| |
Oyaz rubbed his bare stomach. A satisfied sigh escaped him, and he settled his gaze on her, sparking a familiar burn in Izzy’s core.
“That was delicious, Izabelle. My gratitude for sharing it with me.”
Heat burned her cheeks, and she dipped her chin, stopped her foot from swinging back and forth, and shrugged.
“Shall we visit Lady Simmy’s housing unit?”
She gasped. “It’s just called a house,” she stuttered. “Let me change.”
Not waiting for him to answer, she leaped to her feet and rushed to the room to strip. Whipping off the dress, she jumped up and down to yank on each leg of her jeans. Voices rumbled from the living room. She hurried. After she snapped on a bra and wrestled with a T-shirt, she sat on the edge of the bed to pull on sneakers. Lastly, she slid her dying phone into the back pocket of her jeans.
While she flicked her hair out of the collar, she skipped to Oyaz and faltered. He wore a white T-shirt. It molded to his bronzed chest, so bright against his dark skin that her mouth watered. Flaming nipples, who did she have to thank for this delicious eye candy? He looked like a biker from old, in black camo pants, thick boots, and that T-shirt. Hot jam and buttered toast.
Oyaz closed his eyes on a groan, and when he settled his gaze on her, the intensity in their blue depths snatched her breath.
“Congratulations, Lady Izzy.” Their guest was an Etterian she’d never seen. His relaxed posture and lack of staring said he’d been around human women.
“Thank you.” She flashed a smile.
When Oyaz held out his arm, inviting her to hug him, she didn’t hesitate. She had the Eth she wanted, she just didn’t know him well enough yet. Did he tolerate, or better, like public displays of affection?
She pressed her body to his and slipped her arm as far around his waist as she could reach. He rumbled and kissed her forehead, cradling her close to his chest. Humming, she nuzzled a pec with her nose.
His voice was hoarse when he said, “This is my Sub-Commander Aaro.”
The new male’s eyes widened, and his shoulders stiffened. “Truly?” He shook his head. “I serve Etteria, and my thanks for your faith in me.”
Oyaz laughed. “Prince Enyl recommended you, Aaro. I studied your file and agree with his assessment. Izabelle and I will relocate to the Valiant once we return from Earth.” He lowered his gaze to her upturned face. “I promised my Dar Eth a quick visit.”
Hiding the knot of dread twisting in her stomach, she gave his waist a squeeze. They were moving to another battleship, and she couldn’t hold this bold decision against him. He was a Supreme Commander with duties. Besides, she’d said she was done babysitting Simmy. Still, to test her resolve sent a tremor of fear through her.
Aaro spread his legs and clasped his hands behind his back. “Shall I gather a few males?”
Oyaz grinned. “It will not be necessary, Aaro. I cleared the housing...house when we collected Lady Simmy. Garix has also scanned for additional threats. I do not anticipate any.”
Aaro pursed his lips. “As you wish, Supreme Commander.”
“Once Danic is well, return to the Valiant and attend to tasks in my absence.” As soon as Aaro left, Oyaz cupped her cheek. “Does this alarm you?”
She shrugged. “I go where you go.”
A magnificent smile swept across his lips and took a one-way ticket to her puckered nipples. Wow, with just a smile?
“Izabelle, I cannot wait to return to our quarters, to the pleasure between your thighs. You please me.” With one arm, he dragged her up until her face aligned with his. As if she weighed nothing, he held her there while he buried his fingers in her hair. A gentle tug pulled her head back. Through hooded eyes, she watched him dip his head and brush his mouth across hers. He groaned, and a slight tremble rippled through him. “I want you, ensa.”
She wrenched her trapped arms free and looped them around his neck. “You have me.”
His breath caught, and the ice-blue in his eyes swirled. He raised his gaze to the ceiling. A pulse ticked at the base of his jaw. She feathered a kiss across it—the flutter of the pulse like a butterfly’s wings against her lips.
He rumbled, squeezed her, then slid her down his body. “Let us hurry.”
She struggled to focus. Potent, addictive, that’s what he was, and the idea of spending the rest of her life on her back didn’t bother her. After selling the Cheery Cherry, she had no plans to fill her time. When she had a moment, she would list all the things she wanted to do, like pottery or oil painting. Hell, a woven rug would prettify their quarters.
