Desert Tryst (1Night Stand)

by Susanne Saville

  He stares at me for what seems like forever, and I can’t read his eyes. Then he must have come to a decision because he gives me the bottle. “All right.”

  The butterflies in my stomach are from both nerves and excitement. He’s trusting me. I can do this.

  One agile twist and he’s lying on his stomach in the middle of the bed. What a damned fine ass. Sitting next to him, I leisurely fondle the nearest cheek, enjoying the smooth texture of his skin and the taut muscle beneath.

  Before I even realize it, I lean down and kiss one cheek then the other. His skin quivers at my touch. I nip him, and he gasps. Murmuring soothing words against his flesh, I spread his cheeks and start licking.

  I hadn’t planned on doing this. I’m as surprised as he is. But it’s worth it to hear his strangled cry of surprise, followed by ecstatic moans. So many sensitive nerve endings to tease.

  He swears, rocking his hips against the mattress. I glance up as his white-knuckled fists twist the sheets. Just as I wonder if I can make him come by this stimulation alone, he struggles to still himself and growls, “I…I want to come with you inside me. Hurry up.”

  Stopping, I rummage around for the bottle and grab it. Unaccustomed to using lubricant, though not completely clueless, I squeeze some onto my palms and rub them together, then squirt more onto him, but my hands are slippery, and I overcompensate.

  Should have done him first. There’s cream everywhere. He’s peering over his shoulder at me, a gorgeous sight, short hair tousled and spiky, face flushed, eyes bright. I swear he’s giggling. “Not quite that much lube.”

  I give him a rueful grin. “Maybe we should go swimming instead.” I pour more from the bottle to make sure there’s enough lube on the condom. I suppose it’s a tribute to my extreme level of lust that my erection has remained hard enough to qualify as bulletproof throughout this fiasco. “Who knew this was rocket science?”

  He laughs outright. “Get on with it.”

  “I’ve read…shouldn’t there be fingering and….”

  “Rocket countdown has started. Get over here.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t.”

  I lie down beside him, pull him into my arms, spooning him, and nuzzle his neck.

  “You’re a cuddler?” he mutters like he’s exasperated.

  “Deal with it.” I nuzzle him some more, trying to impress his scent on my memory. Cedar. Toffee. And gunpowder. Like the exciting tang in the air after a fireworks show, but his scent alone.

  Reaching behind, he helps me find his anus, and I gradually press inside. Little by little. Giving his muscles time to adjust. Accept. Submit.

  The slow pace is killing me. He’s so tight. Hot. I need to slam inside him like I need to breathe. His breath stutters, but he’s pushing back, fucking himself on me. Helping, hurrying me. And I’m grateful. My hunger to sink balls deep overwhelms everything else.

  We move together, and then I slide home. Completely connected. I’ve dreamed of this, but it’s even better than I’d fantasized. I move. Shift. Rub something that makes him shout.

  I try to remember that angle and keep to it while sucking possessive marks into his neck, repeating his name against his skin, telling him he’s mine. He makes the most perfect sounds in response, sweet and desperate. God, I want to hear him come again, to hear my name on his lips when he does.

  The wooden bed frame starts to creak. I’m thrusting into him, fast, forceful, the slap of my flesh against his urging me on, his little gasps and growls urging me on as well. The pressure and pull at my insides is practically feral, so intense and ferocious, and I’m so close.

  So close.

  But I want him to come with me. Reaching over his hip, I push his hand away from his cock and grasp him myself. It takes me a moment, struggling with my coordination, before I get the right rhythm, stroking him and thrusting.

  And then everything is perfect.

  He’s saying my name. It’s wonderful. I’m babbling. Oh, good Lord, I might have just said I loved him. Then he’s coming; his body is clutching my dick. He coats my hand with blood-hot semen. I’m losing control…I can’t…. My body seizes, and there’s nothing but agonizing, overpowering rapture.

  ***

  When I return to myself, we’re both on our backs, lying side by side. I remove the condom, tie it off, and toss it in the wastepaper basket by the nightstand without getting out of bed. I’m never getting out of bed again.

