Rystani Warrior 04 - The Quest (17 page)

His tone rippled with ferocity. “Tell me what you want.”

“To finish.”

He growled in her ear. “Wrong answer.”

He changed her suit settings, and cool water droplets trickled over her skin, followed by warm sluices. He increased the heat on her bottom. Maddeningly, he caressed the slick folds between her legs ever so slowly, ever so careful to stimulate
…
but not enough.

As he stoked her into a frenzy, in the mirror an erotic red cloud thickened, broadening in scope, lengthening in depth. Her bottom stung from heat, and she could no longer hold back a soft moan of desperate need.

“Tell me what you want,” Kirek demanded again.

“Huh?” She couldn’t think much beyond the wondrous pleasure he was giving her.

“Look in the mirror.”

Once again the red cloud had deepened, this time with vivid purple slashes. Purple meant
…
what? What had he told her exactly? How could she think when his creative fingers keep her right on the edge?

Purple meant
…
purple equated to love. No. That wasn’t right. He’d said “deep-seated feelings.”

Obviously, she couldn’t deny the molten passion bubbling through her veins like fierce lava, and Angel had no difficulty accepting that at the moment she was a creature devoted to lusty pleasure.

But she sensed that her pleasure wasn’t enough for him. He wanted her to
…
to
…
what? Say what? Be what? What the hell did he want? No, that was the wrong question. He’d asked her to tell him what she wanted.

Damn. “I can’t think when you’re doing
…
ah don’t stop. Please
…
do
…
not
…
stop.”

“I won’t,” he whispered into her ear.

He drizzled icy droplets over her, tensed her flesh with the hot water that increased her pulse right along with the magical rhythm of his fingers. He never stopped caressing her breasts or stroking the sensitive folds of her flesh. His hands and psi were no longer enough. All his carefully applied stimulation had made her receptive nerve endings require more than usual.

“Look at us.” His tone might have remained a whisper, but pure satisfaction rushed through him and into her.

Purple swirled into the red, mixing, dominating the colors so vibrant she couldn’t tell where one began and the other stopped. “Is that us?”

“Us?”

“In the mirror. You and me?”

He chuckled. “No. That’s still all you.”

Oh
…
my
…
God. He’d built a thunderstorm of need, but the purple flashes now overshadowed the yellow flickers and the red clouds, making her uneasy. Uncertain.

She licked her lip. “I don’t think
…
this is such
…
a good idea.” As she spoke, black tendrils of smoke once again wiped out the slices of purple, leaving a murky red haze.

“See what happens when you think,” he teased.

“What? What just happened?” She felt caged. Frantic. Tight. “Why can’t we just have sex?”

“Because I don’t want just sex.” At the moment she didn’t care that he didn’t want sex. She’d never ached so badly in her life. He’d aroused her, teased her. Then he spoke slowly, as if to make sure she wouldn’t miss one word. “And I take what I need.”

She whispered, her tone needy. “You can’t take what I don’t offer.”

“Exactly.” He shot her a grin so wicked, so determined, so absolutely resolute that whatever she’d been thinking, whatever she’d been about to say, evaporated like a ray of starlight amidst a thunderstorm. Her throat closed tight. She couldn’t breathe.

How could she argue when the damn Rystani had agreed with her? How could she think when he had her so on edge that she had to grit her teeth to prevent a scream of sheer frustration? How could she protest when her body yearned for completion?

“Tell me what you want.”

Had he asked again, or had his demand kept reverberating in her brain long after he’d ceased saying the words? She was losing control, and if he hadn’t locked her arms behind his head, if he hadn’t physically restrained her with his psi, she would never have been able to sit still, open, allowing him access to all of her.

While it wasn’t her flesh she wanted to deny him, but the feelings he so carefully drew from her, she wasn’t getting any satisfaction. The purple colors that emerged when she couldn’t control her lust—the ones that meant deep-seated feelings, which she wanted to deny with every atom in her body—kept getting in her way when he forced her to look at them.

She was spitting unnerved that every time the purple showed up, he made her think, ruining all the delicious tension by interrupting her physical sensations. Every damn time she looked in the mirror, black wiped out the purple, denying her completion.

“Let me go. Now.” Perhaps he heard the anger in her voice, perhaps he’d decided she’d had enough of his silly games, or perhaps he couldn’t hold back any longer himself.

One moment she’d been waiting on him, the next he set her free. She jumped from his lap and spun to face him, hands fisted on her hips. “I should walk away.”

All his psi touches ceased. Her flesh ached for his attention to her breasts, yearned for the heat on her bottom. The icy droplets and warm sluicing had also vanished, leaving her feeling empty.

His eyes narrowed to twin slits of blue heat. “Is that what you want?”

“I wanted you
…
before you
…
” She waved her hand at the mirror, confused because she wanted nothing better than to fling herself back into his strong arms and use sex to chase away her chaotic thoughts.

“You wanted me before I what?” he prodded.

