Markos employed every ounce of self-restraint in not following Libby Daniels out the door. His every centaur instinct was to pursue, to chase and to hunt. For fun, of course, though he had to remember he wasn’t a centaur any longer, he was a human and humans didn’t appear to have any fun.
To be human, he had learned so far, was to be uptight, frustrated. Miserable. Markos grunted, tearing at the silly cloth collar on his neck. The clothes were constraining his body, suffocating. How did they endure such misery? And the unsatisfied hard-on. That was the worst of all. It made no sense. The woman wanted it as much as he did. Why weren’t they making love right now, here on this silly table or on the seat or on the floor or any number of other possible places?
A man cleared his throat, breaking Markos’ reverie.
“I have your sandals,” said the policeman.
“Thank you,” said Markos, amazed at how quickly he had assimilated the humans’ language. “Tell me, what must a man do to sleep with a human female?”
The policeman smiled. “That’s the question of all time, buddy. You figure that one out and you’ll be a millionaire. You might try flowers, though. Or candy. A nice candlelit dinner never hurts either. I assume you’re talking about the woman who was in here with you?”
“Yes.”
The smile broadened. “You got your hands full there. They say that one’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”
“Fort what?”
“Fort Knox, you know, where the gold is?”
“I have gold with me, in my bag.”
“Good, good,” said the policeman, looking to the door for a way out. “I gotta be going, okay?”
Markos nodded, already deep in thought. There had to be a way to get at Libby’s gold. And until he did that he would never get close enough for her to trust him when it came time to take her back with him to Constellia.
And take her he must if he was to save himself…and his people.
This much was clear. What was not clear was why he was feeling so passionate about the woman. She was beautiful and she was going to be his first human female conquest. But that didn’t begin to describe the delight he felt looking into her eyes, the way her smile lit him up, the way he enjoyed teasing her.
What a little bundle of contradictions. She was a fierce fighter, no-nonsense, he could tell. But she was wrapped so tight, like a package just crying to be opened. And what would he find inside? He was dying to find out, just like he wanted to know what her skin would taste like and how exactly she would clutch at him when she came. He wanted to devour her, drink her in, lick the sweat from her skin, twist his fingers in her midnight hair, pin her lithe, pale body beneath him, releasing its wonders.
He wanted to ride her and ultimately for her to ride him.
By the stars, what would it be like, making love as a human? Having two legs seemed such an awkward thing. He could not gallop, seducing his lover upon his back. Nor could he tickle and tease with his tail.
Time would tell. For now, he must collect the needed items and return to Libra. Hopefully she would still be in the building.
“Got jilted, did you?” said Marge.
Markos held up the sandals. “I need help putting these on.”
She winked at him once again. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
Well, he certainly had one female on his side. “You aren’t a lawyer, are you?” he asked.
“No.” She bent down to put on his sandals. “But I play one on TV.”
“What is TV?”
“It’s crap, that’s what it is.”
Markos rubbed his hand over his stomach. He felt an odd queasiness. Perhaps it was the pie. “It hurts,” he said. “Here.”
“Maybe you’re in love,” said Marge.
“What does that mean?” he asked. “To be in love?”
“You know, wanting only one person? Marriage? Commitment and all that?”
Markos did understand marriage. There were some creatures meant for it and some which were not. “In that case,” he said firmly, “centaurs don’t fall in love.”
“Humans do.”
He thought of Libby and how she seemed to be crowding every other thought from his mind, even the most paramount thought of his mission. “I’m not human. I play one on TV,” Markos said.
Marge laughed. “You catch on quick.”
“Thank you.” He reached in his pocket, where he had put the remainder of his diamonds. “I have bread to pay for the coffee.”
“Whoa,” said Marge, looking at the diamond. “That’s some rock. You keep it, though. Your lady friend already paid. See?”
Marge picked up the small, green parchment on the table. Markos hadn’t even noticed it.
“Centaurs don’t fall in love,” he repeated. “They make love to whomever they please.”
“Sounds nice. You want any more coffee?”
“No, I must be going.” He stood and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She blushed nicely. “Take care, Marge. Thank you.”
