Pirate: Space Gypsy Chronicles, #1 (17 page)

But who needed them when he had his Earth wench?

His hand left the softness of her cheek and trailed down the column of her neck. She arched her head, an open invitation for his lips to follow. He obliged and let his lips trail a decadent blaze of kisses down the smooth skin and over the fluttering pulse of a rapidly beating heart. She couldn’t hide her excitement from him. He kept going until he finally got to kiss and taste that hollow at the base of her neck, the one that tempted him.

The exploration begun, he found he couldn’t stop. His lips kept moving, as did his hand. It traced its way down and under the water to cup the swell of her breast.

I was right. It’s a perfect handful.
More than enough to cup and squeeze. He brushed his thumb over the peak of her breast, and a spurt of masculine pleasure thickened his shaft as the nipple hardened into a point.

She uttered a small gasp and arched into his hand. How responsive she seemed.

He let his body settle to the bottom of the tub until his knees touched and he could kneel. It made him shorter than her, but given he wanted to use both hands to grasp, acceptable in this instance.

As his hands came forward under the water to grasp at her breasts, palming a full one each, her own hands flattened against his pectorals. She rubbed the many ridges on his chest, paying special attention to his nipples, which weren’t the erogenous zone she expected.

“I wouldn’t bother. Those aren’t real,” he whispered.

He probably shouldn’t have said anything because that certainly got her attention, and she stopped rubbing. “What did you say?”

“I said they aren’t real. In order to fit in with your people on Earth, I had to have certain outward modifications made. One of them was the addition of nipples.”

“You mean these are fake boobs?” She giggled, even as her nails pinched one tight. “So if I suck them, you won’t feel a thing?” she asked, a mischievous lilt to her query.

“Wench, I don't think there’s any part of my body that you could touch that I wouldn’t feel.” Having her so near was enough to excite him. His skin vibrated, and a certain part of him ached fiercely as it jutted from his body.

As if his thought of it brought it to her mind, one of her hands closed around his length, and she gave it a firm tug.

“So is this real or fake?” she asked.

“All real, wench. All me,” he purred against her lips, going in for another kiss. It was a kiss turned hot and torrid, aided by the fact that her hand began to slide back and forth on his shaft, squeezing him. Pumping him.

His own hands were just as busy. They still held plump breasts. His thumbs teased and stroked over her erect nubs. But he wanted to do more than just tease them with his fingers. He wanted to taste them. Thing was they were under water, and he didn’t want to drown.

Why struggle to fornicate in the tub when there is a perfectly soft mattress waiting for us?
But would changing locale ruin the mood? Snorting and sputtering water definitely would.

“Am I going to regret asking you if we should take this to the bed?”

Eyes at half-mast regarded him, and her lips quirked in a half-smile. “The only thing you’re going to regret is not finishing the job.”

Rafe lifted her from the water, dripping, slippery bodies leaving a wet trail on the floor as he took long strides to the bed. As if he cared he made a mess. He wasn’t about to stop now.

He tossed her onto the soft surface of the mattress and covered her nude body immediately with his. He didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind. Not now. Not when he burned for her.

Hunger unabated, he indulged in a heated kiss, reveling in how she panted into his mouth, taking pride in her swollen lips, lips swollen from his caresses. They gleamed bright and red, berries he wanted to taste over and over.

Her hands fluttered against him, grabbing at his shoulders, then his hair, then his arms, as if unable to decide. He would decide for both of them.

Being a man who liked to be in control, he took hold of her hands and pushed them over her head, trapping them. She didn’t seem to mind his manhandling, although her body did arch under his, more an invitation he touch than for escape.

His lips burned a path down her skin. At least it felt like a burn to him. Every part of him was on fire. Aroused and in need. In need of this woman.

At last, Rafe, no longer fearing he might drown, could latch his lips onto the erect nub of her nipple. She cried out and her back arched. He enjoyed the pressure she put against him. If she wanted more of him, then he would oblige. He let his own body press even more heavily down upon hers, pinning her in place.

She foiled him, though, by spreading her thighs and letting him fall between them that she might loosely wrap her legs around his shanks.

