Saturday, February 21, 2009

Matchmaker's Misery by Brenna Lyons

Pilar shivered, looking around for the man who’d touched her back, but no one seemed close enough to have been the one.

“Anything wrong?” Andrew asked in English, his chest pressed to her shoulder in a possessive manner any of the hopefuls would be sure to recognize.

She sank further into him. “I thought...” But the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded.

“What?” His voice was gruff, and her hair stirred at the movement of his head as he scanned the room.

“Nothing.” She laughed nervously. “My imagination.”

“If you’re certain...” Andrew’s voice announced clearly that he wasn’t.

“I—I am. I’m just being silly.”

“I’ll stay with you.”

Pilar turned to him, wincing at his open challenge to a group of hopefuls milling nearby. “Please, Andrew. I’m fine. Really, I am.”

“If you’re uneasy, you don’t have to do this. I can escort you to your rooms.”

Her cheeks heated. “No. I’ll never find a mate if you hover. I want to, Andrew. Promise me you’ll let me try.” Of course, she’d been trying for nearly a year, and she was still skittish as a kittle around the hopefuls.

He nodded, stroking at her cheek lightly. “If you need my help—”

Pilar smiled. “I’m never alone.”

Andrew dropped a kiss on her cheek and withdrew. Pilar took a calming breath and smiled at the lord approaching her. She could do this. She could find a mate.

“Good evening, mi’lord,” she offered brightly, searching for his name and coming up short...again. It was Lor...something, she was certain. It was deplorable that she couldn’t remember most of their names. Then again, she’d only been actively meeting the nobles at events, and there were so many hopefuls at each one.

He bowed, keeping his eyes averted. “Good evening, Pilar Laes. Would you care to take some air with me?”

She stared at him in surprise. No man had dared ask her that in all the time she’d met men. “Why...yes, mi’lord. I believe I would,” she managed.

Her heart skipped as the lord offered his arm. Pilar placed her hand through his elbow, glancing around for Andrew automatically. He was engaged in conversation with his twin, Alex. Their father and mother were dancing together, and Carter was nowhere in sight.

Pilar fought back a moment of panic. She was walking away with this lord, and none of her family would be trailing in her wake. Pilar straightened her spine and managed a smile for her escort. If she ever wanted to find a mate, it was the price she would have to pay.

The night air was cool and the stars bright. Pilar resisted the urge to laugh out loud. Like Carter, she’d always favored a clear, night sky.

“This is to your liking?” the man at her side asked.

“Yes. It is...Li...” Pilar grimaced in the realization that she still hadn’t remembered his name. Was it Lorent? Lorel?

He chuckled. “Loryol, Pilar Laes.”

Her cheeks burned in a fierce blush. “Loryol. Of course. My apologies, Loryol Li.”

“None needed. You meet many men. You can hardly be expected to remember every name.” Loryol met her eyes fully. “But, perhaps the most important are remembered...fondly remembered.”

Pilar released his arm, suddenly uncertain. Something in Loryol’s eyes was too familiar. She hadn’t given him permission to look her in the eye, but he was doing so without hesitation.

She took a step toward the manor. “We should go back. My brothers—”

Loryol’s hands closed on her shoulders, pulling Pilar into the shelter of his body. “Just a few moments,” he requested.

“You—you don’t have permission to touch me.” Pilar’s heart pounded in fear. She didn’t want to scream, but Loryol might leave her no choice but to alert the guards.

“I mean you no harm.” His voice was smooth...melodic.

“The law doesn’t say—”

His lips brushed across hers. Pilar stiffened in surprise, pushing at Loryol’s chest. His mouth came down again, bypassing her face and laying a kiss at her pulse point.

She stilled, her thoughts scattered. Loryol traced the artery with the tip of his tongue.

“You should stop,” Pilar managed, her eyes sliding shut in the cascade of new stimuli.

