Rystani Warrior 04 - The Quest (16 page)

ALTHOUGH KIREK had warned Angel that he wouldn’t stop after she’d agreed to begin—and she didn’t want him to—seeing emotions as colors was an intimacy issue she hadn’t expected to have to deal with. She wasn’t any more comfortable with him reading her emotions as clearly as Orion’s Belt than she was at seeing those colorful emotions for herself.

No wonder he hadn’t worried about picking a safe word. If she didn’t like something, he would know the same moment she knew it by the color she radiated.

He nipped her neck and an orange light flickered, and as
he lightly nibbled, the sting turned to a pink tickle. “How are you
…
oh my
…
oh
…
” Fascinated, excited, she watched him elicit feelings and colors from her with every touch. “How can you
…
do this?”

“I was born in hyperspace.”

“That’s not an explanation.” She wriggled her butt against him, hoping he’d take the hint and lower his hands to her parted thighs. Or at least place his hands back over her breasts.

Even as she thought how much she ached for his most intimate touch at her core, dark, ruby red puffs rose around her, telling him exactly how she felt
…
excited, passionate, aroused.

“I’ve created a psi field around us that manifests feelings as color.”

Then it dawned on her. “So the color isn’t only how I feel about your touch
…
it’s more?”

“Yes. It’s how we feel about each other.”

“I don’t see any color coming from your flesh,” she snapped, not too happy that he hadn’t explained his ability to create the emotion field—which felt like a mine field—before he’d set it up. God
…
Kirek would literally see her every feeling displayed as they made love. Although he’d promised her pleasure and he hadn’t gone back on his word, he’d upped the intimacy level, and she twisted inside, feeling as though he’d invaded her privacy.

The red haze darkened around her—matching her glum thoughts.

He didn’t seem surprised. “You’re having enough trouble dealing with your own feelings and don’t need mine to complicate matters. So I’m keeping my colors out of the mix for now.”

Who the hell was he to decide what she could and couldn’t handle? She glared into the mirror at him and sputtered, “
You
decided that I’m having trouble dealing with
my
feelings, so you’re hiding yours?”

“Hmm. That’s an odd way of looking at our arrangement.”

“There is nothing odd about it to me.” Annoyance rising, she tilted back her head to see his expression, tipping her breasts toward his mouth.

He held her firmly by the breasts and tweaked her nipples a bit harder. His voice remained calm, and yet she sensed that beneath the cool exterior was a will as strong as
bendar
,
and he wouldn’t be hurried or distracted by her antics. “It’s my turn to make the rules
…
for as long as I like. I’ve decided you are thinking way too much. I need to give you more pleasure.”

With that pronouncement, even as her irritation spiked, her pulse quickened and flickers of orange burned through the dark red cloud.

He chuckled. “See? You want me in spite of yourself.”

“Damn you.”

“Ah, you’re such a sensual creature, and I fully intend to make use of every advantage you give me.”

Angel didn’t know if his words were a criticism or a compliment or a threat or a promise. But the slow circles he made with his palms over her breasts, plus the very direct stimulation to her nipples, was beginning to make her writhe with a need for more.

She was all for making love. Revealing her feelings was another matter. Even as she enjoyed his touch, she was furious with him for making her choose. But she was even more furious with herself for letting her flesh dictate her decision. Clearly, with orange and red burning away the black mist, she was more than willing to continue, and the knowing awareness in his expression only spiked the tension.

Still, pride made her attempt to summon one last shred of protest. “Once we’re done,” she said as he licked her neck and a shiver of longing stoked tiny red flames, “I
…
ah
…
”

“You were saying?”

His hands slid from her breasts to her parted thighs. She felt his hands smooth over her skin. Saw his fingers tease the inside of her knees. Yet, her breasts still felt as if he held his palms in the same place, and her nipples tightened under the pinch that duplicated his touch. He was using his psi on her suit, perfectly reproducing the pressure and heat and feel of his previous caresses. But unlike when he’d burned out his psi and she’d activated his suit for him, she hadn’t turned control of her suit over to him—he’d taken it.

“My suit isn’t set on automatic
…
How did you
…
ah
…
ah. How can I talk when you
…
”

“Look how beautiful you are.”

Tiny flames of orange and red rippled over her flesh. When his hands caressed the tender insides of her thighs, the reds dominated. She couldn’t wait for him to go where she wanted—but he took his time, teasing and taunting.

“Place your hands behind my neck.” He snapped the order, and she didn’t think. Before she knew what she’d done, she’d placed her hands up and behind his neck. “I’m locking them in place so you aren’t tempted to move.”

