Love Without Boundaries (18 page)

“Oh, Rykhan,” she sighed when he lifted his mouth from hers in order to take a deep gulp of air.

“I want, Leah,” he’d growled.
 
“I feel such a burning want for you.”

And at his words, one of her hands drifted to the back of his head, tangling in his shoulder-length hair to return his face to hers.
 
But that wasn’t enough, wasn’t near enough for the heat he’d generated inside her and she felt her hand move to his still unbuttoned shirt, brushing the material aside as her fingers demanded to feel his skin.

As her hands caressed, she heard Rykhan’s own groans begin and his hips pressed closer as he began to rock, to stroke himself against the side of her hip.
 
“Oh
Tsiran
!
 
That feels so good!”

Leah couldn’t disagree but she knew that it was a dance meant for two even though only one of them was actually taking things forward.

She took one of the hands he had placed on the bed next to her and moved it to her belly.
 
But instead of realizing she was giving him approval to
explore,
his fingers simply remained where she’d left them.
 
With a small mewl of
annoyance,
she shifted it until it pushed underneath her t-shirt, until it rested against the warm skin of her stomach.
 
“Touch me, baby,” she breathed against his mouth.
 
“Touch me like I’m touching you.”

It was then that their dance began in earnest with her leading and Rykhan following.
 
As her fingers roamed, his did as well.
 
When her lips moved to kiss the sensitive strip of skin beneath his ear, she felt his lips copy the move to lick and lave.
 
But it was when her fingertips found his flat but aroused nipples that he pulled back.

“You are wearing too many clothes,” he
advised,
his eyes hot with desire as she gazed up at him.
 
Without a shred of shame, Leah lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it aside.
 
Arching her back, her hands found the clasp of her bra behind her and shoved the straps down off her arms before pinching the center to pull it away from her chest.

Watching every one of her movements as if he was going to be tested on it later, Rykhan let out a low dark stream of unintelligible words at the sight of her unclad breasts.

“I hope those were compliments,” she teased, trying to keep her voice light but it was hard with the demanding heat coursing through her.

He didn’t answer right away, not with words, as his eyes devoured the flesh she’d uncovered to his gaze.
  
Soon though, his head began to dip and she allowed her body to answer as she again arched up, pushing her aching nipples towards his mouth.
 
His tongue laved and lapped, swirled and licked but soon he became frustrated at how her rosy, sharp peaks kept slipping out of his mouth before he determined how to anchor her breast into his palm to hold it still.

A sequence of moves that told Leah how unschooled the gorgeous man was in the language of bed play.
 
And if he was so eager to learn, then she could and most definitely would
gladly
accept the role of teacher.

She found herself quickly removing the rest of her clothes, watching from beneath lowered lashes as he did the same.
 
As she scooted up the bed to rest her head on the pillows, she saw him pause with one knee on the mattress until she settled.
 
But his eyes were glued to one particular, specific spot on her body.

Leah already knew he was a curious man, wanting to discover as much as he could about any of the situations he found himself in and it appeared that he was no less curious when it came to sex.

“May I look at you?” he asked and there was a reverence in his voice she’d never heard before.

She planted her feet on the bed and opened her knees to expose her groomed curls to his view which caused him to again murmur in a language she couldn’t understand.
 
But Leah knew appreciation when she heard it.

Rykhan used a finger to lightly trace the seam of her mound.
 
“Your wetness calls to me.”

His words might not have been the kind of bedroom talk she was used to, but it caused a deep clench inside her just the same.

“I need to put my tailpor inside you,” he breathed as he pulled his body up and over hers.
 
“I do not know how to do this, but the need to do so
rides
me hard.”

Such beautifully honest words were Leah’s undoing and she felt her heart melt even as she reached between them to capture his full length in her hand.
 
Stroking it tenderly, she shifted her hips and pointed the mushroomed helmet of his turgid steel at her soaked opening.
 
“Press your hips forward, baby,” she whispered as her hand released him on a long caress.
 
“Sink into me, Rykhan.”

And he did.
 
With such a long, deep groan that was so heartfelt, she gave up her own involuntary cry at the feel of his fullness as it slid thick and deeply into her.
 
When his pubic bone was pressed to hers, he raised himself up on his elbows and gazed down at her with a genuine look of stunned wonder.
 
“Your heat encompasses me.”

“Yes,” she panted.
 
“But this is only the beginning, Rykhan.”

“There is more?”

“Much more, baby.
 
