Braden (11 page)

Elisa smiled.

The smile undid him. She wasn’t a woman smiling because she
was being screwed and enjoying it. She was smiling at
him
, at Braden.

“Gods.”
Braden thrust his hips, his stroke taking him
all the way in.

Elisa drew a sharp breath, her brown eyes widening.

He stopped. “Am I hurting you?”

“Not exactly.” Elisa’s eyes closed. “
Braden
.”

Braden lay still, resisting the urge to drive inside. Elisa
was new to this, unable to control her reaction. Her sheath was already pulsing
around him, her beautiful pussy wanting his cock.

Elisa kept stroking his back, movements languid, and her
cream wet his cock. It was so hot, her come, so fucking hot. Braden had never
been so warm and happy in his life.

“Damn it,” he whispered. “Damn you.”

He tried to fight his own buildup, but he might as well have
tried to stop a sandstorm with his outstretched hands.

His hips moved and Elisa cried out, arching up to him.
Braden met her, thrusting, trying to control it so he didn’t hurt her. He
wanted her so bad it was killing him, but he couldn’t hurt her. Never, ever.

Elisa’s cries turned to shouts then screams of joy. Braden’s
shouts mingled with hers. Then they both were moaning, sweating, moving
together in perfect rhythm.

In and out, back and forth, Elisa’s fingers clamping down on
his buttocks. Her head went back, eyes dark, lips parted, hips rocking. Braden
kissed her, stroked her, fucked her, repeating her name. He loved her name.

Elisa
.

“
Elisa!”

His seed shot out of him, and Elisa’s body dragged it in.
She held him so hard, her pussy all wet and slick and hot, swallowing him.

Braden rode her for a long, long time while he came,
clinging to that dark, wild feeling of ecstasy inside her. Perfect freedom.

They crashed at the same time—together—falling, panting and
gasping, back against the marble tile.

It was good. Too fucking, fucking good.

So fucking good Braden wanted to stay inside her for the
rest of his life.

* * * * *

“Naughty librarian.”

Braden lay next to her on the marble floor, his sinful smile
in place, his hand warm on her belly. Elisa felt stretched, opened, scoured and
hot. It felt odd. And good.

Blue still filled Braden’s eyes. “So how does it feel not to
be celibate anymore?”

She tried a smile. “Temporarily not celibate.”

“Whatever.”

“It feels wonderful.” Elisa touched Braden’s face and pain
flickered through his eyes. “You’re wonderful, Braden.”

The pain vanished in an instant, and Elisa wasn’t certain
she’d truly seen it.

“Naughty librarians who break their vows should be spanked.
Especially naughty librarians who aren’t supposed to like cocks in their pussies.”

“Spanked?” Her heart squeezed, and so did the pussy in
question.

“I’m level three, darling. It’s part of the package.”

“But I liked that so much.”

“I know. You’re not supposed to like it. You’re supposed to
wear robes and meditate and think about non-sex.”

“Non-sex?” She laughed. “Is there such a word?”

“You’d know, my librarian. It’s your job to know.”

“I’ll look it up tomorrow.”

“Good girl. Now, turn over sweetie. Time to teach you who’s
Dom around here.”

Before Elisa could form an answer, he clipped the soft-lined
manacle around her right wrist. Her second wrist followed, and he bound her
hands together in front of her. Then he lifted Elisa’s hands above her head and
rolled her over in the same move.

Elisa found herself facedown on the cool marble, her hands
stretched above her, one foot dangling into the warm water. The hard stone
under her felt strangely good against her hot pussy. She wriggled, letting out
a soft sigh at the friction on her clit.

“That’s it, love. You’re learning your body, and what you
like.”

Elisa wriggled some more, rubbing, enjoying it.

Braden’s heavy hand on her buttocks stopped her. “I’ll go
easy on you,” he said. “For now.”

Easy?

When the first stinging slap landed across her backside,
Elisa jumped. Her body curved against the marble, her clit burning.

Second spank. It stung yet didn’t, hot tingles radiating
through her skin.

Braden’s hand was large, strong, and the third spank was
harder. Elisa squirmed, wanting more.

He soothed her burning skin with a caress, the stroke easing
her and sending her into a warm, contented state. She’d read that Shareem could
calm with a touch, but she hadn’t quite believed it.