“Sure, kid,” she said. “And good luck. You’re going to need it.”
He had to agree with her there. He needed all the luck and all the wit he could summon. Not to mention all his powers of Sagittarian seduction.
* * * * *
Libby was virtually alone in the building when he showed up. She saw him standing there in the doorway to her office.
“You,” she rasped, nearly snapping her pencil in half. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Time is of no importance when watching a beautiful woman.”
Damn it, he was good. “Markos, this needs to stop.” She held up her hand. “You need to go. Now. I’m not even sure how you got in. The offices are supposed to be locked.”
“Kevin let me in.”
“Figures,” she sighed.
“I am here to give you these.” He held out the flowers, a dozen red roses. Another layer of ice melted off her heart. How long had it been since a man had done that for her? He had candy too, a huge heart-shaped box, more than she could eat in a lifetime.
She noticed the tie was gone and the pinstripe jacket too. His shirt was half unbuttoned, down to his solid waist. He had a fine layer of chest hair, tawny like the rest of him. Her eyes traced down the line of his legs, past muscular thighs to his feet. He was wearing sandals, brown leather. Oh, how she ached to see more of the man…to do more with him.
“Markos, this gesture is very sweet,” she said firmly, “but it’s really not appropriate.”
“One of the policeman said these would convince you to make love with me,” he said.
Anger flashed to the surface. She tried to remember the man was harmless. “Markos, you can’t buy a woman’s affections. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Then let me take you to dinner for a date, is that the right word?”
Libby fought off a small swoon. Dear god, he was asking her out. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You aren’t hungry?”
“Yes, I am,” she said, trying to stay calm. “But it’s not that simple.”
“Explain it to me, then.”
“A date is…well, it’s something that involves chemistry,” she struggled to explain.
He gave her a blank look, terribly endearing.
“You need a man to explain it, I think.”
“No.” He shook his head, taking one deliberate step forward and then another. “I’m not hungry, anyway. Not for food.”
Her heart slammed in her chest. “I am warning you, Markos, don’t come in here.”
He set the flowers and the candy on the edge of her desk. His waist was at eye level. She could see his hard cock, long and thick, straining at the material of his pants. Despite multiple self-driven orgasms, she was desperate with need, desperate for Markos.
“Markos, I am very serious.”
“So am I.” He came behind the desk and grasped her hands, lifting her to her feet. “I’m sorry, Libby, but we have to set your soul free.”
“Markos…”
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her protests died on his lips, searing hot. She dissolved right there, feeling her will drain away. If he should let go of her she would surely fall straight through the earth.
Markos did not let go. He drew her all the tighter, as if to prove their bodies were meant to fit together. Ever the lady, she offered one final objection. “We…can’t—”
“Yes, Libra, we can.” His hands moved behind her neck. She clutched at him, afraid of falling. She was helpless to resist as he did what he had wanted to from the start, releasing her hair.
Libby moaned as the dark, silky curls fell about her shoulders. It had been so long…so long since she had felt like a woman.
His eyes were liquid, like a depthless sea, blue and strong and brave. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he breathed.
Libby sucked in her lower lip. Her voice was barely audible. “Markos…take me…please.”
He swept her into his arms, making her feel light as a feather, treasured as a goddess. He took her to the couch, a generally useless piece of furniture left by the previous occupant. For once she was glad it was here.
Markos laid her out on the faded, blue-striped fabric. He proceeded to undress her, making a ritual of it. First he took off her shoes, one by one lifting her feet and slipping them off. He kissed each dainty foot, nibbling teasingly at her big toe.
She cried, she giggled and she tried to keep the noise down. She could only imagine what it would be like when they got to the sex.
The sex. Damn it. What were the odds of a man like Markos having condoms on him? Zero, that’s what.
“Markos?”
He was opening her pants, getting ready to slide them off. “Yes?”
“You will need to wear a condom. Do they have those where you come from?”
Listen to her, she was acting like all this Constellia stuff was real.
“Do you mean ritual cock piercings? I have worn them in the past but I have none now.”
Libby tried to picture that. “No, a condom is a…a glove that you wear over your cock before putting it inside a female.”