  The champagne is still waiting on the nightstand. I’m sated and sleepy and can’t be bothered to reach for it. The strawberries are around…somewhere. They can stay there until morning.

  Dima sighs with contentment. “I think I saw forever,” he says in that husky whisper I’ve become addicted to.

  “That.” I’m still a little breathless and my brain is too blown to care about functioning. I shift on the pillow and gaze at him. Beautiful, perfect Dima. “What you said. That.”

  He smiles at me. “Not overdramatic?”

  “No. Just right.”

  Chapter Four

  I roll into consciousness in the calm, easy way I always do when well-rested, especially after a satisfying night of sex. And this had been a completely awesome night of completely awesome sex. Memories make my veins buzz with life, and before I even open my eyes, I’m hoping my morning wood won’t go to waste.

  The pale early sun shining through yellow gauze curtains lends everything a pleasant golden glow. I twist to see if Dima is still asleep. He isn’t. Lying on his back, arms behind his head, he’s staring up at the ceiling. He obviously felt the bed move when I turned toward him, because his gaze darts to mine then returns to contemplate the ceiling.

  “I was lying here and I realized I don’t have a plan of escape.” His gravelly voice is filled with a sort of awed surprise.

  I wait, watching his raised dark eyebrows and glazed, thoughtful eyes. This statement apparently expresses something important to him. The profiler in me wants to press for more. Any insight into his psyche fascinates me. On the other hand, I don’t want to be invasive. I’d prefer he trusted me. I want this…whatever this is between us to continue. So I give a noncommittal, “Really?”

  A small, sheepish smile graces his lips as he glances over again. “Well, I do now. Now that I’ve thought about it. But for a moment there….” His attention goes back to the ceiling. “I obviously feel safe with you. Or you’ve fucked my brains out so thoroughly I no longer retain an instinct for self-preservation. Probably the latter.” He grins at me on the last three words, the corners of his eyes crinkling in real amusement, and my heart, among other body parts, leaps at the sight.

  I crawl halfway onto his chest and kiss him, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, all the while threading my fingers through his silky hair. He’s panting beneath the swarm of kisses, little harsh, breathless puffs, and I pull back to see his expression.

  Reddened, swollen lips, flushed cheeks, wide pupils darkening his eyes. He stares at me with such intense hunger. I want to take him right now, but I also want to make this last. This is the end of our one-night stand. I might never see him again. Slowly, I lower my mouth to lick his eyelids, first the left, then the right.

  “You have the longest, darkest eyelashes I’ve ever seen. And the greenest eyes.” I can’t help saying it; it’s true. Somehow he manages to be both beautiful and rough trade, a sinner and an avenging angel.

  Blushing, he turns his face away, but I take hold of his chin and pull him back. He doesn’t resist, but he’s still blushing and won’t meet my gaze.

  “You don’t like it when I praise you.”

  “I’m not praiseworthy,” he says, his voice very somber. “Not like you.”

  “Like me?” I chuckle. “I’m just doing my job.” I rub my thumb across his reddened, chapped lips. “Your help is what makes my arrest record impressive. You make me a better agent.”

  Gliding his fingers through my hair, he cradles my skull and pulls me down in
to a fond, almost romantic kiss.

  “I wasn’t just referring to your job,” he murmurs against my mouth.

  A surge of warmth and desire pulses through not just my cock but my chest. I want to hold him here like this forever. I want to wake up next to him, go through my morning routine with him, argue about how to roll up the toothpaste tube, and make waffles together on Sundays.

  I smile. “Y’know, this could become a regular thing if you come in from the cold.”

  He disengages from me, raising up on his elbows, and shakes his head, his lips thinning into a grim line. “If I do that, I cease to be of any value to you.”

  Laying my head on his flat stomach, I caress his cheek with the back of my fingers. “No. You’ll just have a different, more personal value to me. A very great value, I might add. Priceless.”

  Dima’s expression is unexpectedly tender. “You’re quite…open about your emotions.”

  “Am I? I suppose. It’s an odd situation here. I’ve only got this one chance to tell you what’s in my mind.”

