Chapter Eleven
Giselle leaned up on one arm to look down on Jerred. He slept the sleep of the totally exhausted. His lovemaking the night before had been fierce, as if he needed to pull her inside him and keep her there.
She understood; she felt the same way.
It still amazed her that they were alive and free again. There were so many unanswered questions about him that she longed to ask. It was a bit startling that even after all they’d been through, they still had no more than a temporary arrangement and that neither of them had any hold on the other. If what Josiah had said was true, they never would have anything more than a temporary arrangement.
The thought was almost too horrible to bear—yet she also knew with certainty that she wouldn’t go back. She was glad that Jerred had walked into Manya’s, and glad that he’d fixated on her. She wished things could have progressed more naturally than they had, but still, her life was better with him than without.
She leaned over and kissed his shoulder, enjoying his texture. She let her tongue steal out to lick him. He tasted salty, which made sense. He’d certainly sweated enough the night before.
He stirred and groaned as she rubbed her hands lightly over his chest. Little bumps popped up across his skin. She licked his nipple, lapping at it for moment before pulling away.
He turned toward her, pulling her into the circle of his arms. “I missed you,” he said softly, eyes still closed.
“When?” she asked, gigging. “I’ve been here all night.”
“I missed you while I was in that cell,” he said, his voice serious. “I can’t believe how lonely and sad I was when I couldn’t be with you. I thought I’d never see you again.”
She turned in his arms until her back was against his chest, and then snuggled down into his warmth.
“I felt the same way,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t have left there without you. I couldn’t even imagine it.”
“You should have,” he said. “But I’m selfish enough to be glad that you didn’t.”
They lay quietly together for several minutes, neither speaking. She felt the length of his morning erection against her butt, and for some reason it comforted her. He was all hers, at least for now, and she intended to enjoy every minute of it.
She lifted her leg and rubbed it over the top of his. Her foot twisted so she could caress the back of his calf, and he pressed against her insistently.
His hand stole down her body to the crevice between her legs. He found the little bud of sensation between her legs and pressed against it softly with one finger.
She sighed. “I love it when you do that,” she said. “Don’t stop.”
In answer, he rubbed the tip of one finger back and forth against her as he nuzzled the back of her neck.
Whispers of sensation crawled down along her spine. His hips started to press rhythmically against her butt, the length of his cock rubbing back and forth between her cheeks. She tightened them and he gave a sigh of pleasure. His fingers dropped from her * to the opening between her legs and he slid two fingers inside.
She shivered. They went in easily enough, she was drowning in moisture.
“Are you ready for me?” he whispered in her ear. She nodded, not wanting to speak.
He lifted her leg ever so gently, then she felt the head of his penis poised at her opening. He nudged it just a little, just enough to stretch her, then his fingers returned to their slow massage of her *. That light pressure against her slit was strange, but incredibly tantalizing. She pushed back against him a bit; she wanted more. Instead he held her there, nudging at her without penetrating. Shivers ran through her and the pressure within, already high, grew higher. His fingers started to move faster as he whispered little kisses against the back of her neck.
She pushed back at him again, wanting to feel the slow stretching that came with penetration. He refused to move, although his fingers changed their stroke. Now he ran the rough tips up and down the length of her enlarged *, each brush sending shudders through her. She was close, but it wasn’t quite enough.
“I need more,” she whispered, “And harder.”
In answer, he pressed hard with his fingers and moved slightly faster. Still, it wasn’t enough. She squirmed against him—this was nothing more than torture disguised as foreplay. She wanted him inside her body, needed him to f*ck her. Instead, he simply toyed with her.
The first small shudder moved through her. Still, he wouldn’t give her more. She flirted with the edges of her orgasm, unable to reach it. Not unless he moved faster.
“Jerred,” she muttered. “I swear I’m going to die if you don’t f*ck me right now.”
His laughter washed over her, the warmth of his breath wreaking havoc with her skin.