He pulled down her pants, down over each ankle. “Why would I want to do that?”
She put her hands over her pussy. She had soaked right through her panties. “To prevent disease. And pregnancy.”
Markos removed her hands, gently but firmly. “Why would you get pregnant if you didn’t want to?”
“It just happens, Markos.”
He put her wrists over her head, crossing them. “Leave them,” he said, putting her into invisible bondage.
Her pussy stung with need. He was taking her control, he was being the man. There was a first in her sorry excuse for a sexual history.
Still, she had to draw the line. “You can’t go in me without one—I have some in the drawer. Don’t go jumping to conclusions. A client left them once.”
“What conclusions would I draw?” He knelt down on one knee next to her and bent to kiss the moist cotton panel.
“That…that I’m some kind of slut,” she groaned as he pressed his heavenly lips to her thinly veiled pussy.
“The word isn’t in my brain,” he said. “What is a slut?”
“An easy woman.” She writhed as he took a long lick, right along the line between her swollen sex lips. “A woman who will sleep with anyone.”
“Why is that bad?” he wanted to know.
She balled her fists. “I don’t know, it just is. Oh god, Markos, don’t keep me waiting. Get the condom, it’s in the top left drawer. I’ll show you how.”
“Not yet.” He tugged at her waistband, removing her panties. “I want you to beg.”
She reached for him, as though she could compel a man that strong to fuck her if he didn’t want. “I said please, isn’t that enough?”
Markos pinned her wrists in one hand, just above her head. “No.”
Adrenaline surged. The urge to submit was overwhelming. “Okay, Markos…I give. I’m begging…”
“You will have to beg harder.” He smiled evilly. And then he touched her, not at all the way she would touch herself. For Markos it was an act of conquest, domination pure and simple of her feminine essence.
His finger grazed her clitoris, moving her immediately to the edge of orgasm. He held her there, making her dangle over the cliff.
“I would stay very still if I were you,” he said.
Her breasts trembled, her nipples were tiny, swollen beads, molten-hot, craving to be crushed against his chest. Her belly longed to be flattened, skin to skin. Her pussy burned to be opened, plunged, tested…used.
“What happened to worshipping me?” she asked, feeling no more than the man’s slave.
“First you learn to accept who you are, Libra.”
“And what is that?”
“You are heaven.” He plunged his fingers deep inside her, decisive, determined, yet tantalizingly gentle.
She bucked against him.
“You may not climax,” he said. “Until I say.”
Libby felt her body fall away. She opened her mouth, gasping for air, her tongue craving a taste of him. What was he doing to her? He had stimulated her beyond explosion, but she was held, like a tiny bird in his hand.
“Not yet,” he kept saying. “Hold it, longer.”
“Yes,” she heard herself reply, breathing in needful obedience. “Oh, Markos, yes.”
“Higher.” He nibbled at her ear, searing, branding, higher.
She flew at his command, she shattered in slow motion, already gone, fracturing into a million pieces. It only remained to be released. “Pleeease,” she said, begging, at long last, just as he wanted her to.
“Come,” said Markos. “Give it to me.”
She rolled like a wave, crackling lightning, vivid rainbow-colored, belly-saturating thunder, sweet surrender pure and sweet, utter and complete female fulfillment, knowing herself…home…giving maximum delight to a man…her man.
He continued to kiss at her neck, holding her close. He released her hands, but did not abandon her.
“Markos,” she whispered, hearing her own voice in the vacuum of her opened soul. “Let me please you now.”
“You have,” he said, unbuttoning her blouse, the salmon-colored one that was supposed to be a turnoff to any prospective lovers. “And you will continue to do so.”
He had her lean up on her elbows so he could take off her jacket and undo the strap of her bra. He wanted her naked, he wanted to play with her at will.
One by one he kissed her nipples, peaking them. She grabbed at his hair for a change, pulling his head down. “Oh god…that feels…”
“Good?” he supplied the appropriate word.
She nodded. “Uh-huh.”
Libby was intent on stripping him. She worked furiously, if not effectively, alternating between shirt buttons and belt. He offered assistance, first with the shirt. Sitting up, his knees on either side of her hips, he finished with the buttons—he was painfully slow—and then shrugged it off his shoulders.