Pull back and move in again,” she advised softly, draping her feet over his calves.
 
As he
begin
to move, her hips provided the counter rhythm, a delicious wet friction that had her seeing stars.

His hips began moving faster as his breath hitched.
 
“Oh
Tsiran
!” he groaned over and over again.

And Leah wasn’t far behind him in vocalizing how good he felt as he slewed in and out of her.
 
As she felt her orgasm begin to circle, he slowed a bit and brought his gaze back to hers.
 
“Something is about to happen, my Leah.
 
I do not know how to explain it other than to say my tailpor is about to erupt.”

She bit her lip in an effort not to laugh and once she had regained control she assured him it was normal.

“But it is something that happens when I…” she saw his cheeks turn ruddy before he continued speaking.
 
“When I touch myself.”

“In English we call it an orgasm and I can feel mine coming on as well,” she explained, using a hand to gently push his hair off his sweating forehead.
 
And he turned his face into her hand, kissing her palm.

“Females erupt too?”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, baby and you’ll see,” she promised as his hips renewed their assault once again, taking her to the very pinnacle of pleasure before her body flew into millions of tiny, sharp pieces in waves so delightful she couldn’t breathe.

Rykhan however roared his delight so loudly it echoed against the large windows of the room which had Leah holding him tightly to her in an effort to share his pleasure.

It took more than a few moments before their bodies settled and he shifted his weight to one forearm as he raised his eyes to hers.
 
“Thank you for sharing yourself with me, my Leah.”

Overwhelmed, Leah lifted up in order to capture his mouth, but before their lips met her shoulder bumped his elbow causing his arm, which was holding most of his weight, to slide on the silky comforter.
 
And as his body fell onto hers their two metal armbands came into direct contact, sparks arcing as metal hit metal.

But neither Leah nor Rykhan was aware of the electrical charge that was released when their
wahroms
met because at the exact moment of impact, at the precise instant of the collision between the two bracelets, both were overtaken by climaxes so strong and of such intensity that all thought processes ceased.

It was if their two separate bodies shared the same explosion as an absolute blaze of bliss bound them together.
 
And the connection between them, both physical and mental, throbbed deeply after its initial sharp crest, leaving them both aching and panting in their utter satisfaction.

It was more than a few minutes later before either could stir themselves to do more than simply blink the aftershocks of their shared joining.

“I guess that’s what Bronsyn meant when he talked about the contact being embarrassing,” Leah offered on a whisper as Rykhan moved out and off her until he was lying on his back.

There was a wry smile in place as he used both hands to sweep his hair off his face, one that Leah found especially poignant after what they’d just done.
 
“I agree.
 
But next time,
tersa blay
, we will make sure the action is deliberate, yes?”

And Leah found their shared laughter to be the best sort of afterglow she’d ever experienced.

“Okay, okay…settle down,” Pam yelled over the cacophony of male voices, using her hands in a downward motion to signal her intent.
 
“One more time, fellas.
 
Give me your name and I’ll help you find the American equivalent.”
 
Pointing to the man standing with an elbow on one of the bookshelves, the one with the darkest skin, which was paired with long, shiny black hair and snapping dark eyes,
 
Pam announced, “You first.”

“Tyshar Rell,”
came
the low grumble.

Leah had never heard such deep voices as was heard that afternoon at the house.

“Hmm.
 
Tee-shar doesn’t quite…” her voice trailed off as she peered at the ceiling of the large living room they’d adjourned to after the warriors had cooked and then serve a wonderful though simple lunch out in the outdoor kitchen.
 
“How do you spell it?”

“T-Y-S…”

“Enough, enough.
 
I got it!”
 
And Pam’s eyes seemed to take on a smile as bright as the one that lit her lips.
 
“Ty.
 
Okay?
 
We’re gonna pronounce it as ‘tie’.”

“Isn’t that what a male wears around his neck with a suit?” Wyst asked.

“Yeah?
 
And?”
Pam challenged, twisting to look up at the large man she was leaning against.
 
“You gotta problem with that?”

“It’s just you didn’t change my name in the least,” came the reply, offered so softly that Pam knew it was meant for her and her ears alone.

She smiled sweetly, blinking up at Wyst before turning back around and wiggling into his chest.
 
Pam knew she was a grade ‘A’ cuddle-slut who was always happiest when ensconced next to a gorgeous and built man.
 
Which meant that at that moment she was almost in heaven.
 
“Though it’s spelled different than ‘West’, it’s still a great name.
 
