by Jean Johnson
Curiosity prompted to her to ask, “Now what?”
“Now I kiss you.”
Evanna watched avidly as he shifted to match actions to words. He didn’t start with the obvious, though. Instead of going straight for her mouth or her loins, he lifted her right leg and pressed his lips to her ankle. Pressed slow, succulent kisses up the inside of her calf. Lingered at her knee and licked her inner thigh. Just as she started to squirm in anticipation, he retreated and caught her other ankle, beginning his salutations all over again.
By the time he finally claimed her lower lips, Evanna wondered why the hell she’d ever thought anyone at the logical, passionless, work-only Lunar Intelligence Trust was a genius. Particularly for throwing passion out of life. Yes, it disrupted her concentration. Yes, it destroyed her ability to think. But this was worthwhile, even if it never spared a single ship in combat. Her colleagues and so-called superiors were all idiots. Every last one of them.
More than that, this man was the right man with which to research all the things she’d missed so far in life. Evanna was sure of it. He was just like her: dedicated, methodical, and thorough. Knowledgeable, skillful—a veritable genius. Particularly as he gently inserted his finger, working it into her in a way that taught her hips—or perhaps just reminded them—a movement she instinctively knew was as old as life. Every touch of his hands, his tongue, and his lips drew her deeper into the mysteries of her own body, and she wanted more of it.
He was certainly good enough to turn that twisting feeling of pleasure inside of her into an explosion of bliss. Particularly when he eased a second finger inside, curled both of them up, and fluttered against something that sent her mind reeling with explosions of pleasure. Nor did he seem to mind when she grabbed at his head, alternately tugging and pushing and pulling, encouraging the swirling flicks of his tongue. A tiny, somewhat still rational corner of her mind worried that the shouts and cries he evoked from her were going to disrupt the other vacationers, but the rest of her did not care. In fact, part of her hoped they could hear her all the way back on the Moon, enjoying her freedom to its fullest and then some.
It helped that Victor kept at it until her belly was a cramped, trembling knot. Only when she was panting and flushed, soaked with her own sweat, did he climb onto the bed and stretch out beside her. Smiling, he soothed her flesh with gentle strokes of his left hand. The other, she noted when she pried open her eyes, propped up his dark-haired head. As her panting eased, she could hear the pattering of the rain outside and the slow, steady breathing of the man lounging smugly at her side. Once again, he looked controlled and calm, save for the wild life visible in those golden brown eyes . . . and the lump in his pants now prodding at the side of her hip.
Her mind, briefly quieted by passion, leaped into action. By the time her breathing had calmed and her abdomen no longer spasmed, she had picked through several possible choices. Evanna drew in a deep breath and let it out as a deep sigh.
Victor quirked one of his brows. “Well? Do you like being kissed that way?”
Evanna snorted. “Even an idiot would like that, and I’m no idiot.”
“No, you’re not,” Victor agreed. His left hand stroked up from her stomach to her breasts, gently cupping one, then the other.
As pleasant as that was, Evanna focused on a more rational thought than passion. It wasn’t easy with his thumb circling her nipple, but it was necessary. “But . . . I do need to know something.”
“Ask,” he prompted, wondering what she had on her mind. And wondering if his touch was effective enough if she could still think so much while he was caressing her.
“How much time are you willing to spare toward researching passion with me?” she asked. His smile broadened, making her frown defensively. “I’m serious, Victor! I’m asking you because I tried kissing your cousin yesterday, while he was showing me where the restroom facilities were on board your ship.”
Victor stilled. He did not like the sound of that, and wondered at the strength of his reaction.
“As obliging and skillful as he was, I didn’t like kissing him,” Evanna stated. She watched him relax slightly, glad she had made the attempt, since it had helped secure preliminary confirmation of a hypothesis she was currently pondering. “It was much more enjoyable with you. I therefore see no reason to search farther afield when it’s clear you and I interact very well. Which leads me to wonder if you feel the same way.”