She believed it now. Braden smoothed his palm across her
buttocks—then surprised her with five more spanks.

She gasped, and he caressed.

“Sweet little ass,” he said. “So cute and red. I want to
fuck it. But I won’t. Not yet.”

What?

“Soon, though.” Braden’s hands smoothed her skin while her
hands dug at the marble. She wanted to reach for him, and not being able to
both frustrated and excited her.

“Soon?” she asked.

“Pretty soon.” Another spank, another caress. “I’ll bring
out all my gear. I’ll lay you over pillows, and spank you until you’re pink and
hot, and then I’ll lube you up nice and go up your ass. You’ll feel full and so
damn good you’ll wonder why you never did it before.”

Elisa never heard of such a thing. Even in her research on
sex, she had seen it confined to man and woman, penis and vagina. No licking,
no feasting, no manacles, no spanking and definitely no asses.

“Break time’s over.”

Braden’s voice was dark, sinful.

“What do you—”

She broke off with a cry as Braden’s hand came down on her
backside, the spanking increasing. Elisa squirmed against the tile, the hard
stone rubbing her clit and her tight nipples.

Incredibly, she felt the waves of climax reaching for her,
her body loving the contrast between the hard floor and Braden’s punishment.
Braden’s warm skin, the sting of his palm, the smooth coolness under her, his
breath on her backside—all conspired to send her over the top.

Elisa pressed her hands flat, bumping against the tile, her
clit so hot, her ass tingling with fire. She tried to pull her hands apart and
couldn’t, and moaned with frustration.

As her climax hit hard, she felt Braden lay down over her,
holding her in his warm embrace. His laughter filled her ears, his hot breath
touched her face and his slow kiss on her cheek made everything perfect.

* * * * *

Braden looked down at Elisa, peacefully asleep in the
sunshine pooling on her bed, and didn’t want to leave.

She lay with her head cradled on one arm, her light brown
hair snaking across the pillow, her face flushed. The thin sheet would keep her
warm in her nest while she slept the exhausted sleep of afterglow.

The sun filtered through the trees in her shielded garden,
announcing that morning had arrived. Time to go.

Damn it.

Braden had thought his friends—Rees, Rio, Calder,
Rylan—crazy for fixing on one woman and one woman only. He’d thought crazy the
risks they’d taken to stay with their ladies. He envied them, yes, but he
hadn’t really understood.

Now he did understand. He’d risk things to be with Elisa—he
already was.

But why,
why
did he have to find enlightenment with a
registered celibate who was only taking Braden for a test drive?

Braden dumped his gear in his bag and shrugged on his tunic.
He should go, forget her, move on to the next honey who wanted him.

Braden leaned down and kissed Elisa’s cheek. He’d never
forget her, and he knew it.

He quietly left the room, pulled on his sun-blocking robes
and slipped out of the house. Shareem knew how to leave a woman’s house
discreetly, so that neighbors and patrollers never saw them.

Braden moved through alleys and emerged near the train
station several streets lower down the hill. Skulking through the backstreets
pissed him off, but he’d do it to protect Elisa.

Wouldn’t it be sweet, he thought as he punched his ticket
and walked to the train platform, to be welcomed at the front door, to stay all
day and all night, to not have to meet her covertly? To not have to hide? Ever?

To be able to walk openly with Elisa, to visit her when he
wanted—hell, to move in with her—would be bliss.

Fuck all this. Braden eyed a patroller wandering the
platform, looking for trouble. His anger boiled over.

He’d double his effort to help Rees get them the hell out of
there. They’d go to whatever planet that wasn’t Bor Narga with its fucked-up
restrictions, and Braden would never have to leave the lady he wanted asleep
while he crept from her house.

Having Elisa touch him, and he her, hadn’t been enough.
Braden wanted more. He wanted
her
. He’d get her to run away from Bor
Narga with him, even if he had to haul her onto the transport over his
shoulder. With his hand on her ass. That would be sweet.

The patroller glanced at him as though sensing Braden
contemplating the kidnapping of a highborn celibate. Braden longed to give her
the finger but resisted. He wouldn’t be able to help Rees from inside a cell,
and besides, his train was coming.

