Cimmaron pulled back, releasing him with a popping sound. She’d never wanted to please a man as she wanted to please Tamaki. She smiled and crawled up his body to mash their mouths together in a desperate kiss. Gripping her hips, he lifted her, and she helped him guide his cock to her entrance. A sigh whispered from her as he filled her in exactly the way she craved.
His hands danced across her body creating magic with each caress. She groaned softly, silently encouraging him to dance a seductive tango with her. All she could think about was touching Tamaki and making love with him all night long.
* * * * *
“I had to call for backup,” the security guard said the next evening. “I’ve never seen the like. Not even in vroom addicts and you know how violent they can get.”
Tamaki listened to him, frowning through his explanations of the brawl in the new room on the second floor. The security guard was his best one, but this morn he bore battle scars. Red streaked his bulbous eyes and an angry scratch marred the scales on one of his cheeks. His tunic was in complete disarray, which was highly unusual in the warrior species renowned for their fastidious natures.
Tamaki tapped a quill against a piece of reusable transmit parchment and ignored the splotches of black that splattered across the pristine white. “I understand the couple who hired the room had a violent disagreement and came to blows.”
The security guard nodded then winced. “Yeah. It was a Clart and a Martian, both relatively peaceful races. The Clart female battered the Martian until he lost consciousness. She left via the travel tubes before my team had a chance to intervene.”
“Probably the influence of the full moons.”
His security guard nodded, and Tamaki hoped he was right. They needed the green room for financial viability. He’d had to fight to grab his slice of trade from the other entertainment businesses on Marchant, and he wasn’t about to take backward steps when the club was doing so well.
“Rico and I will double-check the equipment in case there’s a malfunction causing the problem.” The threesome between Rico, Cimmaron and him hadn’t exactly been normal. Hell, Rico still refused to look him directly in the eye whenever they were in the same room.
An abrupt tap sounded on his door before it opened. Rico peered in and relaxed when he saw the security guard.
“Everything seems fine out in the bar. I thought I’d take a ten-min break,” Rico said.
Tamaki nodded. “What about upstairs? Is the new room in use?”
Rico tensed and wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah. No problems.”
The communicator on the security guard’s belt beeped without warning, breaking the uncomfortable silence. The male glanced down and silenced the piercing sound. “Problem, boss. Second floor.”
They glanced at each other before erupting into action. Tamaki and Rico raced after the security guard, taking the stairs up the spiral staircase two at a time. They turned left to head for the new room. It was empty when they arrived. Two ashen-faced security guards waited, silent sentries either side of the door to the green room.
“What happened?” Tamaki demanded.
“Two females hired the room. They left before we could grab them,” one said.
The other shuddered. “There was oozing green blood everywhere. They had sex but it was brutal.”
Something worse than full moons was afoot here. Cursing under his breath, Tamaki issued orders. “Tell the females on reception we’re not hiring out this room again tonight. Rico, schedule the cleaning droid to do the new room first.” He waited for the security guard to leave before returning to his office. Rico followed and once they were both inside, Tamaki shut the door.
He waved a hand at Rico. “Take a seat.” He started speaking again before Rico had taken possession of a chair. Thankfully, his matter-of-fact behavior put his friend at ease. “What do you think the problem is? Any ideas?”
“Most clubbers who enter the room seem to want to have sex.” Rico looked him straight in the eye for the first time since the torrid threesome in the new room. “Even though it’s not what they would’ve done normally.”
Tamaki sighed, his rapid tapping with the quill sending another shower of black over the once-clean parchment. “It seems that way.” He thought of his second bout of sex with Cimmaron and coughed to clear his throat. The sensation jolted the length of his body, making him all too aware of the way he reacted to the Dlog female.
Two dates. One more time and they’d be mates.
Tamaki wasn’t sure how he felt about that. A club manager moved around often, which was why most of them only dated when they took advantage of the club’s amenities. And never with staff because of the rules. He’d botched up both the dating thing and the rules. Good going, hotshot.