She didn’t mind. Again he used her suit, and although she knew it would now be useless to tug her hands free, she tried anyway. She was sitting on his lap, her back to his chest, her hands behind his head, and her legs open and dangling over his knees. In the mirror, her reflection showed a wild lock of hair falling saucily over one eyelid half closed in passion, her lips pouting with brazen lust, and her nostrils flaring as if to draw in the enticing scent of her mate. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing shallow and fast. Since he’d adjusted her suit to continue stimulating her breasts, her nipples had darkened and remained pointed.

But what irritated the hell out of her were the red and orange clouds telling her how much she was enjoying his domination. She liked his touch and his slow, sensual caresses that caused her flesh to shiver and ache. She liked his taking control, liked how he slipped into the role with an ease that focused all his interest on her.

In the mirror, he watched her, tested her, taunted her, making her feel cherished. Adored. As if he had all the time in the world to find out exactly what would please her.

Although she couldn’t move, she couldn’t ignore the genuine pleasure of having all his interest centered on her. The rest of the galaxy had ceased to exist. There was only the two of them, and he appeared quite intent on discovering different ways to change his stroking to give pleasure.

One minute his pace was slow, the next, a bit more urgent. Just when she adjusted and craved a bit more, he maddeningly gentled his touch.

Her bottom felt
…
warm
…
as if he’d turned up the suit temperature, and the heat began to raise a pulsing need between her thighs. “Oh
…
no
…
what are
…
you doing?”

“Rystani men often spank their women during love-play.”

“What?” She twisted her head to glare at him.

He didn’t seem to notice. “The spanking is given to increase the woman’s pleasure. Gradual heat causes blood to flow to the buttocks and increases desire. I refuse to cause you pain, so I simply created the end effect.”

Her voice was breathless, amazed, and husky with need. “My butt is hot. Burning.” And his hands on the insides of her thighs moved with infuriating slowness. Wild with frustration and anticipation, she panted between words, “I
…
need you to
…
”

“Look at your passion red colors. Are those flickers of purple I see?” He sounded quite proud of himself, as if he were painting a masterpiece of slashing emotion and spiking heat over her flesh.

“Does purple mean I’m finally going to have an orgasm?” she demanded, hating the way she sounded almost as if she was begging.

“Purple is the color of deep-seated feelings.”

“Like love?” She scowled at him. “Are you out of your freaking mind?” If there had ever been any purple there, the color was now gone, replaced with hovering black clouds as if he’d doused the flames with water.

“Black is the color of fear.”

“You know, I really might grow to hate you if you don’t quit playing—”

“You want me to stop touching you?”

“Damn you. I want you to make love to me—not play with my emotions.”

“I can’t create your emotions.”

“Why not—you were born in hyperspace.”

He didn’t bother answering her rhetorical sarcasm. Instead, his voice remained cool and almost disappointed. “I’m only showing you what you feel.”

“Maybe I don’t want to see what I feel.” She most definitely didn’t want
him
seeing what she felt but kept that obvious notion to herself. She closed her eyes.

His calm tone invaded her thoughts, refusing to allow her to shut him out. “When we were in the rock pool, you didn’t ask me what I wanted.”

“That was different.”

“Was it?”

His hands advanced to the very top of her thighs. She sucked in her breath, refusing to answer his question. She didn’t want to look at herself or the colors. Didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to think.

Damn. Damn. Damn. She had wanted a simple fling, and he was making things
…
complex.

“Open your eyes,” he coaxed.

She peeked. The black had vanished. So had the purple and red. Yet the yellow and orange flickers remained, signaling her willingness for more of his touch. Oh, yeah. She most definitely wanted his clever hands back on her body. She squeezed her eyes tight again.

“If you hated what we were doing, you wouldn’t still want my touch.”

“Of course I want your touch. I’ve never denied it. I like sex.”

“If all you wanted was sex, you could have hired a holosim,” he pointed out.

“I could have also pleasured myself.” She ground the words past her clenched jaw, her tone raspy. “It would have been a hell of a lot more satisfying than you.”

“Patience.” His hand brushed over her mons, sending hungry licks of heat to her center, until her stomach knotted and her muscles drew tight.

“Wow,” she said, breathing out a happy sigh.

“More?” His so-sexy and husky tone, more than the sensation he’d created with his hand, caused her to open her eyes and stare. The wisps of yellow and orange had formed giant reddish clouds that engulfed them both.

“Yes. More.”

“Look at us,” he demanded.

“We’re on fire.”

“That’s all you, woman.” His fingers skimmed her slick flesh. “Your
synthari
is so soft and so welcoming, so in tune with your real needs.”

His voice, always deep, had thickened with a passion he couldn’t disguise. Through the red cloud in the mirror, his eyes glinted with ferocious hunger. His lips tensed with a wicked tension. His jaws were locked, the cords in his muscular neck were rigid—he clearly was barely keeping his own passion in check.

Seeing how much he wanted her, knowing he was holding back to give them both pleasure, upped her own need. She no longer cared if she begged. “Please … Kirek.”