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Three months later
Heidelberg, Germany
Lars twisted from side to side, trying to make certain his tuxedo didn’t have any problems and that the studs and cufflinks were all in their proper holes. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He was smiling like a besotted fool. He’d have to do something about that, or he’d ruin his image for sure.
There was a lot to smile about, though. Tamara had taken to field agent training like a sculptor to a favored medium. She’d made such excellent progress, both he and Garen were positive she’d be ready for simple assignments before the end of the year.
The last three months had been little short of idyllic. They’d spent the first month with Garen and Miranda. Between field drills and physical conditioning during the day, intense, crazy lovemaking every night, and letting their cats out to romp and play, Lars was a happy man. He’d never been so fulfilled, heart, body, and soul. He’d wondered what sort of physical fitness Tamara had chosen to stay in shape. It turned out she biked and ran, plus lifting weights. He’d added pilates and yoga, for concentration and balance, to her regimen, along with target practice.
In early May, they traveled to his home in Heidelberg, and he’d introduced her to Rubicon International’s agents stationed in Europe. Though she’d had conversations with her family, she hadn’t seen them. Lars had spoken with her father to formally request her hand in marriage. The other shifter grumbled, snarled, and told Lars flat out that if his daughter wasn’t happy, he’d personally hunt him down and annihilate him. Both men had laughed after that, but Lars recognized truth when he heard it.
He was a bit nervous about meeting Tamara’s family. All of them were coming for the wedding, even the brothers and sisters from her parents’ earlier lives that she’d never met. While excited by the prospect of meeting more family, Tamara was apprehensive too. Everyone knew she’d avenged Moira’s death, and she was uncertain if they’d laud her or tell her she’d been a fool.
Lars drew in a deep, appreciative breath. He’d have to get moving soon, but he could take a few moments more to daydream about his mate, soon to be his wife. Their relationship had deepened and blossomed. His cock stirred, but then it hardened whenever he thought about her. Beyond the sexual part of their relationship, though, they were well-matched. They both loved exercise and reading and watching old movies on late night television. When he’d admitted he was a closet opera buff, she’d clapped her hands together in delight, and they’d launched into a five hour conversation about various operas, with promises to see every single one over the next few years.
He’d moved well beyond falling in love to being in love. Deeply so. If that pseudo-cop hadn’t pulled him over on his way to the airport and kept him cooling his heels, he’d never have met her. To have something so important reduced to chance chilled him, until he understood someone had been watching out for him that day. If shifters had a god, maybe he or she had taken pity on him, deciding he’d been alone long enough.
A sharp tap sounded on his door just before Garen tumbled into his room. He whistled long and low. “My but aren’t we resplendent. Where’d you get the tux?”
“Back of my closet.”
“Did you check it for moth holes?” Garen circled him like an overactive helicopter.
“Some of us keep mothballs in our armoires.” He held out a hand. Garen clasped it. “Are the guests starting to arrive?”
Garen nodded. He clamped his jaw together, muttered, “What the hell,” and drew Lars into a quick embrace. “I’m so happy for you.” He clapped him on the back and withdrew a few steps.
“Thanks. Who would have guessed a year ago that before twelve months passed, we’d both be mated men?”
“Good point. Are you ready?”
Lars nodded. He and Garen headed for the door at the same time, bumping shoulders before he motioned his oldest friend through ahead of him.
* * * *
Tamara wove lily of the valley into her dark tresses with hands that only shook a little. She’d redone her makeup twice because tears had ruined it. She assessed her dress in the floor-length mirror. It truly was beautiful. Made of heirloom lace and silk, it had been in Lars’ family for hundreds of years. Fine embroidery in pink, blue, and lilac covered the snug bodice. The gown had a dropped waist and hugged her figure from shoulder to hipline. Long, flowing sleeves of sheer silk fell to her wrists. The skirt draped in layers and ended in a train that was so long, she was afraid she’d trip over it in her high heels.
She flexed a foot and took a few tentative steps. Though she’d practiced walking in the shoes in the weeks since she bought them, they were still wretchedly uncomfortable.