“I do.” He flushed a little at the words, recognizing their significance, but otherwise didn’t let himself react to the idea forming in his mind.
“Good. So, if we’re both agreeable . . . would you be willing to extend our research association? I mean, beyond this visit in the woods?” she asked.
“Of course.” He didn’t have to think about it. He already knew that he wanted to spend more time with her. Giving the future a moment of thought, he shrugged. “I suppose I could let my cousin buy out my share of the ship and maybe find a job ferrying supplies locally to and from the institute . . . presuming they’ll forgive me for helping you escape.”
Evanna blinked. “The institute? I was going to ask if I could have one of the spare crew cabins on your ship converted into a hologram lab.”
That made him blink and stop his gentle caresses on her abdomen. “A hologram lab?”
“Yes, a hologram lab,” she repeated. “Most of my work is done in the hologram lab.”
“But . . . what about the bismuth isotope?” Victor asked.
“Well, I do follow up holographic theory with hands-on applications, since even the best of computers can synthesize chemical reactions only so far. Real chemical interactions have an element of unpredictability . . . for all that that particular element isn’t found on the periodic table,” she quipped, pleased when his mouth curled up, enjoying her joke. “But that only happens for a few days a month, and usually it consists of me handing off projects to various lab workers, and overseeing a repeat of the occasional promising result.
“I’d need one or two crew quarters on board the Închiriat to install the processors and projectors into—and of course a mini hydro-generator to power them, to keep from draining the ship’s energy needs—but you do have four empty crew quarters, and your cousin said it was rare for you to take on passengers, so it’s not like you actually need them.” She paused as he thought about it, then asked, “Or am I presuming too much about our future interactions?”
“No, no,” he reassured her. “You’re not presuming too much. I wouldn’t object to that plan in the least. Particularly since I know you’d get to have a real life outside of your work that way. I’d guarantee it personally . . . though I think I’d have to change the name of the ship if you joined me on it.” He slid his hand back down to her stomach, teasing her navel with the edge of his thumb. “No, I’m just wondering what your employers would think of you moving all that industry-sensitive information out of their control.”
“They can stuff it down the nearest black hole if they do have a problem with it,” Evanna told him bluntly. “I am not going back to living my life on a glass hill. You’ve ridden up its slopes to rescue me, and I am suitably thankful . . . and I’ll thank you even more if you’ll continue to help me learn all the things I’ve missed out on. But I’m not going back to a prison. If they want my genius to give them their technological advances, they’ll have to deal with my terms from now on. Those depositions you gave me will ensure it, one way or another.”
Pleased his princess was determined to retain and enjoy her freedom, Victor leaned down and kissed her. To his surprise, she pushed him back. At his puzzled look, Evanna smiled and switched from pressing on his chest to caressing it with her palm.
“My turn. And I must point out that you are inappropriately attired for our little research endeavor.” Sliding her hand down, she explored the placket of his silver pants. The corner of her mouth quirked up. “As a lifelong, dedicated scientist, I must insist on following the established procedur
es and protocols. At least, for the initial experiments. Which means the last of your silver armor must go.”
Grinning, Victor complied. I see I’ll have to teach her how to speak sexily instead of scientifically, but the way she’s approaching this so far is enthusiastic enough to be amusing.
No sooner had he shucked his pants and undergarments than she tugged him down onto the bed on his back. Pleased by his compliance, Evanna leaned over him and kissed his chest. Some of the vids she had watched hadn’t covered this, but some of the literature had. He also smelled too good not to wonder what he tasted like.
Mmm, salty, and musky . . . and warm. I like it. Lapping her tongue across his pectoral muscles, she blinked as he shuddered and sighed. What was . . . ? Ah, the nipple. If he liked that, would he like . . . this?