She knew what Loryol was doing, of course. All the re-breds had been trained in Keen lovemaking. The women healers had told Pilar it was for her own protection. She’d never understood that comment until now.

Loryol’s hand stroked at her hip, sending sparks of pleasure through her system. Pilar’s mind worked dully at the situation. He was trying to seduce her. If Loryol succeeded, he could demand a Trial Moon.

“No.” Pilar pushed him away more forcefully, trying to bolt for the manor.

His hand closed on her wrist, tighter than she was comfortable with, wrenching her back to him. Loryol’s eyes glittered in the starlight, a fierce determination etched on his face.

“Release me,” she ordered him, but her voice was devoid of the conviction she wanted it to carry.

“You should not play with a Keen lord,” he informed her.

“I’m not playing. I’m leaving.” Pilar pulled at his hold, her breathing hitching when he didn’t budge. She looked toward the manor through the thick foliage hiding all but the highest windows from view, praying for some sound indicating that Andrew was in pursuit. Even Carter would be acceptable at this point.

Loryol’s grip tightened, a silent promise that she was going nowhere he didn’t want her to go. He shook his head slowly. “Why do you fear me? Have I injured you?”

“If you don’t release me—”

“Release her. Now.”

Pilar jumped at the strange voice. She searched out the dark shadow moving toward them in relief. She wasn’t alone and at Loryol’s mercy.

“I said release her. I won’t say it a third time.”

She had a face to match to the voice now. Bathed in starlight, the fury of his words couldn’t compare to the promise of death in his eyes.

Loryol chuckled. “Amazing. You actually think you can order me?”

“I can stop you, but I promise you that Alex Li the Elder and the lady’s brothers will kill you where you stand, if you don’t release her. I’ll make sure of it.”

Loryol’s cocky grin disappeared. He released her arm.

All of her life, Pilar had been trained to run to her family or guards in a case like this. She didn’t. The moment she was free of Loryol, Pilar surged behind her savior.

He looked around at her in shock then turned to Loryol. “Do you wish me to deliver Loryol to your father?” he asked solemnly.

Pilar shuddered, pressing her cheek to the man’s back, his silin shirt soothing her nerves. “No,” she whispered. “My father knows where to find him.”

“Very well.”

Loryol stomped away, grumbling curses.

The second man stood his ground for several minutes. Finally, he sighed and relaxed slightly. “Are you well, Pilar Laes?”

She nodded against his back.

“Then I should take you to your—”

“Not yet...please.” Pilar managed an unwavering voice though tears threatened.

He turned to her, his dark eyes growing darker in concern. His gaze scanned over her, boldly drinking in every inch of her body. “Were you hurt?”

“No,” she denied, though she rubbed at her wrist. She did hurt, and Andrew’s fury wasn’t something Pilar wanted to see anytime soon.

The man scooped up her hand, his eyes narrowing. “I should have taken him to your father. We should go now. They can stop Loryol before—”

“No,” she gasped. There had to be a better way. Seeing Pilar come in with a mark on her body would send Andrew over the edge of reason. “Alex,” she mused. If Alex healed the bruise, before Andrew saw it...


“If you brought my brother Alex— Oh... No. You won’t know which is which,” she decided miserably.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course, it does,” she snapped. “If Alex heals this before Andrew sees—”

“You want to heal the damage before you go in?”

“Unless I want to be under heavy guard for the rest of my life.” And, that wasn’t a stretch of the imagination. She’d never find a mate that way. “But, how will you tell them apart?”

“I don’t need to,” he offered in a voice that sounded of complete confidence in his answer.

“Yes, you do need to. Or...someone needs to.” Who could he ask, without arousing suspicion? Carter! Her younger brother bordered on oblivious.

“If healing is the problem, let me heal you.”

Pilar stared at him, shocked beyond speech for an instant, but the young lord seemed sincere. “You possess the healing magic?”

He raised an eyebrow, as if frustrated by the question. “Yes. I do.” His tone rode the line between patient and patronizing.