“Tamaki!”
Tamaki jerked to attention. “What?”
“Are you all right?” Rico appeared ready to bolt.
Tamaki chuckled. “Relax. I’m not about to jump you.”
“Yeah, my head knows that, but I can’t help it. I’ve never done anything like we did the other night.” He glanced at Tamaki and grinned suddenly. “Not before I met Marianna either.”
“Yeah. Me neither. Come on. We’d better check out the room.”
“Uh-uh. Not in my job description,” Rico said. “I don’t get paid danger money.”
“We’ll wear masks and full suits. It has to be something in the atmosphere that’s making everyone act that way.”
* * * * *
The room appeared warm and welcoming, which was exactly what they’d intended when they drew up the plans and decided on fitting it out.
Tamaki smirked at his friend through the transparent mask he wore over his face. He pushed open the door and stepped inside, his suit rustling loudly. The room looked normal. Tamaki turned to speak to Rico. His friend stood just outside the door, his pale and sweaty face obvious even though the mask.
“Coward,” Tamaki taunted.
Rico nodded and flapped his arms like a chicken. “Bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk.”
“I don’t feel anything weird.” Tamaki strode over to the controls and examined them. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he typed in commands. “Nothing wrong that I can see. You’re the expert with the electronics. Come and take a look.”
Rico brushed past him and ran the electronics through a series of self-tests. “Everything looks fine.”
“Do you feel anything?” Tamaki ventured.
“Nothing. Do you think it’s the suits? That would mean the problem really is transmitted through the life-force conditioners.”
Rico studied the unit that pumped suitable breathing life force for each species through the room, before glancing at Tamaki. The expression on Tamaki’s face brought a scowl. “Aw, shit. I can read your mind. We’re going test it.”
“There’s already gossip about the room. It’s best if we keep as much in-house as possible before we lose customers. We’ll prop the door open. If you feel anything weird, get out.”
“Fuck,” Rico said, but he propped the door open and strode to the middle of the room. “You go first.”
Tamaki took a deep breath. His gut crawled with apprehension despite his casual attitude. He wasn’t too happy about the situation himself. He counted silently to three and ripped off his mask. Seconds later Rico did the same. They stared at each other in total silence. Tamaki took another cautious breath. The life force they were breathing seemed okay. There were no weird scents.
Without warning, it hit. A wave of lust that buckled his knees with its intensity. “Out,” he gasped.
“But I want…” Rico backed up, his eyes glowing with desperate need. “Don’t wanna seem overfamiliar,” he ground out, his face screwed up in torment. “But you have the sexiest butt.”
“Marianna,” Tamaki gasped. He jerked his gaze off Rico and struggled with the multitude of feelings crashing through his body. His blood thundered through his veins. His heart slammed against his ribs, and his hands shoo
k with the need to stroke Rico’s face, his skin. He wanted to kiss his friend in the worst way.
Wasn’t gonna happen. Was. Not. Going. To. Happen. “Out,” he ordered. “You first.”
Rico edged toward the door, but Tamaki could see it was a huge struggle. Rico swallowed loudly and licked his lips. Tamaki followed the movement avidly before he realized what he was doing. He ripped his gaze away, his body in a hot sweat. His cock thrust against the coveralls he wore, reminding him of the urgency to mate. The thought pierced his confused brain. If he weren’t damn careful, he’d end up mated to his best friend. “Out!” he hollered.
The blast of sound prodded Rico to action. He attempted to walk but fell. With an anguished groan, he crawled across the synwood floor. Tamaki watched his slow progress and fought the urge to race across to his friend and drag him into his arms.
Aghast at the direction of his thoughts, he attempted to dredge up Cimmaron’s face. Her almond-shaped eyes and the flash of gold that captivated him every time he saw her. He fought his need to go to Rico, concentrating on Cimmaron and how she felt in his arms, the smooth flow of skin across skin, the glide of lips. Her taste. Tamaki shuddered. Oh yeah. She tasted mighty fine.