“Can I come in?” Miranda called from the other side of the closed door.
“Please.” Tamara turned and grinned at her friend as she slipped into the room. “By all the bloody saints, I’m nervous as a whore in church.”
Miranda threw back her head and laughed. “You’re funny. Do I look okay to be your matron of honor?”
Tamara glanced at the lavender linen suit, silk blouse, and sensible flat pumps. “You look gorgeous. Sure and I’d like to borrow your shoes.”
“Eh, you can kick yours off right after the ceremony. I’m so damned tall. If I wore heels, I’d tower over Garen.”
“He wouldn’t care. I’ve never seen a man more in love, except maybe Lars.”
Miranda snorted. “I know he wouldn’t, but I would. Christ! I’ve felt like an overgrown moose my whole life. I hit six feet in something like seventh grade. I was taller than everyone—boys too—for years.”
She plucked pins from Tamara’s nerveless fingers and went to work on her hair, weaving more flowers into it. “I’ve never seen Lars so happy. I swear, he’s like a new man. Watching the two of you together has damn near brought me to tears a couple of times, and I don’t cry easily.”
Tamara smiled softly. “Don’t. I cry at the drop of a hat. Sure and I don’t want to start all over on my makeup—again.” She met her friend’s gaze in the mirror. “It has been good. Amazingly so. I never thought I’d fall head over heels in love and have every day just get better and better. It’s not that we don’t have our moments, but he listens to me. And I listen to him. If we can’t agree, we work together to find common ground.”
“Being able to talk is important. Garen and I had hellacious arguments in the beginning, but they’ve thinned out. There.” She handed Tamara a mirror. “What do you think?”
Tamara turned slowly, holding the glass so she could see the back of her hair. “It’s wonderful. Were you a hair stylist in a former life?”
“Nope. I didn’t even have any girlfriends to trade ‘dos’ with in high school. Once I shifted, and my aunt made me feel like shit about it, I kept to myself.”
Tamara’s heart hurt for her friend. Miranda had told her about the dirty, fucking shifter epithets her aunt hurled at her. At least the woman hadn’t turned her in, but Miranda grew up feeling seriously flawed. It was one reason she’d gone into the Green Berets: to prove her mettle, while she hid from the world.
She wrapped her arms around Miranda. “Sure and my family will love you.” Tamara straightened. “Speaking of which, let’s go. I want to get the hugs and kisses with Mum and Da over with before the ceremony. Och, sure and I’ll never get through it without dissolving into tears.”
“Of course you will.” Miranda winked. “Be prepared, though. I saw Lars before I came in here.” She whistled. “Wow! What a knockout that man is in formal clothes. If I wasn’t madly in love with Garen, I swear I’d give you a run for your money.”
Tamara laughed and walked out into the hall. She looped her train around her wrist to keep it out of the way before she tackled the stairs. Lars may have said he lived in a manor house, but it was more like a castle. Ten thousand square feet of marble, leaded crystal, granite, and stone sat atop a hill, surrounded by stables, servants’ quarters, and other outbuildings. It had taken her weeks to find her way around, and she still hadn’t seen either attic or basement. The place was furnished with priceless antiques and thick, Aubusson rugs. Lars assured her he’d bought everything new. His things became antiques by dint of enough time passing.
Halfway down the staircase, her parents’ voices drifted up to her. Tamara tottered down the rest of the way as fast as she could. “Mum? Da?” she cried.
“Right here, sweetheart.” Her da, a huge, strongly muscled man with coal black hair and green eyes, strode toward her and crushed her against him. “Sure and ’tis good to see you again, princess.” He was dressed as formally as she’d ever seen him in a crisp, black suit, an off-white shirt, and a maroon tie.
Tamara didn’t trust herself to speak. She clung to her father, filled with love for the man who’d raised her to believe in herself. It could’ve been so much worse. She might have had dead parents and a bigoted aunt like Miranda’s.
Her mum closed on them in a rustle of pale green long silk skirts with a hip-length ivory tunic atop them. Her blonde hair was braided in an intricate pattern. Blue eyes, exactly like Tamara’s, glowed with pride. “’Tis a beautiful bride you are, darlin’.”
