Justin (26 page)
“Research?”
“On Shareem.”
He stared at her. “You’re doing research on Shareem? What is there to research?”
“Oh, many, many things.”
He wanted to laugh again.
He wouldn’t mind helping with a little research. He’d pull off his loincloth, lay her on the sand, lace his fingers through her warm, red hair. Then spread her legs, thrust his tongue inside her fine pussy. Yes, any research was fine with him.
She stammered, “I wondered if you would — ah —”
He leaned closer. She had a sweet scent overlaid with a tang of excited woman.
What do you want me to do, love? he thought. Fuck you? Lick you? Fill your mouth?
Bind her hands, part her legs. Take . . .
Again, he stopped his thoughts. She was celibate and clueless. She had no idea what he could do, what Shareem could do, what
Rees
could do.
The woman drew a breath. “I wonder if you’d give me a sample of your DNA.”
Rees stared at her. “Okay, I’ve had bizarre requests before, but . . . What do you want to do? Grow your own Shareem? That’s illegal, darling.”
“No, no. I only want to look at it. To see what’s different about you.”
“What’s different is I don’t have parents. Or, maybe I have multiple parents. Or scientists with nothing better to do.”
She frowned, like she didn’t know what he was talking about.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
She wet her lips. “Talan.”
“Pretty name for a lady researcher. Okay, Talan, you can have my DNA. Mind if I think of some fun ways of giving it to you?”
“That’s all right, I’ll just take cells from your finger.” She reached into her robe, pulling out something that looked like a sharp knife with a tube attached to it.
Rees took an instinctive step back. Clinics and tubes and knives always bothered him.
“Ready?” she asked.
He made himself hold up his finger. The holo-block sunlight glittered on his tanned skin and the black chain.
As though she saw nothing but his finger, Talan scraped a little of the skin from his fingertip. She closed the tube over the knife and put it back into her pocket. She looked satisfied.
“Is that it?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome.”
He should not touch her, he knew that, and not just because it was taboo. She stirred him up, and stirring up Rees was dangerous.
But he
wanted
to touch her. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.
She stared at him, mesmerized. His touch, his voice, his gaze, were all made to melt a woman.
“You’re putting a spell on me,” she whispered. “I read about that.”
He grinned. “I know. I can’t help it.”
“I have to go.”
“So you keep saying.”
He withdrew his touch. She drew a sharp breath, as though released from a trap. She whirled around again, making for the door.
“Sure you don’t want to stay?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I am already very late. If I have to explain . . .”
If her friends were the upper-class elite — women who’d decided that good old-fashioned screwing was bad, women who’d made laws restricting Shareem — she would be in for it, all right.
“Tell them you were researching,” he called.
“Good idea. Goodbye, Mr. Rees. And thank you.”
She turned again, running straight at the wall. Triggered, the door materialized in front of her and opened. She ran through, the draft swirling her robes above a pair of legs that made his blood sing. Then the door whooshed shut.
He stood there for a minute while the tropical air caressed him and the palm trees whispered and the ocean slithered up the beach.
Then he ripped off his loincloth and ran across the beach and into the waves.
His blood pounded and every cell in his body burned. He was like a lava flow in the water. He was surprised the holo-sea didn’t start boiling.
It was all he could do not to run after her, haul her back in, lock the door. He’d lay her down, thrust his cock inside her, keep pounding until he came. And she came. And he came again.
But he didn’t.
She’d said thank you.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
His cock, enhanced like the rest of him, stood out straight, even in the cool water.
Thank gods he’d decided to do an ocean. If he’d picked the garden with the fountain, he’d be dead, because no way a little trickling fountain would cool him down.
He plunged underwater, letting the waves slither over his naked body. It helped — some. He pictured the woman, Talan, coming back in, throwing off her robes, swimming out to him, twining her arms around his neck.
He’d lower his head and kiss her lips.
That wasn’t helping.
When he surfaced, blood still pounding, the pheromone levels in the room had decreased slightly — probably saving him from an early death. His heartbeat finally settled down.
It took his cock longer to deflate, but disappointment helped.
He floated on his back, thinking.
He’d remember her face. He’d see her again.
Once he’d finished helping Rio, he’d seek her out. An upper-class woman called Talan wouldn’t be too hard to find.
And when he did, he’d remind her of the lost opportunity they’d had here on the tropical beach.
The fucking would be good, he thought, his cock throbbing again. It would be very good. He knew it in his bones.
End of Excerpt
Award-winning author Allyson James is a pen name of
New York Times
bestselling author Jennifer Ashley. Allyson has written more than 35 published novels and novellas in romance, urban fantasy, and mystery under the names Jennifer Ashley, Allyson James, and Ashley Gardner. Her books have been nominated for and won Romance Writers of America's RITA (given for the best romance novels and novellas of the year), several
RT BookReviews
Reviewers Choice awards (including Best Urban Fantasy, Best Shapeshifter Romance, and Career Achievement in Historical Romance), Prism awards for her paranormal romances, and Passionate Plume and CAPA awards for her erotic romances.
More about Allyson's books can be found at the website
www.allysonjames.com
Or email Allyson at
[email protected]
Books in the Shareem series
Rees
Maia & Rylan
(short story)
Rio
Aiden & Ky
Calder
Braden
Justin
Books in the Stormwalker series
Stormwalker
Firewalker
Shadow Walker
Nightwalker (forthcoming)
And more to come!
