Heart of a Smuggler

by Heart of a Smuggler (lit)

  “Oh, God, Shamon, I can’t... I can’t...”

  “You can,” he whispered huskily, sliding a second finger deep into her.

  She was so tight. He almost came at just the thought of how snug she’d be around him.

  Sliding his knee between her thighs, he nudged her legs apart and slid a third finger inside her, stretching her gently, preparing her. He thumbed the little nub above the entrance to her body and Gabie shattered on him once more. God, she was so responsive.

  Shamon caught her cry of release with his mouth, loving the way she arched up into him, her hands grabbing onto his biceps, squeezing his muscles as hard as her vaginal walls squeezed his fingers.

  Sliding his hand up to cup her womanhood, he cradled her through the climax, but as she finally relaxed and came down, he started to stroke her once more, his lips sipping at her mouth.

  Opening her eyes hazily, she whispered huskily, “You’re going to kill me.”

  “Oh nay, Gabie. I have plans for you which involve you being very much alive.”

  Her climb back up into hot desire took mere seconds, her body still humming with the after effects of the orgasm, and it wasn’t long before she was pushing against his palm. Sliding his fingers across her sensitive outer labia, he pulled through the delicate curls and up over the slope of her belly, higher to her breast, cupping one and thumbing the nipple, watching as her pupils dilated and she arched into his hand.

  Her legs shifted restlessly, the smooth softness rubbing sensuously against his muscular thigh, and Shamon swung himself over her, nudging her thighs completely apart. Catching her hands, he twined their fingers together and raised them above her head, resting their hands in the soft covers of the bed.

  She looked up at him, her eyes smouldering and her mouth so deliciously swollen and red from his attentions. The thick, silken strands of her hair pooled around her head and shoulders and she looked utterly wanton, and he knew he’d remember this moment forever.

  His need surged through him, the need to finally claim the secrets of her body, and he shifted, his throbbing phallus unerringly sliding through the damp curls, slipping through the moist folds and finding the opening to her body as though he’d done it a hundred times.

  The wetness of her desire coated the throbbing tip of his manhood, and he couldn’t wait any longer. Didn’t want to wait any longer. Finally... finally, she was his.

  One sure, hard thrust and he pushed deep. The tight channel gripped him like a glove, her smallness pushing against his staff, causing a sweet, torturous friction as he slid deeper... and he felt the giving of a fragile barrier before the pulsating head of his staff.

  Gabie had been untouched. No man had known her.

  The knowledge flashed through him on a heated wave of possessive pleasure, along with a flash of concern that pushed through the heady curtains of rapacious sensations.

  Trying to reign in his baser instincts to keep pumping into her, Shamon hesitated, but Gabie opened her hot eyes, looked him full in the face, ordered, “Don’t you dare stop now!” and writhed under him.

  That was all the invitation he needed. Throwing caution to the wind, Shamon gave himself up to the glory of carnal desire. Pumping his hips, he pushed in deep, breathing raggedly as her muscles clamped tight, trying to hold him in as he withdrew and pushed back in again.

  He wanted to make it last longer, stars he did, but Shamon could feel his need climbing, the frantic clawing of his pent up desire surging through his flaring veins lustily.

  Every fantasy he had lately had been centred on Gabie, and now she was here. Under him. Writhing. Her body gripping him. Her slick channel open to his invasion, the tender folds of her labia parted by his invading body. She was a contradiction of softness, innocence and prurience combined.

  And she wanted him. It was there in her eyes when she gazed up at him, in the way she arched her head back and moaned, in the pressure of her soft thighs against his hips as she sought to hold him to her. Her fingers squeezed his hard.

  Heat seared through his veins, and he craved more of her. Dipping his head down even as his hips pumped hard, Shamon captured her mouth and ravished it as thoroughly as his manhood ravished her secret places. He gave no quarter, wanting only one thing in return.

  Gabie’s complete surrender.

  And she gave it willingly.