“Och, thanks, Mum. Sure and I’ve missed the two of you.”
“How about me?” Her brother, Devon, flanked by her other three brothers, crowded close.
She shot him a mock frown. “Maybe not you so much.”
“Little sisters always were a pain in the ass,” he declared just before he wormed between her and their da to draw her into a hug.
Tamara caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of one eye. She disengaged herself from her brother’s arms and turned to face Lars and Garen. “Sure and it’s bad luck for you to see me before the wedding.”
“I will take my chances.” Lars grasped both her hands in his and bent to kiss her cheek. “You are so beautiful. I have to be the luckiest man alive.”
“Just so long as you always remember that and treat her like a queen, we’ll have no truck with one another.” Christian MacBride offered his hand. Letting go of Tamara, Lars gripped it.
“Nice to meet you, sir.” He half bowed over their clasped hands.
Christian cocked his head to one side. “One of the old ones, aren’t you? I’d known, but forgotten.” He bowed in return. When he straightened, he said, “Perhaps we can catch a wee bit of time after the ceremony to get to know one another better.”
“I would like that.” Lars hesitated. “It is probably safe enough for us to visit Ireland. I was waiting to see...”
“No need to say anything further.” Christian jumped into the breach when Lars’ words trailed off. He motioned to Tamara. “Come with me. There are quite a few family members who’d dearly love to meet you.”
“Sure and she’ll be with you in just a moment.” Leona took her daughter’s arm and led her a few feet away. “Thanks be to you, darlin’,” she whispered low, “I’ll be havin’ my family whole again. Your da was so afraid if the lot of us gathered, someone would figure out what we were.”
“There’s still that risk,” Tamara whispered back, concern tugging at her midsection.
“Aye, but Christian was willin’ to let the chips fall. He wanted everyone together for your weddin’.”
Tamara kissed her mother’s cheek, inhaling her familiar, soothing fragrance. “I love you, Mum.”
“Aw, darlin’, my darlin’ daughter, not near so much as I love you. Get on wi’ you now. We can throw cake at each other after the ceremony.”
“Och, a fine old Irish tradition.”
Her mother grinned. “That it is.”
Tamara glanced toward where her father stood, surrounded by at least twenty others, maybe a few more.
Sure and those must be all my brothers and sisters.
She hurried to his side, anxious to meet each and every one of them.
* * * *
Lars stepped out onto one of many terraces leading from the second floor ballroom of his home and gazed at the mix of antique and modern that was Heidelberg. The ancient German city had never looked so beautiful to him. The night was warm and clear, an idyllic summer evening for a perfect wedding. The actual ceremony had been brief, performed by a magistrate. Nonetheless, the words had etched into his soul. He would honor, protect, and love Tamara to the end of their days.
“And beyond if I have anything to say about it,” he murmured.
“What was that, my love?” Tamara floated to his side. Swathed in his great-grandmother’s gown, she was unbelievably striking. The dress had needed serious alterations, since Tamara was much taller than women from earlier times, but the seamstress had a deft hand, and the gown looked as if it had been made for her.
He smiled. “I was taking a breather from our guests.”
“Me too.” She laughed, and the sound resonated in his soul. “Neither of us are exactly social butterfly types. I adore my family, but I looked around and didn’t see you, so I came a’hunting.”
“You can hunt me down anytime you want.”
“Truly?”
“Of course. We are mated, and married. It makes me eminently hunt-able.”
“Do you suppose we might live here for a while?”
Something lay beneath her words, maybe longing for the home she was certain she’d lost forever. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “What would please you?”
She drew her brows together. He’d come to recognize her expressions and knew she was taking her time because he’d asked an important question. “I want to stay here and maybe have a country house in Ireland too.” She grinned impishly. “Sure and then when we wanted to get away from this side of the Atlantic, we could visit Garen and Miranda. Och, what else?” Her eyes twinkled up at him. “You could be teaching me how to fly one of the bigger planes. I thought to mention it before—”
“It is not as if we have had large chunks of spare time. Everything you want is not only possible, but easily done.”
