She was staring at him with wide eyes.
"What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
At last she seemed a typical female, making him guess her true thoughts. "I can leave my clothes on, if you will it so."
"No, I..." She licked her lips. "I was just surprised. You have a great chest."
Was that the kind of remark she gave to men who paid her? No, she sounded far too confused to be repeating a practiced phrase. Confused but sincere. Perhaps she was surprised to find enjoyment in looking at a man.
Her steady stare almost made him self-conscious. His body was nothing special, merely lean and moderately fit. "Dim lights twenty percent." The lights went down to a soft glow.
He kicked off his boots, took his pants down quickly, then slid into the bed, facing her on his side. She moved, pressing her body against his. So warm and soft. Even through the filmy shirt she wore, her breasts teased his chest. His very ordinary chest.
She sighed, her breath raising nerve endings where it rushed over his shoulder. "Mmm. Nice."
Yes, she felt nice in truth. Nice and warm. Nothing like the other women he'd pleasured.
He stroked her back slowly, letting her get used to his body. Giving her a chance to change her mind.
The torn fabric of her shirt caught on his hand. An unpleasant reminder of the men locked up in confinement.
"I can comfort you better if you take this off." Good. His voice hadn't betrayed his anger.
"All right."
She managed to struggle out of the shirt without leaving the cover of the blanket.
Unfortunate. He wanted a look at those pert little breasts. Soon.
But he felt them, felt them as she pressed her chest to his, as she rubbed her nipples against his skin.
His hand found her chin, tilting her face up for a kiss. Oh, what silky lips. He licked at them, teased them, until her mouth opened and his tongue could slip inside. She tasted minty, like an exotic spice he'd long forgotten.
Delicious... sweet but spicy.
Cinnamon. Yes, she tasted like cinnamon.
He kept the kiss gentle, kept his tongue soft, kept his hands light so she could pull away if she wanted to. Gods, he hoped she didn't want to. He licked the inside of her mouth with shallow strokes, feeling the sharp edges of her teeth. Heat pooled in his root. His cock. That was the English word.
Her tongue came alive, fluttering in his mouth with delicate little thrusts. He cupped her cheek, felt her jaw move as she met the eager motions of his mouth. Her fingers wove through his hair.
Suddenly she broke the kiss, gasping.
Her eyes were wide. What...
Ah. His cock, hard and heavy, was pressed against her thigh. An unconscious act on his part, trying to ease himself.
He stroked her hair gently. "Don't worry. It won't go anywhere without your consent."
Her cheeks blazed with color, and he grinned. She was such a shy little thing. At least with him. Maybe it was just a reaction to what she'd been through tonight.
He had to ask. "Are you certain you want this?"
She nodded. "You're exactly what I want."
Her hand came up to stroke his chest. She touched him lightly, hesitantly, as if she didn't know exactly what to do, and she watched her hand move over his skin as though she was amazed by her daring.
He mirrored the motions of her hand with his own, stroking her breasts ardently. She closed her eyes, turned her face away. Hiding from him.
But not resisting.
He managed to ease the blanket a little lower as he fondled her breasts. They were small but nicely shaped, rounded and firm. And her areolas were huge, the largest he'd ever seen. He traced the velvety texture with his fingers, then strummed her hard nipples. Her breath came faster, and she bit her lip, but kept her eyes closed.
Since her lips were so far away, he kissed her neck instead. She drew in a sharp breath but didn't pull away. No, praise the gods, she lifted her breast more firmly into his hand.
He didn't want to rush this... didn't want to rush her... but those hidden legs tempted him beyond all restraint. He stroked slowly down her stomach... over her hip, still covered by her scrap of a skirt... then to her thigh. Oh, yes. Silky hot skin over yielding flesh and firm muscle -more enticing than he'd imagined. He'd never felt anything like this warm, hairless leg.
He couldn't rip the blanket off -- not yet -- couldn't give himself the visual feast, but he'd had a good, long look earlier. He could imagine these legs, could picture what she'd do with them. First she'd part them for his hungry mouth... and he'd pillow his head on this strong thigh while he ate her tender sex. And when he rode her, she'd wrap these eager legs around his hips. Yes.