And if Ty’s not objecting, then why should you?”

“Point taken, pixie,” he
murmured,
his mouth so close to her skin that she shivered.

“Who’s next?” she called and saw the warrior who she thought might be the youngest raise his hand.

“Laxon Satyl.”
 
Pam was stunned to see the dark red crept into the warrior’s creamy countenance while only speaking his name.
 
He was a true redhead and had the beautiful skin to pull it off.

“Gosh, another tricky one,” she groaned.
 
“Give me a second to think about it, all right?”
 
Her eyes closed and she silently repeated his name before allowing sound to escape as she worked through the syllables.
 
“Lac-shawn Say-tell.”

Everyone waited as she repeated it like a mantra, saying it over and over again only adding the accents in different places each time.

Snapping her fingers, Pam sat straight up before speaking.
 
“It’s perfect for you and I know you’re gonna love it.”

The younger yet still brawny man who had quickly grabbed one of the corners in the sectional sofa seemed to hold his breath as he waited for his ‘Americanized’ name.

“From henceforth on, ye shall be known as ‘Sean’,” Pam intoned in as deep a voice as she could manage, which had everyone in the room laughing.
 
Dropping her act, she nodded towards the young warrior with the auburn braid and almost leaf green eyes.
 
“Do you like it?”

“I do, very much,” he replied with a smile and a deep blink of his blonde tipped lashes.

“Great!”
 
Turning back to Wyst she announced, “I think I may have found my calling.”

“Which would be?”

“Naming people, dude!
 
Geesh, stick with the program, okay?”
 
She was having so much fun Pam felt as if she’d lost her place in the whole scheme of it all.
 
“Wait!
 
Let’s do a recap to see where we are.”

Pointing a finger to where Rykhan and Leah sat eating since they had skipped out earlier and totally missed lunch, she called out, “Ryk”, hearing the other voices in the room echo the word.
 
“Not Ricky, not Richard, but good ol’, plain ol’ American Rick!”
 
Casting her eyes around the men in various stages of relaxation around her, again she called out, “R-y-k!”

“Ryk!”
came
the multi-voiced reply.

Pointing a finger over her head and behind her, she yelled, “West!
 
W-y-s-t, Wyst!”

“Wyst!”
 
It was shouted so loud that Pam could feel the floor bounce beneath her feet.

Turning her head and shoving a thumb to where the dark hair man stood against the bookcase, she cried out, “Ty!”

“Ty!”

“All right and well done!”
She cooed in a much softer voice.
 
“So who’s this guy again?”
 
Pam’s eyes turned to the last man she’d named.
 
The one whose Picari name had given her so much trouble as she tried to find an American one.

“Sean!” the young man shouted with clenched fists.
 
“I am Sean of the Nutrolites.
 
Hear me and be afraid.
 
Be very, very afraid human females!”

Pam blinked as the other men and even Leah laughed at Laxon’s joking.
 
But to her mind something about it was just the tiniest bit…off.
 
She knew he meant it to be funny, but a man should never have to warn a woman away by telling her to be afraid, right?
 
And what was that shit about ‘human’?

But she pushed that dark thought away and straightened a bit.
 
“Two last ones, huh?”

“Three if you include Bronsyn,” Wyst corrected from behind her.

Waving a dismissive hand, Pam made a rude noise.
 
“Naw, Bronsyn is a great name just as it is,” and shot a grin to the older man sitting on one of the other sofas who had puffed up with pride at her proclamation.

“Me!
 
I want to go next,”
came
the shout from the largest man of the group.
 
Sitting on the floor with his back against a portion of the u-shaped sectional, he seemed to be relaxed at first glance.
 
But when Pam let her eyes roam over the sheer size of him, she noticed his tense jaw and clenched fists.
 
“My name is Arbrynt Llow.”

“Dude, from what I can see, there ain’t nothing ‘low’ about you,” which brought another round of laughter from the group because it was true.
 
Of all the men in attendance, the blonde Arbrynt was both the tallest and the broadest.
 
His features were not classically handsome but were more on the brutish side even though there was something about his looks that Pam admitted was definitely intriguing.
 
“Is Brent okay with you?”

A deep nod from the man was all the reply Pam was given and she marked him as one of the quieter ones in the group.

She looked to the last of the warriors and cocked an eyebrow.
 
“Last but not least, you are…”

“Gyard Trag,” came the deep rumble that Pam could swear came from around the man’s knees.
 
