Crystals Three Chosen Mates (4 page)
Stars, he’d like to spend the better part of a day and a night feasting on her, triggering her gasps of pleasure, but his internal chronometer told him it was time to get moving if they wanted to be fully clothed when they landed in sector one.
He sucked her swollen clit between his lips and gently bit.
“Yesss,” she cried, as her hips jerked against his hold.
He slid one finger into her soaking channel and reached for her g-spot.
“Oh, blasters!” she cursed as her palms slammed down on the cockpit deck at her sides. “More!”
He willingly complied and finger-fucked her, hard and fast, as he laved and nibbled on her clit. Her body trembled and strained under his control, making his cock throb.
She came with an explosive shout, bathing his hand with her slippery moisture.
Oh hellitude no, he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.
He scrambled to his knees and lifted her hips up to meet his. With a quick thrust, he was surrounded by her wet heat, feeling like the top of his head was going to blow off. Her eyes popped open as a grin spread across her lips.
Shiitake, she felt too good.
He rocked in and out of her as she locked her ankles around his back. He fell forward onto his hands at either side of her head. Leaning down, he covered her mouth with his, as he pitched them into a mutual orgasm.
Chapter Three
A whole week in sector one’s cafeteria, and Crystal hadn’t laid eyes on Stepho or Henri yet. They were probably too engaged in their research to remember to stop and eat, instead, grabbing a nutrishake in their personal pods before going to sleep and repeating their lengthy schedule the next day. They’d told her about their typical work days in First Quadrant when they’d first met. Their long hours of inactivity as refugees in Fourth Quadrant had made them restless and even hungrier for physical exertion. Something she’d enjoyed helping them with.
With their long hours here, all the sexy mass she’d worked so hard to put on them while they’d been in Fourth Quadrant had probably wasted away by now, but it wasn’t her place as a lowly member of the military to seek them out on their own turf. If she saw them again, it would have to be because they came to her, like the first time in Fourth Quadrant.
She paused for a moment with her fingers on the door handle to the kitchen’s new refrigeration unit, sent from the Fourth Quadrant. Her heartbeat stuttered as she thought about their painful goodbye when it had been time for them to return to First Quadrant, knowing she’d probably never see them again.
They’d been in her personal pod the morning after a particularly tender night of intimacy—the men’s pending departure on all of their minds. She’d never known such emotions were possible. Her heart literally felt like it was breaking, and there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Stepho and Henri belonged in First Quadrant in the world of the intelligentsia. She was merely a Fourth Quadrant Specialist in the military. They existed in separate worlds, and there wasn’t a shred of a chance the Council would ever assign them as her mates.
If she’d known how badly this would hurt, maybe she wouldn’t have pursued a relationship with them. But the thought of never having experienced such closeness to a man, to two men, was utterly unthinkable. What they’d shared was precious—more so because she’d known it was temporary.
“Yo, Crystal.” Fisher’s voice broke through her reverie.
She turned to see what he needed. For all his grumbling, Fisher had actually adapted to the kitchen rather quickly. He was a big help to Crystal in serving two meals a day to the populace of sector one. And he really did know how to give her the best orgasms, but she’d never admit that to him. He was already cocksure enough.
“I’m beginning to worry about you, darling,” he drawled. “You keep spacing out like that, and I’m going to have to report you to the Military Doctor.”
“Shove it, Fisher,” she snapped and stepped into the walk-in refrigerator. Reliving the grief of her last moments with Stepho and Henri didn’t put her in the mood to spar with Fisher today.
Coming out of the fridge with a crate of sweet peppers, she found Fisher standing with his hands on his hips, waiting for her.
“Getting a little cranky there, Crystal. Are you working too hard? I would say you need to get off more often, but since I know for a fact that you’re getting off fairly regularly, I don’t think it’s sexual frustration making you so testy.”
“Stars, Fisher. Is sex all you think about?”
He paused for half a second before nodding. “Yep, pretty much all that’s worth thinking about in life.”
“Whatever.” She turned away from him and set the crate on the counter near the sink. He’d shown yet again why she would never develop any deep affection for him, not that she wanted to, she reminded herself. It was difficult, though, to separate their physical chemistry from an emotional connection. Sometimes, she felt like she was on the verge of bursting forth with inappropriate sentiments, especially when she caught glimpses of his soft underbelly—like when she woke with her head on his chest as he stroked her hair with a gentle touch.
“Hey, I got a message from Major Jeffers this morning. He’s not happy with our lack of progress in establishing relations with members of the OAS.”
Crystal spun around to glare at him. “Watch your words, Fisher.” She thought he was supposed to be good at undercover work, but then again, he’d blown their cover during their training mission in Third Quadrant. What did the Major even see in Fisher?
“There’s no one here, Crystal. Relax. It’s only us,” he stepped toward her, “and I know just the way to get you to release some of that tension making your shoulders so tight.”
She waved her chef’s knife in his direction. “Back off. I’m not in the mood.”
He took a step backward with his palms facing her. “Chill, darling. I can take a ‘no’ without the threat of violence.”
She blew a stray hair out of her eyes and set the knife on the counter. “Sorry… I’m just feeling out of sorts today. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
“How about we get back to our cooking and forget this conversation ever happened?” he suggested.
“Deal,” she agreed. “Do you have the onions sliced yet?”
“Nearly done.”
“Thanks.” It was one of the few tasks in the kitchen she found nearly impossible to complete herself. Her eyes were so sensitive to the vapors she had to wear protective eyewear to cut onions. Even then, the lenses fogged up with her tears, whereas, Fisher didn’t seem to have any reaction to the piquant fumes.