She was rewarded with a bronzed chest, solid and powerful, perfectly developed, but not excessively so. There wasn’t an ounce of fat, just lean flesh covering sculpted muscle.
“Markos,” she said in throaty appreciation of the view. “You’re like a…a god.”
At first he tried to stop her touching him, but she gave a scolding. “My turn now.”
His eyes slid shut in a combination of appreciation and frustration as her small fingers worked over his bronzed muscles. They had such a rugged, natural feel. Was there a difference, between gym-born muscles and ones born in the outdoors?
On impulse, she pinched his nipple, causing him to pop open his eyes.
His expression made her giggle, a combination of his serious, deep eyes and playful brows that spelled definite payback.
“Your cock,” she said, slapping his biceps. “I want to see it.”
He smiled slantedly, eyes glued on hers. “As you wish.” He undid his belt and opened the clasp of his pants.
The zipper proved more complicated.
She tried not to laugh as his fingers tugged at the sides of his pants. Evidently he wasn’t used to them any more than he was to buttons. He looked down at it, frowning.
“Let me help you,” she intervened. “See? You have to pull up on the little metal catch and then slide it down.”
His boxers came into view. Now it was Libby’s turn to take the active role, seeking out her partner’s sex beneath the material of his underwear. He made a low rumbling noise as she made contact with his shaft through the opening in the boxers. His cock was warm and pulsing and very, very hard in her hands.
Libby wanted a chance for a more detailed inspection. She yanked the boxers down. Markos’ cock greeted her proudly, springing to full attention. What a specimen, the longest she had ever seen and so well formed. Uncircumcised, with protruding veins, light blue and green in color, a perfect complement to his ruddy skin. And those balls. She weighed one each in her hands. Tight, firm and surging with semen. Just handling him made her tingle, like she was dealing with something wild and untamed.
Again she was reminded of her would be dream lover, half man, half beast. What was it about Markos that kept casting him in the role of centaur? Was he casting a spell on her or was it her own doing?
“Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s fine.” She thought of all her defeats in those dreams, how she never was able to see things through. Aggy was calling it repression and if so it was time to meet it head-on. “Markos, will you do something for me?”
“Anything.”
The deep, intense sincerity of his answer made her swallow. She hoped she wasn’t leading him on. This was a Don Quixote character, tipping at Constellian windmills and she was not about to be his Dulcinea. Still, he was an adult as was she. He had been urging her to let go and this was her chance.
“I would like you to come on me, Markos.”
His gorgeous blue eyes narrowed. “On you?”
“Yes. I would like you to shoot your semen onto my body, my breasts and belly.”
Was she really saying this? What about the mess afterward? What if he stained the couch?
“I will,” he replied. “On one condition. You must make it happen yourself, with your own sweet little hands.”
Her mouth went dry. Was she ready?
“Yes,” she said at last. “I will.”
He put his hands on his hips, encouraging her to touch him at will. She hesitated a moment. His shaft was like a living thing and she wasn’t sure how it would react to her. Tentatively, she extended her fingertips, holding them an inch away. He was radiating heat.
Markos chuckled at her temerity. “It’s not a snake, woman.”
“I know what it is,” she said, a little miffed. “I’ve handled my share.”
“But not enough to be a slut.”
She gave his cock a little squeeze with her nails. “Stop using my words against me.”
“I’m trying to learn, I told you—”
“I know.” She stroked the length of him, pressing the vein underneath. “You just learned the language today. You know I’m beginning to think you’re not crazy, just full of shit. And don’t even start asking me what that means—it’s an expression, that’s all.”
“I wasn’t going to ask. As you can see, I’m occupied.”
She took her second hand, adding it on top of the first. She liked the idea of pleasuring this man, handling him as it were. “Is that right? Are you telling me this little human girl is too much to handle?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You know,” she said mischievously, feeling deliciously safe and sated. “I am not going to let you come until you beg me.”
“That implies you will be able to stop me.”
“Yes it does.” Libby cupped his balls, mischievously. “These guys feel pretty full. I bet they’re just bursting at the seams, aren’t they?”