  He pets my hair, an absent-minded gesture, as though he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. I watch the quick flick of his eyes as he vigilantly checks the windows, the doorway. He probably doesn’t realize he’s doing that either.

  “Are you interested in Trinity Site?” he asks.

  “What?” It takes me a moment to find the intellectual part of my brain. “Oh, The Manhattan Project? Site of the first nuclear bomb detonation? Sure. Why?”

  “It’s on our way out of town.”

  “Our way?” My grin is so wide, my cheeks are going to ache with it. “You’re coming home with me?”

  He cocks his head to the side, raises one eyebrow, and his lips quirk in a half-smile. “My, you’re eager.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s not what I meant. ”

  “Oh.” I don’t do well hiding my disappointment.

  “But I will become your protected source.”

  I lunge toward his mouth, but he’s ready for me, wrestles me onto my back before I can even react, and kisses me ravenously, stealing the breath from my lungs. I’m in heaven.

  Digging my fingers into his back, I tangle my legs with his and enjoy the differing textures—the smooth skin of his back, our hairy legs brushing against each other, the rasp of his stubble against mine as his kisses cover my face.

  Happiness fills me, won’t let me not laugh, although I’m gasping for breath at the same time. Then I struggle to add words. It’s a bit of a mess.

  He stops and leans back a bit to see my face, his expression puzzled. “What?”

  I try again. “Home.... You’ll.... Come with me...some day?”

  Dima smiles. “I shall consider it.” He lowers his head to my ear and growls, “And you’re going to come, with me, about twenty minutes from now.”

  He nips my earlobe and I give a euphoric moan in return.

  In a husky voice, he continues, “And then we’d better hit the road for Trinity, as the owners will be wanting their bed-and-breakfast back.”

  I fall into kissing him like I’ve been doing it all my life. This may be the end of our one-night stand, but it’s the beginning of permanent Christmas.

  ~A Note from the Author~

  Dear Readers,

  Thank you very much for buying my first m/m romance, Desert Tryst. Now I can afford another cup of coffee! Always a cause for celebration.

  If you’ve read any of my other work, you already know I was trying something new to me with this genre and first-person writing style. That challenge developed into something fun and exciting and I’m terribly pleased with the result.

  I hope you enjoy your time with these characters as much as I enjoyed writing them.

  If you’d like to share your thoughts on Desert Tryst with me, I can always be found on Twitter @SusanneSaville.

  Thanks for the coffee!

  Coming Soon from Decadent Publishing

  www.decadentpublishing.com

  Gemini by Catherine Peace

  Chapter One

  “Balls!” Uri screamed. The dials on his console spun out of control while the ship careened toward Goliv, a place he knew all too well. As he breached the atmosphere, sweat beaded on his forehead and his heart climbed into his throat. Not here. Anywhere but here.

  He brought the ship to rest near an encampment. He swiped a hand through his coarse hair and tried to force down the memories of his own imprisonment, working the forge for hours, sometimes days, at a time to thread wire. These nyx would just as soon hold him hostage and demand a ransom from the Embassy. Out in the sticks like this, they’d leave the Embassy no choice. Every human life mattered to them. Even his.

  Or maybe they’d re-enslave him, Komandan or no. Just the passing thought iced his blood.

  It figured Sea Snake would fail him in the nyxen-dominated sector. If Ambassador Stormbringer hadn’t sent him…. He’d give her a piece of his mind later…and then beg forgiveness, as always. After all, she’d protected him from a fate far worse than anything the fish heads might concoct. His freedom belonged to her.

  He ejected and hopped down onto crunchy rock. All around him extended a vast expanse of gray nothing, except for the rock outcroppings that gave the landscape its only visual appeal. A perfect canvas, Ambassador Stormbringer had said. To him, the one advantage Goliv had over every other planet in this sector was its atmosphere. Before the nyx took it over, the Embassy had planned to terra-form it and give humans a better place to live than abandoned space stations or hastily constructed safe zones, but, like with so much, they failed to reach a consensus. Stepping into camp, he spotted one of the nyx in its enormous bodysuit. Damned oversized blowfish. Had to be the result of fish coming out of the oceans millions of years ago to walk on land. “Hail,” he said, hoping his translator chip still worked.

