Handsome Devil (13 page)

“
No,” I say, the word a bit harder to speak than before.

She tips her head. “No happy trails. Shame.”

I do not like the suggestion of disappointment. “Ferissians do not need a 'happy trail',” I declare. I smooth my hand over the length of my cock and cup my balls. She follows the movement, her cheeks flushing and her lips parting oh so slightly. “Would you not agree, female?” I lift my sac for her inspection.

My cock is stirring, lifting for attention. She slowly sits up. I pet her hair, drawing her face ever closer. “Why don't you look for yourself?” I suggest, my voice roughened.

Her tongue darts out, running over her bottom lip. The sight brings me to life, the blood centering in my groin, my cock hardening instantly. “Give me your mouth.”

The demand leaves my throat before the thought has a chance to fully form. It is firm and unyielding. No negotiation.

And she, fierce female that she is, does not hesitate.

Her hand grips me tight, brushing my fingers away completely. She sends me one last long look before she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, swiping it over the cockhead. I suck in a breath through my teeth, but I do not look away or shut my eyes. I want to see every movement, watch every erotic sweep and dally. “Lovely human,” I intone.

I furrow my fingers through her hair, pulling it back so that I may have a better view. Laughter wars with the lust on her face, an enticing picture that tightens the pit of my stomach. She licks the tip again, her rough tongue pointed and lingering. She makes a sound of delight, one that echos silently in my mind.

She is seductive in the best way possible, stealing my thoughts with each tease and parry.

She ups the game without warning, her lips closing over the very edge of my dick, her tongue stroking the underside.

Yes
.

Her free hand cups my balls and massages, finding a rhythm with little thought. Her other hand runs up and down my length, twisting and turning in congruence with her mouth. She works me expertly. I can do nothing but prop my hand on my hip, back arching now and again, staring down at the Agmoiria as she pleasures me.

When her head starts to bob and she moans, the muscles in my legs begin to bunch in tandem with each suck. My mouth is open; I am aware of my panting.

She stops her uptake and pulls away, teasing me with a coy glance. I growl, my grip flexing in her hair, which bothers her not at all. She laughs, in fact, running her cheek lovingly along my aching flesh. “Do you like that, M'anu?”

I bare my teeth. Words are beyond me.

“
Oh, somebody wants me to keep going.” She nuzzles. “Remember when I asked you to fuck me and you ignored me? How does it feel, big boy?”

I glare. She will pay for this. Dearly.

I swoop in for a hot, open-mouthed kiss, only to have her resist. She turns her face away and pushes at my shoulders at the last minute. I am knocked off balance, stumbling to the side. She seizes upon my momentary instability and leaps on me, ending up both crashing to the bed.

She climbs on top of me as quick as a blink, both hands slapping flat on my chest with her legs spread on either side. “Oh no you don't! We do this my way now, lover.”

I freeze. Not from any inability to move, but from the explicit mental image that has suddenly formed. I narrow my eyes in suspicion, palms up, ready to lift her at a moment's notice.

She grins, exhilaration evident. “That's right. I'm in charge of this show.” She lifts herself up and grabs me again, pointing it toward the tempting shadow between her legs. “Unless you object?”

Do I? My predatory nature says yes. My purely male need to fuck, however, says no.

I shake my head.

“
I always knew you were smart.” She sinks down on me, seating herself up to the hilt.

I capture her hips instinctively, closing my eyes with a groan. Pure perfection, every muscle holding me with no room left.

She rocks. My nerve endings transmit gasp-inducing sensations radially. She has me at her mercy, and I do not mind. I give myself up to her the moment she repeats the action and hums in delight. “Babe, you look sublime,” she says.

My eyes crack open. I say nothing, communicating everything I can into a single look.
Take
me.
 

She does. Without mercy. Without thought beyond the moment. She is magnificent. She rocks, twists, and rides until she wrings my orgasm from me with marvelous precision. I mold my hands to her thighs for purchase, biting my lower lip as my cum surges from my body into hers. She takes my seed and my soul and she laughs as she does it, seconds before her muscles tighten and she returns the favor, shuddering above me in abandon.  