“You’re about to find out.”
She traced a finger down his chest. His cock was so very full of blood, it looked ready to explode. “I’m waiting for the magic words.”
“I have no skills in magic,” he said. “You would have to ask my friend Argos the Crab.”
She rolled her eyes. “Forget I asked.”
“I don’t think I can do that,” he said, proving once again his literal nature. “Your words keep etching in my brain.”
She arched a brow. “Markos?”
“Yes?”
“Just shut up, please…and come.”
He grunted, only too glad to oblige as she resumed her caressing. Just a few motions up and down, her fingers skillfully applied and he was there.
“That’s it,” she encouraged. “That’s what I need.”
His face was locked into an expression of bliss. He leaned back, like a god riding the lightning. She directed his powerful staff as best she could, even as the tip of it erupted with the thickest, whitest semen she had ever seen. The first burst arced, landing full on her right breast. She cried out from the sheer animal pleasure. “Libra,” he growled. “Oh, stars…”
She pumped him furiously. “Let me have it, all of it,” she commanded.
One blast after another hit her, the spray soaking both breasts and the lily-white cavern of her belly, too. Even her cheek and lips were not exempt.
Talk about prowess. She had a coating over her, a blanket of male release, hard, physical evidence of their mutual desire.
Consummated in total safety, she might add.
Take that in your Freudian pipe and smoke it, Aggy.
Wait—it was a cigar, wasn’t it?
“I’m hungry,” declared Libby. “We should get some dinner.”
An excellent time to debrief, she thought, letting him in gently on the idea that this encounter had been a one-time deal.
“I fail to see the point.” He cocked his head. “I have already made love with you.”
“People eat dinner for reasons other than sex, Markos.”
“So this wouldn’t be a date?”
“No, it would not.” She slapped his thigh. “How about you hop up and let me breathe.”
He nodded, obliging.
She stood, amazed at how casual she was being about the whole thing. She had only ever had sex with three men in her life, Markos included. And neither of the first two arrangements had ended well at all.
She ought to be freaking out, racking her brain to figure out how it had happened in the first place.
“Here.” Markos handed her his shirt to clean herself with.
“Oh, no.” She touched his shoulder, blown away by the gesture. “You need your shirt. I have a little bathroom in here. I can clean myself up.”
Markos put his hand on her shoulder as she tried to move past him. “No,” he said firmly. “Cleaning yourself is not your job. It is mine.”
With that he had her stand, hands at her side, legs slightly apart.
She drew a ragged breath as he sank to his knees, just in front of her. With infinite gentleness, he dabbed at her stomach with his tongue. She closed her eyes as he gently worked across the surface of her skin, cleaning his semen, spot by spot.
“Oh god,” she groaned, rising onto tiptoes. “No more…”
He ignored her, continuing until he had covered the whole of her belly. Then he stood up and did her breasts. Libby’s nipples throbbed in reply, craving more attention as she leaned her hands on his shoulders for support.
He was suckling her, pulling her orbs one at a time into his mouth, molding them, giving them life. She could feel the thrumming in her sex, the harbingers of another orgasm.
If he kept this up much longer, they would never make it to dinner.
It was at this point Markos found her clitoris. A sneak attack with his quick and lively tongue. Her clitoris swelled in reply, seeking to connect itself, forever if possible. It knew a good thing when it had it, she thought, that was for sure.
But what about her intention to cut him off? This was hardly sending the right signals to the man. Her eyes popped open, she grabbed fistfuls of hair. “No, Markos. No more.”
Markos backed off, but not until he had risen to his feet to deliver a soul-piercing kiss, lip to lip, body to body that left her winded, bewildered…and hornier than when they had begun.
“Your clothes,” he reminded her as she stood there, blankly staring straight ahead.
Libby blinked, trying to focus off him and on the faded beige walls of her office, decorated with her diplomas and a picture of her and Vinny and Frank at an interdepartmental cookout a few years back. She could see Markos holding out her bra. It seemed like hours ago since she had worn it. Her breasts felt so different, lighter and more buoyant. Her whole body felt like it might float out the window, right through the wire-mesh glass.