The decadent invitation pleased him, but he wasn’t done with her breasts yet. He sucked at her tender flesh, drawing it into his mouth, letting his teeth graze the soft skin. He licked and teased. Then switched sides and repeated the sensual torture.

Soft sounds escaped her lips. Soft cries of pleasure. Moans of delight. The occasional whispered word. “Yes.” “More.” “Oh God.”

Rafe noted he wasn’t quiet either. He noted his pleasure out loud, uttering groans and even a soft hum as he enjoyed the taste and feel of her.

But if there was one thing he longed to taste more than her breasts, it was the treasure between her thighs. Again, a treat not often indulged in. Most women didn’t inspire him to go down… Selfish perhaps, given he certainly loved some oral action on his parts.

He loved to have a pair of lips wrapped around his shaft. Oddly enough, of late, whenever he pictured lips around his cock, only one pair came to mind.

His lips led the way as he left her splendid breasts and kissed down her rib cage and over the rounded swell of her belly. He reached the hair of her mound, the springy curls soft and natural. He rubbed his face against her, which drew a giggle.

When he blew hotly on the flesh trembling just below, the giggle stopped dead.

He had released her hands during his descent. Thus, his own were free to push her legs up that he might nestle between her thighs. He let her legs rest heavily against his shoulders.

“Brave man,” she said, softly squeezing his head.

“I like to live dangerously,” he quipped, blowing the hot words on her sex.

“Oh.” Her head tilted back as she arched, a shiver coursing through her.

The smell of her enticed. Teased. He couldn’t resist. Why should he? His tongue darted for a taste. Sweet ambrosia. With his tongue, he parted her plump lips, opening the pink petals that thought to hide his treasure.

My treasure.

She melted sweetly on his tongue, her evident pleasure driving his own arousal to new heights. She chose to show her enjoyment in a painful, yet wonderful fashion. Her fingers twined in his hair, pulling and tugging, none too gentle. But he didn’t mind. How could he when it meant he caused the pleasure behind it?

And giving her pleasure was oddly important to him.

Her soft cries and moans of encouragement spurred him. Despite the sweetness, his tongue left the sweet folds of her sex to flick across her clitoris. Her love button was swollen and sensitive. He tugged at it with his lips, and her moans reached a higher pitch. The tautness in her body screamed she was ready.

It was time. He thrust his fingers into her, feeling her sex clench tight around them. Scorching heat. Tight and welcoming.

As he pumped into her, his fingers striking a rapid and deep rhythm, he let his tongue lash at her button. Her keening cries became hoarse, and her body rocked then stilled. All of her went taut except for her sex. It rippled, it clung, it exploded on his fingers, and she cried out.

The urgency of her orgasm took her and left her panting and thrashing on the bed, especially since he wouldn’t relent. Just because she came once didn’t mean he was done. He kept stroking and licking and…

Buzz
.
Buzz
. Fucking
buzzzzzzzzz
.

The insistent buzzing wouldn’t subside, but with the taste of his wench on his tongue, the feel of her quivering and fluttering against his fingers, he wasn’t inclined to answer. The only thing he wanted to do right now was sink balls deep into her, to thrust until she reached that fever pitch again. And then… Then she would clench his cock tightly as she came again, scratching at his back and crying out his name—if she had any breath left.

That was what he wanted more than anything, but the buzzing continued. His space version of a cellphone, built into his very flesh, demanded he court it attention. The most annoying part? He knew he couldn’t ignore it. Only certain messages and certain contacts didn’t get sent to an automated message after a few buzzes.

He rolled off the bed, dick straining, balls tight and aching. His back to Emma lest he give in to temptation, he pressed his thumb against his wrist. It activated the embedded device—again a pricy upgrade that had proved its worth more times than he could count. Regular communicators could get damaged, stolen, or crushed. It happened more often than it should. Hence, the surgery and beggaring of his credit account to receive the embedded version.

He read the message that appeared on his skin, and his cock shriveled.

Fuck. And fuck. More like no fucking. Not right now at any rate.

It took only a few long strides to hit the bathroom and grab his clothes from the cleaning unit. He tugged them on and stalked back to the bedroom.