Suddenly, the blinding need for sex died. He inhaled deeply and turned to the door. Rico stood just outside the room, gulping in huge drafts of fresh life force.
“You okay?” Tamaki called.
“I am now. You?”
“As soon as you were outside, the urge to mate stopped.”
Rico scowled. “Houston, we have a problem.”
* * * * *
Rico plonked onto a chair in front of Tamaki’s desk and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Business is down on the second level.”
“Yeah. The receptionist said it had been quiet. The rumors are flying faster than a Naxmus fighter ship.” Tamaki leaped to his feet and paced back and forth behind his desk. “If only I could find the cause. It’s ticking me off. I know the problem is something to do with the life-force conditioning unit, but I’ve changed the machine, the filters and every other conceivable part. If I’m on my own, I’m fine, but the moment someone else enters the room, all I can think of is sex.” Tamaki paused. “You don’t want to know what I nearly did to the droid,” he added wryly.
“What are you going to do?” Rico asked.
Tamaki sat on the corner of the desk and was pleased his friend didn’t jump out of his skin. Things were almost back to normal now that they knew their behavior had been chemically induced somehow. “I’ll be upstairs in the room. I’ve been leaving the door open while there are no customers around, so if you need me, holler from the door. I thought I’d go through everything once more before I go to the experts. You don’t need me down here.”
“No, we’re fine. I didn’t approve of hiring Cimmaron initially, but she’s a damn fine bartender. Patronage has increased on this level since she arrived.”
A pang of jealousy shot through Tamaki. While Rico had finally returned to normal behavior, Cimmaron was avoiding him. Normally he would have taken it on the chin, mentally shrugged, and moved on. After all, what did he want with a mate? He didn’t need problems with his bosses or termination of his contract for fraternization. Yet a part of his mind hungered for her touch, her laugh and smile.
God, he missed her sassy tongue and no-nonsense plain speaking. Cimmaron didn’t play games, which was why he was trying to do the right thing and keep away. It wasn’t easy when she continually dwelled in his mind.
Chapter Seven
Cimmaron let herself out the front door of the boarding house and pulled the door shut, tugging to test it was firmly closed. The local youths were in their normal place on the steps of an old warehouse. They had taken to calling her names whenever she passed, but the harassment didn’t go further than the insults. She marched past, her nose proudly tilted upward, but not far enough she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. The leader sneered, and Cimmaron allowed her upper lip to curl with answering disdain. Childish but necessary if she wanted to win the silent battle waging between them.
“Hear there trouble at club,” he called.
His friends cackled like a group of broody Martian hens, nudging each other with their elbows. The leader smirked proudly, puffing up like a Martian rooster keeping his hens in line.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cimmaron said, barely breaking stride.
“I hear sex good in new room.”
It was the smug satisfaction in his voice, the knowing tone that made her halt and turn to scan his face.
“Good trickie, chica, huh? Don’t get mad, get even.”
Without thought, Cimmaron prowled toward him, ready to choke the truth from his scrawny neck. If he knew anything, she’d get it from him. Damn, she’d had sex twice with Tamaki in that room. Twice.
Not sex, a small voice hummed at the back of her mind. Made love.
She cursed under her breath, her eyes narrowing as a wave of rage swept her. She didn’t want a mate. She would not mate, no matter how sexy or how enticing Tamaki was or how he made her motor purr. Her job was pilot, and she intended to fly ships.
The youth’s friends backed away in alarm, leaving the leader isolated—alone and the target of her wrath.
Cimmaron advanced again, stopping close enough for her to smell the vroom fumes exiting with each uneasy breath the leader took. She inhaled and gagged at the stench of sweaty bodies. They obviously subscribed to the latest fad idea—the school of thought regarding cleanliness as unhealthy. She breathed through her mouth, closing out the worst of the reek of unwashed bodies, vroom fumes and fear.
