They rose one final current of energy and then—suddenly—the clouds parted. Ryge’s surface appeared. Its grimy seas and sandy wastes, and the glittering sores of its cities. No one ever thought Ryge was a pretty planet, but at that moment, Mara had never been so glad to see the old rubbish lump.
She switched off the spectral resonance filter to better see the planet that came as close as any to home.
The comm line trilled. “Arcadia, this is Beskidt By Control. Am I drunk, or did you just fly through that son-of-a-bitch energy storm?”
“You probably are drunk,” she answered, “but, yes, I did fly through that bastard.” With one incredibly smart and daring 8th Wing flyboy beside her.
Whomever was at the other end of the comm line whistled. “Well, hell. You’re cleared to land at Dock 32-Rho.”
Mara cut the line and focused on landing. The familiar skyline of Beskidt By drew closer, spires and slums crisscrossed by small darting craft and larger shuttles ferrying people from one nefarious destination to another. Everything lay washed in tawdry light from countless signs and advertisements, and some buildings crumbled while new monstrosities rose toward the sky. The city stretched like a riddle with no answer, as though it had been designed by a mad specerij addict.
She knew her way to the docks and didn’t need the flashing lights along the landing strips to guide her there. The only thing that struck her as odd was how quiet it seemed around the docks—until she remembered that no one was coming in to or leaving Ryge while the storm continued to rage. Only she—and Kell—had managed to get through.
“Nice flying,” Kell said, and though his eyes never stopped moving, taking in everything around him, when he did glance at her, his gaze was warm with admiration.
“I did it,” she breathed. “We did it.” She started to laugh—it felt wild and freeing after the tension of the last hour.
His low, husky laugh blended with hers. “Hell of a ride.”
The atmosphere between them thickened, sultry as a heat typhoon, heavy with promise.
They finally touched down at the designated dock. The moment the landing gear contacted the ground, Mara and Kell’s gazes locked. Heat washed over her. She didn’t know who moved first,
maybe him, maybe her, maybe both at the same time. But one moment they stared at one another, and the next, they undid their seatbelts and surged toward each other. Met in the space between their seats.
She felt the texture of his lips, his mouth against hers, firm, seeking. Even before their mouths opened, need slammed into her. He licked at her, then delved inside, stroking his tongue against hers.
His taste intoxicated her, rough and male, and she drank him in as she did her own exploring. They had kept their hungers tightly leashed. Now the leash had broken and they had free rein, both of them fierce and demanding.
Kell’s kiss moved through her body in hot, humid waves. Her breasts grew heavy and sensitive.
Her pussy dampened, a fast clench of need that wanted to be filled.
She felt his large hand cupping the back of her head, angling her to take his kiss deeper. And when she did, he groaned his praise.
Using strength gleaned from desire, Mara pushed him back so he sat in his chair. He went willingly, understanding her intent. She straddled him, her arms wrapped around the width of his shoulders. His hand still held the back of her head, while his other hand gripped her waist hard. Mara pressed her hypersensitive body to his and found that he was as tight and solid as she’d imagined. But it was better, so much better, than in her imagination. He had a fighter’s body and a fighter’s strength, and all of it, all of his strength and fire, was focused on her.
Her skirt rode up. Her hips pressed into his. Beneath the searing heat of her pussy, she felt him.
The hard, thick length of his cock pressing into her. He wanted inside her. She wanted him there. She rocked her hips into him, and even through the fabric of her panties and his pants, the shaft of his cock edged between her folds. God, she was so wet. Wet for him. He had to feel it.
“Yes.” His voice rumbled into her mouth, as if in answer to her silent speculation.
The world tilted as he leaned her back, pressing her against the control panel. His thighs were hard beneath her, solid. The hand at her waist released, then she felt the blazing trails of his fingers drifting down between them. In a moment, he would touch her, and she knew with total clarity that the instant he did, she would come, and come hard. And then she wanted him to fuck her right against the control panel.
The comm line shrilled. “Who needs the sex acrobats at Folco’s Bar when we have a show right here?”
Both she and Kell froze, trapped in place. Slowly, very slowly, Mara turned her head to look out the cockpit window.
Standing outside the ship were half a dozen grinning men. One of them wore a comm headpiece.
When he caught her looking at him, he gave a cheerful wave.
Mara gave him the finger.
With a groan that was part animal, part man, but all frustration, Kell’s big hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her up. He deposited her back in the captain’s seat. For a moment, all she could do was sit in dazed, thwarted wonder, her lips swollen, her pussy still extraordinarily wet and wanting.
Kell’s hands knotted into fists and pressed hard into the control panel. “I’ve got a rule,” he gritted. “I don’t fuck in front of an audience.” He eyed her. “Cover up.”
The implication being that if she sat around with her skirt bunched around her waist, revealing her damp panties, he just might break that rule. She tugged her skirt down.
She glanced over at him. He looked tight as a sonic bow, ready to snap. And the thick shape of his erection under his pants drew her gaze. Her mouth watered.
“Look somewhere else, damn it.”
She had to get away from him or else she would attack him. Just rip his clothes off and screw him in front of the dock crew and whoever else might be watching. Once she was fairly certain her legs wouldn’t collapse out from under her, Mara stood. Still, she found herself a little unstable as she tottered into the galley. A few moments later, Kell joined her, and he looked just as volatile and unsatisfied as she felt.
He stared at her, then took a deep, shuddering breath and dragged his hands through his hair. It stood up in sharp spikes, making him look even more like a blade. She knew what she must look like.
Eyes glazed, mouth red. A woman on the verge of an orgasm. A woman who wanted the man who stood before her, his big body faintly shaking.
But she reminded herself of where she was and why she was here. And her white hot arousal began to slowly, slowly cool.
“This is where the mission truly begins,” she said.
He nodded, a quick, clipped movement.
She moved toward the door, placing a hand on her plasma pistol. “Be ready. Beskidt Bay is a dangerous place.”
His own hand hovered above the plasma weapon strapped to his thigh. Yet one corner of his mouth turned up, the sharp edge of a smile. “Nothing’s as dangerous as this.” He leaned close, and his nearness set alight the charged heat between them, rife with voracious hunger.
For once, Mara didn’t argue.
Chapter Five
Kell was lost.
He didn’t know the rough, mean city of Beskidt By, couldn’t say what bars watered their drinks or spiked them with something more dangerous than water. He didn’t know which sex theaters offered the best entertainment, both on stage and off. Of its many gambling dens, he didn’t know which were slightly more honest, cheating their patrons just a little rather than a lot. The tough faces staring back suspiciously at him from doorways were unknown to him, as well.