To her way of thinking, there was bass and then there was
baritone
and that guy’s voice was the deepest she’d ever heard.

“Gee-yard…Gee-yard,” she mumbled, staring at the warrior and pulling on her bottom lip as she thought.
 
“We could choose the old-fashioned French name of
Gui
, I guess, but American women might think of those pajama things the kung fu dudes wear.”
 
She closed her eyes in the ensuing quiet to give her some room to think.
 
Any woman in the world would be hard-pressed to keep her mind on her business with all the hot gorgeousness that was spread out around her.

“There are a couple of choices, I think,” she said after a time.
 
“There’s Gere, Gareth or even Garth, but I wouldn’t go with that one unless you are seriously into country music.”
 
The men blinked and Pam realized that their lack of response indicated a lack of knowledge.
 
So she moved on.
 
“You could choose Gary, Jerry or even a nickname like ‘Yard’ if that tickles your fancy.
 
But whatever name you pick, sorting out your hair
absolutely,
positively has to be the next order of business, bud.”

“What is wrong with my hair?” The man looked more than a little offended as he brought the longest layer of bright blonde hair over his shoulder and began to stroke it.

Pam tried to think of a nice way of saying what truly needed to be said but finally just gave the truth to him straight.
 
“Dude, your mullet went out of style years ago.”
 
At the confused faces, she continued.
 
“The whole party in the back, with business in the front?
 
It just isn’t cool and will turn most American girls off.
 
Which is not the goal, right?
 
So you’re gonna have to bite the bullet and get it cut, big guy.”

More than one gasp was heard in the room and Pam realized she may have overstepped her bounds with her latest suggestion.
 
Weren’t there religions that demanded their converts not cut their hair?

“I like the Gere name,” and Pam saw the warrior’s dark eyes turn to her when he spoke.
 
“And I will consider…” the man swallowed both hard and deep before finishing.
 
“…cutting my locks if it helps me secure a mate.”

 
Bronsyn stood and began to step his way over and around the feet and legs of the men who surrounded him, blocking Pam’s view.
 
She sat forward and leaned in order to capture the eyes of Sean.
 
“It’s something you might give some thought to as well.
 
In fact, all of you might want to consider getting your hair styled.
 
And some new threads wouldn’t go amiss either.”

And as the noise level increased due to all the various conversations which had started at her suggestions, Bronsyn paused where Rykhan and Leah sat.
 
“I need a word,” he murmured and caught Rykhan’s nod before his warrior straightened and began to stand.
 
“No, with both of you.”

Bronsyn saw a slight frown crease Leah’s face as her confused eyes flicked between the two men.

And while Bronsyn was loathed to upset her or cause any additional stress, the commander felt it was time he enlisted the help of the human female.

A female
Tsiran
in his infinite wisdom and goodness had marked as one of their own.

*.*.*.*.*

Leah followed Bronsyn as he led them to a room tucked away and behind the kitchen which was simply furnished with a couple of club chairs and a long leather couch set on either side of a coffee table.
 
The main feature of the room was the large window that overlooked three of the five different patios as well as the pool area.

She felt a tremble of uneasiness begin in her stomach as she lowered herself to the couch although she couldn’t have said why.
 
All she knew was that the feeling immediately dissipated when Rykhan sat beside her and brought his leg to rest lightly against hers.
 
And she again wondered what it was about him that made her find such peace at his touch.

She watched Bronsyn settle into one of the large chairs and prop his bare feet on the edge of the table.

“I do not know how much my men have told you about our situation,” he started, rubbing his chin as his gray eyes held
her own
.

“Not much,” she replied, looking at Rykhan before turning her face back to Bronsyn.
 
“Just that you and your group are new to the States and only recently got here.”

Bronsyn nodded and Leah thought the small smile he wore looked
forced
.
 
“Did they mention where we are from?”

“A country called Galaxia?” She answered, with a hope that she had pronounced it correctly.

Bronsyn’s look seemed to become more intense at her answer.
 
“And where do you believe that is?”

She tilted her head as she tried to remember her and Rykhan’s conversation over dinner on their second date.
 
“I guess it’s one of the new countries that came out of the old U.S.S.R.”
 
Rykhan reached out a hand and laid it lightly on her jean-clad thigh as if he almost knew how uncomfortable the questions were making her feel.
 
Once again, a sense of tranquility stole over her at his touch as her armband began to heat.

“I think you know that isn’t the truth.”
 
Bronsyn’s voice was a low growl within the confines of the small room.