Flicking her tongue across the tiny little bud made him groan and bury his hands in her upswept hair. Somewhere between him cupping her head and her sucking on his flesh, circling each nipple with her tongue, he managed to pluck out her hairpins, scattering her locks across his chest. Victor stroked her hair back from her face, allowing her to switch to his other areola. His moans faded, until all she could hear was the sound of the rain pattering on the roof of their rented cabin.
A glance upward showed why he was now so quiet. His lower lip was caught between his teeth, his face taut with silent strain. She peppered kisses down to his ribs, then licked those. His lip popped free with a chuckle, then with a squirm. The hands cupping her scalp pushed gently away, silent warning that he wouldn’t tolerate being tickled for much longer. Grinning, Evanna kissed lower, enjoying the way his stomach tightened, defining each muscle group.
His muscles weren’t the only firm thing about him. Up close, she saw that his shaft wasn’t particularly long, but it was thick, and it had a slight curve. Wrapping her fingers around it proved it was warm and satin-soft on the surface, with a firmness that belied its earlier, softer state. She knew she would have to look into the physiological reasons for the change—out of pure curiosity—but that would happen later. For now, empirical research, the hands-on, direct sort of exploration, was her main goal.
Except she hadn’t ever done this before. Seeking reassurance, Evanna glanced up. Most of his face showed signs she was pleasing him, in the flush of his cheeks, the curve of his lips, but it was his eyes that really glowed. Not quite wild, but definitely alive. Rippling her fingers, she experimented until he groaned and bit his lower lip again, head dropping back onto the bedding.
I wonder . . . Bracing herself on her side, she cupped his shaft in her hand and leaned down over his chest. A swirling lick of her tongue made him growl and shudder. One of the hands caressing her hair flopped down onto the mattress, fingers clenching and crumpling the covers.
That was interesting. Ever the researcher at heart, Evanna decided to switch position. Squirming on the bed, she shifted her head to his groin and her other hand to his chest. Except the dusting of dark hairs on his legs demanded to be explored, so she slipped her fingertips down onto his thighs and played with the different textures, soft skin, crisp curls, and warm flesh. Very warm, in certain places.
Her explorations made him shift and part his legs, made him moan softly and caress her own thighs, until he shifted onto his side and lifted her knee, making room for his head between her thighs. Confronted with the change in their positions, and the shaft prominently, conveniently placed, Evanna tentatively licked him. He groaned louder and kissed her fervently, encouraging her to do more.
Giving in to this new hunger, Evanna gave and received as much pleasure as instinct could provide, with scent and sound, taste and touch combining until she was rendered helpless with bliss. Shuddering, she slumped on the bed. She tried to return the pleasure but wasn’t sure if she was doing it right, until he cupped her hand in his and showed her the best ways to rub and stroke. It was close to what she had done, but she knew she had a lot more to learn.
With her lower body freed from his distracting attentions, Evanna shifted position so that he could lie back and she could watch their combined hands manipulating his shaft. When she dipped down and kissed the tip of him again, he growled and arched his back. Barely warned in time, she pulled back, watching him climax, from the trembling tension in his muscles to the wetness spilling over her fingers, to the way his hips bucked up into her touch. His fingers coaxed hers into gentling their grip, until with a last, mutual stroke, he tugged her palm free.
Bringing her damp knuckles up to his lips, Victor saluted them with a kiss. His breathing was still deep and unsteady, but the gleam in his eyes was both lively and calm. “Absolutely brilliant. You did that very well. I think you have a natural aptitude for passion.”
“You have a natural aptitude for teaching it,” Evanna replied. Squirming again, she righted herself in relation to him and eyed her damp hand. He grinned and helped her wipe it on his chest.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said dismissively as she started to protest. “In fact, if you do it right, lovemaking can be quite messy.”
“I’ll defer to the expert,” she conceded. “You’re quite talented, you know. And brilliant yourself. I wouldn’t settle for anything less in a research partner. I, um . . . hope you’re willing to help me research all manner of things,” she added. “Not just passion, but other aspects of social interaction. Like how do men and women live together, and which side of the bed do we each sleep on, and things like that.”
