Linking his hands behind his back, he studied the screen.
The security officer, Sabra, came up beside him and studied it also. Silently she read the words beneath but didn’t betray her thoughts with any expression.
The peacekeeper glanced sideways at her. Pretty, but those eyes were hard. An ex-bounty hunter, a Daamen wench, and wed to a Daamen trader. Sabra had lived hard. He’d heard a bit about her, knew her from a distance.
She wasn’t to be messed with. He returned to his chair. No security officer was to be messed with... ever.
Continuing to read through the information coming through the viscomm, he sorted through the things that would need Michel’s attention first thing in the morning, and those things that could wait until he’d dealt with the urgent things first. He sorted them into three different folders according to their urgency.
Glancing up, he observed Sabra cross to the door and step out onto the veranda. The door swung shut behind her, and he leaned back in his chair, wondering just what security was doing in the settlement.
~ * ~
Staring through the window to the sunlit meadows beyond his palace, Mellar watched the children laughing and playing.
By now the message would have gone far and wide. Emet was a wanted man, a criminal. A murderer. And he was wanted dead or alive. That almost ensured that some bounty hunter would kill him and apply for the reward, rather than go to the trouble of bringing him back alive. Emet could be shot on sight and Mellar was gambling that it would happen.
If it didn’t... well, things could get nasty, but then, who would anyone believe?
Lifting his gaze to the mountains beyond, Mellar smiled grimly. Someone, somewhere, was crying. People were burying their dead. Others were mourning the missing. And many lived in fear.
It was a sweet balm to his dark soul.
Now the death of Emet would only make his happiness complete.
Meanwhile, business called. Turning, Mellar swept from the room, bellowing for his servant. An important man’s work was never done.
~ * ~
The timer on the wall showed two in the morning. Shamon glanced down at the wench curled up in his arms. The thick swirl of shiny brown hair partly covered her face, and he gently pushed the heavy strands back behind one small ear.
Gabie was amazing. So responsive, she almost went up in flames with just a few strokes of his hands. One kiss and she wanted more. One stroke and she was arching for him. Several thrusts of his staff into her deliciously tight little body and she was already climbing towards climax.
Tenderly Shamon trailed a finger down her tip tilted nose, across those sweet, plump lips and rubbed across that little, stubborn chin.
Stirring in her sleep, she mumbled something and rubbed one hand across the lower part of her face.
Catching her hand, Shamon brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Several little scars nicked her skin and he studied her hand. Small, short clean nails, and a few calluses. A capable little hand for a hot little wench.
My wench.
He should have panicked at the wayward thought, but he didn’t. He didn’t try to kid himself that it was just a passing attraction. Having her in his arms, he wanted more. Craved more. And he just knew that craving was never going to go away.
So now what?
Almost as though she felt his scrutiny, Gabie opened one eye, looked up at him and mumbled, “What?”
“Just looking.”
“Really?” Coming up on to one elbow—which gave him a most interesting view of full breasts—Gabie rubbed her eyes with the heel of one hand and blinked several times.
“Aye.” Aye, he was really looking. Her breasts were so full and firm, big handfuls that almost defied the laws of gravity. Now he’d seen her without a support garment, he wondered how she managed to be so top heavy and not tip forward.
Gabie followed his gaze, blushed, grabbed the sheet strewn at their feet and hauled it up to cover her breasts.
No way was Shamon having that. Grabbing it, he tossed it aside.
“Too late for that, lass.” He smiled at her, slow and... all right, he admitted it—lustfully.
“I’m not used to this,” she muttered, covering her ample bosom with one arm, or trying to, anyway.
“So I noticed.”
Amused, he watched the blank expression on her cheeky, elfin face give way to embarrassment.
“Kind of hard not to, I guess.” A sheepish smile cured her lips. “And I guess you took care of that.”
“Aye.” He surely had. Stars, his chest almost swelled with pride. “It interests me that you’ve stayed virgin for so long.”