“’s so rare. The royal family and the re-breds, naturally. Other than that, there are only...perhaps...a dozen men—”

“Fifteen, to be precise,” he offered with a slight tip of his head.

“How wonderful.” Pilar touched his arm, feeling like a silly school girl in his presence. “A treasure,” she breathed.

“Pardon?” he asked again.

“My apologies. I meant... You’re a treasure.”

“My healing magic?” he scoffed.

“And your noble nature. Not every man would have stopped Loryol. Many men would have taken advantage of the situation, if they’d done anything, at all.”

He blushed. “May I heal you?”

“Absolutely.” She offered her arm, her heart skipping in excitement. She’d never been healed by anyone but her immediate family and her Cousin Joseph. “With my thanks.”

The lord cradled her wrist to his mouth and started to heal the bruises.

Pilar weaved on her feet in surprise. The healing was always enjoyable, but coming from an eligible young lord instead of a family member made it more so.

The sensation of ice hit her first. Then the heat followed closely by the pulse of pleasure. Her human genetics made this simple exchange more erotic than the seduction attempts Loryol had played at.

Pulse after pulse of his healing coursed over her nerves, bringing her nipples to aching points against her gown, making her sex hot and heavy and her thighs damp with the lubricant for lovemaking.

The lord placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist, marking the end of his healing.

“What is your name?” Pilar asked, her voice strange in her own ears.

He met her eyes, seemingly surprised. “Cored, mi’lady.”

She nodded shakily. “Cored Li,” she greeted him, rising on her toes and sealing her mouth to his.

Rope Dreams by Eliza Gayle

Katie watched Leo’s hands stroke the woman’s inner thigh with the rope as he tied it around her leg. She imagined the course texture scraping against her own sensitive skin, sending a shiver snaking along her spine. She continued to observe the twists and turns of the rope as they wrapped it around both her legs and waist. The girl giggled through the process but the lines etched in Leo’s face showed just how serious he took his job. The loud beat of industrial music playing in the club pounded with her own heartbeat, pulsating through her body. Bodies crushed around her as the night’s play got into full swing, but her attention remained solely on the rope.

She tuned it all out to focus on the station below. Soon both Leo and Quinn would hook the woman up to the swing and fling her across the club, but first he tied her. Wetness pooled between her thighs with the familiar longing to be the girl in Leo’s hands, slowly tied from limb to limb until her freedom was stripped and her trust tested.

“Isn’t it about time you quit watching and started feeling, Katie?” The familiar timber of Quinn’s voice whispered in her ear as his arms grabbed the railing on either side of her, trapping her in his embrace. Her pulse skipped as she sucked in a shallow breath of surprise. “That could be you down there, feeling the rope across your belly, wrapped around your wrists and totally at his mercy.” Her nipples peaked against her shirt at the mere image his words brought to mind. She screwed her eyes closed tight, as she tried to stop the effect he was having on her.

“Shouldn’t you be down there helping out your partner?” She tried to concentrate on her breathing but the man pressed against her back made her heart race and her body burn with renewed need. The heat alone was enough to make her weak in the knees.

“Come with me, Katie. Let me tie you.”

She shook her head as fear gripped her body. She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure she could recover from either Leo or Quinn teasing her body like that.

Quinn grasped her wrist and flipped her around to face him. His amber eyes pierced through her with a heated intensity as he watched her reactions. “You come here week after week and stand here looking down at us as we work. Do you think we don’t notice the longing on your face? The way your body squirms as we wrap more and more rope around the girls who ask us to? Why are you torturing yourself? Or should I say…what are you waiting for?”

The Craft of the Wise: Book of Shadows


A pair of boots stepped into her vision and cut off her path of escape. Long legs encased in faded black denim bent into a crouch next to her. Through blurry eyes, she traced over the tucked in shirt that opened at the chest, revealing a hard set of pectorals. An outstretched hand reached for her and she whimpered again.