Eyes still heavy with passion, Emma sat up on the bed, a sheet pulled over her curves as she watched him. “Are we going somewhere?”

“I am. You’re not. I need to meet someone about business.”

She went to fling back the covers. “I’ll get dressed.”

“No.” He barked the word louder than he meant to. Frustration was probably to blame. “This is something I have to deal with on my own. Stay here and get some rest. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

He hoped.

A
soft pillow
cradled her cheeks. Silky sheets caressed her naked body. Emma stretched under the cocooning blanket, smiling as she recalled her vivid dream.

Abducted and taken into space, and by a guy living in a trailer. How silly, but fun while it lasted. Even awake, the memory lingered, not fading into obscurity as most nighttime illusions tended to.

Her eyes fluttered opened, and reality slammed her. The comfort she rested in wasn’t her bed back home, nor was it the less-than-luxurious accommodations found on board the ship. Not only was she not in her own bed, she wasn’t in her own galaxy.

It didn’t bother her like it should have. What did gnaw at her was her decision to sleep with Rafe. Less sleep and more like let him ply his wicked way.

I finally gave in.
And, wow, what an experience.

Thinking of the man, where was he? A roll of her head and she noted the spot beside her remained untouched. Had Rafe not yet returned from his mysterious errand?

How long had she slept? Given she’d yet to figure out how they told time in space, she couldn’t tell how long he’d been gone. Long enough that she felt rested, but her body still tingled, sore, pleasantly so, between her legs. Rafe sure knew how to satisfy.

Emma couldn’t have said why she had suddenly capitulated to his advances. Then again, now that she’d gotten a taste, she also couldn’t remember why she’d fought him off for so long.

She wanted him. He wanted her. Traveling together complicated things somewhat. However, as she’d discovered thus far on their voyage, it was possible to find alone time, especially if they continued to work on opposite shifts.

Does this mean I’m done saying no?

Maybe. That would depend on him. The man truly possessed a gift for driving her nuts, and not just with anger but pleasure too. A smile pulled at her lips as she stretched. He certainly knew his way around a certain part of her body. A pity he’d had to leave before he could demonstrate his prowess in other ways.

She rolled off the bed and paced the room, naked but not in a hurry to cover up. On board the ship, the space often chilly, she tended to remain fully dressed. As a girl who’d spent years in a climate more often warm than not, she missed the freedom of wearing little on her body.

A stroll into the bathroom to take care of business meant the tub caught her eye. It remained full, and a dip of her toe in it showed it warm still. She couldn’t resist the temptation. After all, who knew when she’d next get a chance? Stepping into the water, she sank down until her body hit the bench, the liquid sluicing her sticky body. This time, without Rafe to distract her, she located something in a niche by the tub that produced lather. She used it to wash her body and hair.

Bathing done, she reluctantly got out and wrapped a fresh towel—which magically appeared in an alcove in the wall—and dried herself. Leaning against the wall, so she could bend and do her legs, she uttered a startled yell as the spot she pressed beeped and warm air billowed around her.

“What the hell?” Not quite as hot as a hair dryer, but really efficient considering the heated breeze removed the remaining moisture from her skin and also drew the dampness from her hair. Even more amazing, her hair settled in tame layers around her head, not the snarled and greasy mess she’d had to endure while on board the ship.

Her new clothes, smelling fresh and clean, had reappeared in another alcove recessed within the wall. Once dressed, she paced the bedroom mostly because she didn’t know what else to do.

She paused several times in front of the window, staring at the scenery, so strange in some respects, yet at the same time, less alien than she would have expected. In many ways, things remained the same. There was shopping and homes. Beds and baths. All the kinds of amenities she’d come to expect while different at the same time. But just having that reassuring sameness made her feel as if she could fit into this strange new life.

A new life with Rafe.

Rafe who’d left.

The question being, would he return?

The reasons for his absence nagged her. It didn’t help that doubt made her wonder and worry.

Did he abandon me here?

Of course not. He wouldn’t do that.

And I know this how?

Because she’d like to believe she was a decent judge of character.

So decent we never suspected he was a pirate from outer space.