She drops her forehead onto my chest, trying to catch her breath. I do not let her, forcing her head up until I can see her slick visage. I take the kiss I am due. “Female.” It is all I want to say. All that is needed.

I turn us until we are positioned on the bed correctly, pulling the sheet over our cooling bodies. I do not want the Agmoiria to freeze. It is my duty to provide for my chosen, and I will—starting now.

xxxxx

I'm not the kind of girl that falls asleep after sex. Not usually. But man, I am
wrecked.
He has literally worn me out.
 

It feels fantastic.

I pant as he pulls our bodies apart and rearranges us, his arm around my waist and his face buried in my bare shoulder. He's got one leg thrown over mine, and his cock is flaccid against my hip. I turn my face and press an awkward kiss to his forehead. He smiles into my skin and returns the favor without looking up.

In a little while cuddling is going to get uncomfortable. He radiates a lot of body heat, and soon we'll get sticky for all the wrong reasons. For now, though, I want to be right where I am, my chest exposed to the air while everything else is covered by M'anu.

He licks the spot he kissed, and rubs his leg on me for good measure.

I chuckle for no reason at all.

Then my stomach rumbles, and I wince.

He raises his head just slightly. “You never ate.”

“
We got busy with other stuff.”

M'anu hefts himself up until he's on all fours above me, kissing my chin. “Stay here. I will bring you food.”

I stop him by throwing my arms around his neck. “My hero.”

He grins. “
Responsibilities.
”
 

I shiver and he laughs. Well, I'll be damned, he saw that earlier. Sneaky of him to use his voice against me.

He's got
a nice laugh. It's deep and soothing. He's not the kind of guy that does it too often, either, which makes it even more special.

I watch him walk bare ass naked from the room, admiring the view. Yes sir, that is a grabbable butt. Wonder what he would do if I pinched it.

The image that pops in my head is hilarious, and I smother my face in the pillow so he won't hear me busting a gut.

When I finally come up for air, my hair is tangled and I probably look like I got all sexed up. Which is true and therefore the reason I don't swear as I sit up to detangle with my fingers. I really do need a shower, though.

M'anu's room is homey—well, as homey as an arsenal can be. I checked it out earlier before I went to find him. Was that only an hour ago? Maybe it was more. Anyway, his place is covered in blades from every culture I can think of. He's got a real thing for weaponry. Fits in with his personality. He did tell me he was a fan of combat, after all.

Me? I don't believe in bringing a knife to a gunfight, but I appreciate the quarter staffs and spears for their own sake. If I had to choose, I'd go for the crossbow.

All the gleaming metal in here isn't a surprise. The star charts are. He's got them from everywhere. They're parchment and other such material, not digital scans. I'm no expert, but I'll bet a lot of them are originals, some of the first hand drawn navigational maps in existence. They're nicely framed and under heavy protection, meaning that M'anu puts high value on them.

I bet he even knows how to read them.

Like I said, M'anu is no dummy. Except in special cases when testosterone or whatever Ferissians are afflicted with gets in the way.
Then
he's a dummy.
 

I turn to look at the one hanging over the bed. It's bolted so it can't fall off of the wall during sudden maneuvers, but other than that it looks like any other museum treasure. It's covered in a writing I can't read, and it doesn't quite look like a star chart. I squint. Actually, I think that's a map of actual land. I see a lot of trees, some buildings, and what looks like a coat of arms. M'anu wouldn't have this if it wasn't special to him, especially hanging over his head like this. Interesting.

He pads back into the room, carrying food like the conquering provider he is. “Come here, you sexy man,” I purr through a grin.

He doesn't look impressed. “I would be more inclined if you had not looked at the food as you said it.”

My stomach groans.

He shakes his head and sets the plate on the floating table beside the bed. He climbs in, back braced against the wall, then hands me the plate. It's meat with a few vegetables on the side, not a lot, but enough to satisfy me for the moment. Ha, totally called the carnivore thing.

