Roark (Women Of Earth Book 1) (11 page)

“Now,” he said sitting back up into his original position, “Now you are perfect.”

And at the heated look in his eyes, Mira felt perfect.

He brought her hands to his shoulders and then ran his hands over her breasts, his roughened thumbs toying with the nipples. Mira leaned into the pressure as he traced the line of pearls. She wriggled under his tickling fingers as they danced around her navel and traveled around her waist and over the firm mounds of her ass. She gasped when those fingers slid between her legs.

“Spread for me, Miramiku” Roark ordered, she mindlessly obeyed.

Already wet and wanting, Mira caught her breath at his first touch. His fingers worked their magic and all the while he spoke to her.

“Ah, sweet gods, you like that, don’t you?” he said as his finger rubbed along the side of her needy clit.

She thought it was an observation, not a question, until he demanded an answer.

“Tell me, Miramiku.”

Her head was thrown back, her mouth open. She had to lick her lips before she answered, “Yes, yes. I do.”

His finger moved and put pressure over the top of the tender head. She winced and shifted her hips in search of the previous point of pleasure. The movement was slight, but he noticed.

“Do not hide your pleasures from me, Miramiku. Tell me.”

“Not there,” she whispered, beginning to pant, and a moment later, “Oh, god, yes. There. There!”

Her body began to burn with the need to come. Her heart pounded and her breath came fast. Roark’s fingers plunged inside her, curling forward with each thrust, unerringly finding the spot she never believed existed. The base of his palm pounded against her clit, yet she felt no discomfort, only the heat and pounding rhythm of his hand and the growing tension in her core. Her back arched. Her hips thrust against his fingers. She felt the rolling tide begin and she clutched at his shoulders to keep from falling when the wave struck shore.

Her body stiffened when it hit. Her inner muscles clamped down on the fingers still inside her. She moaned as the long lost sensations of bliss found their way home. Roark’s hands caught her as her knees gave away. He turned and brought her to rest on the bed where he lay beside her, stroking the hair from her forehead and cooing softly in her ear.

“You are beautiful and you are mine.”

When the sea of her soul was calm again, he left her only long enough to strip away his clothes. His body was as magnificent as she knew it would be. Perfectly defined muscle bulged beneath the skin of his thighs and calves. The blood markings curved in bold slashes and swirls along the length of one side, extending halfway down his thigh. Roark knew she watched him through languid, half closed eyes and he stood in proud display as she looked her fill. His body radiated power.

With gentle pressure at her thighs, he told her what he wanted and she opened for him. She felt his length and girth stretch and fill her and exalted in his groan of pleasure when he was fully seated. A considerate lover, he gave her body time to adjust before he began to move.

Wanting the feel of him moving inside her, Mira wrapped her stocking clad legs around him and dug her high heeled shoes into his backside.

Hands braced firmly to either side of her shoulders, elbows locked, and back arched, Roark’s thrusts were slow and deep. His green eyes watched her face, cautiously judging her reaction. She smiled up at him.

“Stop worrying, Roark. I’m ready, willing, and able to give whatever you need to take.” She ran her hands up and over his chest. “Come on, spaceman, show this Earthling what you’ve got.”

His green eyes blazed with speculation and then darkened with lust. His smile heated her insides and her body clenched around him. “That sounded like a dare,” he rumbled.

Unlocking his elbows, he lowered himself down from his sensual pushup, arching his back to bring them face to face. His mouth took hers, plundering it with ruthless determination until she whimpered with want and need.

The sound set his body in motion. One at a time, he grasped her hands and pressed them into the pillow above her head. He showed her what he had. Over and over, he took her body in positions and places she’d never dreamed of. In between those bouts of lovemaking, he held her and stroked her hair and called her beautiful.

“You’re beautiful, too,” she whispered once when he returned from the bath where he’d deposited the wet towel he’d used to wipe away the juices from their lovemaking.

He threw back his head and laughed at that. “You women of Earth are a strange lot. No other female in the galaxy would call me pretty.”

“No, not pretty, not smooth tongued either. Beautiful in the way mountains are beautiful, oceans are beautiful, storms are beautiful. There’s a beauty in power and strength, in movement. That’s not the same as pretty.” She smiled. “I’d use the word majesty, but your opinion of yourself is large enough.”

“But accurate,” Roark qualified, and then nodded in satisfaction. “It is a good word, majesty. I like it. It is used in reference to kings, isn’t it? Am I your king, Miramiku? Am I free to command you?”

“Only in the kingdom of your bed.” To prove it she slid to her knees before him and took his growing erection into her mouth.

He groaned with pleasure and then laughed again. “My kingdom has already grown to encompass the bedroom floor. What territory should we conquer next? The kitchen? The balcony? How far will you follow me?”

Mira withdrew her mouth, but still held him in her hand as she sat back on her heels. “To the ends of the galaxy, your majesty, as long as you remember that your kingdom contains only one subject.”

“With you as that subject, Miramiku, one is more than enough. You have my word.”

He took what he wanted, but he took her with him. Each orgasm was more satisfying than the last until finally, she was begging for mercy.