  A roil of sensation, a hot ball of passion, curled up inside him, starting low in his loins as he continued to thrust. His phallus, hard and throbbing before he’d even entered her, was swollen with need, the seed trickling from the tip already. He felt pressure, such sweet, torturous pressure, building and building. His head seemed to pound with a delicious throbbing as much as his manhood did. His scrotum pulled tight, and he changed angle slightly, pushing in deeper.

  Then Gabie shifted herself, bending her knees and thrusting up her hips as much as she could with his body pinning her down. The sudden openness enabled him to slide yet even deeper, and Gabie’s moan of enjoyment just inflamed him even more.

  “Gabie.” His voice was harsh with need. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

  Those soft legs unhesitatingly lifted and wrapped around his waist, and now she was as open as he could get her.

  Shamon thrust harder, the desire building higher, something he didn’t think was even possible. His heart thundered, his muscles straining. Need was a hard, hot ball in his loins, building and building to a screaming pitch, and he could feel it driving him onwards, higher and higher, lost in the scent of Gabie, her body, her softness, her secrets. She called to him like a siren, and he plunged hard and deep, once, twice, three times.

  And he shattered.

  Seed erupted from him, flowing deep into her, his hips thrusting short and hard, pushing and pushing, wanting to go deeper and deeper. He didn’t want it to stop at the same time his body screamed for release.

  He strained forward, thrust hard again, and was swept away on a star-burst of colour and sensation. Dimly he heard Gabie cry out his name, felt her jerk convulsively under him, but he was lost to his own climax as he poured everything out into her.

  When he finally came to, his cheek was resting against hers on the pillow, his nose pressed into the fragrant hair. His big body was pressed against hers, sheltering her, and he lifted himself up on arms that trembled slightly.

  Gabie blinked dazedly up at him, then smiled weakly. “Wow.”

  That was an understatement. A chuckle of pure enjoyment rose up from him, and Shamon dropped a kiss on the tip of her cheekily uptilted nose. Rolling off her, he gathered her into his arms and pulled her flush against him. Tucking her head under his chin, Shamon sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.

  Gabie snuggled into him and within a mere minute both were sound asleep.

  Eight

  Cheran searched the settlement with his men. They slipped through the shadows, lurked in the corners of taverns, and scoured the alleys. They didn’t fine the one they hunted.

  Emet, it would seem, had disappeared, but Cheran was positive the man was in the settlement somewhere. Someone was sheltering him, but that would soon change.

  Only a fool would shelter a wanted, claimed outlaw, and come morning, Emet was going to have a huge reward on his head. After all, murderers didn’t invoke loyalty.

  Gathering his men together, he led them back to their ship in the docking bay. All he had to do was wait.

  ~ * ~

  In the Enforcement Building, Sabra stood and watched the rain misting the street beyond. Glancing up at the clouded sky, she allowed her thoughts to turn to her husband.

  Cam. Somewhere out there he was trading and she just knew he was thinking of her. Placing her fingertips on the glass, she breathed upon it and when the white cloud formed on the pane, she drew a little heart on it with her finger. Smiling, she looked at it and then rubbed it away with her sleeve.

  Her gaze drifted to the tavern across the street. Gabie. The wench was over there with Shamon. One of the peacekeepers
had seen her enter, ask after Shamon and disappear upstairs.

  Sabra frowned. Not good. Getting involved with a smuggler was not good. Not at all. The fact that it was a friend of hers made it worse.

  Taking a deep breath, she rolled her head around to ease the kinks in her neck. There was nastiness afoot and things were going to get even stickier. She didn’t want the Daamens involved and if Shamon was getting close to the smuggler, it didn’t bode well. She might have to readjust her plans.

  ~ * ~

  Gabie awoke slowly to the delicious sensations curling through her body. A big hand stroked her secret places, a hot mouth trailed over her throat. Opening her eyes, she became aware that her thigh was decadently lying across lean hips, the breadth of which forced her thighs wide. No wonder the big hand was wandering so freely.

  “Shamon—”she began huskily, only to arch back and moan as a finger slid deep.

