Amorous Overnight (3 page)

“Ms. Mitchell is in her bathing chamber.”

He scowled, leaning over to swipe up the water still creating trails in his leg hair. “Tell her she has one minute to get here,” he said, knowing she’d take at least five.

“Affirmative.”

She took eight.

“I believe I said ‘with all due haste,’” he growled when she emerged from a flare bubble just inside the door of his bedchamber. Yanking her against his naked body, he stripped off her pale-yellow silk robe and dropped it carelessly to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a teasing tone as her hands somehow pushed at his chest and pulled him closer at the same time. “Did I keep you waiting?”

“You know damn well you did.” Cecine seized her plump buttocks and drew her up until he could reach her breasts with his mouth. He devoured one soft, pale mound, sucking the nipple deep and tonguing it firmly against his palate until she gasped, squirming in his hold. Then he slid his lips across her sternum to her other breast and latched on, inhaling the delicious scent of newly washed flesh.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific next time, Your Horniness,” she said breathlessly.

“Ms. Mitchell,” he rumbled against her nipple, “is that any way to address the minister of the high council?”

“If the boner fits…”

She squealed when he spun around and let her fall backward onto the bed. Unable to wait another moment, he tugged her hips to the edge of the mattress and dropped to his knees on the blue biologic pad, burying his face in the tangle of blonde hair between her legs. His cock surged to aching attention as he breathed in her hot, spiced fragrance and ran his palms up and down her silken thighs. Peserin, but she was addictive.

Opening his mouth, he gave the glistening split of her sex the same treatment he’d given her breasts, feasting on it like a starved male who’d stumbled upon a royal banquet.

Or like a condemned prisoner consuming his last meal.

Spurred by the reminder that this might be his final encounter with her, he redoubled his efforts, spreading open the deep-pink folds with his thumbs to expose more of her secrets to his tongue. Her clitoris, vulnerable now in its prominence, was a source of endless fascination for him—he’d never even seen, much less tasted, his mate’s clitoris, which had been buried deep in her narrow nook and accessible only by his mating spur.

Thrusting away all thoughts of Antani, he alternately circled the tiny erection and bombarded it with rapid flicks that made Portia gasp and squirm against his restraining hands. Then he switched to long strokes up and down her succulent inner labia, driving his tongue deep into her darkness with every pass to lap up the salty-sweet lubrication she released.

When she was trembling and pulling at his hair, begging for an end to the sensual torture, he finally sealed his mouth over her slick, puffy folds and sucked hard, riding her clitoris with his tongue and teeth until he’d wrung an ear-piercing orgasm from her. The sheer abandon of her cries sent shudders of pained delight through him and hardened his cock to stone.

“Oh fuck, stop,” she gasped, still twitching with her release as she clamped her thighs around his head and tugged on his hair. “I should be paying
you
for this.”

Licking his lips, he pried her thighs apart and pulled away just far enough to pant, “Oh, you’ll pay. One way or another.”

“That could be fun.”

Amusement and bitterness struck him in the same heartbeat. It was hard to imagine the little nurse reacting with such wanton playfulness. Where Portia was fire and excitement and frank enjoyment, Shelley Bonham would be ice and fear and irrational rejection. Even his probe would seem warm and welcoming in comparison.

Still breathing roughly, he lunged onto the bed and dragged Portia up by her wrists until she was trapped in the cage of his arms, then threw a leg over her thighs. “I’d like nothing better than to chain you to my bed and never let you go.”

She laughed seductively, not even trying to pull her slender wrists free of his grip. Not that she could—she was tall for a Terran female but she was no match for a Garathani warrior who stood greater than seven feet in height. Instead, she arched against the mattress, her eyes throwing amber sparks as she rubbed her breasts in his chest hair.

“You drag me off to some godforsaken planet in the middle of nowhere, Minister, and I’ll make you regret it.”

Ducking his head, he nibbled on the soft, sweat-damp skin of her neck. “How could I regret keeping you?”

Her knee shot up and he barely managed to deflect it with his thigh before she made flatbread of his testicles. While he was distracted, she clamped her teeth on his earlobe and didn’t let go.

“There’s no need for violence,” he told her, breathless with arousal. “I’m well aware your plans don’t include being the—what did you call it?—‘the permanent fuck toy of a ginormous male chauvinist pig’?”

She didn’t relent but instead worked her jaw in a circular motion, grinding his lobe between her teeth until he gasped and his cock jerked in agonized pleasure against her hip. After more than six months of servicing him exclusively, she knew how to torture him as well as he did her.

When the pain reached just the right pitch, he groaned. “You can’t fault me for trying, Portia. I’ve grown accustomed to having you at my disposal night and day.”

She let his lobe slide free with an apologetic suck. “Like you won’t find another woman to replace me the minute I set foot on Earth. You’re fucking gorgeous and hands down the best lover I’ve ever had. Women will be standing in line to take my place.”

“Another woman is going to be a lot of work,” he grumbled, allowing more of his discontent than was prudent to show. He genuinely hated having to give Portia up. Not only was she large and sturdy enough to take a thoroughly unrestrained fucking, but she actually enjoyed it. In fact, she often encouraged him to be rougher.

She also read him quite well and wasn’t the least bit intimidated by him—both of which had their obvious disadvantages, of course, but the advantages far outweighed them, in his estimation. And he had fun with her in the sleeping chamber, something he’d never experienced and never imagined he could.

“Poor little Master of the Universe.” She brushed his hair behind his ear and ran her finger along the jagged scar on his left cheek. “Why do I get the feeling you’re talking about a particular woman?”

His pulse quickened and his breath grew short at the uncharacteristic affection in her touch. Without giving himself time to think, he lowered his head and pressed his lips roughly to hers.

