So he concentrated on holding himself as still as possible, gritting his teeth as she slowly stroked across him.
She was hot and wet around him—had been from the beginning—but he could tell she was getting more excited as she moved. She seemed to grow wetter and hotter over him, and after a while her movements became less controlled. Her fingers clutched his chest tightly before she started riding him in earnest.
Perhaps she’d intended to go long and slow, but soon it was clear she had as little control over her body as he had over his. She moaned and gasped each time she sheathed him. He could feel the tension spiraling up within him, and every muscle in his body tightened in anticipation of his completion. He bit his lip to hold it back, realizing instinctively that she was only seconds away from her second orgasm.
He felt something warm and salty fill his mouth and realized it was blood. He didn’t care. All that mattered was holding back the explosion threatening to overwhelm his system. His pulse roared in his ears, his fingers went numb from holding the mattress. Still he held his release back.
Again and again she took him. Suddenly she leaned forward, changing her position slightly. Then she screamed and her nails dug into his chest. She detonated around him with such force that he lost control. His hands flew to her hips, slamming her down over his cock as his seed flew out and up into her. Again and again he pulled her body against his, shuddering with the force of his release. Then he was spent, and he seemed to completely lose his ability to move. Simply breathing became an effort.
She lay down over him, her body cradling his as they relaxed. He wrapped his arms around her, marveling at how right she felt with him.
He wanted her to sleep with him.
It was ridiculous, of course. She had her own cabin for a reason. He knew he’d get tired of her, knew just how annoying it was to be trapped with a woman in bed. The main reason he paid prostitutes was to avoid such situations as this. That, and he was tired of women asking questions about his scar. It didn’t seem to bother her at all, though, and he wasn’t even sure how he felt about that. Why didn’t it bother her? What did that say about the other women he’d been with?
What did it say about her?
He shook his head, wiping the thoughts away. This was crazy—he didn’t want to think about things like this.
She shifted, and then yawned.
“I’m wiped, let’s turn off the light and go to sleep,” she muttered, rolling toward him and tucking herself against his side.
“Your own cabin,” he muttered without thinking.
“What?” she asked, turning to look at him.
“Your own cabin,” he said again. “I think it’s better for both of us if you sleep in your own cabin. That way we won’t get confused.”
Any more confused, he thought darkly. He wanted her, wanted her to want him.
But this was just a little more than he’d pictured. She rolled off the bed and stood stiffly.
Every line of her body radiated affronted dignity, and he sighed in disgust. He’d just made a fool out of himself again.
She started to walk out of the room, and paused as she reached the door.
“You know, Jerred,” she said. “You almost made me believe you’re a human being tonight. Thanks for the reminder that you’re not.”
Then she stalked out the door and it slid shut behind her.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself. He really was an ass. Hell, he deserved to sleep alone.
Giselle woke up the next morning feeling out of sorts, and more than a little hung over. That Imperial wine might taste pretty good, she thought as she examined the circles under her eyes, but it packed a hell of a punch. Or maybe that was just Jerred.
She’d never felt anything like what she’d felt with him last night. The man was incredible, a force of nature.
And a complete jerk.
“Remember, it’s all about survival,” she muttered to herself as she showered. He might be the biggest idiot she’d ever met, but at least he was pleasant to look at. More than pleasant. Every time she thought of last night her entire body clenched. Even if he was a jerk, being trapped with him on the ship could be a hell of a lot worse. He could cook, for one. And he was better in the sack than anyone she’d ever been with.
As a woman who didn’t have many of options, things could be worse.
She finished in the fresher quickly then looked around her cabin. There was no way she’d be able to spend any extra time in here. It was simply too small. His cabin had been small, too. For a man who lived on his ship and enjoyed his comforts, he certainly hadn’t put much time in designing his cabins. Then again, he was a smuggler. Perhaps the smaller cabins allowed him to hide more cargo.
Not that she’d ask.
Smugglers were just a step above pirates, and she didn’t want to know the details of his little business operation. Only a fool asked questions like that. She pulled on another jumpsuit, realizing she needed to retrieve the other from his cabin. He really could have picked out nicer clothing for her, she thought in disgust. These jumpsuits were functional, but hardly attractive. Not that she wanted to attract to him, of course. But she always liked to look her best. It was just a point of pride.
She opened up her door and walked out in the main room. He was nowhere to be seen.
She stuck her head in the small library and then made for the galley. Hangover or not, she was hungry. The night before the lights and the holo-projectors had hidden things, but now she could see that his galley was unusually well stocked, especially for a ship. Among other things, he had a stasis chamber. She’d never seen one of those outside a restaurant, and she ran her fingers over it lovingly. She’s always wanted one.
But even when she’d owned her bar, she couldn’t afford it. His smuggling business must do very well, indeed.
She rummaged through the cold storage, surprised to find a wide selection of foods.
Within a few moments she had a nice plate of food ready, complete with what looked like fresh bread and fruits. She took the plate with her into the main room, and then sat down the couch and flicked on the vid screen.
“Jenna, please show our course and current destination,” she asked.
“I’m sorry, but that information is not available to you at this time,” the computer replied in smooth, modulated tones.
Great.
“Where is Jerred?” she asked.
“The Captain is in the cockpit,” the computer replied. “Would you like me to call him for you?”
“No,” she muttered, focusing on her food. She’d go and talk to him herself when she was done eating. She wanted to know where they were going and when they’d get there. Time to start researching her new home, and figuring out whether or not she needed to find another ship to a better destination. She’d signed on to crews more than once to get transportation, and for the most part it wasn’t a bad way to travel. Lots of work and crappy food, but she’d survive.
She finished up her breakfast and dropped the plate into the galley’s cleaner. Then she marched purposefully toward the cockpit. The door was open, and she stepped in without asking permission. He sat in the pilot’s chair, apparently waiting for her to arrive. Just looking at him was a shock—every time she saw him, his face surprised her.
It was as if her mind’s eye never remembered his scar, the way it slashed across his face and twisted his expression into a perpetual snarl.
Why didn’t he get it fixed?
She almost asked the question, but managed to catch herself in time. Just because he was an ass didn’t mean she needed to act like one, too.