“Why?” One fine brow arched. “You thought a smuggler would be an easy lay?”
Reaching out, he twined a thick lock of brown hair around his finger and used it to tug her face closer to his. “Nay. I’m just surprised that no man has tried to capture you.”
She grinned. “A few have tried, Shamon, but I wouldn’t touch them with a ten foot pole.” She gave an exaggerated shudder. “Dirty men with a penchant for anything remotely bearing a resemblance to a female. Hell, I bet they’d have shagged a female snarch given a chance.” Her grin widened. “They weren’t fussy.”
“But you are?”
“Hey, I’m a smu—into private enterprise. I’m not the kind of woman good men seek out.”
“Are you saying I’m not a good man?”
She looked at him for several long seconds before smiling a little. “You are, and that makes me wonder why you’d pursue this deal we struck. You must really like claiming prizes to sleep with me.”
She might have been smiling, but there was a trace of wistfulness in her eyes. It vanished within seconds but it was enough to make Shamon come up on his elbow. He looked down at her. Even balanced on their elbows, he towered over her.
“What do you mean, lass?”
She shrugged and looked away.
Reaching out, he caught her chin and turned her back to face him. “Gabs?”
“Aw, honey, you’ve got a pet name for me!”
“Don’t change the subject.” Shamon looked her directly in the eyes. “You know I desire you. I’ve not tried to hide it.”
Her round cheeks went pink, which was just so enchanting, but Shamon steeled himself from leaning down and kissing them. There was a little mystery here he wanted to uncover.
“I couldn’t help but notice,” Gabie replied. “Though I have no idea why.”
“You don’t?”
“No. Geez, Shamon, I’m not the kind of woman good men go for.” Abruptly she sat up, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Resting her chin on her knees, she looked towards the window where the rain spattered noisily.
Remaining propped on his elbow, Shamon reached out and trailed his fingers down her side, coming to a stop on the generous curve of her hip.
Gabie glanced down at him.
“And why aren’t you the kind of wench most men go for?” he queried quietly. And how could she even think it?
“Let’s see. Have you got time while I list it all?”
“All night.” His gaze swept leisurely down her body. “In-between other activities, of course.” All of which involved her luscious little body.
“Hmmm. Okay, let’s see. I’m short, fat, mouthy and laugh at—apparently—all the wrong things at the wrong time.”
It took several seconds for the words to sink in, and then Shamon frowned at her. “Who said you were fat?”
“I noticed you zeroed in on that,” she replied dryly.
“I won’t argue the short and mouthy,” he said. “’Tis you for sure. But most wenches are short in comparison to my height. Mouthy, aye. It gets you into trouble. Laugh at the wrong things? ’Tis a matter of opinion. I like your laughter and sense of humour. You make me laugh.”
“Honey, you really are sweet.”
Sitting up, Shamon leaned against the headboard of the big bed. When she didn�
��t say anything, he reached out again and ran one finger down her spine, smiling when she arched slightly. “What I see is a voluptuous wench with curves enough to make a red-blooded man drool.”
“You have a silver tongue, Shamon.” She glanced back at him. “How come no woman has ever caught you?”
“I never came across one I wanted to catch me.” Until now.
“They’re missing out on a prize.”
“You’ll make me blush in a minute.”
She flashed him an amused grin.
Moving quickly, Shamon snagged her around the waist and in one smooth move spun her around to land on top of him. Easily dragging her up his length, he didn’t stop until she was level with his face.
Those bright green eyes sparkled with a mixture of mirth and rising passion. “Now, see, your strength just makes me go all a-quiver.”
“I’m counting on other things making you quiver.” He slid his hand down her spine.
“Keep doing that and I’ll start purring.”
Let’s see if I can make you yowl.”
“I might scratch.”
“Ohhh, sounds intriguing, wench.”
Gabie laughed.