  The alien turned to face him, pulse rifle trained on him. It tensed. “Name.”

  Even through the speaker, he caught the tremor in its voice and bit back a laugh. Must’ve been a new guard, one who somehow didn’t know about the human who’d escaped nyx slavery. Some of the universe’s most creative storytellers claimed that humans were indestructible, meaning Mr. Fishy probably thought the pulse rifle useless and depended on intimidation.

  “My name is Komandan Uriah Jacobs. I’ve had some issues with my ship. Hoping to get some assistance.” The last words tasted like acid; he had to refrain from spitting on the dusty ground.

  The nyx visibly relaxed.

  “Where is your Vodja?”

  “Follow me.”

  ***

  For a species known as the galaxy’s cheapskates, the Vodja’s living space boasted more luxury than he’d ever seen in the Embassy, which surprised him, considering most of the fish considered “warm-blood” luxuries to be useless. Uri had gone to the nyx home world once—more than enough times for him. Lophus, the armpit of the universe as far as he was concerned, had little to no industry; the entire species depended on claiming other planets and exploiting mineral sources or metals or whatever else they found. And because of the limitations from their suits, they had to use slaves to do it.

  He followed Scared-y Nyx back into the meeting room, trying to forget the last time he’d walked this route. Through a child’s eyes, everything had seemed enormous, terrifying. Through an adult’s, it all further enraged him. If he had any hope of getting off this damned rock, he had no choice but to play nice.

  As he entered the meeting room, the guards flanking each side of the nyx leader hesitated, but the blue-scaled blowfish didn’t flinch. “Uri,” it said before introductions were made. “What a surprise.”

  Balls. It’d been a long time since his turn in the fish’s labor camp, but this one had been especially brutal. And somehow, Evirax had become Vodja. Galactic justice at its finest. “A pleasure to see you, too.”

  It hmphed. “Freedom has not been good to you.”

  It’s only a disguise. Making hims
elf look older and grizzled helped him earn respect from the other Komandan, as though he embodied the stories they’d heard about humans.

  “What brings you to my colony?”

  Colony, labor camp, all the same. “Ship malfunction.”

  If these things registered surprise, he had no doubt he’d shocked the hell out of Evirax. “Have your own ship?”

  “Komandan.”

  From the change in the air, he’d impressed his former master.

  “The Embassy’s pirates don’t pass through this sector much. What have you been doing in nyx space?”

  He’d asked himself the same question before his ship decided to retire without notifying him. “The Embassy received reports of some interesting artifacts. They sent me to look into it.” He shrugged. “Didn’t pan out.”

  The fish leaned forward and rested a mechanical arm on its mechanical knee—imitating a human, as though the action put them on equal footing. Even under their control, Uri had always had the advantage. “How about I help you, if you help me?”

  “Help you how?”

  “Give me a cut of your...profits? Half, maybe?”

  Extortion? “When did you become so greedy, Evirax?”

  “The better I do, the better you do.”

  Uri crossed his arms over his chest and pretended his heart wasn’t about to pound through his rib cage. Half his profits? No deal. But he couldn’t get the Snake fixed without Evirax’s help. Damned if he did, probably re-enslaved if he didn’t. “You have a deal.”

  ***

  Shadi splashed cool liquid on her face, though the goop did nothing to alleviate the heat still clawing at her neck and back. Tiny droplets of perspiration barely caressed her skin before evaporating in the forge’s heat. The other workers had already left for the evening, abandoning her yet again to another long night of soldering and threading wires. She stretched her sore fingers and cracked her knuckles. Outside the door, one of the nyx stood guard, ready to intervene if it thought she wasn’t working her fingers to the bone. Though they were tough on all the workers, they were especially hard on her. Over the years, other aliens had come and gone through the forge’s blazing heat, but she hadn’t seen another like her since her brother’s transfer. Still, she held on to Ezra’s promise he’d come for her and rescue her and Shilah from captivity. She just had to hold on a little while longer.