* * * * *

“Justin, tell me about that planet you lived on.” Braden
paused from shoveling in his breakfast when Justin came out of his bedroom.

Braden had stopped in the market and bought a feast on the
way home—a Shareem had to keep up his strength. Justin sat down in the other
chair and helped himself to a juicy peach.

“Sirius III?”

“Yeah. They welcomed Shareem?”

Justin bit into the peach. “I wouldn’t say welcomed with
open arms. But it’s not illegal for Shareem to be Shareem there. They weren’t
thrilled that DNAmo had sold me to a Siriun woman, and she was ordered to
release me when we reached the planet. Just as well. She was a total bitch.”

“I’d like to go there.”

Justin wiped peach juice from his mouth. “Sirius III is not
the promised land. You have to work your ass off to stay alive. And no selling
your services for what you do best. Sex is free between equal partners, no sex
trade of any kind allowed. They’re hard on anything that doesn’t smack of
consenting adults. Like deadly hard. Like you wouldn’t survive your arrest.”

Braden shrugged. “I’m all about consenting adults. The more
consenting the better.”

“I’m just saying you’d have to get off your lazy ass and do
real work.”

Braden pushed away his empty plate. “I don’t mind.”

“How are you figuring on leaving?” Justin asked. “I got out because
someone gave DNAmo money, stuck me on a cargo ship and blasted me out. Next to
the livestock, I should add, which stunk like hell. I’ll never forget that
smell. But Shareem can’t just buy a ticket to Sirius III.”

“I’m working on that part.”

Braden wished he could focus but he kept seeing Elisa’s eyes
half closing, her face softening as she experienced pleasure for the very first
time.
Thank you, Braden,
she’d said. Her librarian voice wove around his
senses, taking away all pain, all loneliness.

Justin waved his hand in front of Braden’s face. “You still
here?”

“You’re funny. I had a good night.”

“Obviously.”

“You have to tell me why the hell you came back here,”
Braden said. “I mean, who for?”

“Why is that your business?”

“I’m curious. I have to meet the lady who could make a
Shareem run
back
to Bor Narga. Either she’s one hell of a woman, or
you’re so crazy you should be on heavy meds for the rest of your sorry life.”

Justin tossed down the peach pit. “OK, Braden my friend. If
you want to know so bad, I’ll show you.”

“Show me?”

“Yeah, you actually have to get up off your ass and walk.
All right?”

Braden wiped his mouth and left the table with renewed
energy. Strange what curiosity could make a man do.

Of course, right now, Braden needed anything to distract him
from thinking about Elisa, the woman he could never have. He grabbed his
sun-blocking robes and left with Justin.

No need to clean up the dirty dishes first. They’d still be
there when they got back.

* * * * *

Justin led Braden to a part of the city called the Vistara.
It sat on the western slopes of the hill topped by the Serestine Quarter. It
wasn’t as prestigious as the Serestine, but never try to explain that to anyone
from the Vistara.

The Vistara housed people who’d worked hard for their money,
at last rewarding themselves with a nice house on the hill, a few servants,
fine transport. Their children went to schools that mingled them with the
Serestines, and some of those kids ended up marrying into the highborn
families.

Most ordinary people of the metropolis aspired to the
Vistara. The Serestine Quarter was attainable only by being born into or
absorbed by one of the great families, the d’Aroths being the pinnacle of those
families. But any lady could live on the Vistara if she worked hard enough and
was lucky enough.

Braden had never liked the district. Oh sure, he could go
for having a big house with cool rooms and water anytime you wanted it,
shielded gardens and fancy hovercars. But when people moved to the Vistara,
something happened to them. They suddenly became impossible snobs and closed
ranks against anyone below them, even their best friends from their hardworking
days.

Once on the Vistara, no one even wanted to look at Pas City.
The views from the houses always faced north, to distant desert rather than the
sticky city below.

They wouldn’t look at Pas City, Braden figured, because they
feared they could fall right back down there if their luck changed. And they
were right.

If the Serestine Quarter barely tolerated Shareem, the Vistara
didn’t like them at all. Highborn women, it was understood though not talked
about, sometimes dabbled in the forbidden, like pleasure drugs from off-world
or Shareem.