He lifted her up further. The wench was a light weight as far as he was concerned. As soon as her breasts were above him, he opened his mouth and sucked one pink-tipped nipple deep. And sucked. And sucked.
Bracing her hands on the pillow each side of his head, Gabie gasped and writhed.
Switching to her other breast, Shamon sucked, enjoying the tight little bud, flicking and teasing it with his tongue.
“You better do something fast,” Gabie groaned. “I’m getting wet.”
Shamon chuckled as he straightened his arms, holding her above him.
“This is a little... ah...” Gabie had one arm across her breasts, the other still braced beside him.
“Interesting?”
“If you bring me any lower, I’ll suffocate you with these bosoms of which you are so fond, trader.”
“Aye, but what a way to go.” He bent his arms, lowering her but shifting her down so that their faces were level when he finally settled her atop him.
Quirking one brow, she wriggled, and the movements caused those delicious little nubs to rub against his pectorals, and the curls at the apex of her thighs to entangle with his.
Shamon grinned wickedly at her. “Like riding, Gabs?”
She looked blankly at him.
“I’ve ridden you several times tonight.”
She blushed a little, but her eyes sparkled in memory.
Shamon pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “’Tis time I let you have a turn.”
Understanding hit her suddenly. “Oh, Shamon, I’m not sure about—”
He didn’t give her any more time to protest. Sitting upright with a powerful surge of muscles, he lifted Gabie up. His staff rose up, long and hard and throbbing, and Shamon set her on her knees right above it.
Crimson cheeked, Gabie looked from his staff to his face. “Ah... Shamon...”
“Trust me,” he said, and lowered her directly onto his shaft.
It was amazing how he found her entrance without error or hesitation. The tip of his penis slipped neatly inside her vagina, and he held her in place as her breath came faster.
God, she was so hot and wet, the moist heat coating his penis. She was ready for him.
She started to squirm. “Shamon, you have to do something...”
“I sort of thought ’twould be you doing it.” He grinned at her darkly.
“Cripes, what do I know about this? I’ve heard and seen things, but I’ve never done it.” He felt her try to take him in deeper.
“How about we go the ‘yes master’ routine again?”
“How about I smuggle some goods through your trade route?” she gasped.
“You’re a naughty little smuggler.” He lowered her inch by exquisite inch, watching as his thickness disappeared inside her.
“Who are you trying to torture?” Gabie moaned, her hands on his arms.
“You?”
“So why is your jaw clenched?”
“Good point,” Shamon said, and let her go.
Gabie slid down his shaft and landed full groin against his. Her eyes widened in awe, and Shamon could only tip his head back and groan as all that tight heat gripped him and sucked him into the depths of her woman’s secrets.
He swore he could just about feel himself bump against her cervix, and at the thought, he opened his eyes in alarm. He’d heard that bumping a wench’s cervix could hurt. He’d never thought of it until now. None of the tavern whores had ever seemed to care or complain.
By the look on Gabie’s face, she didn’t seem uncomfortable. She was biting her lip, aye, but her eyes were dark and heavy, a light flush on her face, and she was starting to rock against him
Her internal muscles clenched, pulling at him, and Shamon could only grit his teeth in lust as a fiery flow rocketed through his veins and pooled low in his loins. His staff swelled, lengthened, thickened, and he couldn’t believe it was possible to be any more aroused without exploding.
The wench was a natural at this, her body undulating as she rode him slowly at first. Her gaze was locked onto his and she smiled slightly. Secretly. A seductress.
“Oh yeah,” she said throatily. “I find riding quite... invigorating.”
And then she rolled her hips.
Shamon thought he was going to die on the spot. He fell back against the pillows.
Laughing suggestively, Gabie placed her hands on his chest and raked her nails lightly across his nipples, making him jerk beneath her.
And then once he started, he couldn’t stop. Each jerk beneath her drove him into her depths and as his hips returned to the mattress, she rose up on her knees.