The word registered this time. He knew who she was. Well, not necessarily who she was, but certainly what she was. A good sign. There was something familiar about him, too. Maybe she’d seen him before. She couldn’t quite place her finger on it.

That voice. Deep and rich. Almost as if he’d practiced reaching into the depths of his belly to bring forth the sound. Grave and raspy. A little guttural.


She would have laughed if she dared test her burning throat. If her mind could go to along those lines, she must be feeling safer. Stupid gut instinct. Couldn’t help out when she was afraid for her life, but certainly reared its head to recognize when she was horny.

Ava looked past the hand she ignored and into the face of the man before her. She inhaled sharply as she gazed into his eyes. Pools of midnight stared back at her.

Horniness be damned, she scrambled further away from him, in the opposite direction of the door. To his credit, his only reaction was to maneuver himself so that he faced her once again. It didn’t matter. Nothing good could come of a man whose eyes were as unnatural as his. On top of that, a tattoo crawled up his neck to decorate one jaw. The intricate lines didn’t hide the scars that reached into the collar of his shirt where a green stone hung on a gold chain, however. Long black hair curled at the back of his neck. Almost everything about him screamed menace, but something in his expression eased her panic.

Despite the very rough exterior that proclaimed his take-no-shit demeanor, his softening voice combined with a hesitant display of brilliantly white teeth, calmed her. On closer inspection, the searing coldness of his eyes thawed into a soothing warmth. For a brief moment, she wondered what it would feel like to curl against him.

Then he changed position. Her gaze skimmed past the arm he’d hidden behind his back. From where she sat, she could see blood trickle to the ground in bright, round drops.

Despite herself, she dragged her stare back to his face. He’d killed the demon barehanded? That was unheard of. Impossible.

“Who --—” She rubbed her neck. That freakin’ hurt. Ava cleared her throat softly. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Who are you?”

“My name is Aaron Remington, Princess.” His eyes also seemed to soften when he spoke to her. Maybe unnatural wasn’t the right word to describe them. They were…intense.

With his unsoiled hand, he reached towards her. She stiffened when calloused fingers grazed her throat. They tightened against her skin for a moment causing her breath to quicken. He opened his mouth to say something else, but the word cut off before he spoke. His eyes narrowed as he focused on something behind her. The rough fingers dropped away.

She turned her head before she could catch herself. It could have been a trap to distract her for all she knew. When the door creaked open, her suspicions fled.

Charming Lucy by Lissa Matthews

The thumb sized turquoise stone settled gently in the red gold curls covering her wet, heated sex. Kasper Griffin’s hand slowly drifted down, one long finger sliding inside her, eliciting a moan from them both. This sweet and not so innocent woman was hot and so responsive to him, to everything he said or did and he shook each time she uttered a sound. Just like now.

Kasper looked up to find her blue eyes watching him. They seemed more intense now than the other times they’d been together. Maybe it was from the stone linking with her, like the old woman at the bizarre said it would, he didn’t know, but they were gleaming with a lust that burned straight through him.

Against her honey-gold skin, his darkness contrasted sharply and the turquoise was brilliant. It seemed that in some indefinable way it was meant for her. Both were smooth, the rough edges having been stroked and rubbed away by time and life. Both were cool at first touch, but warmed in mere seconds. He’d never known a woman and a stone could connect like this, and he was fascinated by it.

“You should be wearing turquoise daily. It’s beautiful against you.”

She lifted her head and looked down. “Mmm. Yes.”

Her smile was both angelic and wicked at the same time. His finger still inside her, he twisted it, and curled it up, her back arched, her legs tensed and opened wider, sending the stone lower until it came to rest against her clit.

“Oh my,” Kasper whispered. “Maybe a piercing here, hmmm? A ring with a turquoise teardrop?”

“Oh yes, maybe.” She gasped as she spoke. “And maybe you should stop toying with me, Kas. Please.”

