Whimsy (4 page)

 
His taste
flooded her senses again. Whimsy moaned. She slid her fingers into his hair
with the intentions of forcing him away. His flavor made her head swim. The
heat was unbearable. Her belly contracted pleasurably. With a whimper, she
sucked his tongue
in
 
wanton
abandon. The kiss was hungry and had her eager for more.
His mouth slanted over hers to deepen the kiss and he pressed her tight against
his chest.

 
She
didn’t realize he was moving until the cool bedding touched her back. Still he
kissed her, fitting his body to hers until their pelvises were aligned. Each
thrust of his tongue was accompanied by a forceful thrust of his hips into the
cradle of hers.
 

 
He
trailed kisses down her neck, licking and sucking his way down to her breasts.
He cupped her breasts and raked his chest with her pouting nipples. She
automatically arched for more. He moved down her body. At the first touch of
his tongue to her breast, she cried out. He taunted her nipple with his tongue,
lashing it with licks before finally settling in to suckle.

 
Whimsy
couldn’t catch her breath. Each tug on her nipple made her
gasp,
made the curious clenching in her belly and her pussy so sharp that her hips
arched.

 
He
switched to her other breast. She hungrily thrust the nipple into his heated
mouth, moaning as he suckled. He kissed her belly, stabbing his tongue into her
belly button. He continued his downward descent until he was between her
thighs. He inhaled, a look of ecstasy soothing his features. He feathered his
tongue over the seam of her nether lips, now completely hairless thanks to her
earlier bathing experience. “Delicious, Dessert,” he groaned.
“All this cream just for me.”
He caressed her with the back
of a finger.

 
The touch
as well as his tongue was gentle and teasing. Yet they both had her
gasping.
 
Her fingers tightened in his
hair. Whimsy shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Her body felt languid.
More than anything, she wanted to lay there and let the pleasure go on and on.
He licked her more firmly this time. She arched convulsively. Myrna! She
inhaled deeply. She had to make him stop. “Please,” she whispered and could not
say more.

 
He
misunderstood her. He continued, and soon he was teasing her clit. She didn’t
want to, tried not to, and was immediately ashamed that she did, but she
couldn’t hold in the scream of pleasure. She thought she would die when he
began to suck. Her hips arched of their own accord. She began to plead with
him. Whether she was asking him to stop or begging him not to, she wasn’t sure.
Whimsy didn’t know half of what she said.
 
She was on the threshold of her orgasm when he rose above her and fitted
himself to her.
 

 
He pushed
in slowly. She gasped at the unaccustomed pleasure-pain sensation. Whimsy
rolled her hips for more. He gritted his teeth and held her still. “So small,”
he moaned.
 
“Do not want to hurt you.”

 
He pulled
back and eased forward cautiously. She wanted all of him. She panted as he
claimed her for his own. She had no will, no mind of her own. She was a puppet
on a string and he her master. He caged her in with his big, hard body and she
felt feminine and dainty. She’d never felt dainty. The heat of him,
the smell of him made her want impossible things.
 

 
Is this
what had happened to the other women? Was this why she’d heard them begging him
to take them? Had she been drugged?
 

 
The
thought sobered her. What was she thinking to have let things get this far out
of hand?
 
She was not raised to believe
in giving her body to a man who cared nothing for her.
She didn’t even know his name.
Shame consumed her. Whimsy clenched
her teeth in determination. She was not going to be screaming in ecstasy as he
deflowered her. He’d recently fucked two women on this very bed. She was not
going to be the third. She didn’t know what
Editha
would do to her for her defiance, but she could not go through with this.

 
Whimsy
gripped his hips. She knew it was little defense as he was already partially
buried in her pussy, but thank Myrna, she’d stopped him in time.
 
“Stop!”

 
“I will
not hurt you. I will be gentle.”

 
“No. I
can’t do this. I’m betrothed.”

 
His eyes
narrowed. “What does this mean?”

 
She was
momentarily sidetracked. “Your people don’t have betrothals? It means––
“ She
cut off with a gasp as he pushed forward, stretching
her. “Please, stop!” Her nails dug into his hips. “Please. I
can’t
.”

 
His eyes
locked with hers. “You want me. Your heat is scalding me.”

 
Whimsy
squirmed. She couldn’t deny it. “I can’t.”

 
His growl
was brutal and sent shivers down her spine. “I need you.”

 
Tears
filled her eyes. “Please, don’t do this to me.” His eyes searched hers.
“Please,” she whispered. For a long tense moment, he simply stared at her, his
jaw working, the muscles in his arms bunching.

 
Then he
rolled off her abruptly. “Get out,” he said, his deep voice strained.

 
Whimsy
was paralyzed with shock. She inhaled slowly. She turned her head to look at
him.
“T-thank you.”

 
“Get out
before I change my mind.” She rolled quickly. She grabbed the gown. She didn’t
bother putting it on, merely hugged it to her chest. She ran to the door. It
had been locked again after the bedding was changed. She pounded on the door.
She ran into
Chaldor
as the door opened. He folded
his arms around her, his face filled with concern.

 
She
swallowed, dashing away her tears. No one questioned her. They closed the doors
behind her and led her away. Whimsy’s heart was in her throat. For the moment,
she knew they thought that she’d gone through with it. She’d come out naked.
They’d probably heard her screaming as he kissed her.
Chaldor
kept shooting her sympathetic glances. What punishment would she receive when
they found out that she hadn’t submitted to him?
 
