, if he’d asked her, but he never had the chance to find out if the Stratum method was as foolproof as he’d been led to believe. What little time they’d spent together, mainly limited to brief encounters in her workplace or walking in the ice park at the base of the tower block, had kept them chaste and unable to progress beyond conversing. She liked him; that much was apparent by her eagerness, the way she complimented him with smiles. However, it wasn’t always like that. Once, when he’d expressed a viewpoint in line with Federal policy, she’d disagreed, almost vehemently. She’d made no apology and shrugged off his counter arguments. At that moment, he’d understood his friend’s warning and he should have backed off, reminding himself he was part of a different tribe to hers.
Lila came from a Stratum, one where lovers met on equal terms and remained balanced in power. The authorities believed such pairings created individuals suited for service roles, team workers, or other such professions. Mason was a born leader, fighter and happy in isolation from others—how would that work with Lila?
In the end the decision was taken away from him. She was removed from temptation by watchful eyes—spies at her workplace. Mason’s response had been to apply for a transfer, out of general police work and into the notoriously challenging space marshal division. Only after he’d started the training program had he acknowledged that maybe, just maybe, the Stratum system wasn’t entirely appropriate for pairings. Career advancement, community spirit, yes, but mates, lovers? He was in danger of preaching treacherous thoughts and the best solution was isolating himself in space—far away from his home world and any potential slave-wives.
Switching off the stream of water, Mason leaned against the cold wall and waited for the blast of air to dry his skin. He no longer had the urge, it had left him and his erection was depleted. The turmoil remained though, because it hadn’t been memories of Lila that had kicked off his arousal, it had been Jade—the incompatible fugitive—and why he felt that way about her was far from resolved.
He dressed in fresh clothes and sat at his desk, ready to record his daily log. He went about the routine update as quickly as possible. He made no mention of Jade’s role on his ship. It was completely against protocol not to report such an unusual breach of procedure. As far as the log was concerned, Jade was locked up all the time in her cell.
Lying wasn’t something Mason considered acceptable, other than when it was necessary to capture a fugitive. He was in deep trouble if she interfered with his job, because then the truth would be revealed. The only thing to do was keep her on a tight leash, strictly controlled and unable to put a foot wrong.
Mason liked discipline, not punishing. If necessary he would spank her ass and punish her in ways she’d not imagined, but what he truly wanted to do was something else: reward her with the most amazing orgasms. Have her beg for them, each and every one of those climaxes. Then, he would take her completely for his pleasure, exhausting her sweet, delicious body. That was what he wanted to do.
Again, why did he feel so strongly toward her?
He could take her and she’d probably let him; he knew he could because he was damn sure she felt the same way about him. She’d stripped naked for him, come on his hand, and withstood his punishments, even if she
considered them utterly humiliating. Her acquiescence had to be a demonstration of some degree of compatibility.
What next? Days and days of dancing around the issue of sexual frustration. If he put her into stasis, forced her to comply with his demand, it would be over and done. He could let his libido rest and concentrate on the real reason he was racing across space to a distant outpost.
She wouldn’t like it. She’d fight back.
He’d made a promise to her and to himself: no violence, not like that. The cuffs were okay as the restraints wouldn’t harm her. Spanking, too, but hauling her into the stasis chamber was out of the question—she clearly feared the cryotube.
He finished his report and lay on the bed. Sleep might come if he closed his eyes and relaxed.
A few minutes later, he gave up. The next best option was a run around the cargo bay.
Mason halted just inside the entrance. He’d constructed a small running circle by moving any crates or boxes into the middle of the space and freeing up the perimeter of the large compartment. However, the makeshift track was in use. Jade, dressed in short pants and a sleeveless vest, was jogging around the circuit.
If she expected him to show mercy this time, she was wrong.
“I didn’t give you permission to be here,” he shouted across the open space.
Jade halted, turning to face him, and her flushed cheeks slowly drained of color. “I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Regardless, you’re here and not in your cell.” Reaching into his pocket, he located the small device and pressed a button. Her wrists snapped together, then when he hit the button again, her ankles were dragged across the floor until her heels met. She was shackled.
Chapter Six
The restraints didn’t hurt, not physically. What they did brilliantly was add to the embarrassment of being caught out of her cell. She’d not considered he might want to exercise at the same time as her. What harm could running around in circles do? She opened her mouth to voice her opinion and shut it quickly as he strode toward her. She hopped slightly, shuffled on her toes, but failed to retreat. Her wrists, crisscrossed against each other, were bound tight and rendered her arms useless. The bands were effective—he’d snared her.
As he towered over her, his height so superior, she ducked her head down and winced as if he’d struck her. “Okay,” she muttered. “Sorry. I guess I crept out and hoped you’d be asleep. I just fancied stretching my legs.”
“So did I. And now, I’m going to stretch you over that crate there.” He pointed to a black box as high as her waist.
She held up her hands. “Can’t move. You could—”
He answered her by picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder. Depositing her by the crate, he pushed her over and without any ceremony proceeded to pull down her joggers and panties. With her bent, bottom raised, it was quite apparent what he had in mind.
“Now, let me make this clear.” He pinned her down and brought his hand sweeping across her bare bottom with a crack.
“Ow!” she wailed. Each time he spanked her, he managed to make his hand feel harder, more rigid and painfully accurate as he targeted the same spots over and over. She couldn’t move her feet or hop about, or stretch out her arms to hold the rim of the crate. He spanked her without pausing or giving her any kind of warmup.
