The Challenge (21 page)

He turned her suit transparent, and her heart sank like lead. She’d regained a measure of glorious freedom by learning to use her psi only to have him take it back with the marriage bands. She wanted to pound him. Scream at him. Curse him. She tried to find her psi to counteract what he’d done and failed miserably.

Damn the man for placing the bands so he could control almost every part of her, and she prayed this might be for only the period of their wedding ceremony. “For how long do the bands stay on the skin?”

“I already told you that we wed for life. They last until death. If one mate survives the other . . . the bands fade away.”

She ignored the pain in his eyes caused by the memory of his first wife. “Are the effects limited by distance?”

“The stronger the marriage bond, the greater the distance. The men in my line tend to form very powerful bonds, and we don’t allow our wives far from our sight,” he told her, his voice firm, yet tender.

If they never created a strong bond, he would have less control over her. She wanted more information but sensed his growing impatience with her questions.

When he withdrew one gold band and handed it to her to place on him, she hesitated. “Why is there only one gold band?”

“Because the husband’s bond is symbolic. Wives usually place it on our forehead or chest, sometimes over the biceps. Don’t worry about the size. The band will shrink to conform to the skin.”

She looked him straight in the eyes. “This is my choice?”

“Yes.”

“I can control the area between the band?”

“There is only one band.”

Tessa knew she could spend a lifetime paying for what she did next. However, she was not about to hand over such power to him without taking some back. She fully recalled how he’d sexually frustrated her when he hadn’t even been aroused due to his suit helping him to control a normal response. She might not be able to prevent him from ever doing that to her again, but she needn’t suffer by herself.

Boldly reaching out, she cupped his balls.

His eyes rounded. “Rystani wives do not—”

“I am not Rystani.”

“You promised to obey our customs.”

Her hand trembled, her mouth went dry, but she refused to back down. “You told me
by custom
the choice is mine.”

“No Rystani mate has ever worn a band on his
tavis
.”

“I promised to follow your customs. Am I breaking any law, husband?”

Rage warred with lust in those molten eyes. He clenched his fists, but she didn’t fear he would strike her. When he didn’t retreat, she gently explored the length of his
tavis
with her fingertips.

Before she lost her courage, she slipped the thin gold band around his testicles, twisted the thread, curled it around his extended
tavis
and twisted the gold band back and forth until she’d woven the final loop around the tip of his sex. “This part of you now belongs to me.”

He released a feral roar, grabbed the back of her thighs, parted her legs and lifted her onto him. He gave her no time to prepare. He rammed inside her, and if it hadn’t been for the suit’s gentle preparation of stretching her to accommodate his size over the past hour, she would have felt pain, not pleasure, not wonderfully wanted.

“Yes!” She threw her arms around his neck, let her head tilt back, thrust her hips forward, and arched against him. He pumped his hips, withdrew, so fast, so hard, she could do no more than hold on for the wild, wondrous ride.

All those sensations he’d created during their time together, all of her touching him, all of her pent-up passion, had her clawing at his shoulders, grating her hips. She wanted faster. Harder. More.

“Take me,” she demanded as he brought her to a place where her emotions swirled and carried her into a lusty vortex.

He seemed to be everywhere. Over her, under her. Inside her. And then her body found blessed relief in a mind-blowing orgasm. She screamed his name and felt him shudder inside her. His release shot her into another cycle of pleasure that was way over the edge.

She’d actually felt his orgasm become her own. Impossible. And yet, somehow they’d forged a mental link that extended into the realm of physical pleasure. Shocked by the psi experience and full of joy and confusion, she could only clutch his shoulders and marvel in wonder.

Then he held her against his chest, muttering like a litany, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I lost control—”

She ran a finger over his cheek. “But you did it so well.”

“I am not in the mood for jests.”

“I wasn’t jesting, you idiot. That was the most awesome experience of my life.”

“You were a virgin. It was the only experience of your life. And don’t ever call me that again.”

“But it was my best orgasm ever.”

“You should not have had such experiences before your wedding. You should not speak of such things ever.”