“Toying with you? Is that what I’m doing?” He wiggled his finger inside her, then slid it out of her. He saw she was watching him again and he knew she was wondering what he was going to do with the juices coating his finger. She licked her lips in suggestion and he smiled, knowing she wanted a taste and she pouted a little when he licked one side of his finger. “Yes, baby, I suppose I am toying with you, but then…” He lowered the finger to her mouth and she opened it readily, sucking it between her lips, her tongue swirling around it. She sucked his finger like a cock and there was almost nothing in the world better than a good cocksucker. Almost. “Then again, maybe I’m not toying with you.”

Kasper got up on his knees between her legs draping hers over his thighs. His finger still in her mouth, he took his cock in his other hand and guided it inside her pussy. Her teeth raked his skin and her hands fisted in the sheets. She loved to fuck.

She wanted sex as often as he did and he loved her appetite for it. Theirs was usually fast and hard, a primal mating of clothes ripping and up against the wall, bent over the bed or down on the floor fucking. But this afternoon was different. She was different. It was like a new energy inside her, forcing a new kind of hunger. She strained with need and he just wanted to come, wanted her to come, so they could do it all over again.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Pirates by G.A. Hauser

Justin stirred from his sleep to the sound of someone opening the door of the storeroom. He hid behind the crates and held his breath.

A man with a heavy black beard, peppered with specks of gray, had come in. He filled a large wicker basket and then went to check on the chickens. Justin waited, slipping out of the room and down the long narrow passage. A harsh smell of rot filled his nostrils, and he assumed he was heading deeper into the bowels of the bilge instead of upward. Stifling a gag, he backed away, trying to cover his nose and mouth, holding his breath. Having to backtrack, he heard the cook still rummaging through the storeroom and paused. He tiptoed nearer and tried to listen. Hearing voices approach, he stiffened in fright and backed up, with great reluctance, closer to the dank reek. Two more men were coming down the passageway. Justin leaned back against the wall, hoping the dim light was enough concealment.

They were laughing loudly as they greeted the cook and offered to help him carry some of the goods up to the next deck for him. Justin kept still, waiting. Within moments, they headed out of the storeroom and back to the galley.

Assuming the coast was clear as he listened to their footfalls recede, Justin straightened out his back and combed his hand through his long hair, getting it out of his eyes. He gasped, as a man appeared, intent on one more bottle.

“What the devil do we have here?” The large man stood tall as he inspected Justin.

“Sir, I would like to explain.” Justin trembled nervously.

The broad, hairy man brought Justin to the light to inspect him; his clean, white knee breeches and brown, pewter-buttoned waistcoat. “Well, shiver me timbers! How did ye get on board? How old are ye, lad?”

“Eighteen, sir…please…I must be allowed to sail with you.” Justin put his hands together to beg the man. It appeared all the men on the ship had facial hair and bandanas on their heads. It was difficult for him to tell one from the next.

“Argh! No young boys are permitted on board. Ye have no idea what these dogs are like when they have had enough grog. They would devour ye.” The man’s voice was as rough as sandpaper.

“They would eat me?” he gasped in horror.

The man laughed. “Aye, but naught the way ye thinks, naught over the spit. Come, lad, we must get ye to the captain and turn back.”

“No!” Justin shoved by him and ran down the passage. The man shouted after him as Justin ducked into a dark, narrow opening.

Feeling his way down several cramped passages trying to find a safe route, he could hear men’s voices in every direction. I can’t be let off back at port! I just can’t!

Jumping in fear as he felt someone put their hand over his mouth and around his chest, Justin was dragged back into the crew’s cabin. When he could free himself, he spun around to see his assailant.

“What a pretty boy! Ye stowaway for some adventure asea?”

Justin swallowed his terror as he studied this man. He was short and heavy-set with a large, protruding, hairy belly and a coarse, brown-matted beard. Equally matted was his greasy hair, tied back from his face with a grimy rag. He had large, gaping holes in his rotting teeth, and foul-smelling breath. Appearing like a hook at the end of his right arm was a hand missing its last three fingers, and his clothing was filthy and stiff from salt and sweat. His once-white breeches were now gray. His red and white knee socks were faded to brown and yellow, and no shirt did he wear to cover his furry obesity.