She wanted to dance. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to sing.
Was all this Markos’ doing or had she finally sprung a gasket?
“I am going to use the bathroom,” she informed him, laying out the game plan. “And when I come back, we will go to eat. That is all that will happen. Afterward, we go separate ways for good.”
“Whatever you desire.” He smiled smoothly, making her blush all over again.
Libby narrowed her gaze. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“I never lie,” he said.
“All the more reason not to trust you,” she declared. Picking up her clothes she went to the bathroom, closed the door and turned on the water. Cold water to splash on her face and hopefully bring her to her senses.
“Don’t start with me,” she snapped at her dripping-wet reflection in the mirror above the sink. “It’s not going any further and that’s that.”
She dried herself with the towel. She was feeling calmer and nearly home free when she spied the bottle of perfume on the shelf. Aggy had given it to her as a birthday gift last year. She hadn’t wanted to bring it home, though she couldn’t bring herself to ditch it either.
It was French, a tiny decanter of cut crystal, worth way more than a woman should spend on the frivolous pursuit of impressing men. She picked it up, wondering what sort of fragrance Markos might like. A man that strong and yet so attuned to the heated feminine pulse point.
Her mind drifting, she treated the inside of her wrist to a tiny squirt. Lifting it to her nostrils, she inhaled the scent, sweet rose, mixed with honeysuckle and lilac. Her breath quickened just a little as she imagined the dainty scent wafting to Markos’ nostrils. She pictured them flaring, his blood boiling over, pounding through his veins…straight to his cock.
Feeling like the most insolent flirt, she rubbed her wrists together. And why not? Women could smell pretty for a man and not have sex with them.
Couldn’t they?
She went to put the perfume back. A wicked idea came into her mind. One more squirt…right between her breasts, in the furrow where not too long ago Markos’ head had been.
The sensation went right between her thighs. She had to brace herself on the sink as her legs turned to rubber. Okay, so possibly this hadn’t been a good idea. Sexing herself up before going out with a man to tell him she wasn’t interested in any more sex.
A stern look kept her reflection silent. No “I told you so”s, no lectures about why women like her needed to keep away from men all together and just do their jobs.
Could it be there was a gene for attracting the wrong men? Overgrown babies, dreamers, selfish career whores and in this case a Don Quixotian hunk with the tongue of Superman.
Libby put her clothes on.
It would be a quick meal. An unromantic place. Home by nine.
She reached for her hair to pull it back up into a bun.
Her hands froze. She couldn’t do it.
Twice she tried, only to have it come tumbling back down.
“Doesn’t mean a thing,” she told her reflection. “Don’t you dare read into it. I’m just…tired. I could be conservative again if I wanted to. I’m just proving I don’t have to. I can have my hair down, wear perfume and go to dinner with a man without a thing happening.”
Her reflection seemed unconvinced.
Bravado aside, Libby was inclined to agree.
Just let the night go fast, she prayed, and let me wake up tomorrow my same old self.
Boring, predictable…and alone.
She was about to leave the bathroom when panic set in. She went back to the sink, rinsing off the perfume with a washcloth.
As a final precaution, she tied her hair back in a ponytail.
There, she thought.
Sex-proof…at least she hoped so.
* * * * *
Markos noticed the changes as soon as she emerged from the bathroom. “You tied back your hair,” he observed. “And your scent…you smell sweet.”
She did not seem pleased, though he was only stating fact. “Never mind,” she said curtly, her face a shade redder. “Let’s just go and eat.”
Markos followed her, enjoying the way she moved her body. Why she wore clothes was beyond him. If ever a female should be naked in all her glory, this was the one.
She led him into a very small room. The doors slid shut without being touched. Markos looked around at the gleaming metal. “I do not understand. What happens in this place?”
“It’s an elevator. You don’t do anything, you ride in it.”
The room shook slightly and Markos felt motion beneath his feet. Instinctively he reached out, taking her hand.
The ride as she called it lasted only a few moments. Then the doors opened again. They were in a dark cavern, dimly lit. Markos could see a number of the metal creatures from the stone roads, sleeping.