“You wouldn’t mind being close to Da and Mum a few weeks of the year? And all those brand new family members we just met.”
“I respect your father. He and I have much to talk about. He has not made a firm decision, but he may return to working for us, particularly since you are part of our operations now.” Lars snorted. “Somehow, I suspect he wants to keep a close eye on you, and determine for himself just how trustworthy I am.”
“Ooooh.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “That would be wonderful. Not the keeping an eye part, but working together. Da is solid. Nothing rattles him.”
“Ja. Garen said as much.” Lars was reluctant to break the mood, but he felt compelled to say, “The work we do is dangerous. Do not forget that part. It is why your father changed careers. Your mother worried herself sick every time he left the house.”
“Dangerous, yes. Sure and it adds a fine edge to living, though. I haven’t felt this alive—ever.” She nodded thoughtfully. “For Mum and Da, I’m guessing they’ll work things out.” She twirled away from him, her skirts billowing, and then waltzed back. When she stopped, she was only inches away. “I’m happy,” she said breathlessly. “So happy it scares me.”
He nodded, feeling suddenly solemn. “I meant every word of our vows, liebchen. Now and always.”
She melted into his arms and twined hers around him. “I haven’t forgotten what you said in bed that night. You told me you’d love me forever and a day, sure and that was when I knew in my heart of hearts I’d marry you.”
“Ja, liebchen, my beloved. I will love you so long as there is breath in my body. When there is not, I will love you still. If that is not forever, I do not know what is.”
She tilted her head back. He closed his mouth over hers. The kiss was tender, sweet, filled with the love coursing through him.
“Och, so that’s where they are.” Christian’s voice boomed. “None of that, you two. You’ll have all your lives to moon over each other.”
“Your da’s right, darlin’.” Leona marched to where they stood. “Just now you’ve guests to attend to.”
Lars straightened and turned Tamara in his arms so she stood by his side. “You heard your kinfolk.” His tone was stern, but he was smiling. “Looks as if we have been remiss.”
“That you have.” Christian fell in next to Lars as the four of them walked back inside the house. “’Tisn’t every day I get a brand new son-in-law. We have toasts to drink, food to share, and tall tales to spin.”
“It is not every day I become part of something this special.” Lars beamed. Gratitude swelled in his chest. “Thank you.”
Christian turned. “For what?”
“The gift of your daughter and the rest of your family.” He met the other man’s gaze. “I was alone for far too long.”
“Sure and you’ll never be alone again.” Christian clapped him on the back.
Leona handed him a glass of champagne and said, “To a long and happy life.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Tamara grinned and picked up a champagne glass of her own.
“Ja. To a long and happy life for us all.” Lars lifted the delicate Waterford crystal flute to his lips and drank.
~~~~~~~
You’ve reached the end of Lars. Other Rubicon International books will be forthcoming, but for now Lars and Garen have closed important chapters in their lives. Both are mated, and RI will continue as a force to be reckoned with.
~~~~~~~
About the Author:
Ann Gimpel is a national bestselling author. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Since then her short fiction has appeared in a number of webzines and anthologies. Her longer books run the gamut from urban fantasy to paranormal romance. Once upon a time, she nurtured clients. Now she nurtures dark, gritty fantasy stories that push hard against reality. When she’s not writing, she’s in the backcountry getting down and dirty with her camera. She’s published over 40 books to date, with several more planned for 2017 and beyond. A husband, grown children, grandchildren, and wolf hybrids round out her family.
Keep up with her at www.anngimpel.com or http://anngimpel.blogspot.com
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Love shifter suspense? Keep reading for a sample from Roman’s Gold, the first book of the Underground Heat series.
Book Description, Roman’s Gold:
Once respected members of society, shifters are running for their lives. In a futuristic world where resources are scarce, Kate uses her human form to work as a sex surrogate. Furious at what looks a lot like genocide for her people, she joins the shifter underground.
Devon’s been a cop for a long time. He has shifter blood, but not enough to change into anything, at least not until the police department insists on a series of infusions to make him better at tracking shifters so they can be imprisoned—or killed.