“Tell me,” she gritted out, impatient for answers. She glanced at her timepiece and scowled. Time was wasting. “Tell me now.”
“Bitch,” the leader growled, and before she could grab him, he whirled away. He melted into the shadowed alley that ran between the buildings, followed closely by his friends.
“Phrull.” Cimmaron stared after them for a moment before deciding she’d better head for the club. She’d worm the truth out of them the next time she saw them.
Cimmaron stalked past locals laden with produce who were leaving the late-night market. Did the youths know something or had they heard rumors and decided to capitalize on them? She replayed his words as she dodged a pair of droids pulling a cart laden with Marchant dried vegetables and dehydrated fruits. The leader had talked about revenge. He looked the type who didn’t forgive easily, especially with his pride involved. She gave her timepiece another glance and broke into a run. On arrival at the club, she scanned her finger and the door opened to let her inside.
“Late,” Hulk said.
Cimmaron sneered at him, and Hulk glowered right back. She bit back the urge to grin. The male carried photos of his offspring in his currency belt. She’d caught him showing them to the other security guards. She shook her head, bemusement making her frown. The offspring looked ugly, and she didn’t get why he was so proud, even though his behavior was kinda cute.
“You coming in or ya gonna stay there?”
“I work here,” Cimmaron snapped, instantly more comfortable with their usual repartee. “’Course I’m coming in.” She strode past Hulk and headed for the changing rooms where she’d left her thigh-high boots. In the dressing room, she slipped out of her coat, pulled off her pilot boots and thrust her feet into the hated uniform boots.
She sighed before heading back out to the bar. Her currency didn’t seem to grow much. The pills to suppress her Dlog hormones had arrived at the apothecary a few pars earlier. They were expensive, but she had to have them. Without the pills all her plans would turn to solar dust. At this rate, she was going to remain stranded for many more moon cycles. “Bloody male.”
“Talking about me?”
Cimmaron came to an abrupt halt but not quite quick enough. Her breasts brushed the hard wall of Tamaki’s chest before she jerked away. Frissons of heat ricocheted through her body, traveling through
her breasts and lower to her sex. She gasped, trying to control her wayward hormones. A soft chuckle snapped up her head, and she glared at him.
“Don’t touch me.”
“I didn’t mean to. I thought you saw me coming.”
She bit the inside of her lip in consternation. She should have noticed him standing there. Working in this bar was making her pilot instincts fade, turning her soft and girlie.
“I’m late,” she snapped.
Tamaki merely grinned. “I don’t think the boss will dock your currency earnings. Do you want to have dinner with me?”
Cimmaron gaped at the very idea. “No.”
Tamaki reached out and brushed his hand over her cheek before she had an inkling of what he intended. Another series of lightning bolts shot through her body until she finally reacted and stepped away. It was becoming difficult to resist him. So hard, when he smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Her thoughts constantly drifted to him, and she…she liked him, enjoyed spending time with him, verbally sparring and the kisses…
“You have to eat. Besides, I don’t want to mate with you,” Tamaki said. “I thought we were friends and you might like to share a meal.”
“I don’t have friends.” What was wrong with the man? Why wouldn’t he leave her alone? Every other male she encountered backed off once she’d made it clear she wasn’t interested. Also glowering helped, except her scowls didn’t work on Tamaki. He just grinned, melting her militant mood and molding it into pleasure and acceptance instead.
“I’m your friend, Cimmaron. I’m going to work in the green room. Page me when you’re on a dinner break and I’ll come down.” Raising a hand in farewell, he walked away, leaving her staring after him.
The loud buzz of a Marchant midge made her realize her mouth hung open in invitation. She snapped it shut so the insect didn’t fly inside and hurried off to the bar, trying to outrun her jumbled thoughts.
“You’re late,” Rico said.
“Blame Tamaki. He wanted to talk.” Phrull, he wanted to be friends. Cimmaron shook away her horror. “What do ya want?” she said to a waiting pilot.
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