For just an instant she seemed to soften, but then she pushed at his chest as she wrenched her mouth away. “You shouldn’t have done that. We agreed—”

“Portia, be my mate,” he said urgently. “Please.”

She sighed deeply as she looked up at him, regret apparent in her expression. “I know how much that word must’ve cost you, Minister, but—”

“Cecine. My name is Cecine.”

“Minister, please stop.”

When she pushed at him again, he grudgingly rolled to his side, his heart pounding and his cheeks heating with mortification as she rose from the bed. What in Peserin’s name had possessed him? When they negotiated the terms of their contract, he’d been more than happy with her moratorium on any activities that might incur emotional entanglements on either side. Why had he disregarded it? Had he thought she’d be so swept away by his first clumsy attempt at a kiss in more than thirty years that she, too, would abandon her principles?

“You know the contract never included my leaving orbit,” she called from the bathing chamber. “Hell, it never even included leaving the surface. I think I’ve gone above and beyond by continuing to sleep with you up here.”

“Pardon me for overstepping the bounds of our agreement,” he said stiffly. “Milnon will see to it that you’re suitably compensated for your trouble.”

Water ran for a moment and then Portia reappeared, rubbing her hands together. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she said gently, “That won’t be necessary. You’ve been more than generous already. I just want to go home.”

Cecine sighed. Why had he wasted his breath talking when he could be fucking her? He’d known his words would fall on deaf ears, and like it or not, he had an obligation to take Shelley Bonham to mate. He couldn’t very well do that if he were mated to Portia. Even the council would frown on his hoarding two females.

“Wait, did something happen?” Portia’s face lit with excitement. “Does this mean I’m about to go home?”

“I’m sorry, but no. The truth is, I’m running out of time rather unexpectedly, so consider your options carefully, Portia. This might be your last chance to become the mate of the most powerful male in the galaxy.”

Oblivious to the irony in his tone, she said, “There’s nothing to consider. I’m going home at the earliest possible moment.”

“So you’ve said.” Cecine folded his hands behind his head and stared at the endless blanket of stars through the flare screen curving over his head. Peserin, but living without the feel of warm, resilient flesh against his again would be a trial of heroic proportions, especially after so many months of having indulged his taste for it at will. He craved it with an intensity that clearly bordered on insanity.

Without warning, vivid memories of the probe demonstration assailed him and fresh blood surged into his cock. Ensign Hastion’s flesh would be warm and resilient too, and it was disturbingly easy to imagine running his hands and open mouth over every inch of it.

Cecine’s eyes widened as his breath stilled. The too-pretty ensign wanted to be his second—what would he be willing to do for the privilege?

“So who is she?”

He frowned at her. “What?”

“The woman. Who is she?”

“None of your concern,” he dismissed, his mind alight with possibility.

As soon as he learned of anal orgasm, he’d known mating between males who had no access to females was inevitable, and according to Kellen, Shauss had already gone there with Tiber—despite being mated to Hastion’s sister, a pureblood Garathani female. Did he dare propose such an exchange with the ensign—second position for the right to fuck him? After all, it wasn’t as though he would be forcing the indignity on the young warrior—there was a price to pay for everything in this universe, and it was only reasonable to expect some consideration from the ensign in return for the not-insignificant benefit Cecine offered. Shauss had clearly negotiated some kind of service agreement with his second, so why shouldn’t he?

Portia flicked his arm with her fingers. “And that, Sir Arrogant, is reason number ten million and one why I’d never even think about going to Garathan with you. Just because I don’t mind doing it doggy-style doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of my days being your mindless lapdog.”

Cecine ground his teeth at the bestial description of their encounters, but the image made his cock, which was obviously ruled by less civilized impulses, bob with interest.

Generous as ever, she lightly trailed a fingertip down the underside. “I assume we have time to do something about this?”

“We’ll make time,” he said. Rising, he positioned her on her hands and knees, squeezing the soft flesh of her hips with his fingers. As usual, her anus was oiled and ready to receive him. He was going to miss burying his spur in that deceptively innocent-looking aperture—Shelley Bonham probably wouldn’t even admit to having an anus, much less give him access to it. As small as she was, his spur probably wouldn’t come close to penetrating it anyway.

His spur wouldn’t penetrate Ensign Hastion either, and he’d still have to use the probe to induce his own ejaculation—his craving for warm, resilient flesh didn’t extend to having it shoved up his own waste canal. But at least he’d have some bodily contact, however limited it might be.

Then again, perhaps it wouldn’t be limited at all—the ensign was clearly adventurous, and something about his performance with the probe said he had a capacity for playfulness that rivaled Portia’s. Perhaps fucking him would be so enjoyable Cecine wouldn’t even bother trying to lure Shelley Bonham into his bed.

Just imagining it was enough to impede his breathing and send a tremor through his hands.

Portia looked back over her shoulder, and through the jumble of blonde silk, he could see the genuine regret in her amber eyes. “If I wanted to turn my life over to any man—”

“It wouldn’t be me,” he finished dryly.

“I don’t know.” She gave him a droll smile. “I’ve never met a man who loves to eat pussy as much as you do. I’ll miss that.”

“I’ll miss doing it.”

“Why? Doesn’t your new squeeze like it?”

“I wouldn’t know and I’m not likely to find out.” Impatient now, Cecine set the head of his aching cock against her arousal-slickened vagina.

“Tysan to Minister Cecine.”

He froze, his heartbeat tripping.
“You have news for me, Doctor?”

“Ms. Bonham has just given birth to a son and a daughter, and paternity has been filed in your name.”

“Are they healthy?”

“Both babes are breathing on their own and seem strong and determined to live. Given proper care, I predict they’ll thrive.”

“And Ms. Bonham?”