  “Hush.” The word was breathed hotly against her throat.

  That was all that was said. From there, everything went into a red-hazed passion, desire thrumming through her as skilful fingers played her to a fever pitch.

  Arching against him, she sought to touch, to taste, and when her tongue flicked across a brown male nipple, she was rewarded by the shudder of Shamon’s big body. She laughed softly.

  She caught a flash of a hedonistic grin in return as Shamon moved up to take possession of her mouth, and then she could only gasp as his staff slid through her open folds and the long, thick length of him invaded her body with a slow, sure thrust that went in deep.

  She writhed against him, but he kept her close, using the friction of their bodies to drive her higher, the heat of his thickness in her pushing her up the pinnacle. Deliberately he let her quiver at the top, stopping his thrusts just when she was ready to tip over, quietening her whimpers with nibbling kisses, and as she started to gradually drift downwards, he started thrusting again.

  Gabie could swear she felt the fever essence of him leaking inside her. In fact, she felt like swearing every time he drew her back from that awe-inspiring fall into sweet, carnal oblivion. But every time she drew breath to say something, Shamon would simply take her mouth and her breath, leaving her... well, breathless.

  And then he did it, rushed her to the top, but just when her cynical side was ready to start weeping, she suddenly realized he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts were stronger, harder as he gathered her against him and held on as she lurched over the edge into that wonderful vortex of orgasm.

  When she finally drifted back down in a pleasant daze, Shamon tucked her against him, rested his chin on the top of her head and just cradled her close.

  The last thing Gabie remembered was the brush of his lips on the top of her head.

  ~ * ~

  From the forest Freeman watched the old man and the pretty albino melt into the rain-drenched foliage. Slipping from his shelter, he followed them.

  It was a long walk but when they finally stopped he drew back into the shadows. Several times the albino—Misha, that was her name—had glanced behind her. Freeman couldn’t see her face with the black lace covering it, but he would bet she was frowning.

  The woman had good instincts.

  The old man couldn’t stop yawning. Every few paces he’d yawn or sigh. Olin should have been in bed.

  Freeman grinned.

  Then he saw where they were going and his brows rose. Well, well, well. It looked like their informant had been dead on.

  Gabie was playing with the big boys.

  Then he saw Olin remove something from his pocket. Freeman narrowed his eyes as he tried to see through the misty rain and his eyes widened in recognition.

  Now what the hell was Gabie up to? Or maybe it was her crew? His lips pursed in thought. The crew of the Larceny were up to no good and in a big way. By the look of it they weren’t just playing with the big boys. They had their hands in the feeding cage of a very hungry shark.

  ~ * ~

  Bottom tucked back against a hard groin, Gabie nestled amongst the covers in a delicious drowsiness. A muscled chest against her back, hard thighs behind her own. Brawny arms cradling her close, a warm breath stirring her hair.

  Outside the window rain pelted down, but she was safe and warm and so cozy in the shelter of Shamon’s big body.

  Opening her eyes slowly, she focused on the window. Rivulets of rain slid down the glass, and the wind sounded outside as it whistled around the side of the dwelling.

  She shivered and nestled further back against the hard body behind her, the heat of Shamon’s skin seeping deliciously into her. She stretched luxuriously but when she settled back down there was another hardness nudging her bottom.

  The arms around her shifted, one hand sweeping low over her belly and sliding unerringly between her thighs, nudging them apart.

  “Shamon?” She tilted her head back even as heat trickled through her.

  He was a shadow in the bed behind her, but she caught the flash of white as he grinned at her. “The night isn’t over.”

  “Well, thank God for that,” she retorted huskily.

  He laughed, the muscles of his chest rubbing against her back.

  Reaching back, she ran her hand down a lean flank. “Because if this was a dream and I woke up right now—ye gods!” She shivered as a long finger slid around her clitoris.

  “Aye?” A husky chuckle against her shoulder.

  She couldn’t think, not with that finger massaging the little nub into a quivering bud of nerves.

  A hot tongue rasped across her shoulder. “Gabie?” A little nip.