“Yes, sir, I did. Please don’t turn me in.” Justin was stalked hungrily and backed against a wall. He tilted his face away from the man when his misshapen hand caressed his cheek. “Agh!” Justin winced in disgust. “Do not touch me.”

“There be sixty on board, lad. No women. A pretty young boy hasn’t much chance in getting by unmolested. Ye were daft to come on board.” In a grotesque gesture of hunger, the man licked his two fingers after they stroked Justin’s face.

“What?” Justin gulped. “I want to be just like the other men. I want to help the captain get his gold.”

His mouth was covered quickly, and he was pressed back harder. “Ye’ve a lot to learn, boy, about keeping yar lips sealed. Ye don’t speak those words aloud. Ye’ll be lucky to leave this ship alive, and I mean ‘fore we ever meet the enemy.”

Justin managed to get his mouth away from the stifling, deformed grip. He panted to catch his breath. “Let me be. Let me just sail like one of the men.”

The grotesque man leaned back and fondled the clean fabric of Justin’s clothing. “Ye’ll get used to being handled, ye lovely thing. It’ll be the reason to keep ye on board.” With his hips pressed forward, he ground against Justin’s body.

Justin cringed in revulsion. “Oh, bloody hell...”

Sexual Healing: The Intervention by D. Musgrave

Marianne glanced at the timer for what seemed the thousandth time. Would the morning never end? The petite blonde woman, sitting on the sofa continued to drone on about her insecurities, about how she longed to achieve an orgasm, but didn’t want her husband to know she’d been faking it for years. Looking at the woman, Marianne wanted to grab Sophia by the hand, lead her to the large bed in the dungeon room, and give her the orgasm she was too shy to let happen.

Silence shook her back to the present and she noticed Sophia staring at her expectantly. Trying to cover for her inattention, Marianne asked, “What would be the worst thing about letting James know you’ve been faking your orgasms?”

Sophia looked down at the floor, but didn’t answer.

“If he loves you as much as you say he does, I suspect he’ll want to help you climax and forget about his own ego.”

She nodded, but didn’t look up.

Insecurity was the primary reason for the woman’s inability to orgasm. A battery of medical tests revealed no physical hindrances. Sophia’s problems were deeply rooted in her strict upbringing and the constant verbal pounding from her mother about how she wasn’t good enough.

“I’m going to give you an assignment for this coming week.” Marianne leaned forward and slid a package across the coffee table toward Sophia.

Sophia looked up at Marianne, then opened the package. Her eyes widened as she pulled out a booklet and a smaller box containing a four inch hard plastic vibrator. The woman’s gaze shot up to Marianne. Her mouth fell open and she looked as if she was near panic.

Sitting calmly back in her chair, Marianne said, “I want you to read the first chapter in the booklet and follow the instructions. Then I want you to journal how you felt, physically and emotionally. You can read the whole book, but only follow the lesson plan at the end of chapter one.”

The woman picked up the book and flipped it open. She blinked and shot her gaze back up to Marianne.

She knew the pictures were explicit. Sophia was seeing her therapist in a whole new light.

Answering the silent question, Marianne said, “Who better than the author to demonstrate the lesson plans?”

Out of Time by Ericka Scott

The room swirled crazily but he was sunk deeply into a comfortable cocoon of pillows and blankets, and he couldn’t muster up a care. Life couldn’t get much better than this. The prostitute last weekend had charged him extra for anything kinky. But this woman gave it all to him, no complaints, and on the house. He even got a free steak dinner from the proprietor of the ranch. Hell, he should think about transferring out here. He lifted up to look down at the woman’s head bobbing up and down as she sucked his cock. As if she sensed his thoughts, she looked up at him.

“Is that good, baby?”

