My Prize (14 page)

Rory was silent, absorbing this information, processing it and turning it over in his mind.

"So they've practically guaranteed themselves a shot at first place by eliminating the rest of those competitors whose scores might come near."

The Guardian nodded. "We're only talking less than a dozen competitors, too. A few Fralliens, two Magans..."

"...And Boralle." Rory's voice was urgent.

"And Boralle North," agreed the Guardian. "With your help, she'll score highly now, but we don't quite know how high. There's a risk, Rory..."

The Scot leaped off the bed. "Nay. Not to my woman. There'll be no risk to Boralle if I have any say about it."

He peered at the Guardian. "
Do
I have any say about it?"

The Guardian stared at him. "There are always options, Rory."

"Well, that's as good a non-answer as I've heard in a while."

"I'm sorry, but it's the best I can do at this moment. Right now, you need to be warned that there is Magan treachery brewing. You may tell Boralle the same thing, if she'll believe you. It may help to put her on her guard."

Rory stopped the Guardian's pacing with a hand on his arm. "Tell me one thing. Can I go with Boralle down to Frallien?"

The Guardian paused for a moment and thought. "If she takes your vessel with her, then yes. As long as you stay near the vessel..."

Rory nodded. This had been part of his training on Anyela. He'd hoped this would be the case, because it would kill him to have to wait up in her ship while she risked everything for her race.

"And..." Rory's gaze was no longer focused on the Guardian, but inwards, busy with his own thoughts. "Can I become visible to others should the need arise?"

The Guardian blinked. "It hasn't been done before."

"That's no what I asked ye." Rory pinned the man with a pair of very fierce green eyes. "This is Boralle we're talking about here, never mind the other political issues. Can I become visible?"

"Well. Er...I suppose so. It will take some concentration on your part, and you may not be able to hold it for very long..."

Rory smiled.

The last time a smile like that had crossed the face of the Laird, some thieving blackguards had met their fate at the point of his broadsword. It wasn't a pleasant smile, it was more one of intent.

Devious intent.

*~*~*~*

The grav pod that was ferrying Major Boralle North from the GeeSynch Satellite Station to the surface of Frallien IV began its dizzying descent through the upper atmosphere.

She had to admit the view was spectacular, even if her stomach was lurching slightly.

The pod window was aligned with the transparent side of the GeeSynch tube, a massive feature that dominated the skies over the planet and made it possible to welcome visitors from other worlds, while keeping Frallien's atmosphere and surface uncontaminated and pristine.

It would take seven hours to descend from the station, which rotated quietly in geostationary orbit and although the tube was, in many respects, just an elevator with a serious hormone problem, it always felt more like a personal spaceflight than a trip down twenty gazillion floors.

Boralle sighed.

Her personal pod was just that. Snug, cramped, and possessing only the bare necessities. A bunk, which doubled as a couch, a small waste disposal unit, which doubled as a toilet, and a tiny desk which didn't double as anything because it was too small.

A low chuckle sounded behind her as she stood in front of the window staring out at the blackness of space and the glowing greens and blues of the planet beneath.

"That's a big sigh for a wee lass."

She grinned as she turned. "Rory, I'm so glad you're here. If I'd have had to leave you behind, I'd have sworn you were simply a figment of space sickness or something."

"Not me, lass. I'm as real as they come. And speaking of coming..." His eyebrows waggled suggestively. "Do we have time for a few more lessons?"

"
More?
" Boralle tried very hard to prevent her voice from squeaking. "There's
more
?"

Rory's lips curved in a sensual smile that shot straight to her clit. "Oh sweetheart. As someone once said, 'I have not yet begun to fuck.'"

She concentrated. "Somehow, I don't quite remember the phrase as being exactly like that."

"Well, it was along those lines." He dismissed her argument with a wave of his hand.

He closed the small distance between them and pressed his body to Boralle's back. She made to turn in his arms, but his grip tightened. "Stay there, sweetheart. Right there. I'm going to pleasure you as you stand."