“Please, please Roark, no more,” she pleaded, her breath pumping in and out in short, quick pants. “It’s been a long time. I’m not used to this and I need sleep.”

“You were the one who issued the dare,” he laughed smugly.

He peeled her from the back of the sofa where she was draped like a rag doll and wrapped her in the soft blanket he’d dragged in from the bed. Leaning back on the high curved arm, he settled her next to him. “Tomorrow is another day.”

“I’ll barely be able to walk tomorrow,” she muttered as she snuggled deeper into his arms.

His laughter rumbled in his chest. “Ah, but with each step you take, you will think of me,
Mirasha.”

She certainly would. He’d given her a lot to think about. His body was so warm and his strong arms held her close. Sated and exhausted, her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep on one last thought.

If Roark was Prince Charming, then Mira Donazetto was one lucky girl. She was still wearing her glass slippers long past the striking of midnight.

Chapter 13

“Mirasha.” Roark whispered the pet name as the woman padded sleepily into the kitchen. He set his mug of cavik aside and opened his arms.

Shuffling because of the bed sheet that was awkwardly wrapped around her, she came directly to him, though she didn’t raise her eyes. Her forehead thudded against the center of his chest.

“Mirasha,” she echoed the pet name on a soft sigh. “I thought I dreamed it. How did I end up in the bed? And alone,” she added grumpily.

He ran his hand over her messy mass of curls. “I grew uncomfortable on the couch and you sleep like the dead.”

She lifted her face to him. “If I slept like the dead, it was because you killed me,” she grumbled.

Her lips, still full and reddened from lovemaking, pouted. Roark lifted her chin a little higher and stole a kiss. He laughed at her glaring response.

“Are you always this grouchy in the morning?” he laughed.

Mira didn’t laugh back. Instead, she moved in closer to him and rested her cheek against his bare chest. “I’m not grouchy, this isn’t morning, and don’t you Godan ever sleep?” One hand slid around his waist while she pointed to the windows at the end of the room with the other. “It’s still dark out.”

“You’re grouchy, and it’s an hour until dawn,” he argued back. He toasted her with his mug and took a sip. “Will coffee cure that?”

Mira pulled the hand with the mug he’d been drinking from close to her nose and sniffed the brown liquid. “That,” she said, “is not coffee.” She wrinkled her nose and shivered in distaste. “If that’s the stuff you Godans drink in the morning, I’m going to have a few words with Mohawk about his sense of smell. He said coffee smelled like burnt pig piss. I think he sniffed the wrong mug.”

Her twitching nose reminded Roark of one of the zinnies that sometimes found their way aboard ships that docked from Pylon 2. The clever little creatures were technically vermin, but because of their soft fur and affectionate nature, crewmen sometimes kept them as pets. He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Her forehead wrinkled, her eyes narrowed, and her lips formed a narrow line of discontent.

“You are. Even when you try to make horrible faces, you’re cute.”

He set her away from him and turned to the black plastic device on the counter. He pressed the button and hoped the Cook’s crewman had read the directions correctly. The machine gurgled and dark liquid spurted into the mug placed to capture it.

“I’m not cute. I’ve never been cute. I never will be cute. Wynne’s the cute one. I’m the practical one. She’s pie-in-the-sky. I’m down-to-earth.” She didn’t sound resentful of the labels.

“So you’re the smart one.”

“Oh, no. Wynne’s the smart one. I’m the clever one.”

“I supposed it’s the same in all families. Each member has a role to play and a label to go with it. My brother, Bozador, was called clever, too, but that was only a polite term for what he really was; ruthless.” He glanced back at her and chuckled. “You’re not ruthless, are you? Maybe your family meant grouchy when they called you clever.” He shrugged and went on.

“Bozador took his warrior heritage and applied it in the marketplace. He would cut the financial throat out of anyone he perceived as the enemy. As boys, Udreus often stood between us, his older and younger brother, when we fought. He’s known as the family peacemaker. In truth, Udreus was afraid of both of us and wouldn’t take a side. He’s now a rising star in Diplomatic Services and his negotiating skills are becoming legend. Cowardice has worked in his favor and he no longer has to fear his brothers, only the Etiquette Squad.”

Roark heard her snicker of laughter and went on to where his family revelations were leading. “And your brother, what of him? How does he fit into this family of yours? What role does he play? What label does he carry?”

“We’re not sure what his role is yet. Wynne would disagree, but I’ve narrowed it down to a choice of three.” Mira counted them off by raising her fingers. “His job is to give me grey hair before my time, drive me crazy, or drive me to an early grave. If he keeps going, it could be all three.”

Roark laughed because he understood. “It is the way of boys. My mother often says she would have been wiser to weave leather into whips instead of wool into soft blankets for us.”

“My mother, and then my sister and I spoiled him and now we have to live with our mistake. Unfortunately, he’s not so small anymore.”

“Then your brother is no longer a child?”

“He is, but he thinks he’s a man and there aren’t that many men left to show him what that means. Davey is a good boy at heart.” Roark could feel the weight of her concern in her sigh. “I’ve been a failure in that department.”

“Why is it your failure?” he was about to ask, but at the feel of her soft hands on the bare skin of his back, his question died.