Before he’d showed her those colors in the mirror.
“Before you showed me that you’re a freak of hyperspace.” The minute she spoke in anger, she regretted her outburst. Normally she kept her temper under tight control, but he had made her feel vulnerable, and that had made her careless. She raised her hand to her mouth wishing that it wasn’t too late to recall the hateful words.

At her insult, another man might have winced in pain, but Kirek’s eyes revealed only a hint of disappointment before he shut down all expression and went into Rystani-stoic mode. “Sorry,” he apologized, “I pushed too hard.”

God. After what she’d said,
he
was apologizing to
her.
Could he possibly understand that she’d lashed out because he’d made her confront feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge? “I wasn’t ready
…
I didn’t mean what I said about you being a freak. I’m sorry, too. I was frustrated and confused.” She glared at him, still annoyed, still on edge, still unsatisfied.

“I backed you into a corner, and you came out swinging, so I can’t claim foul if I got punched.” A tiny smile curved his lip. “So what do you want?”

Stars.

“How did I end up with the most persistent, most determined, most arrogant male in the galaxy?”

He laughed. “You got lucky.”

“Wrong,” she muttered as her anger cooled and her repressed passions resurfaced. At his use of the Terran expression for making love, she couldn’t help shaking her head and grinning back.

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m rarely wrong.”

“If you were perfect, you’d know that I need to get lucky again.”

“Again? So you still want to finish what we started?” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

Her lower jaw dropped. He knew the Earth euphemism. He’d been playing word games with her.

His grin widened. “Just call me Mr. Perfect.”

“Mr. Perfectly Annoying would be more accurate.” It was about time he realized that she knew how to play, too. “You keep asking me what I want.”

“Yes?”

She advanced, her breasts coming within inches of his lips. As his breath fanned her flesh, her nipples pebbled. “Ask me again.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to stop burning starlight. I want you—”

“Finally, you’re admitting—”

“I want you on your knees with your mouth between my legs.”

“Darling.” He grinned, as if he’d been expecting those very words, and dropped into position, placing his big hands on her bottom and drawing her toward the heat of his mouth. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“I’m
…
not
…
” His tongue found her center. “Your darling. I’ m not
…
your
…
ah
…
ah.” His tongue worked magic, and her breath came in gasps. Her muscles clenched, and her thoughts turned to pleasure, but she needed to make him understand. She would never again belong to anyone. Threading her fingers into his thick hair, she steadied her tremors. “I’m
…
not
…
yourrrrrrrs.”

In response he flicked his tongue faster, shooting her right over the edge. She shuddered into his mouth, spasming so hard she would have jerked away if not for his insistent hands holding her in place.

To her shock and delight, he didn’t stop sucking or licking or nuzzling. He continued as though no orgasm had just ripped through her, as though he was unaware that he had pleasured her so completely that her mind had gone numb and her limbs had lost all strength. If not for her suit holding her up, she might have collapsed in a heap.

As the aftershocks seeped away and awareness returned, she realized that he was priming her all over again. He was using his psi on her breasts and every inch of her skin felt as though he was brushing her with silky feathers, the touch light and almost as provocative as his tongue.

She hadn’t known it was possible to feel so satiated, yet at the same time so ravenous for more. It was as if Kirek was determined to feed her a fantasy feast, and so far she’d only dined on the tantalizing appetizer.

She’d never met a man who was so comfortable with himself. Kirek seemed to equally enjoy bossing her around or acceding to her wishes. And oh my
…
stars. What the man could do with his tongue ought to be classified a Federation secret
…
or illegal. Because after experiencing his skill, she would be forever spoiled.

Muscles clenching, fingers gripping his shoulders, she flung back her head and welcomed the spiking tension. So soon, he had her right back at a pivotal moment, and like a tide rising with a full moon, she crested, broke, and surged. If her orgasm had been fireworks, it would have been the grand finale. If her pleasure had been an exploding star, she’d have erupted in a supernova. If she’d been capable of screaming, she would have shouted herself hoarse.

But the intensity caused her throat to close and her heart to race and her center to weep with bliss. She would have gyrated her hips, but his hands on her butt kept her firmly pressed against his sweet mouth.

His lips gentled, but he kept stroking, caressing, lapping her moisture. As the last spasms splashed through her, he ratcheted up his tempo.

Again?

God. Did the man have no limits? Surely she couldn’t
…
not this soon
…
but she could.

If a girl could die of pleasure, she would surely be dead within the hour because Kirek wasn’t stopping. Her every nerve ending was already so sensitive that in only moments, he was driving her into another wild frenzy.

Her flesh raw with desire, she moaned as he whipped her to new sensations. She wanted to jump out of her skin. Each breath, each touch, each tiny caress inflamed, excited, and encouraged her to take more than she’d ever believed possible. And then more again.

He kept upping her sensitivity level. She climbed ever higher, poised on the ultimate leap.

All her thoughts focused on what Kirek was doing with his sensual mouth and his psi. Not for one second did he stop caressing her breasts. But there was no pattern. At times he delicately stroked. Sometimes he pinched or rolled the tips of her nipples, and sometimes, he rained icy droplets over her. All the while he kept her bottom hot.