“Beware,” said Markos, seeing them. “This is a dragons’ lair.”
She laughed lightly. “No, silly, these are cars. You drive them.”
“Cars,” Markos repeated the word. Understanding came into his mind. These were like chariots, without horses. No wonder the people got in and out of them. They were controlling them by some spell or other.
Very quickly the events of the past few hours fell together in his mind, suddenly making much more sense. The rapidity of his comprehension was the result of Argos’ language and learning spell, just as the change in his form was a result of a shape shift spell. There were about a dozen more he didn’t understand which were allowing him to be here at this very moment.
“One of these cars is yours?” asked Markos.
“Yes,” she said, leading him to a bright blue one.
“It is very beautiful,” he said.
She snorted. “Hardly. But it’s all I can afford.”
Markos did not see anything wrong with the car, but he didn’t say so. She let him in one of the doors and then got in herself.
He watched her insert a key in front of the seat. The car began to hum. Next she kicked off her shoes and pressed her bare foot to the floor. Turning to look over her shoulder she pulled down on a stick beside the wheel and the car started moving backward.
Markos decided all of this was very sexy. “There is a seat in back,” he observed, deciding to tease her a little. “Is that for making love?”
She shifted on the seat away from him. “No, it most certainly is not.”
He smiled inwardly at the emotion in her voice. He had her thinking about it. He wondered what the scent was all about. Was she trying to arouse him with perfume? It was not unknown on Constellia. If so, why tell him she wished no more sex? Was this part of the façade she must maintain so as not to be considered a slut?
He watched as she directed them between rows and rows of sleeping cars. There were arrows on the wall, pointing to a place called exit. Eventually they came to a gate and a large opening in the gray wall. A man in a uniform sat in a small glass enclosure. Markos feared he was a policeman who would arrest him but he merely waved, opening the gate.
It was nighttime outside, though there were small round lights everywhere. Even the towers were lit, thousands of tiny flames all up and down their smooth sides at regular intervals. People were walking in front of the buildings, as many or more than before.
There were just as many cars too, one behind another, honking. Each had lights on, shining from the grille. He could hardly believe now that he had thought these were sentient creatures when he had first arrived. Was it only today?
Thanks to his new Libra, or Libby Daniels as the policeman had introduced her, Markos was definitely enjoying being human. And he was going to enjoy it a whole lot more when he was in Libby’s bed, fully immersed in her glorious pussy. The taste of her he had enjoyed so far told him it would be good between them. Perhaps the best he had even known. It was funny, how he had the oddest feeling his cock would feel at home inside this female, at least while he was stuck on this strange new world.
Libby was the only thing that made any sense here, truth be told. She might be confusing, but at least he could hold a conversation with her and know she was listening.
He held out great hope in this regard that soon, very soon, he would be able to start giving her the proof she obviously required to believe in Constellia.
He could certainly do that now, grabbing her and teleporting her back by means of the escape amulet Argos had given him, but that would be kidnapping. Besides, if she found herself suddenly on an alien world inhabited by creatures even stranger to her than the humans were to him she might lose her sanity. Then what good would she be as a lawyer?
In some ways he was beginning to regret the entire plan. Granted, there wasn’t a practitioner of the law anywhere on Constellia who would dare defend him against Scorpos, but what made them think an earthling female would?
For Argos it was a matter of fate. “The Earth is governed by the same stars, my boy. They are not unaware of us there, trust me.”
Dalion’s answer was seduction. “Do what centaurs do best, my halfling friend, and I am not referring to archery.”
By the stars that perfume was getting to him. What a little minx she was. Markos decided on some friendly revenge. “I see you tied back your hair.” He reached out to touch her tail of silky black. “Do you enjoy the feel of restraints on your body?”
She pushed his hand away. “Do I enjoy what? No, of course not, what do you take me for, anyway?”
“I don’t take you for anything,” he mused. “And I’m surprised about the restraints. I rather thought from our earlier encounter you might love it.”
“Well, that is something you will never find out, isn’t it?”
He noted the stiffness in her body, the way she was desperately fighting her own needs and desires.