  “If I woke up...” She tried to gather her scattering thoughts.

  “Aye?” A kiss, a lick. He nuzzled her throat.

  “And it was a dream...” She inhaled raggedly as his fingertip played around the opening to her body.

  “And if ’twas a dream?” he prompted.

  He knew perfectly well what he was doing to her thoughts, the wretch. The very gifted, horny wretch.

  “I’d cry.”

  “Would you now?” He thrust lazily against her, his hard staff sliding against the cleft of her buttocks. “The mayhaps I’d better show you ’tis not a dream?”

  “Yeah, might be an idea.” She arched back as his finger skimmed along her perineum. “Stars above!”

  “You’re running hot again, little smuggler.” His lips were against her cheek. “Turn your face to me.”

  “Yes master,” she managed to get out as she obeyed.

  “Master, hmmm?” He kissed her lightly, thrust subtly, and slipped the tip of his finger inside her all at once. “I like that.”

  No doubt about it, the man had perfected multi-tasking.

  “I’m sure you do,” she started to say, only to find her words swallowed yet again.

  His mouth took hers, and he ravished the honeyed sweetness beyond. She tasted him, opened to him, and let him conquer her.

  A muscular thigh nudged the back of her knees and without thought she bent them, opening her body to him even as she opened her mouth.

  Curling his arm around her, his forearm just beneath her breasts, Shamon slid deep inside her. He rocked against her, small sweeps of his staff.

  She could feel her muscles clench him tight. Or maybe it was just that he was so big and her channel was so narrow. Or something.

  Gabie couldn’t think straight and heck, she didn’t want to, anyway. Every thought was focused on how she felt. He dominated her, holding her still for his pleasure while ensuring her own, entering her from behind, entering her from above, filling her mouth and womanhood.

  Taking her.

  Giving to her.

  His hips pumped, his mouth dropping to her throat, sliding to the curve where her neck met her shoulders. He licked the curve once, then fastened on her and sucked gently but insistently.

  Marking her.

  Good God, Gabie was sure he’d marked her permanently. His essence burned inside her as surely as his mouth burned on her skin
.

  She couldn’t arch back in decadent surrender, but she pressed her hips back, loving it when he slid his big hand down low over her belly. His palm pressed against her, pulling her flush against him as he pumped into her, holding her.

  His thrusts became harder as he worked inside her, withdrawing, flexing his hips and pushing deep once more.

  This time when the climb up that slope of Eros started, he didn’t tease her. His chest pushed against her back as he drew in deep, fortifying breaths, his breath hot on her skin. His hips pumped, his staff dragging through her tight channel, the slipperiness of desire making the passage take him in a firm, erotic grip.

  “Gabie.” Her name a harsh whisper against her cheek.

  She turned her face to him and he caught her mouth again in a demanding kiss that left nothing untouched.

  Just as he didn’t leave her body untouched.

  She rushed up the pinnacle, higher and higher, every hard, sure thrust of his hips raking through to push her onward.

  Dimly she felt the tension in him, the hot spurt of his seed as he started to come inside her, and it shoved her out to shatter and splinter and whirl away through a prurient curtain that did nothing to soothe her, but everything to tantalize her further.

  Somewhere, she recognized that the curtain that fell across her face was the thick silkiness of his hair as he raised himself up on one elbow to give her one last, hard thrust, and took her mouth at the same time, yet again swallowing her cry of pure lust and release combined.

  He filled her with his seed, spurting deep and long.

  And again, when she drifted down deliciously, she was cradled in his arms, and his face was nuzzling her neck. He settled like that, his nose buried in her hair, a sigh of contentment on his lips.

  Sated, Gabie smiled sleepily.

  ~ * ~

  The peacekeeper scanned the information coming through the Enforcement Buildings main computer. The usual—outlaws, sightings, possible smuggler flight paths. And one other.

  He read the information before transferring the picture to the viscomm screen next to the door.

  Nothing like an escaped, claimed outlaw to make the day interesting.