"You...you are?" Boralle breathed in, wondering exactly what he meant.

"I am."

His fingers slid accurately to the fastening on her uniform and within moments it was a crumpled pile around her feet.

For a brief second she could see her reflection in the glass and steel that formed the tempered window. A naked woman, with two large hands caressing her body. In front of a planetary vista that defied description.

The first of Frallien's moons was rising, flooding the small cabin with a golden light.

"Ah, Boralle. So lovely by moonlight," whispered Rory, pressing even harder against her.

His garments had clearly gone somewhere, but her mind refused to focus on anything other than the feel of him against her, his heat scalding her flesh, and his hands as they stroked her in long fluid caresses.

His cock was hardening against her backside and she couldn't help a little squirm against him as their bodies touched.

She felt him move and jumped a little as she felt something cool dribble down her back.

"Relax love, it's an oil. I'm going to rub it into your skin, and help you relax."

True to his word, his hands began a massage over her muscles the likes of which she couldn't have imagined if her life had depended on it.

His strength was evident as he kneaded the tight knots around her neck and shoulders, easing away her tensions, relieving her stress and turning her into a puddle of useless lust.

A soft fragrance spread through the room. It was somehow flowery and yet exotic, and it took her mind places where light and touch and yearning were the only things that existed.

"Ohhh, that's so good," she whispered.

"It's the scent of the blue lotus, love." He slipped his oil-covered hands around her body and began to massage her belly. And higher.

"I like it," she muttered, distracted as he cupped her breasts and soothed them with the oil.

"So do I," answered Rory, sounding a little distracted himself.

He found a nipple and began to tease it, bringing a moan of pleasure to her lips. She tossed her head back to give him better access, resting against his broad shoulders.

His other hand slid down across her belly and found her mound.

She moaned again as his exploration continued. Not content with stroking her, now he was opening her, pulling her tissues gently aside with his fingers, spreading her wide and touching the secrets he revealed.

Wantonly, she thrust her hips forward into his hands and pushed her breast into his grasp.

"D'ye like this, sweetling?" His question seemed the height of stupidity.

She was beginning to flood his fingers with her own lubricants, her breasts were swollen in his hand, her nipples could rival the nose cone of a missile for hardness, and he wanted to know if she liked it?

"Mmm," she answered. Well, okay. She'd point out the absurdity of his question later. Much later.

"Show me then, lass. I need your hands too."

What
?

At least half the brain cells that had been contemplating sexual arousal leaped four inches sideways and tried to grasp what he'd just said.

"What?" She snorted to herself. If that was the best she could come up with, she was pretty far gone.

"Like this," he answered.

He took his hand from her breast and grasped one of her own with it, then brought it back to her breast. He gently placed her own fingers on her own nipple and encouraged them to move.

"Rory...
Rory
..." she sputtered, caught completely off guard.

"Show me, love, show me what you like. How you like to be touched. Each woman's different. I canna know you all. Let me pleasure you the way you like best."

"You want me to...to...
touch
myself?" Her voice definitely squeaked. She was so astounded, she didn't care.

"Aye, lass. I do. And I want to watch as you do it, too." The roughness in his answer didn't escape her, and she realized that this was probably a new tool in her arsenal of sensual weaponry.

A shaft of desire shot up her spine and straightened it. Boralle told herself that she could do anything, dammit. Hadn't she managed to become a Major in the CGC? Wasn't she visiting new planets as she'd promised herself she would when she was a child? And wasn't she even now taking sex lessons from some kind of wild time-traveling Scotsman prior to competing in one of the most highly acclaimed Olympiads in this quadrant?

Hah. Boralle North was not a woman to turn down a challenge.

She turned sideways and met his eyes.

Oh Gawwwwd
.

Fire was burning in their green depths, and she swore she could feel the heat. He pulled back a little. "Do it, love. I want to see. Please."