“It’s not a bad thing.” He caressed her cheek. “To want to be tied by your lover. A woman never looks more beautiful as when she is helpless, completely vulnerable to her lover.”
Libby scowled, pushing a small button on the panel in front of her. The car filled with sound, a song, being sung by a young man with a loud, crackling voice. “Wish I could hear you.” She turned a knob to make it even louder. “Guess the radio needs to be fixed.”
He took her hand and put it on his lap, right over his throbbing erection. She gasped in surprise, but did not move it away. “Can you hear this?” he asked.
“I’m trying to drive,” she protested.
Markos undid the tiny, nifty metal device on his pants known as a zipper. All things considered, he found it to be one of the cleverest Earth inventions he had seen. If a man had to hide his cock, he might as well make a game of exposing it.
Pulling his thick shaft through the opening, he wrapped Libby’s hand around it. “You prefer that hard, lifeless wheel to this?”
“Yes…no…I mean I don’t prefer anything,” she contradicted herself thrice in one breath.
“You know what’s going to happen tonight, Libby,” he said throatily, capitalizing on her indecision. “Why not admit it to yourself?”
“Nothing is happening,” she exclaimed. “You promised.”
“I said nothing would occur that you did not desire. Tell me you do not wish to feel me inside you, my rock-hardness pressed against the walls of your sex, my mouth clinging to your swollen breast as we come together, an endless breathtaking, heart-stopping flow?”
“I don’t…”
“Don’t what?” He put her hand to his lips, sucking her fingertips, one by one.
“Don’t want…anything.” She gave a little moan, her sweet little toes curling. How he loved the look of them, playful bare feet, peeking out from the bottoms of her pants.
“Are you sure?” Markos licked her palm, making her shudder. Before he could reach her perfumed wrist she yanked her hand away and planted it on the wheel.
Her knuckles were white her grip was so fierce. “Very sure.”
He smirked, just a little at her defiance. She had left herself vulnerable, whether she realized it or not. “You remember what I said about a helpless woman being beautiful, Libby?”
Libby ignored him.
Markos pushed the button on the panel. The music stopped.
“It won’t work,” she said.
“What won’t work?”
“You won’t get me aggravated.”
“I don’t want you aggravated. I want you submitting.” He reached out and slipped his hand over her breast. She tried to shrug him off but he was too fast. As luck would have it, she had to turn the wheel just then which gave him free rein to unbutton her shirt.
“Markos, get the fuck off me! You know I can’t fight you when I’m driving.”
“That is the idea.” He managed to get under her bra.
She leaned her head back, letting out a deep groan. “Oh god, you are incorrigible. You want to get us both killed?”
“I want your body, Libby, I want it all and I can’t wait any longer.” He molded the ripe globe in his hand, feeling the rubbery nipple tighten between his fingers. “Tell me you don’t desire mine? Tell me and I’ll stop…for good.”
“You’re impossible,” she cried. “You know that? All right, if we do it one time, one time only, will you be satisfied?”
“If you are satisfied.”
“No, that’s not an answer, Markos. Say it, ‘I agree to fuck Libby one time and then to leave her alone.’”
“What is ‘fuck’?”
“Sex, you fool, it’s a word for sex.”
He worked a little more on her breast. “And what do you agree to?”
“I agree not to…not to…oh, never mind, I can’t even think. Just take your hand off me, please? And I’ll take us somewhere.”
“For lovemaking?”
“Yes.”
“You will surrender all inhibitions?”
“For one night.”
“I will take it.” Markos sat back in his seat. “So where do we go? Back to your office?”
“Hardly. And don’t expect me to take you to my place either, no offense. I have rules about that. Not that I’ve been following any so far.”
“I am not complaining.”
“We need a hotel. I don’t suppose you have a room or anything?”
“I live in a cave. On the Mountain of Dreams.”
“I should have known. We’ll go to the Carlander. It’s nice.”
“Will it require dough? I have diamonds.”
“I’ll pay. In fact,” she urged, “it would be really great if you said nothing at all when we check in, if that’s all right with you?”
“I will find other ways to amuse myself,” he assured.
What he didn’t tell her was what those ways would be.