Devon’s latest assignment is Kate. From the moment he sees her, he can’t get her out of his mind. But she’s the enemy he’s sworn to eradicate. As he tracks her, the line between hunter and hunted explodes.
Against reason and wisdom, Kate and Devon defy the rules. If their passion doesn’t save them, it’ll doom them forever.
Chapter One
Kate Roman sauntered down Telegraph Avenue, the sounds of the constant Berkeley traffic loud in her ears. The city had banned hovercraft when air quality got so bad people needed masks to venture outside. The air still made the back of her throat burn, but at least her eyes didn’t tear up.
She pushed her dark glasses up her nose and wrapped a colorful scarf more tightly around her hair. Someone was following her. She’d caught a whiff of something unusual with her feline senses half a dozen blocks back. Her perceptions weren’t as sharp in her human form, but they gave her a definite edge. Who was back there? Try as she might, she couldn’t identify their scent. She didn’t want to stop and turn around. So long as her pursuer thought himself invisible, he—or she, or it—wouldn’t do anything rash.
She hoped.
Her heart beat a little faster. No cause for alarm. Not yet, anyway. She worked as a sex surrogate, and there had been hundreds of clients over the past several years. Her hair was unmistakable with its bright red tone and warm, golden streaks. Clients sometimes trailed after her. Too shy to approach directly, yet drawn to her because of the best—sometimes the only—sex they’d had in their lives, they just liked to be close. Even though they had no idea she was a shifter, it played into the equation too. Humans were attracted to her animal energy.
Shy clients were one thing. The other options were scarier. Humans had made a big push to get rid of shifters. Because killing them outright would’ve engendered a great hue and cry from personal rights groups, they’d been imprisoned in droves. Conditions were so deplorable, many of her kin had died. Others were desperately ill. Apparently the personal rights groups weren’t into visiting prisons to check on things. Disgust twisted Kate’s features into an annoyed scowl.
Appalled by what was looking a lot like the beginning of genocide, she’d joined the shifter underground, a group masterminding escapes for those like her. Of course, the escapes were only the first step. Once out, shifters almost always needed medical care. They had to be hidden until their magic recovered enough to shield themselves. Many opted for dramatic plastic surgery to obliterate any trace of who they’d been when captured.
Kate blew out a tense breath. She had three post-surgical shifters concealed in the basement of her home in the Berkeley Hills. A coyote, a mountain lion—like her—and a bear were sequestered behind a hidden wall panel. She hadn’t expected them to stay quite so long, and her pantry was almost bare. She glanced at her wrist computer and clicked a few keys. Ration Coupons flashed on the screen, followed by the numerals one and zero.
Shit.
Even if the food was only for her, ten coupons wouldn’t buy much more than a day’s worth, and her account wouldn’t be replenished for another four days at the beginning of the next month. No way around it. She needed to put in an emergency call to the underground, once she got to her office where no one could hear. They had code words for everything, but still...
Kate tilted her head back. Her nose twitched. Whoever was behind her was closer. Not much, but a little. Should she turn around? She glanced at the cross street. Another half block and she’d be at her office. Someone jostled her shoulder. She pulled back, wary of a trap. Kate strengthened the illusion that softened her lengthened incisors and muted the sharp angle of her cheekbones and jaw.
“Sorry,” a man muttered and pushed past.
She stared after him and reached out with a dribble of shifter magic, exhaling sharply.
Just a human. Damn! Definitely not who’d been following her.
Garden-variety cops had genetically-altered enhanced abilities. They smelled different. Trackers, elite police squads targeting shifters, had their own unique scent. She pressed her tongue against her teeth, thinking. What she smelled behind her was different from either of those. Did that mean it wasn’t a cop—or a Tracker?
Not necessarily. He could be using one of their tricks to mask his spoor. Her throat tightened. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
Enough excitement for one morning.
Kate lengthened her stride, loped across the street, taking advantage of an amber light, and took the steps to her office in a renovated Victorian two at a time. She ran her palm over the keypad. The electronics hummed, and the door clicked open. Safely inside, she shut the door and reset the lock.