He gradually eased his hands away from her and backed to the little desk. He gently rested himself on it, and for a second or two Boralle waited for it to collapse. It was obviously stronger than it looked, because it held.

She stood there, moonlight flowing over her body through the window, one hand on her breast and the other—well, what to do with the other. That was the question.

She felt a blush begin beneath her skin and spread across just about every inch of her.

"Rory, I don't know if I can do this," she said, looking away from his gaze before she fell into it and drowned.

"You can, lass. I know you can. You need to understand that you're a beautiful, sexual woman. That looking at you gives a man a serious case of desire. That looking at you makes me want to do—well, lots of things. To you. With you. To taste every inch of you, especially that lovely breast you're touching. To swirl ma tongue around the nipple, like your fingers are doing right now..."

Sure enough, Boralle's fingers were caressing her nipple. Rubbing softly, then pulling, flicking and rubbing once again.

She closed her eyes, finding it easier if her attention was focused solely on her own reactions, not the incredibly magnetic man so close to her.

She felt him move slightly as he reached over to her and pulled her other hand to her clit. She flinched as she felt the touch of her own fingers.

For someone as well-educated and intelligent as she thought herself to be, she was surprisingly ignorant about the feel of her own body.

It shocked her with its heat and distracted her with its varied textures. She felt the softness of her bare mound, the little bumps where her pubic hair had once grown, and then the slippery moisture of her body.

Sliding further, she found her swollen tissues to be sensitive to the slightest movement of her fingers...there...and there...places that sent rivers of feeling shimmering down her legs and over her buttocks.

She sighed as she fingered herself, forgetting everything but the incredible sensations her motions were creating.

She lost herself in a vortex of feelings, her breasts begging for attention while her hand plunged with more resolve into the secrets between her legs.

She whimpered, then cried out as her hand was roughly shoved aside and replaced by...Rory. And his tongue.

He was kneeling in front of her, his face buried in her cunt. His tongue worked fiercely, suckling, teasing, tugging on her aroused clit.

Her hand grasped his hair and held tight, although whether to keep herself upright or to keep his face right where it was, she couldn't tell.

What he was doing to her was beyond belief, and her mind and body rocked with the electrical charges his mouth was creating.

Just when she felt herself about to tumble into an abyss of pleasure, he pulled back, lips shining from her moisture, eyes almost black with desire.

"Rory," she gasped, thrusting her hips forward. "Dear God, don't stop there,
please
..."

He smiled tightly. "There's more, lass," he answered, voice strained. "Turn to the window again and lean forward. Brace your arms on the glass."

He tugged her around until she was once again gazing from the window. But this time, she saw nothing of the planet before her, and everything of the reflected man behind her.

He was holding her hips, stroking, touching, teasing her breasts, his hands everywhere at once and keeping her sexual fire hot.

She spread her legs, trying to tell him with her actions what she needed so badly.

Then she felt the oil again.

This time it was low on her spine, just above her buttocks. And Rory was spreading it carefully over her cheeks. And around her cheeks.

And between her cheeks.

Oh
raaaaaasssssss…

She had the most beautiful arse he could remember seeing. Firmly muscled, heart-shaped, her buttocks were everything a man could wish for. And they were his.

Rory swept his slick hands over and over her buttocks, learning her curves, loving her flesh and stoking up her fires. He could smell her arousal, and knew it probably matched his own. His cock was aching for her, twitching and throbbing, painfully demanding to be put where it rightfully belonged.

Deep inside Boralle North.

But there was fun to be had before the final explosion.
Gently, Rory tugged on Boralle's cheeks, separating them and letting a wee drop of oil slip into her cleft.

He heard her gasp and felt her muscles tighten.

"You've a perfectly beautiful arse, love." He let a finger gently follow the path of the oil down between her buttocks.

"Rory, I—you—I..." she stuttered and moaned and wiggled, unsure, but aroused by his touch.