She actually let him slip free and he nearly went wild, grabbing her hips and thrusting deep within her once more, hearing her half gasp in surprise, half laugh in amusement.
A very hedonistic amusement.
Moving forward, she braced her hands each side of his massive chest and looked down at him. Rapacious devilment made her eyes dance, but carnal desire made them glow softly as well.
“So, Shamon,” she murmured, raising herself enough to leave his shaft half out of her, “Do you approve of my riding?”
“God!” was all he could manage in reply.
But he did grab her hips and shove her back down atop his own hips again.
Her laugh was a siren’s call.
Shamon couldn’t take it any longer. Flipping her over onto her back, he rose above her and withdrew.
She blinked, surprised, then grinned up at him, twining her fingers through his long hair and tugging gently. “Got a problem, master?”
“Not now,” he rasped, and drove into her hard.
It was like slamming home, the sensation of her muscles clenching around him so familiar now. He loved it. Loved the feel of her silken flesh against his, the heat of her inner body, the softness of her outer body, the desire and laughter in her eyes that combined to make such a heady mixture.
The laughter fled when he started thrusting hard and fast. The laughter turned to moans, and when he slid one hand beneath her to angle her hips up to him, she bent her knees and took him in deeper.
And finally she slid her legs around his waist, opening herself thoroughly to him, and he slammed in until they were groin to groin and he couldn’t go any further.
With short, sharp thrusts he built the fire to full, flaring life between them. He didn’t know where her body heat finished and his began, because he was such a part of her. He felt like he was falling into hot pools of green desire as he looked into her eyes, and another pool of slick heated desire drew him in deep to her body.
His breathing was ragged, and he pulled her closer and closer until their hips were ground together.
Reaching up, he grabbed a fat pillow and lifting her hips he shoved it beneath her.
Gabie�
�s eyes widened but she didn’t have a chance to ask anything because Shamon braced himself above her on both arms and swooped down to claim her mouth.
He claimed her mouth as he claimed her body, giving no quarter yet giving of himself. Tasting her, taking her, taking her essence from her honeyed mouth and spilling his own essence inside her exquisite, lush little body.
Once, twice, three times he shoved hard, buttocks clenching and hips pumping. His life seed spurted out, hot and thick, flooding into her. He strained against her, shuddering, his eyes closed as ecstasy soared through him.
But he didn’t miss the way she screamed his name as she convulsed around him, her inner muscles clenching around and wringing from him everything he had to give, milking him until he was deliciously drained, deliciously spent, and all he could do was slump over her.
Head resting beside hers on the pillow, he buried his nose in her fragrant fall of dishevelled hair and just let his breathing spiral out of control.
It took a long time before either of them came back from Eros. When Shamon could he eased onto his side, taking Gabie with him and cradling her close. Just as his thundering heart started to ease, he felt her stir.
“Shamon?” Her breathless vice was a warm whisper against his neck.
“Aye?”
“Did I pass the first riding lesson?”
He started laughing, still ragged but genuinely amused. “Gabs, you passed with flying colours.”
“So, no more lessons?” she teased.
“I never said that.” He hugged her. “The night is yet young.”
“Mmmm.” Snuggling closer, she pressed a light kiss to his neck and settled down.
Shamon stared up at the dark ceiling while Gabie slipped off to sleep. She felt so right in his arms, her soft curves fitting his hard, muscled planes perfectly.
She fitted him perfectly. Her humour, her passion, her love of life.
He wanted that forever. How he was going to go about convincing Gabie of that wasn’t going to be easy, he had no doubt, but he figured they had a good basis to start with—namely their passion and their attraction to each other, and a shared love of laughter and life.
Now how he was going to get her to give up her life of smuggling was a whole other story. There was nothing he could do about it tonight, but come the morrow—which was really the morn—he was going to start a full-on assault on Gabie.
Heart of a Smuggler Page 17