He watches me gobble the food up, his hand playing with one of my toes. He sure is touchy-feely when he wants to be. I should find that weird. I don't. I kind of like it. He's relaxed and not at all concerned with our nakedness or the fact that I am chowing down in front of him. Some people have a thing about either one or the other or both. I don't know why. But he doesn't. He's different.

Whether that's good or bad remains to be seen. Right now I'm leaning toward good, but that might be the afterglow talking.

“
Female,” he says after several minutes.

“
Hmm?”

“
What is a happy trail?”

Oh thank god I had nothing in my mouth right then. I would have sputtered it all over him. “It's a slang term for the trail of hair that leads to your—”I nod and wave a hand.

He grins, space-blue eyes merry. “I thought you were braver than that, Agmoiria.” He strokes  my toe again.

“
Oh, bravery's got nothing to do with it. I was just trying to sort through the
hundreds
of names I know for it.” I pretend to think. “How does purple warrior sound to you?”
 

He looks at me like I'm certifiable. Then, “It is not purple.”

I smirk. “Mini warrior?”

That he finds funny. “It is also not mini.”

“
Massive warrior? Insanely pleasurable warrior? Gigantic, could-be-a-third-leg warrior?”

His chuckles intensify with each suggestion. “Naming it is unnecessary. You will know it by sight.”

“
Now who's being silly?” I scoff. It feels good to joke. My life got way too serious there for a minute. “You're saying that if I was presented with an array of cock photos, I'd be able to pick yours out?”

“
Yes.”

“
Well, that's not arrogant or anything.”

“
Perhaps you are a disadvantage. You are, after all, only newly acquainted.” He tugs on my pinky toe. “Repeated exposure will solve the problem.”

If decoded, that is just the Ferissian way of being pervy. Since he's making me laugh, I forgive him. I hand M'anu the empty plate and he sets it aside. “We should throw in a few taste tests just to be sure.”

His head whips around.

Bwahahahahaha!
“I need a shower.”
 

His brows furrow under the pink bangs. It's pretty wild how a guy as dangerous as M'anu can rock the pink, but he does it with flare. “I want to discuss these taste tests.”

Sure he did. “Later, stud. I'm sticky and that's not a good long term sensation. Would it be too much to hope that you have actual water showers on this boat?”

He cocks his head but doesn't answer, wordlessly pointing me in the right direction. No tandem showers? Damn. I was kind of hoping to keep the fun going a little while longer.

I decide to exit much the same way M'anu did, straddling him on all fours first. Things are looking up when he takes hold of my wrist. “Female.”

He's awful solemn. “Yes?” I ask with perk.

He searches my face. “Who is Alan Rickman?”

I blink. “How did you—Oh. You heard that, huh?”

He waits.

I skooch up his body until I straddle his lap, cupping his face. “Alan Rickman is an actor I don't know but admire. He has a deep voice. I like deep voices.”

“
I have a deep voice,” he points out.

“
And I really like it.” I kiss him. “Really, really.”

I'm not sure he's mollified. “Better than Alan Rickman's?”

“
Well,”I hedge with a grin, “that depends on what you say to me...and when.”

Is that a pout I detect? Oh no, M'anu is much too macho for that. Or so he would probably claim.

His arms link around my waist. “I like your eyes.”

That...is totally unexpected.

As often as I've been quoted Shakespeare, you would think it would take more than a sonnet to get my heart to flutter. I've probably said that very thing out loud more than once. I was terrifically wrong. All it takes is a single sentence about my eyes from a guy who's proved he doesn't bullshit.

He traces my spine. “Female.”

Just as quick as it warmed, a cold jab socks my chest. He looks so content and possessive, and I'm so satisfied at the way we seem to fit that it scares me.

There's a part most people forget about in
Romeo and Juliet
. There's that famous violent delights/violent ends thing, yes, but I'm referring to Juliet's moment of clarity after Romeo declares himself to her. She tries to rein in their mutual joy and compares love to lightning. I don't remember the
exact wording, but basically she points out that love can be rash, appearing and disappearing so quick you don't have time to remark on its existence. I always wondered how the story would have ended if she'd listened to her instincts.