In her defense, no one could have expected that. And why did she automatically assume he’d left and wouldn’t return? There could be any number of reasons why he’d yet to make a reappearance. His business had taken longer than expected. He was getting her a present. He got waylaid by ruffians and even now lay dead or dying in an alley.

The problem with all her assumptions was she couldn’t know for sure while hiding in this room.

Grumble.

She peered down at her belly. How long since she’d last eaten? In the thrill of the bath and then the sensual aftermath, she’d forgotten about food, but her body hadn’t. It protested its empty state.

Circling the room again, she went on the prowl for sustenance. Surely a place like this had room service or some kind of meal option, except she didn’t know how to access it.

Grumble. Again her stomach protested the lack of a snack, and she worried her lower lip between her teeth. Should she leave the room and go looking? Rafe had told her to stay and get some rest, but how long was she supposed to wait? If something had happened to him, or he’d abandoned her, then waiting served no purpose.

Wandering around on my own, though, probably isn’t the brightest idea.
Not given what had happened to her before with the prune lady and that ogre dude. Outside wasn’t exactly safe for her, but what if she stayed within the hotel? Rafe said they were like some kind of neutral zone. Perhaps she could find a front desk or some kind of restaurant or bar within the building.

It seemed like a reasonable compromise.

Taking one last peek around, she looked for anything to avoid braving the strange world outside. No tray appeared with food. A chocolate bar didn’t suddenly magically materialize.

Stop being such a pussy.
Shoulders pulled straight, head tilted at a stubborn angle, she marched to the elevator door. It opened at her approach, and she hesitated only a second before stepping into the metal coffin.

It felt just as claustrophobic as the first time, especially once the doors closed and it didn’t move. At all.

A tiny thread of panic wound around her, especially when she placed her hand on the sensor screen and it didn’t change color. What should she do?

“Dammit. Move. Do something. I just want some bloody food.”

In the stories, the magic words were something exotic. In space, the word food sent the elevator lurching, but to where?

Hopefully not the butchers with me as the meat.

The elevator didn’t move for long, and when the doors opened, she blinked. It might have had to do with the elegant atmosphere, so reminiscent of a fine dining establishment back home. The wide space, which spanned several tiers, featured many tables, some surrounded by a C-shaped booth, others with chairs. Some tables sat higher than others and had no chairs at all, but the gelatinous diners parked around them didn’t seem to mind as they partook of the culinary fare set upon the table.

While what the blob dudes ate didn’t look very appetizing, not with the many tendrils wiggling before being popped into giant mouths, she noted more pleasant smells. Mouth-watering scents that had her tummy rumbling even stronger than before.

Stepping forth from the elevator, she bit back a scream as someone smoothly appeared before her.

“Might I help you, honored guest?”

Could he explain what the hell he was first? Skin hued a light shade of blue and crowned with dark mauve hair, thick and lush, those attributes weren’t the strangest thing about the maître d’—and she assumed it was a him by the thin mustache he sported above his lip. Six arms projected from his sleek black suit.

“I’m hungry.” She blurted out the words and could have slapped herself for sounding so plaintive.

“Will you be joined by a companion, or do you wish to dine alone?”

She almost said alone when a familiar laugh caught her attention. Her head jerked, and she looked over the six-armed maître d’s shoulder to spot a familiar head in a booth on the second level.

So that was where Rafe hid. Not for long.

“I see my friend up there.” She pointed. “How do I get to him?”

“Please follow me.” He whirled around, and she got a glimpse of the wings projecting from his back. Stubby little things that she couldn’t see would prove much use.

A lift platform to the left zoomed them to the second tier, and she thanked the maître d’ before making a beeline for Rafe.

Here he was alive and well. And eating!

That alone annoyed her most. Nice to know he’d thought of her while he was out carousing.

He didn’t sit alone. Another man, a human-looking man, sat across from him. At something the fellow said, Rafe leaned close, his expression heated. She could see lips moving, but they spoke too low for her to hear over the subtle background music and hum of other diners.

While he never looked in her direction, he nevertheless knew when she drew near. “There you are, wench. I wondered when you’d join us.” His arm snaked out and grasped her hand, drawing her near. “Have a seat.”

Wondering at his odd behavior, she slid onto the chair beside him. This put her across from Rafe’s friend.