He typed on his O.D.I. then drew her into his arms again. Frowning, she opened her mouth to ask him what he planned, but he silenced her with another kiss. No more tentative forays, just a bold expedition around her mouth, dueling with her tongue, and nipping her lips. Her body flooded with tingles, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, seeking a closer connection. She throbbed between her thighs, and her breasts grew heavy. Her nipples ached for his touch. He broke the kiss to run his lips along her jaw to her earlobe.
She cried out when he nibbled on it while he massaged her butt cheek.
When he released her, his face contorted with harsh desire, and the blue in his eyes glowed. “Come, get what you need.”
She blinked at him, struggling to string her thoughts together. “What—?”
“We are here, ensa.”
She gasped and spun, facing her sister’s house. The cool breeze, the fading sunlight, and the sweetness of the air should have registered. But all she had wanted was the spiciness of Oyaz’s skin.
“You zapped me?” She raised her face to Oyaz’s, trying not to gape. No nausea lingered, no urge to gag, just a desperation to climb him like a tree.
He laced his fingers through hers and ushered her up the stone steps onto the porch. There he froze and listened, then opened the front door.
Things were out of place.
She frowned. “You said you cleared the house. What did you mean?” Picking up a strewn paintbrush, she rubbed the soft bristles across her palm.
“Two Yithians—”
“Sharkmen.”
“Yes, they do resemble your shark sea creatures.” With quick strides, he opened the kitchen door. “I found them here.”
She peeked around him and grimaced. The kitchen had also been ransacked. “Oh, no. This might take longer than I thought.” She grabbed what brushes and pallet knives she recognized and hurried to the front of the house where the studio dominated most of the living room. There, she found bags of clay and a crate. Dumping the tools in the crate, she tried to pick up a bag. Oyaz nudged her aside and lifted it with one hand, stacking it and three others into the crate.
Complete statues and busts lined a wall. And a half-carved face dominated one workbench. An old woman formed, with grooves in her craggy cheeks, and somehow, in her eyes, was the passing of time and the accumulation of knowledge.
Izzy’s breath stilled. Damn. She’d known Simmy was good, but this...? How had she managed to capture so much emotion without seeing it in the model’s eyes?
“It is beautiful, ensa.” Oyaz stood beside her.
Izzy wiped away a tear and forced a smile. “This needs to go, Oyaz. Maybe if I hold it when you zap us?” Smothering a shiver, she squared her shoulders, instead. For Simmy, she was willing to have a little clay in her DNA.
“I shall tag them, and Pilot Vyar will port them to Lady Simmy.” He tugged out of a pocket a white disc the size of a thumbnail. “Tap the center of the tag to activate. You have three seconds to pin it to the object.”
“What about a workbench?” Ice drenched her, and she gasped. “I’m so sorry, Oyaz, to ask so much of you. Perhaps just zapping it there is enough. Let Simmy decide what she wants.”
“You are my priority, ensa. Whatever you need, you have but to ask. Whatever you want, it will be my pleasure to provide.”
Her heart fluttered as she absorbed the sincerity carved across his indomitable face. “Samesies. Now bend so I can kiss you.”
He did without hesitation, and she grasped his cheeks to plant a wet one on his lips.
Stepping away lest she rubbed herself against him like a cat in heat, she held out her palm. “Give me the tags. I’ll move around and choose what has to go.”
He dug into his pocket and dumped small, white circles in her hand. “That is all I carry. Should we need more, we can return.”
She danced around the room while he typed on his holographic letters. Whenever his gaze returned to her, something fuzzy and warm ran along her skin. One by one, the items she chose zapped away.
Along with the art supplies and statues, she’d tagged Simmy’s cactus. Who knew if it would grow or survive on a battleship, but if it died during her time away, Simmy would be devastated. How long she’d stay onboard hadn’t been discussed yet.
“I’m done.” Izzy studied the room and nodded.
“Good.” Oyaz’s lips across her neck snatched her breath.
She faced him. “Fun time?” She wiggled her eyebrows while splaying herself across the front of him. “Let’s get naked and see where that leads.” Despite the twinge of soreness from their previous sessions, she was eager to go again. If need be, she would ask for pain meds to be added to the shower.
“Here?” He scanned the living room, where only a double couch occupied the space. It was big enough for them if she straddled him.