Annoyance tinged with fear made her stomach roil. Against her better judgment, she turned and peered through a frosted glass side panel next to the thick, carved oak door. Eyes narrowed, she used her feline vision to take a good, hard look at who was walking down the sidewalk. After a couple minutes of nothing, she chided herself for being paranoid.
Kate was about to turn away and get ready for her first client when a man caught her attention. Boy, did he catch her attention. He was tall, maybe six feet four, with broad shoulders and slender hips. Form-fitting jeans, a knitted dark blue top, and a brown leather vest showcased his body as if they’d been made just for him. Well-muscled arms and thighs rippled beneath his snug clothing. Maybe because of her work as a surrogate, Kate focused her gaze on his crotch.
Wow.
If he looked like that soft, he’d have a hell of an erection. Waist-length black hair swirled around him. Dark eyes, set in Native American bone structure, stared right at her building, almost as if he sensed her looking at him.
What was he? Human, but not. Unfortunately, she couldn’t identify much. Wood and glass absorbed most of her magic. Kate moved away from the window. Heat poured through her. Her nipples pebbled into hard points. Whoever was out there was the most sexually-charged man she’d ever come across. Was he the one who’d been following her?
She snorted. Part of her hoped he’d been tracking her—she itched to jump his bones. In spite of being aroused, she felt edgy. He could be a member of the elite Tracker hit squads targeting shifters. Her underground organization had received intel the enemy was using more sophisticated strategies to trap them.
If they start using sex, we’re done for.
Her lips curled into a wry grin. Shifters loved sex. It was a weakness from their animal sides.
“No, it’s a strength,” the mountain cat who lived inside her commented smugly.
“Hold on, sweetie. You’ll get your fix soon enough.”
“I don’t want human sex,” her cat complained. “Find a shifter for us.”
“Enough of this. I have to get ready for my first client.”
Her cat grumbled.
Kate smiled indulgently. She’d dreamed her bond animal like all shifters did when they hit puberty. The animal had picked her, but she’d sealed the deal by accepting it. The cat was a part of her, but its own entity as well. That included having opinions that sometimes diverged from hers.
She consulted her wrist computer. Not much time to spare. Kate walked through her spacious office. Furnished with late nineteenth century antiques to match the building’s architecture, it was a homey place with overstuffed floral couches and chairs and golden oak tables. A small computer desk allowed clients to enter their personal data—or as much of it as they were comfortable divulging. Unlike the world’s oldest profession, men actually needed a doctor’s referral to see her. Kate liked it that way. She’d never had problems with any of her clients. The doctors screened them for diseases before sending them, which was another plus, though not exactly necessary. Virtually all the men who came through her door were virgins, and she was immune to human ailments.
A lush bedroom with a four-poster bed and an inventive assortment of toys sat behind the front office. Off to one side was a marble-inlaid bathroom featuring a sunken tub big enough for two, with Jacuzzi jets. Mirrors lined the walls. The gleaming gold fixtures and green-veined marble glowed invitingly. Water was good for loosening up nervous clients. Her first task was getting them used to being naked.
She ducked into her private quarters—a small room off the bedroom—dropped her bag in a corner, and stripped off her street clothes and shoes. Pants were a no-no in her business. She needed skirts with nothing under them, in case a client got hard, and she needed to move fast. Most of the men who visited her had erectile issues. Either they came too fast, or they couldn’t get hard at all.
She pulled a teal jersey top out of a drawer and tugged it over her head. The soft folds of the fabric molded to her body. No bra. Looking at the curves of her breasts was good for clients. She traced the outline of a nipple through the silky fabric. It stiffened instantly. A vision of the man in the street slammed against her, and her nether regions flooded.
Kate grinned. She felt sorry for her first client. She’d probably attack him before he even got his clothes off.
She stepped into a black skirt with an elastic waist and grabbed a hairbrush. Red-gold curls cascaded nearly to her waist. A smattering of shiny lip gloss and she walked into the bathroom to check her appearance. Perfect. She looked about twenty-five. Good for when she needed to play the innocent in seduction charades. She blew a kiss at the glass. Not bad for a three-hundred-year-old shifter.