Yes, he'd ride her. Prendarian women preferred to take the dominant position themselves, but Daria wasn't a Prendarian woman. He'd ride her... and she'd find pleasure in his rhythm.
But she had to be naked. Now. He tugged her skirt down, and a scrap of an undergarment went with it. She helped, kicking her clothes off somewhere deep under the blanket. She held the blanket up to her waist, hiding those luscious legs from his gaze -- but not from his touch. He kept his hand on her thigh.
He found her breasts with his mouth, suckling while he stroked her leg, and she held his head against her, tangling her fingers in his hair, holding him as if she'd never let him go.
He waited for an age... he waited forever... just suckling her breasts, occasionally nipping at her neck, one hand teasing her hip, her thighs, until she was whimpering and squirming and lifting her hips a little. Then he reached between her legs.
She felt wet and hot... unbelievably hot. His fingers slipped easily over all that wet skin, parting her, dipping deep, teasing her bud with light, rapid strokes of his thumb.
He'd torment her until she begged. Then he'd settle in and find her rhythm.
Suddenly she gave a sharp, wordless cry and froze, but before he could speak, before he could even lift his head, she climaxed with long, shuddering spasms, clutching at his back as if he was the only solid thing in the world. Gods, he'd never seen a woman climax so quickly.
Or so deeply.
He lifted his head to see her face. Even with her eyes closed, she looked dazed. Confused. Like she hadn't expected to climax at all.
No doubt she rarely did. Not with men who paid her for their pleasure.
Selfish rumaariti, all of them.
His root was achingly hard, pressed against her smooth thigh, but he'd never been more satisfied. He'd given her pleasure. Pleasure that had taken her by surprise.
And now he'd give her even more.
* * * * * Daria opened her eyes and found him -- Gray... the target... God, the man who'd saved her life -- gazing at her with a satisfied smile on his face. She wanted to slap him. To slap that arrogant smile off of his face.
But it wasn't really an arrogant smile. He didn't look triumphant; he didn't look like a man who'd just made an easy conquest. No, his smile seemed... genuine. Tender. Like he was simply happy to have given her pleasure.
And he had.
Even his eyes were lit up with that smile, those stunning golden brown eyes, more compelling in person than in any of the holo-projections she'd studied. Amber eyes. And like amber, his eyes held secrets.
She knew most of them. But he didn't know it. And he didn't know that she had secrets of her own.
His fingers, the fingers that had brought her to a shattering climax, were still nestled between her legs. One finger was even partially inside her, a subtle invasion of her body, staking a claim. She felt unbearably exposed, looking into his smiling eyes while his hand rested on her most private parts. She couldn't think of a single thing to say.
She'd been prepared to fuck him to stay close to him. She'd steeled herself to endure it. To fake pleasure at his touch. To hide her revulsion, her hatred.
She hadn't been prepared to enjoy it.
Nothing could have prepared her for the way he'd kissed her. The way he'd touched her.
Why couldn't he have jumped on her like a horny space-sailor, fucked her quickly, and left her mildly disgusted? She'd expected him to treat her like a whore. Why did he have to treat her like a... like a lover?
He'd made a traitor of her body. And she'd gone down without a fight.
When he lifted his hand away, she almost thanked him for letting go. But he brought his fingers to her breast and rubbed wetness over her nipple. Even though she'd just climaxed, his wet fingers made her tingle.
His head dropped to her chest, his mouth closing over that nipple and suckling. Hard and deep. God, her breasts were excruciatingly sensitive. No one had ever played with her like this. Not after she'd climaxed.
She lifted herself against his sucking mouth and felt his chuckle deep inside her breast.
Enough. She needed to satisfy him. That was the whole point of sleeping with him. To make him want to keep her... just until she found a way to finish her mission.
She pushed at his shoulder. "I want to touch you."
He rolled off of her and settled on his side, facing her. "As you will."