She grinned. “Yes.” Trailing her fingers down his T-shirt-covered chest, she hooked on the waistband of his pants and tugged. “Strip.”
Releasing him, she toed off her sneakers, whipped her shirt over her head, and unzipped her jeans, shimmying out of them.
He watched her, his focus intense.
In her bra, panties, and socks, she sashayed to the couch. Rewarding her efforts with a rumble, he bolted forward and swept her into his arms.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” She laughed, wriggled out of his embrace and patted the couch cushion. “Strip and sit.”
He grinned and pulled his shirt off. With a tap at his belly, his pants opened, exposing the V of smooth, bronze skin to his large bulge. He unsnapped his boots and wrenched those off, before he lowered his pants down his sculpted thighs, past his knees to his rock-hard calves. Her core throbbed, and she pinched her thighs together to ease the ache. Him naked before her, she’d never seen anyone so beautiful. All those edges, those rippling muscles, shimmered in the fading sunlight, along with his hard-on, proud, erect, and bobbing with eagerness.
“Izabelle?”
She snapped out of her daze to point at the couch. When he settled his ass with his cock resting on his flat stomach, she unclipped her bra and let it fall from her fingers. She cupped her breasts and massaged them. His gaze was riveted on everything she did, and her inner slut toyed with the idea of playing stripper for him. She shook her head. Knowing herself, she would snag her bra in her hair or pull a muscle. Hooking her thumbs in her panties, she lowered them to the floor then pushed them aside with her toes.
Climbing across his lap, she spread her thighs wide to cradle his cock where she ached for it most. She moaned as a frisson of pleasure bolted from her core to her breasts.
He gripped her hips with a grunt, guiding her as she rubbed herself along the length of him, driven mad with lust and unable to stop herself. His gaze didn’t drop from hers, and compelled by an unknown force, she couldn’t break the connection. She rose, angled her hips, and impale herself. His eyelashes fluttered, but he maintained eye contact. His teeth dimpled his bottom lip, and his nostrils flared.
Cool air brushed across her, tossing her hair and puckering her nipples. A shiver assailed her. With each gyrate, as she withdrew and plunged, a burning need grew until breathing was inconsequential, and only the staccato beat of her heart filled her ears. Digging her nails in his shoulders, she increased the pace, climbing a mountain peppered with mini-bursts of joy to the pinnacle of pleasure. Her gasps merged with his grunts, and he thrust upward, meeting her downward strokes. Tingles—cold, hot, intense—swept across and through her until white explosions of light blinded her.
His shoulders tensed, his grip tightened, and his eyes widened. A pained expression crossed his face. He roared her name. By then, she didn’t care, riding her wave of divine bliss, bucking and thrashing as new bolts of heat shot through her.
She slumped. Her energy drained from her limbs, and a lassitude melded her to him.
He caught her, crushed her to his chest, and pressed his hot mouth to the pulse in her neck. “Maker, Izabelle, you are perfect.”
She winced, and pain pierced her ecstatic heart. Her spectacular orgasm broke her control, and a flood of tears barreled up her throat. She wasn’t perfect. Far from it.
Scrambling off him, she tried not to ogle him as she dressed. Even though, she knew full well how his gaze didn’t shift from her while he pulled on his pants with efficient movements.
But when he froze, forming a statue, she frowned and tilted her head to listen. Her senses heightened, and every hair on her body rose. Tingles of another kind rippled over her skin. In one swift move, he shoved her behind him.
His body was that of a coiled snake. Anger hardened his face. He dipped his head to whisper, “Come, we must port now.” Yanking her into his arms without bothering to put on shoes or his T-shirt, he touched his O.D.I. “Pilot Vyar?”
The front door swung open in slow motion. Two sharkmen sidled in. They raised their black guns. Oyaz twisted and wrapped his body around her, offering the aliens his back. They fired yellow bolts of lightning without hesitation.
Oyaz slumped, hitting the floor, almost dragging her down with him.
She gaped. Had they killed her Eth? She narrowed her focus on the rise and fall of his chest. Relief, like a dunking of hot water, hit her shoulders, and her breath whooshed out.
With wide eyes, she paused as realization dawned. She was alone and unarmed, but self-preservation wasn’t in her thoughts. Fire burned along her veins where moments ago euphoria had resided.
She was pissed.
Page of 117