 

Chapter Four

 
She was
taken back to the bathing chamber and allowed to bathe before being led to
another chamber with several beds. The other two women were already asleep.
Whimsy fell gratefully into one of the beds. She was so tired. She felt
physically and emotionally drained. So much had happened in such a short time.
She fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
 

 
Whimsy
woke to the sound of whispers. She took time for a leisurely stretch. It was no
telling how long it would be before she would enjoy the comforts of a real bed
again.
 
If
Editha
had her way, she’d be spending her nights on the dingy floor of a dungeon.

 
“Hi.
You’re up,” said Ms. C15. “My name is
Maga
and this,”
she said gesturing at the silvery blonde, “is
Ama
.
What’s your name?”

 
 
“My name is Whimsy.” She sat up and
immediately suffered a moment of embarrassment, realizing that the last time
she’d seen these women they were naked and being carried out of a stranger’s
bedroom. She’d heard their cries of pleasure as a stranger claimed them. They
had been forced to endure, while she’d been spared. Guilt made tears spring to
her eyes.

 
Ama
was immediately at her side. “Don’t cry. Everything
will be all right.”

 
Whimsy
shook her head. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t help either of you.”

 
Maga
scoffed. “Help me what? Help me miss the best sex of
my life?”

 
Whimsy
stared. “You’re kidding.”

 
Maga
grinned.
“Nope.
I have never
begged a man to take me before. With him, I couldn’t stop.” She fanned herself.
“In the end, it was just too much. I passed out.”

 
 
“I thought…” Whimsy broke off and blushed,
recalling how naïve she had been. She had yet to begin her formal education on
the duties of a wife’s more intimate duties, but she had been given the basics.
She was told that it would be pleasurable to share her body with her husband,
but she had been given no idea as to
how
pleasurable.

 
“What?”
Maga
asked.

 
Ama
smiled. “She thought he was hurting you when you first
started screaming. She was ready to march in there and do battle. I was a little
on edge myself, or I would have laughed my head off.”

 
Maga’s
eyes widened and then narrowed shrewdly. “Where are
you from?”

 
“C7.”

 
“You were
a virgin,”
Maga
exclaimed.

 
“How do
you know that?”
Ama
asked.

 
“All the
women on C7 are virgins. The only women who aren’t virgins are claimed by
husbands. They never leave the colony once they’re claimed. I know the
Gogath
would never venture that deep into civilization so
that means they nabbed her somewhere else.”

 
Whimsy
grumbled as
Maga
stared at her as though she was some
sort of mythical creature. “I
am
a
virgin.
 
It was a near thing,” she said
recalling the brief moment when he’d begun to penetrate her, “but he let me go.
And for your information, there are
women on C7 who are
neither claimed nor
virgins.”

 
Maga
rolled her eyes. “Yes, the social pariahs. I visited
C7. You come from a judgmental, pseudo-pious, hypocritical lot. Next to C15,
it’s the worse colony in the system.”

 
Whimsy’s
mouth dropped open in indignation. “How can you say that?
Just
because we have morals and values…“

 
Maga
snorted.
“Morals and values.
How about compassion and decency? I visited C7 once. Your people treated me
worse than dirt once they found out that I wasn’t a virgin nor claimed. I
couldn’t wait to leave.”

 
Whimsy
lowered her gaze, knowing that
Maga
had a point. C7
was high on morality, but unforgiving of those who strayed from the path. She’d
come so close last night. Shivers of shock racked her. She buried her face in
her hands. She reminded herself that she still had her hymen. She could go
home.

 
Ama
wrapped an arm around her. “You can tell us. You don’t
have to be embarrassed.”

 
“Tell you
what?”

 
“How it
was if he took you. We won’t judge.”

 
Whimsy
shook her head. She realized
Ama
was trying to give
her an out in case she was lying about still being a virgin. There would be no
point in proclaiming her virginity if it weren’t true. Once she returned to C7,
she would be sent to a med center to verify her continued chastity after such
an extended un-chaperoned absence. “No. He didn’t. H-he was on top of me, about
to, but I pleaded with him to let me go.”

 
“I
thought that’s what I would do. But when I was there in his arms, all I could
do was beg him not to stop. If he hadn’t taken me, I probably would have tried
to rape him.”
 
Ama
grinned.
 

 
“Do you
think we were drugged?” Whimsy could not help but ask.

 
Maga
sat down on the end of the bed. “If we were, they need
to market it.” She shook her head. “No, I think he just has that kind of
magnetism.”

 
Whimsy
frowned, her mind abuzz with questions. None of this made any sense. “Then why
are they buying women for him? And why release us after only one night?”
 

 
Maga
shrugged. “I wish I could answer your questions, but
like you, I don’t know where we are. The farther you get out into the colonies,
the less communicative the society. On C15, they don’t like any outsiders
because they don’t want people to know what goes on there. Wherever we are,
they aren’t advertising for tourists.”

 
The lock
on their doors turned. The three women turned as one as the doors opened and
Editha
entered with two guards following in her wake.
Editha’s
gaze settled on Whimsy, her expression one of
satisfaction.