He lectured, too. Emphasizing each rule again with a cluster of bracing slaps, ending his list with a decisively delivered remark. “I make the decisions around here. You are a criminal—”
“I am not!” she shrieked, forgetting her place. “Innocent until—”
“Do not interrupt me.” He continued his onslaught of stinging smacks, each one adding to the burning fire he’d lit across her ass. “I won’t have you wandering around. I have to know where you are so I can justify keeping you out of stasis. I know you don’t want to go in there. I see the fear on your face. I don’t want you in there if you are afraid.”
The reason why she hated those things was too hard to articulate in her emotional state. “I don’t get you… you spank me… then… say these other things…” She gulped air between words, unable to speak clearly or express what she felt. Nothing made sense with Mason. She lusted after him, enjoyed his company, but she couldn’t cross over to where he wanted her—slavishly obeying him.
He eased off and rubbed her buttocks in small circles, spreading the heat into a warm glow. “Shh, Jade. I like you, but I have to stay in charge. This is how it has to be, out here.”
Mason wasn’t speaking like a marshal any longer. Something had happened during the spanking and it wasn’t about punishing her. It dawned on her she’d not refused, fought back, or done anything to resist him. She knew, in her heart, if he caught her out of the cell, he’d spank her and not hold back from making it count.
She heard a click and the bands released her arms and legs, allowing her slowly to rise to her feet. She clutched her backside, then rubbed each cheek in turn, attempting to alleviate the discomfort with a soothing rotation of her cooler palm.
“There’s nobody out here, nobody to watch or tell us what to do. We’re alone, just you and me,” she whispered, her hands still cupping her bare ass. Peering up from under her loose strands of hair, she met his beady stare and blinked away the tears. She had more than alluded to her feelings. Were the hints sufficient? Would he sweep her into his arms and cross the invisible threshold erected between them?
Mason reached out and touched the side of her face with his fingertips, trailing them along her chin and she parted her lips a fraction. A shiver of anticipation rippled down her neck and spine.
“Even more reason to play safe. Nobody to protect you, but me. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Jade.” He spoke so softly, she barely heard what he said. The shadow of his lips floated close, lowering to meet her upturned ones. “Are you sure?” were the last words he said before their lips merged.
“Yes,” she exhaled into his mouth.
The kiss was long, hard, and exactly what she wanted from him. He drew her into an embrace and spread his fingers along her spine, feeling his way up and down her back. Her panties remained coiled around her ankles and she didn’t care that he had access to the wetness between her thighs. Her pussy had been drenched with adrenaline-soaked excitement the moment his breath had mingled with her own. The sensation was electrifying and irreversible. Her liquid nectar was there, ready to greet his entry, his full-on thrust—if that was what he really desired.
“Please, Mason, please,” she gasped, breathless.
“We’re not supposed to be compatible.”
“Let’s prove them wrong.” She rested her hands on his shoulders and squeezed.
“You don’t understand. On Ixzar, I would take you, force you to come many times, taking my pleasure. I need to control sex as much as I need control over this ship, my prisoners. You.”
She licked her lips, tasting him. “This isn’t going to be about just my pussy, is it? This fuck is something I’m never going to forget.”
“No, not by the time I’m finished.”
She spread a big grin across her face. “You’re very sure of yourself, sir.”
“I am.” He took her wrist and directed her hand down toward his pants where the obvious bulge tented the loose fabric. Beneath she felt the bold hardness—a scaffold of steel. It was upright, bursting for relief, and probably painful for him to contain.
“In your mouth, your pussy, and your ass,” he continued. “Here. Now. And you’ll obey me. Then, later, we can do it the slow way, the way of your people.”
She’d no point of comparison, only her own experiences, which had been energetic and brief. Jade swallowed hard, losing the smirk. “My people aren’t exactly gentle—”
He shook his head. “Jade, this isn’t going to be lovemaking. We’re not there yet. I don’t know if… I’ll try for you, try to be that kind of man.”
“I think you will. I believe you can. I know it he
re.” She pressed her other hand to his chest and through the shirt she discerned the drumming beats of his heart. “Here is where it counts, don’t you think?”
He didn’t answer with words; instead he lifted her up, sat her on the wide crate, and pushed her back. Before her shoulder blades had touched the cool surface, he’d disposed of her joggers and panties. Snatching her wrists above her head, he held her still. Jade’s vision blurred as he lowered his mouth onto her neck and sucked her tender flesh. The sharp sensation caused an involuntary wince; it also made her scalp tingle with trepidation.
He dove his hands under the t-shirt and brushed aside the cups of a bra. Molding his palms around her breasts, he massaged them, gently at first, then with firm squeezes. He shifted his focus to her nipples, rolling his fingers around them, toying with them as they hardened into pebbles. Throughout his teasing, he continued to kiss her face and neck, showering her with a medley of pecks or passionate smooches.
Jade shook—all over her body, she had waves of trembling and her insides fizzed, bubbling over with excitement. She wanted to feel him, watch him undress, but Mason remained clothed. However, with her hands free, she roved, exploring his muscular shoulders through the fabric of his tunic. When he leaned over her to kiss her lips again, his chest rose and fell against her bosom. His powerful physique lurked, waiting to be unleashed on her. He held back, but she knew if he chose to, he could quickly take her and not allow her any opportunity for resistance.
Abruptly, he disengaged. “You’re going to come for me, sweetheart. I want to see it. Feel it. I need to know how you look, whether it melts you into exhaustion or drives you to feed again. I’m demanding, but what about you, can you match my desires?” He spoke rhetorically, not waiting for her answer; it wasn’t necessary to hear her affirmation. Instead, he sank to his knees, looped his arms around her thighs, and feasted on her wetness, the flood that deluged from her clenching pussy.