“Giselle, I love how you talk,” he said. “I never have to play games with you, I always know what you’re thinking.”
With that, he flattened his hand across her pubic bone and thrust into her abruptly. He slid all the way home, filling her so suddenly that she thought she might explode. At the same time, his finger pressed against her *. Hard. It was enough. She shot over the edge with a shudder, internal muscles squeezing him so tightly it must have been painful. Stars exploded behind her eyes. She felt him continuing to thrusting into her; felt the pressure against her *, his lips on her neck. All of it seemed to happen at a distance, though. For one shining moment she simply hovered in space, marveling at the gift she’d been given.
In that instant, she knew she loved Jerred. Loved him with her whole heart, her entire being. She fell back toward reality. He was moving in her quickly now, and his breathing had become harsh. As if he could read her mind, he squeezed her tight with his entire body, as if to reassure her that he was still there, still thinking of her.
Her *, still incredibly swollen from the first orgasm, responded to his touch again. He rubbed it back and forth, instinctively finding the right motion to drive her wild. Pleasure sang through her veins and she whimpered. His arms grew tighter, and she felt him growing even harder within her body. He was close; she knew it. Still, he held himself off and continued to move with her. He was waiting for her to come again, she realized.
He squeezed her once more, this time shifting so his hips were tilted even further into her, allowing him to hit a new spot within her body. The head of his cock rubbed over it once, twice. The third time she convulsed in his arms, the orgasm so sudden and hard that it surprised her. Every muscle in her body clenched, including those within. He gasped something in her ear, and then he exploded into her body.
Hot jets of his seed filled her. His hips pumped, spurting his fluid deep within, and then he was finished, and they grew still. After a long silence, he nuzzled the back of her neck once more, then dropped little kisses along it until his lips reached her ear.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
* * * * *
Jerred smiled as he expertly flipped the rounded circles of batter sizzling in the pan. The small cakes, fried and drizzled with sweet, sugary syrup, had always been one of his favorite breakfast foods. A memory of his childhood home sprang to mind. They had had a cook, of course. His parents had been too busy to prepare meals, and they had never quite understood why he liked to spend so much of his time in the kitchen. Still, they had never discouraged him from cooking.
He remembered the first time he’d fixed breakfast all by him himself. Or rather, all by himself with the supervision of the cook and the assistance of two smiling kitchen maids. They’d carefully followed his directions, “helping” him pour out the batter, reminding him when to pull each dish out of the oven. Under their direction, he’d carefully laid out each dish, added sprigs of sweet, fresh herbs, and popped them into the stasis boxes with the kind of flourish only a six-year-old boy could pull off. When he’d gone into the breakfast room and seen all the food he’d prepared laid out for the family, he had stood tall. His parents had been so proud of him, their oldest son. His father had gone so far as to remind him that all they had would be his some day, provided he married.
His hand stilled, and the memory turned sour. He could only marry if he had a life mate.
He allowed himself to think of Giselle for a moment, toying with the thought of her as his life mate. He could take her back to Saurellia, introduce her to his family.
They could have children together.
Of course, such a thing was unthinkable. Sure, there had been one or two lucky men who had found their life mates outside of Saurellia, but for every one of them there were millions who hadn’t. And as much as he liked Giselle, he couldn’t imagine that she might be his life mate. She didn’t fit the profile.
For one thing, she was too independent. Life mates had to make decisions together, live together, and build a future together. She hardly seemed interested in that. He thought about the way her eyes lit up when she talked about rebuilding her business. She wanted to have a bar—she didn’t want to help him manage his family estate. He pictured her and his mother together and winced.
They were from two different worlds. Both wonderful in their own way, but what could they possibly have in common? They’re both kind, decent women who seem to care for you, an insidious voice whispered from within. They would find common ground, given a chance.
He pushed the thought back. He had no right to keep Giselle with him, despite the fact that every instinct in his body cried out for him to take her back to Saurellia. Forcing her to go with him had been wrong—he could see that now. In his blind determination to have her, he had almost killed her. He should be ashamed of himself.