Three hundred six, her inner voice corrected. Kate laughed. She wasn’t exactly immortal, but she’d live for hundreds more years before her face betrayed any sign of age.
The front bell chimed. Hector was right on time. Bare feet pattering over the thick, Oriental carpet in her front office, Kate strode to the door and peered through the safety viewer. She rolled her eyes. He’d brought flowers. She waved her palm over the electronically controlled lock, and the latch clicked open.
“Hi, gorgeous.” Hector stepped inside and waited for her to lock up before handing her a bouquet of expensive-looking hothouse blossoms. She laid them on a side table. They’d keep for an hour out of water.
“Why, thank you. They’re lovely. Hi there yourself, handsome.” Kate smiled at him. She liked Hector. At forty-five, he’d decided it was time to find a wife. Problem was, he’d spent his entire life locked behind a computer screen and had no idea how to even say good morning to a woman, let alone ask for a date. All his sexual experiences had been with his hand until he tried to hire a hooker and failed miserably. He’d come while she was unzipping his pants and hadn’t been able to get hard again.
He shook light brown hair back from a high brow. His hazel eyes shone with pleasure. He wasn’t bad looking, but he needed to get outside. His skin was pasty white and his body soft. She’d suggested he join a gym and walk at least half an hour out-of-doors every day. She wondered if he’d taken her up on either suggestion.
His hand snaked out and curved around one of her breasts. She glanced between his legs, pleased to see the swell of an erection. Good. He wouldn’t make her work very hard today. Kate cocked her head to one side and pressed her breast into his hand. “Business first. That will be five hundred credits.”
His eyes widened. “You’re giving me a break today.”
“Not really.” She cupped his hard-on. “Looks like you won’t need much from me.”
Color stained his fair cheeks. “Funny thing. It got hard when I was on the bus. Just thinking about you...” His voice trailed off.
“That’s the way it’s supposed to work. Pay up, so we can get those clothes off you.”
He went to the computer, bent over, brought up his account, and transferred money into hers. The printer whirred. She grabbed the piece of paper, tore off one end, signed it, and handed it to him.
He came around behind her, closed his hands over her breasts, and nibbled her neck. “Mmm, you always smell so good.”
She leaned against him for a moment, then led him into the bedroom and closed the door. One of the best things about being a surrogate was she trained her clients to do exactly what she liked, while cautioning them that part of lovemaking was communication. What she liked might not work for a different woman.
She turned toward him. His shirt and sports coat lay on a chair and he’d stepped out of leather loafers. His fingers were busy with the fastenings of his slacks.
“Pretty good progress,” she said, flashing him a warm smile. “First time you came here, it took me most of the session to get your shirt off.”
He shrugged. His pants pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of them and shoved his boxers down his hips. Kate felt her eyes widen. He was more than ready. Not just hard, but a drop of semen glistened in the center of his glans.
“Do you want to undress me?” she asked.
He closed the distance between them, put his arms around her, and kissed her. She kissed him back, aware of her own arousal. Hector didn’t have much to do with that. But he’d give her something to think about other than the wonderfully seductive stranger she’d seen through her window. She pressed her breasts against him and thrust her hips against his hard-on.
Hector broke their kiss. He slid his fingers under her top and tugged it gently over her head. His gaze locked on her breasts before he took them in his hands. He twirled her nipples just the way she’d shown him. He’d been surprised when she told him women could come just from that.
She curved a hand around his erection. It bucked in her hand. He hadn’t had problems with premature ejaculation the last few visits, but he seemed more excited today. “Do you need to be inside me?”
His breath came fast. “Could I? All I’ve thought about is—” His cock jumped in her hand again. Fluid leaked from it. She rubbed it around the velvety top with a gentle fingertip.
Kate backed toward the bed. “How do you want me?”
His gaze sought hers. “Could you be on top? I’ve done like you said, you know, playing with myself and fantasizing.”