“So this is the female being gossiped about on the station. I can see why you’ve been fielding offers for her. Is she any good in bed?” The stranger perused her with the oddest eyes—one a vivid green, the other a clear blue—set in a swarthy face framed with a shock of dark hair broken by a single white streak. While not classically handsome, the man was definitely intriguing, intriguing enough that she didn’t take too much offense. She was starting to understand that the societal politeness that she’d grown used to on Earth didn’t exist out here. People were a lot more blunt.

It was okay. She could be blunt too. “What a shame you’ll never find out just how good I am in the sack. Unfortunately for you, I prefer men more my age.”

She heard a choking sound from beside her as Rafe stifled a cough.

The stranger didn’t take offense. He laughed. “What a feisty thing she is. Where did you find her?”

Before she could reply, Rafe did, probably a good thing since she didn’t have an answer that didn’t finish in Earth. “We ran into each other when I was acquiring some goods. I hired her on as a crewmember.”

“I’m surprised at you, Rafe. You don’t usually bring your playmates on board.”

“People change, cousin.”

“Cousin?” she queried.

“Actually, he’s my mother’s cousin. Emma, meet the very disreputable Luca.”

“Disreputable? You do me such honor, cousin. Then again, if someone knows about reputation, that would be you. The family still hasn’t gotten over what you did. I hear your uncle is still most displeased with you.”

She burned to ask what had happened, yet judging by the glowering expression on Rafe’s face, none would be forthcoming. He quickly changed the subject. “You still haven’t told me why you’re here, Luca.”

“Alas, I find myself a captain without a vessel. An unfortunate mutiny saw me lose my precious.”

“I told you not to hire that band of sewer rats.” Rafe shook his head. “Nothing good ever comes of working with them, even if their wages are cheap.”

“Apparently. So anyway, I was lucky enough to be able to find my way here in the pod I used to escape, and now I am stuck. Out of money. No ship. I’ve been waiting to find someone willing to take me on as a passenger or crew.”

Rafe snorted. “I can see why you might have problems. They are probably worried you’re going to take over their ship. It’s the reason I won’t let you aboard mine.”

“You wound me, cousin. As if I would do anything to family.”

Even Emma knew better than to trust that glint in Luca’s eyes. What kind of family did Rafe come from anyhow? He’d compared them to gypsies, and he was an unrepentant privateer, but was the rest of his family involved in less than above-board dealings?

The platter in front of Rafe drew her attention. She didn’t recognize anything on it, but her stomach didn’t care. If he could eat it, then so could she. She didn’t ask permission, just snagged something that looked like bacon, but tasted… She didn’t have a comparison that came to mind. The texture was spongy, and the flavor a mix of sweet, salty, and tang all at once. As she nibbled, she listened.

“You didn’t say why you were meeting with Huegga.” Luca took a swig from a mug.

Beside her, Rafe shrugged. “He’s a dealer in antiquities. He had a few objects in his possession that he wanted me to take on commission since I can access a wider clientele.”

“A dealer trusting you to broker a deal and pay out his share?” Luca uttered a boisterous laugh. “What a fool. How much do you stand to make when you jilt him of his portion?”

“Nothing. I didn’t agree.” Leaning back in his seat, Rafe let a smile tug his lips, but she noted it didn’t reach his eyes. Those shone with a cold darkness. “I’m a pirate, not a merchant.”

“So you didn’t take anything from Huegga? Say like a certain artifact?” The query sounded jovial, but Luca showed too much intent in his stare as he waited for a reply.

“What would I do with an old piece of junk?”

“Fly it, apparently,” she mumbled. Only as the two men’s gazes veered her way did she realize she’d spoken aloud. Ducking her head, she continued to eat, fascinated by this discussion between cousins. One would almost think they were enemies.

“So, cousin, may I beg a ride from you aboard your relic? I promise to not overthrow the captain.”

“Against my better judgment, I will grant you passage. Anything for family.” Rafe smiled wide, all his teeth gleaming.

“Excellent. I shall gather my things and meet you at the docking arm in say thirty mynts?”

“Perfect. That will give me enough time to ensure Emma is fed and that the
Annabelle
has received and stored all our supplies.”