“Oh, yeah.” Good was an understatement. The woman was incredible. Preston laid his head back on the pillow. The alcohol here was top shelf, too. No watered down cocktails at the Blythe Skies Ranch. Was that what accounted for the spinning sensation? Or was it after effects of his flight earlier today? Hard to tell.

Just thinking about how he felt during flight made his balls tighten and with a rush, he came. He held the woman’s head still as he throbbed inside her mouth and gasped for breath.

Even his orgasms were different after he started the project. More intense and accompanied by colored ribbons of light behind his eyes.

“Like a rainbow,” he sighed.

The woman’s naked body slithered up next to his and he snuggled her tightly to him. Soft, she was so soft. “What’s like a rainbow, honey?”

“The colors behind my eyes. They’re exactly like the ribbons that come off the plane when…”

“Is that why they call it Project Rainbow?” Her voice was sultry, almost hypnotic. With an effort, he focused on the question.

“Maybe. I’m not sure why it’s called that. Sure as hell isn’t for the instrumentation. It’s certainly not colorful -- nothing but a nondescript black box.”

The woman walked her fingers up and down his torso, leaving a trail of goose pimples in their wake. He wished she’d creep her hand down a little lower. He was already building up an appetite for another round of sex.

“For such a project, you think they’d make it more mysterious. A black box doesn’t sound like much.”

“It’s only a prototype. Nikola died before he completed the working model.”

“He? Nikola? That sounds like a woman’s name.”

Preston laughed. The woman was a goddess in bed, but certainly not very bright. “Nikola Tesla definitely wasn’t a woman!”

“Oh, he’s that brilliant scientist who works with strings.”

Preston paused. Maybe the woman wasn’t as dumb as she appeared. Nikola had been working on a unified string theory, whatever the hell that was, before he died.

“I wonder if it will help make sweaters stronger,” the woman continued, her voice thoughtful.

“Sweaters?” How had they gotten on the subject of clothing?

“Yes, the strings he was inventing. I assume they are for knitting, right?”

Oh Lord, she really was dumb as a box of rocks.

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about sweaters. I don’t ever want you to cover these up.”

Preston rolled her onto her back and kneaded her breasts. They were just the way he liked them, large and full. He couldn’t wait to suck on them while he sank his cock into her sex cavern.

In response to his thoughts, his penis hardened and the head brushed against her nether lips. She was going to be so wet and tight, he could hardly wait. But if he didn’t, it would be over way too soon. Instead, he slipped one and then two fingers into her and thrust. Her hips answered his rhythm and he watched her moan and writhe. He’d never been with anyone so exciting and so dramatic. Every touch, every swirl of his thumb or his tongue against her clit was rewarded with sounds of delight and approval. The smell of her arousal filled the room and his cock throbbed and, if anything, grew even harder. Finally, he judged she was close enough as she threw her head from one side to the other and clutched at the bed sheets. With a groan, he rose up and thrust into her, almost sobbing as he climaxed.. She wrapped her legs around him and he could feel her pussy milking his cock. Finally, after the spasms passed, he extricated himself from her and collapsed beside her on the bed, breathing heavily.

She curled up against him, running her fingers down his chest and around and around his nipples. “I’ll bet it’s easier to get into my black box,” she quipped.

He chuckled at her joke.“Yes, indeed. The other one is locked up. I think the guy in charge of it even sleeps with it in his room.”

“So, it is never alone. Lucky box.”

Her voice came from a distance. He could hear his voice replying as if it were under someone else’s control. But hell, the woman probably didn’t even understand what he was talking about.

“Nope, never alone. Even on the plane, either I or the other pilot has to be present.”

“The other pilot?”

“Yeah, Jake Sands.”

“He is very young and, well, inexperienced, nein?”

The woman’s voice had changed and something odd caught his attention. Preston peered at her, and was rewarded with an adoring glance.

“Too inexperienced, in...”

Preston’s voice dropped to a whisper.