“Sure.” She waited for him to lie down. Kate got a condom out of the night table drawer, opened the wrapper, and rolled it onto him. She straddled him and lowered herself onto his shaft. He groaned. She took care to keep her hips still. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Open your eyes. Look at me. Think about breathing. You can control this.”
The line of his jaw clenched, and then softened. He cupped her pussy in an outstretched hand. Tentative at first, he rubbed her clit when she pushed into his hand. Her muscles closed around his cock. He rubbed harder. She laid a hand over his to show him the rhythm she needed.
“Is it okay if I make you come this way?”
“More than okay.” With her fingers atop his to guide him, he rubbed harder and faster over her sensitive tissue. She knew she was moving around his erection, but hoped he had enough to think about besides coming that he’d be able to control himself. “I’m going to take my hand away. Now you do the same thing.”
“Like this.”
“Um-hum.” She felt a familiar tightness, tried to hold back so she could savor things, but it was too late. She came, shoving her pussy against his hand. A vision of the gorgeous man she’d seen in the street danced behind her closed lids.
Deep in her mind, the cat purred, “Yesssss. Find that one for us.”
Kate shushed it.
Hector had learned well. He kept moving his fingers until her hips quieted. “Wow. That was amazing,” he crowed. “I got to watch you come. Your nipples got really hard, and you’re all rosy.”
“And you didn’t come yourself. Even better.” She laughed. “Is it okay if I move now?”
“Will I be able to make you come again?” She heard a hint of masculine pride in the question.
“No question.”
He held out his arms. “I want to feel your breasts against me.”
She lowered her torso until it touched his. “Very good. Asking for what you want is important. Women aren’t mind readers. Put your hands on my hips. Move me the way you want to be fucked.”
“What about you?”
“I had a turn. Besides, you can always touch me or lick me.”
“You haven’t taught me about licking.” His voice had a catch in it.
“Well, if we don’t get there today, there’s always next time.”
He gripped her hips. She let him control the movement, pleased it took him several minutes to come. Once his cock was through spasming inside her, she moved off his body and went to get a warm, wet cloth from the bathroom. By the time she returned, he had the condom off. She held out her hand. “I’ll take it. Here.” She handed him the cloth, dropped the condom into a waste can, and slid into a robe.
A disappointed look washed across his face. “Is our time up?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How many more visits do I have?”
“Not sure. Just a minute, I’ll look.” Kate padded into the outer office and clicked a few keys on the desktop computer. She was also buying a little time. Clients frequently got too attached, which was why she never told them up front how many visits had been authorized. Sometimes, even if they had several more sessions, she’d hedge, call their MD, and cut them off.
The truth was, Hector didn’t really need her anymore. Seven visits had cured both his impotence and his problems with premature ejaculation.
“Good thing you asked.” She breezed back into the bedroom, smiling brightly. “We’ve run through your sessions.” He looked so crestfallen, she went to the bed, sat on the edge, and took his hands in hers. “Hector. You got what you needed here. You can make love with anyone now. You don’t need me anymore.”
“But I thought—I mean, I hoped...” Color crept up his chest to his neck and face.
“Aw, honey. Everyone falls in love with me. It’s natural. I’m the first woman you had sex with.” She patted his hand. “I guarantee you I won’t be the last. Try asking that cute brunette you told me about out for coffee.”
“Can I come back if I get into problems?”
“Sure. I’ll square it with your doctor.”
“Really?” He smiled. Hector was decidedly handsome when he did that.
“Really.” She touched a finger to his chin. “You’re quite the hunk when you smile. Remember to do it more often.”
He dressed quickly, and she ushered him out the door. “Thanks again for the flowers. And best of luck, not that you’ll need any. You’ll make some woman very happy.”
She closed the door, locked it, and looked at the time. She needed to call the underground about groceries, change the bed, and take a shower. It would be tight, but she was pretty sure she could work everything in before Todd showed up in half an hour.
Kate glanced at the calendar in her wrist computer. Good. Only two clients today. Worries about her three houseguests ate at her. It was better when she was home. The shifters in her basement were vulnerable by themselves.