He grinned. She was definitely enjoying her freedom and definitely enjoying it with him. “I’d be honored. I do have one request, though.”
“Oh?” Evanna asked, curious.
“Yes. Could you . . . well, dare me to love you?” he asked, flushing as he did so, but forging on anyway. “I can’t resist a good dare when it involves a beautiful, fascinating, compelling woman.”
Blushing herself, Evanna grinned. “All right . . . but I won’t dare you to love me. I’ll dare you to love me forever. If it’ll help, I’ll take that dare, too, regarding you. Or at least give it a try.”
Victor grinned. Moving the hand resting on her stomach, he slid it up to her small breasts, cupping the far one. “I’ll take that bet with you. But first . . . we still have a lot more to research in the realm of hands-on passion. Quite a lot more. These things must progress in their proper order, after all.”
“I’ll defer the progression of these particular lab experiments to the expert,” she granted airily. Then she glanced down his chest to his legs and the flesh she had enjoyed. “I do have one question, though.”
“Only one?” Victor teased.
She rolled her eyes. “Only one for now, if you insist on my being accurate. No, sorry, two questions.”
“A good researcher always strives for accuracy. So, what are your questions?” Victor prompted as she twisted onto her side, propping her own head on her hand, mirroring his pose.
“The first one is, if that was how you kissed my lips while you were wearing copper, and this is how you kiss my loins when wearing silver, what kind of a kiss will you give me when you’re wearing your suit of gold?”
He smiled slowly. Wickedly and yet warmly, too. “I think I’ll save that particular kiss for our wedding day.”
Her breath caught and her heart felt like it stopped, if only for a moment. Leaning in close, he kissed her, restarting it. Wrapping her free arm around his ribs, Evanna kissed him back with everything she had. Not until she was flat on her back, panting with re-aroused passion and squirming with desire for more, did he release her lips.
“And the other question?” Victor asked, barely remembering it in time. What he wanted to do was part her thighs with his own and finish introducing her to all the delights of researching passion. But her question was important to her, which made it important to him.
“Hmm? Oh! Yes. The other question. You said if I joined you to live on board the Închiriat, you’d have to change its name. Why, and what to?” she asked, curious.
“
Well, Închiriat means Rented in Romanian,” he explained. “I own the ship sixty-forty with my cousin Ston. I’m the one who picks which cargos we will carry around the system, and I have the right to name it. But with you on board, you would own me, as well as being my most precious cargo on board . . . and that means it should be renamed Vandute.”
Hands straying down to his buttocks, Evanna prompted, “And that word means . . . ?”
He leaned down and kissed her lips in a soft, brief salute. “Sold.”
Snow White and the Seven Dwarves
Author’s Note: Okay, I did it. I apologize, but yes, I deliberately lied to my readers and withheld information. I told everyone that I didn’t have any plans to revisit the Isle of Nightfall and its eight famous brothers; I did it to avoid people pestering me for “sneak peeks” at what I was writing next. But as you can see, I did have plans, muahahahaa! All right, technically this isn’t the Isle of Nightfall . . . but it does take place about half a year after the events at the end of the Sons of Destiny series. Don’t go looking for a lot of action from the Corvis boys and their wives, though; their story is done, and we have tales of new heroes and heroines to focus upon and explore. (I just wish I’d had more room than this to explore the city of Menomon and its culture!)
THEY were at it again. Being unabashedly frothy. She could hear them through the balcony doors.
Well, not all of them, Nevada acknowledged with a sigh. Dar-shem is asleep in the back bedroom because he’s on the night shift, and Rogen is late getting back from his work on the day shift at the desalinator site . . . but there go Cotter and Baubin . . . No, wait, those are Kristh and Talladen. Talladen always does that little wail thing whenever he realizes he’s getting loud. Mainly because it embarrasses him to think of anyone overhearing them . . .