“Now you,” he whispered.
She rested one hand on each of his knees, and then leaned over to breathe softly on his cock. She wasn’t even touching him, yet a wave of fire spread through his body so fast it was a wonder he didn’t burst into flames. He moaned, allowing his head to fall back against the cushions.
Then she placed her hand on him and he almost died.
Her fingers were hot and smooth around his flesh. She didn’t move, just grasped him gently. At first it was exquisite; as the seconds slowly passed, it became maddening. What the hell was she doing?
He opened his mouth to ask her, but before he could say anything her fingers gripped him firmly and slid up the length of his shaft. He shuddered. She repeated the gesture and he felt his balls tightening in anticipation. His heart pumped faster and faster as her fingers drifted across his taut flesh. His hips lifted off the couch. He needed more, and he needed it now.
His hand circled hers, squeezing her fingers tight around his cock as he pumped up and down. Two strokes, then four. He wanted to do more with her, wanted this first time with her to be better, but the feeling of her hot fingers gripping him was too much.
With a groan, he felt the tension rise almost beyond bearing. He slammed their joined hands down over his cock one last time, his lust exploding.
She gave a startled cry as he came, but he hardly noticed. He kept his eyes closed, breathing deeply as the aftershocks of his orgasm washed over his body. He had never felt anything so intense in his life. What had happened? Why had this woman’s mere touch been enough to send him over the edge? It had been a while since he’d had a woman, but not that long. There had been a wonderfully accommodating pleasure worker on Gemini, and that had been less than two weeks ago.
Her snort of disgust broke through his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to see her dabbing at her chest with her blouse.
“You might have given me some warning,” she said tartly. “You may find this amusing, but I don’t have any other clothing to wear. Now I’m all covered with…” she broke off, and looked away from him.
“Sorry,” he said, meaning it. He felt like an ass. He’d come on her like a boy with his first woman. All his life he’d taken care not to be a selfish partner, but he had failed miserably this time.
She stood abruptly and walked away from him toward the fresher. She pulled the shirt off, exposing her entire upper body to him, except for the wisps of black lace binding her breasts. There was something about those tiny pieces of fabric he found more erotic than nudity. His loins tightened, and his cock stirred in interest.
Now was hardly the time, though. Not after what he’d just done to her. From the sound of slamming fresher door, she wouldn’t welcome his advances no matter how desperate she was to get off-station. At least not until her temper had a chance to cool.
He stood slowly, and then stripped off his clothing. He pulled on another pair of undershorts, bundled his dirty laundry together, and placed it in the wardrobe. Taking out one of the loose, natural fiber shirts he favored, he walked across the room and knocked hesitantly on the fresher door.
“Giselle,” he said. “I have something for you to sleep in. I’ll just set it outside the door.”
He put the shirt down and walked back over to the bed. He was suddenly exhausted; it had been a very long day for both of them. Keying the alarm on his wrist chrono, he laid down on one side the bed, careful to leave her plenty of space on the other side.
“Computer, lights off, please,” he said softly. The room fell dark. He closed his eyes and listened. After a long while, the fresher door opened and she pulled the shirt in. A few moments later, he heard her cross the room and she sat on the edge of the bed.
“I know we have a deal,” she said hesitantly. “And I want to get off the station. But I would really appreciate it if you didn’t touch me again tonight. I’m not feeling very friendly.”
He agreed quickly, wishing he could go back just a few moments and make things better for her. Being an ass just seemed to come so naturally to him.
She crawled into bed beside him. He listened to her breathe slowly in and out for what seemed like hours. Then she spoke.
“I just realized that I’ve had your seed all over me, but I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Jerred,” he replied, feeling even lower.
“Just Jerred?” she asked after a moment. “No family name?”
“None that you need to know,” he said slowly, wishing he could tell her the truth.
“Go to sleep. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
Giselle clutched Jerred’s arm closely as they walked through one of the massive transit station docks. He was moored on-station, which surprised her. It cost so much less to moor on one of the outlying buoys that a shuttle ride out was standard for smaller ships. If he had so damn much money, why hadn’t there been more in his room?
It was hard to walk on the ridiculous shoes he’d brought her. She teetered on the tips of her toes, the heels were so tall. Not that the shoes didn’t match her outfit. She looked like the lowest class of whore the station had to offer, and the long, obviously fake blonde wig didn’t help matters at all.
On the bright side, she looked nothing like Giselle the barmaid. It was a good thing, too. She’d seen her picture flashing across a security screen they’d passed on the way out to his ship. The station guards were saying she’d attacked them without provocation. She had no illusions as to whether she’d survive her initial arrest to try and tell her story to a judge. Sula hadn’t had that chance, and neither would she. It was safer and smarter to play Jerred’s little power game.
By the time they reached airlock 182 A, her feet felt like they were going to fall off.
While Jerred busied himself entering a code into the airlock, she took a moment to look out the small porthole at his ship. The craft was surprisingly big and graceful looking.
Nothing at all like the grotty spacers she was used to seeing in one-man operations.
Whatever this Jerred did, he was obviously good enough at it to keep the credits flowing regularly. She wondered what kind of business he was in. He’d been meeting with Vetch to discuss “business,” but that didn’t exactly narrow it down. Vetch was a typical freighter captain, and every load he carried was likely to be different.
But Vetch’s ship wasn’t even close to being this nice. Normal cargo didn’t bring in the kind of credits Jerred seemed to be throwing around. Would she be safe with him?
She shook her head, dismissing the thought. He was safer than the station guards, and that was all that mattered.
The airlock hissed open, and he gestured her ahead of him through the door. She stayed silent as they cycled through the lock. Then he pressed his ship’s key into the slit on the outer hull of the ship. The second door slid open, and she stepped into the most unusual freighter she’d ever seen.
Instead of the normal, utilitarian interior, the entire ship seemed to be designed with comfort—even decadence—in mind. There was a light scent in the air, a teasing fragrance that sang along her nose. It smelled so real, so like something on a planet that it caught her breath. How did he make his ship smell so good?
The walls pulsed gently with a swirl of colors, as if the ship itself was happy to see them, was trying to make them feel welcome. She stepped into the entryway, turning to him with questions in her eyes.
“What kind of ship is this?” she asked slowly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“In my line of work it can be important to make a good impression right up front,”
he said slowly. “I like my clients to know that my business is solid, that I can be trusted to deliver my goods on time and in working order. This helps lend some credence to that claim.”