Mira peeked around him to watch the gurgling machine.

“That’s coffee.” She leaned against his back and hugged him. “I think I love you.” He felt her freeze after the words were spoken and then she stepped away. “I mean...”

“So coffee is the key to your pleasure. I wish I’d known that sooner. I could have saved the time I wasted finding chocolate and flowers.” Roark turned, holding the mug high so she wouldn’t be burned. He offered it to her with a little bow.

One sip and she was smiling over the rim of the mug. “Your time wasn’t wasted.”

Roark leaned in for a quick kiss. “If coffee is essential to restore your good mood, how does your family tolerate you in the morning without it?”

“I get up an hour before everyone else,” she finally laughed after another closed eyed sip. “I usually make myself a cup of the concoction Wynne calls tea. It isn’t tea, and it sure as heck isn’t coffee, but it helps. And usually,” she added accusingly, “I don’t have horny Godan commanders pestering me all night.”

“I’m very happy to hear it, though you didn’t seem too pestered by it.”

Mira rolled her eyes. “I know, and look what it got me. I may never walk normally again.”

A series of shrill beeps issued from the com-screen on his desk. The pattern of the beeps told Roark it was his Prime reporting in. Harm knew better than to disturb him unless it was important.

“I have to answer that,” he said, apologizing with his tone.

“Go. You’re the First Commander. I get it.”

Roark hooked the small receiver over his ear and depressed the square at the bottom of the com-screen that was meant for sound only. Harm was on the front lines and the picture displayed would be different from a normal vid call. He didn’t want Mira to see or hear any of the bloody chaos surrounding Harm.

“Roark. Report,” he said into the tiny microphone, not wasting time on greetings.

While he listened, he called up another screen which displayed a map of the current battlefield. As Harm spoke, Roark moved his fingers through the air shifting the positions of troops and equipment. As he issued his commands, he caught sight of Mira opening the glass panel that led to the balcony.

She put her fingers to her lips and then pointed to the outside indicating that she would give him privacy. He gave her a curt nod and turned away, not because she’d interrupted, but because with each step she took, her long and shapely legs extended from her gown of bed sheet. The sight was distracting. Harm’s voice crackled in his ear, drawing him back to duty.

When he was finished, he followed Mira out onto the balcony where she was standing at the rail.

“The Hahnshin are bombing again,” she said of the bright flashes of light bursting along the predawn horizon. Like thunder after lightning, the distant boom of sound rolled in several seconds later.

“No, those are ours. We’re finally on the offensive. We’ve taken them by surprise. Today, we will show them what the real Godan army looks like. This is only the first taste.”

“I had no idea they were so close.”

She shivered, whether from the thought or from the cool of the night air he couldn’t tell. Roark moved up behind her and pressed his body to her back. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and across her chest.

“We will drive them back, and then we will drive them out.”

She set her mug on the rail and leaned back against him. Crisscrossing her arms over her breasts, she clasped his forearms. Her voice was quiet, distant, as she spoke out into the distance of memory.

“After the first wave, no one knew what was happening. We knew they hit the big cities. We knew Washington D.C. was gone, but the news assured us most of our leaders were safe and so were we. A lot of men and women in this town were ex-military. They moved out to rejoin, taking a lot of would-be recruits with them. I almost went along, but I was a teacher and I thought it was important to keep things as normal as possible for the children. Everyone thought it was important to keep things as normal as possible. Why did we do that?” she asked bitterly. “Why did we pretend for so long that things were normal? Why did we cling so hard to things that were slipping away with every news report? We should have done something. I should have done something.”

She twisted her neck around to look up at him as if his face might hold the answers. He tightened his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer into his embrace as if his warmth could shield her from the pain.

“You could not have stopped the Hahnshin. Not hundreds, not thousands, not millions of you could have stopped them. They followed the pattern here as they always do. They take out the largest population areas and the most significant military installations first. They shut down communication systems, and in the case of your Earth, the massive but low-tech power grids.”

“What do they want? Why us? Why here? Why destroy everything they see?”

“The Hahnshin are not of this galaxy. They have no interest in conquering people, only land. They raid our planets and take what they need; ores, minerals, the crystalline structures we need for our power, and water, precious water. They leave nothing behind but a dead and empty husk. We’ve fought them for a thousand years. Their technology is more advanced than ours. They can travel farther and faster than we can. Someday, that will change. We will find the place where they live and bring the war to them. Someday we will win, but for now, we can only hold back their destruction and drive them out where we can.”

“How many?” Roark barely heard the whispered question. “How many of us are left?”

It was a question he didn’t want to answer. It would only bring her further pain, but Mira, like the rest of her people, needed to know.

“One half to two-thirds of your population is gone.” As he spoke, he turned her in his arms until she was facing him. “There was nothing you could do to stop it and that is one of the most painful things a sentient being can experience, knowing there is nothing they can do to save what they love.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Things will never be the same again, will they?”

Roark wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb. “No,
Miramiku
, things will never be the same, but those who survive will have the chance to build something new.”

“With you?” she asked, meaning his people.

“Yes, miku Mirasha, with me,” he answered, meaning something entirely different.