An odd way to say "OK," but that must be what he meant. She stroked his chest, let her hand wander down to his belly, felt his muscles tense. Leaning closer, she kissed his neck, then gave him a little bite. His breath caught; she felt it against her lips. She kept going, laying down a ring of nips and kisses on his neck. He'd have a few hickeys to hide in the morning.
His fingers wove through her hair, holding her close. She moved her face down to his collarbone, ran her hand down his taut stomach, then back up again. Why did he have to have such a great chest? Tanned and broad, just enough hair to tease her skin with masculine roughness. Not too broad, not too muscled. Just... perfect. She followed the trail of hair down to his navel, dipping into his bellybutton.
She kept her face against his neck as she reached lower and found his cock. God, he was hot. Hot and hard... and longer than she'd expected. Not that she'd known what to expect. Her lips quirked up in a smile. That information hadn't been in the files she'd studied.
She wrapped her hand around him and gave a tentative stroke. Would he like it hard and fast? Soft and slow?
A firm hand caught her wrist before she could do more. "No."
"Why not?"
He rolled her to her back and bent his head to her breasts, licking across a sensitive nipple. "Because you'll make me climax too quickly, dahsh'kara."
She didn't know that alien word. And she didn't care to. But she couldn't muster up any outrage at him for speaking in that hateful alien language, not with his mouth on her breasts, planting sucking little kisses on her straining nipples.
She whimpered. God, she shouldn't feel this good. Not with him. Not with a collaborator. "Stop. Let me..." She could barely think. "Let me touch you."
"I'm not done touching you yet."
"But I already..." Her face heated. Ridiculous, considering she was naked in bed with him. Even at twenty-seven, she still blushed like a nervous virgin. "I already came."
She felt him smile against her breast, but he didn't lift his head. "Yes, dahsh'kara, you certainly did. But only once."
Could he possibly be serious? "Once was..." He nipped at her breast, just hard enough to sting her gently with his teeth. "Oh! Once was fine." Understatement. "Once was more than I expected."
He chuckled. "I won't settle for less than three."
"Three?" She'd heard rumors about Prendarian women -- insatiable sex maniacs, every one of them, or so the legends said. She'd never believed those stories.
"At least three," he murmured. "And you'll find me very determined. Best for you to accept my will."
"What's the most..." No, she didn't want to know. She didn't want to be interested in his past. Or in him.
"The most times I've seen a woman climax?"
Well, since he'd guessed... She nodded.
But he couldn't see her nod. He was still nuzzling at her breasts, flicking the hard tip of his tongue over an even harder nipple.
"Yes," she said on a gasp.
"Five."
"Five?" God, he must be a tireless lover... and an arrogant one, for sure. Her mouth hung open. She closed it quickly, even though he hadn't lifted his head.
"Mmm-hmm." She felt him smile again, probably at her astonishment. "Fear not. I'm certain you can exceed that record."
Hell, two would be a record for her. But she wasn't averse to faking them. Not if it kept him happy. Not if it kept him wanting her.
She'd planned on faking one anyway. So much for that plan. He'd barely touched her and she'd gone off like a barrage of missiles.
She felt his tongue, so hot, wet and raspy, licking across her breasts, from one to the other and back again.
His hair, softer than she'd imagined, slid through her fingers. With his mouth teasing her like this, she couldn't resist him. And why should she? The more he enjoyed himself, the more likely he'd be to keep her with him.
Yes, this was strictly for the sake of the mission. The fact that she wanted it, that she wanted him, that he was working so hard to please her... oh, that was irrelevant. She'd enjoy his wonderful mouth... his wonderful hands...
One of those hands slid over her hip, stroked her bush. She parted her legs shamelessly, and then those curious, knowing fingers were spreading magic over her sensitive clit.
A climax built inside her... inexorable.
Unbelievable.
His hands were wondrous.
He nuzzled his mouth against her neck. "You're very wet, dahsh'kara." His breath rushed over her ear, set her heart racing. "And I'm very thirsty." He teased her earlobe with the point of his tongue. "I'm going to take a long, long drink."