They worked in companionable silence, pulling together the midday meal, which was chicken fajitas today. The chronometer seemed to speed up as the lunch hour neared, and she and Fisher increased the pace of their chopping and sautéing.
Finally, it was time to serve the meal to the first patrons. She and Fisher worked in tandem at the service counter, dishing the hot filling onto the tortillas she’d made the day before. She grew comfortable with their pace and felt some of the knots in her back relaxing.
Then she glanced up to the next person in line and the stainless steel serving spoon slipped out of hand, making a loud clanking noise as it fell to the metal floor of the kitchen.
“Henri,” she whispered as she stared at the face she knew so well and had missed so terribly.
“Crystal?” His dark eyes narrowed on her. “What are you doing here?”
She waved a hand aimlessly at the kitchen behind her. “Working.”
“I should have known it was you when I started to hear rumors of a Food Preparation Master working in the cafeteria.” A familiar grin deepened the long dimples on either side of his mouth.
Stars, he looked so good to her, even though he had lost the weight she’d worked so hard to put on his lean frame.
“Not a Master, merely a Specialist,” she reminded him.
“Henri, you’re holding up the queue.”
She recognized the deep, familiar tone of Stepho’s voice, and tears threatened to slip from her eyes. Her men were here, right here in front of her.
Oh, how she wished to run out to them and throw herself into their arms, but she didn’t want to embarrass them in front of their peers. The intelligentsia tended to look down their noses at inter-class relations, which was part of what was making this undercover assignment so much more difficult. She and Fisher couldn’t make any headway into developing connections of any kind with the intelligentsia, since they considered her and Fisher to be sub-human.
“Look who I found in the kitchen.” Henri half-turned to make room for Stepho in front of the serving line.
“Cry-stal,” Stepho’s voice broke on her name, and it was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard.
“Stepho,” she choked out, trying to maintain her poise, so she wouldn’t shame them.
“Yo, Crystal. You’re creating a bottleneck,” Fisher prodded her. “You’ll have to wait until after lunch to have your little reunion or whatever this is.” He waved his serving spoon between her to the men across the counter, and she would have sworn his words were edged with anger.
Why would he be so angry about her falling behind in dishing out lunch? It wouldn’t make their day any shorter if they rushed through the midday service. They still had to prepare, serve, and clean up after dinner.
“We’ll be over there.” Henri pointed to a table in the back section of the bio-dome cafeteria. “Come to us when you are free.”
She nodded, finding her throat too full to speak.
Fisher handed Stepho and Henri their lunches while Crystal retrieved her serving spoon from the floor and washed it in the sink.
Impatient to see Henri and Stepho, she served the rest of the meals in a rush, until the last patron walked away with a full plate. Then she whipped her apron over her head and tossed it on the counter.
“Guess you’re not going to help me clean up first,” Fisher grumbled as she walked out of the kitchen to find her scientists in the cafeteria.
She stood silently near their table and waited for a break in their conversation for them to notice her. Stepho was in the midst of explaining one of his research theories about something called plant macrobiotics, and Henri listened intently, interrupting occasionally to clarify a point.
They were exactly as she remembered them.
Henri spotted her first, and the deep dimples revealed by his smile made her warm all over. He gestured to the third chair at the table. “Sit.” His commanding tone sent shivers running up her spine.
Oh stars, how she had missed him and Stepho. She took the empty chair and scooted as close to the table—and to them—as possible. She was dying to touch the two men, but she maintained a respectable distance.
“Now, tell us how you came to be cooking in our sector?” Henri asked, tracing the tip of his finger down the side of her neck.
She trembled and found it impossible to speak.
“Stepho, I think our girl has gone mute.” Henri chuckled as he slipped his hand onto her thigh and squeezed. “I’m so glad you’re here, but why didn’t you come find Stepho and me when you first arrived? I’ve been hearing rumors all week about some fabulous new food preparer, but I never imagined it was you, especially since you didn’t seek us out.”
She stared at him and Stepho, absorbing the moment she hadn’t thought would ever happen.
“Why didn’t you come to us?” Henri repeated, applying more pressure to her thigh.
Finally, she managed to put words to her thoughts. “I didn’t want to shame you,” she confessed. Honesty had been a key component in their relationship…and trust.
“Shame us?” Stepho asked, his forehead scrunching in confusion. “Why would you shame us?”
“Because this is your home sector where you are surrounded by people of your own kind,” she explained simply.
“People of our own kind? Henri, what is she talking about?” Stepho, always slightly out of touch with societal norms, turned to the other scientist for an explanation.
“You’re talking about the disparity between the classes, aren’t you?” Henri asked her.
She nodded. “When you were in Fourth Quadrant, it was different for you because you were out of your normal environment. I understand, and I don’t want you to feel pressure to do anything to jeopardize your standing here in the First Quadrant.”
“We’re not all snobs,” Stepho contributed, now that he was up to speed on the topic. “Don’t you know us better than that?”
“I know who you were in Fourth Quadrant when you were a refugee from the shattering violence here in First Quadrant.”
“We’re the same men,” Henri affirmed. “Location doesn’t change who we are, or how we act.”
“Or how we feel,” Stepho added.
“How long will you be assigned to this sector?” Henri asked.
“As long as I’m needed. The military is providing emergency food support while the workers’ stoppage continues in the manufacturing sectors.” She gave them her cover story, not knowing which side of the conflict they were on.