Mulling these dark thoughts, he put all the food together on a small tray and carried it into his cabin. She still slept, curled up in a little ball in one corner of his bed. He sat down beside her. Her long, wavy red hair snaked across the pillows like a living thing. He reached out, curling a bit of it around one finger.
He’d never seen a woman on Saurellia with hair like this. She’d cause riots among the young men when she went out on the street, he thought, a smile stealing across his face. He’d have to watch her carefully, or some young buck might try to steal her away.
Of course, if she were his life mate she’d fight her way free and come back to him. He remembered the cool gleam in her eye as she’d threatened to kill Josiah. He might try to rescue her, but he’d have to move quickly. She was excellent at rescuing herself. He rubbed one finger across her cheek and she stirred. She looked up at him and gave a sleepy smile.
“What are thinking about?” she asked softly. “You seem too serious.”
“I was thinking about Saurellia,” he said slowly.
“Oh?”
“I can’t really explain it,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I brought you breakfast. Made it myself, straight from my mother’s recipe. Or rather, my mother’s cook’s recipe,” he added wryly.
She sat up, and his eye caught on the perky mounds of her breasts. The nipples were softened, reddish circles in the center of each generous swelling. Here and there those adorable little freckles dotted her.
Without thinking, he licked his lips and reached one hand toward her.
She batted it away, grabbing for the food instead.
“Oh, no you don’t,” she said, laughter filling her voice. “I’m starving, and I need nourishment to keep up my strength. We can play later. Now, what’s this about your mother having a cook?”
“Well, my mother has a cook,” he said, confused.
“I heard that,” she replied around a mouthful of cake and syrup. She rolled her eyes at him in disgust and stabbed another forkful of food. She held it up in the air and gestured at him with it.
“I mean, why did she need a cook?”
“Well, because most of her time was spent running the estate,” Jerred said. “My father was away much of the time, so she was in charge of everything. It hardly seemed fair to ask her to cook, too.”
“You have an estate?” Giselle asked, her eyes popping.
“No, my parents do,” Jerred said, reaching out with one finger to wipe a droplet of syrup from her lip.
He raised it to his own, and thought with some smugness that not even the sugary sauce tasted as good as she had the night before.
“I have this ship,” he said. “Family lands only pass to sons who have life mates on Saurellia, and I don’t have one.”
“So it’s true, then?” she asked thoughtfully. “Josiah told me that you wouldn’t stay with me, that you couldn’t even if you wanted to.”
Her tone was lighthearted, but a serious look had come into her eyes. He sighed, trying to think of what to say. Honesty was best.
“Yes, that’s true,” he said slowly. “I wish you could be my life mate, Giselle, but that’s just not possible.
You’re not Saurellian.”
“You mean nobody on Saurellia has ever found a life mate outside his or her own race?” she asked softly.
“A few have,” he said slowly. “But even those women seem to have Saurellian DNA in them. It’s very rare even then, though.”
“Oh,” she said, falling silent. He felt uncomfortable watching her now, as if he were simply taking advantage of her. It was better not to talk about things like this, he thought in disgust. He didn’t want to ruin what time they did have together with maybes.
“I’m going to go and get cleaned up,” he said finally. “Just put the dishes and tray in the galley when you’re finished, and I’ll take care of it.”
“How long are we going to be traveling?” she asked as he stood to leave. “And where are we going from here?”
“We’ll be ready to make the jump out of normal space in a few hours,” he said. “From there we’ll go to Davidian, where the Saurellian military headquarters are located. I need to make my report.”
“What about me?” she asked softly.
“Don’t worry,” he replied, his heart clenching. “I’ll take care of you. I’m due for a long leave. From there we’ll go wherever you want and take a nice, long vacation together.”
“And after that? Are they going to send you out on another mission? Would I be able to go with you, or will that be it for us?”
He shook his head slowly, not wanting to think about it.
“Let’s deal with that question when the time comes.”