“You really must stop telling me what I can and cannot say. Don’t you have freedom of speech on Rystan?”

“Yes. No.” He sounded weary and relaxed. She leaned into his chest and bit his nipple. “That is not permitted.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward and bit his other nipple.

“I told you—”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk.” She licked away the nips.

He unwound her arms from around his neck and her feet from around his waist. Then he lifted her off of him. “We need to talk.”

“Come on, Kahn. This is our wedding day. Don’t you want to make love again?”

“You touched places you shouldn’t have. Said words that were improper, and I lost control—”

“You liked what I did. Admit it. We both had a good time. All these rules are tiresome. Relax. There’s no one here but you and me. We can do this again—until you get it right.”

“Are you teasing me, woman?”

“I don’t know. Is teasing permitted on Rystan? Nothing else is.” She’d yet to set foot on his world and already she hated it.

“I’ll tell you what’s permitted. A wife is supposed to let her husband set the pace—”

“Hey, you can’t pin that one on me.”

“A wife doesn’t touch, stroke, or caress.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” But he wasn’t. She could see it in the big hunk’s eyes. Her wild lovemaking had disturbed him. Apparently, she was supposed to do nothing but be his plaything, except during the ritual bath that came only once a year.

He took her into his arms and cradled her against him. But she twisted around to look into his eyes. “Rystani women cannot initiate lovemaking?”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “I did not say that.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“There is a dance, called the
Ramala Ki
. It takes years to learn and has many intricate steps. Wives perform the dance to incite their husband’s lust.”

“Show me.”

“Another time. Meanwhile, I’ll use the suit to prevent you from making these kinds of mistakes.”

She yanked back. She’d prefer to make her own mistakes thank you very much. And the thought of him making decisions for her turned her stomach. “Forget it. With an attitude like that, there won’t be a next time.”

He chuckled, floated her into the air and reached for her breast. “We won’t make love again until we do it my way. And you ask me nicely.”

Then he plucked her out of the air and tossed her over his shoulder. “It’s going to be
fun
to see how long you hold out.”

No man could be expected to recall every Rystani rule when his head was about to explode. Need battled with tradition. He couldn’t let her . . .

With one thrust of psi, he turned on their suits’ null-grav and floated them. She shrieked in surprise as they gently bobbed in midair, but she adapted almost instantly. Clutching him with her knees, she never stopped moving, spinning them, rotating.

There was no longer up and down. No longer someone on the top or bottom. There was only him and her. And pleasure.

Locking her knees to his hips, her hands gripping his shoulders, she pivoted, swirled, and rocked. Wild and incorrigible, she took him inside her, murmuring, “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

When she spasmed around him, her pleasure rushing at him through her tempestuous psi, she took him with her, bursting with the force of a star gone super nova. With his heartbeat so rapid it repercussed like a drum against his ribs, his breath as ragged as if he’d competed in the fight of his life, he couldn’t think, only hold her against him as they floated.

She recovered first. Lifting her head from where she snuggled against his shoulder, she kissed his neck. “Thank you. You were spectacular.”

“Thanking me is not necessary. It is my duty to keep you happy.”

“Well, you succeeded splendidly.”

“You are not sore?”

“Umm.” She tightened muscles where she still clasped his tavis. “Pleasantly sore. However, if you give me a few minutes to recover, I could be convinced to go a third round.”

“You are incorrigible.”

She sighed. “Just making up for lost time.”

He let the comment pass. She had pleased him too much to argue. Besides, he liked the way she cuddled against him, like a feline seeping up heat. When he shut his eyes, he could pretend she was a clingy Rystani female, overwhelmed by her first sexual encounter, but trusting that her husband had done the right thing—not a brazen Earthling who had thanked him for pleasuring her.

They napped, and he awakened with her peering at him with a happy grin. “I never fed you the rest of the wedding feast.”

“There’s more?” His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he could use additional nourishment.

“Dessert. If you’ll set me on my feet,” she requested, “I shall see to the preparation.”