Sexy to Go Volume 3 Page 5

  As if he could read my mind, he prompted me again. “I bet you’d love to touch your clit right now.”

  I nodded, biting my bottom lip, not trusting myself to speak.

  “Do it.”

  My hand moved up my slit, sliding along the folds, causing me to gasp as I reached the swollen, pink nub. One finger on each side, I stroked myself, biting back my whimper as the orgasm built inside. I licked my dry lips, and my pulse tore through my veins each time I bumped my clit. My quiet panting ended in a deep, shuddering breath as I came.

  I turned to Jonathan. He was watching me, eyes half-closed, the motion of his arm telling me he was still stroking. I raised my hand to my mouth, and his eyes grew wide. A growl escaped his chest as I took my time licking each finger clean, gaze never leaving his.

  “Christ, that’s hot.” He muttered and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat.

  Inspiration struck. I pushed both our tray tables out of the way and leaned over him. He started when I flicked a tongue out over the head of his cock, but he kept stroking. He moaned when I took him in my mouth. I sucked as he pumped. His pace grew more frantic, and I could tell from his grunts and fractured breathing he was close. I traced circles around his cock with my tongue.

  “I’m going to come.” His soft warning barely reached my ears. I didn’t know if he expected me to stop, but I was too engrossed in the moment to pull away. I increased my pace, and he whimpered. A squirt of salty warmth hit the back of my throat, and then another, accompanied by a series of abbreviated grunts.

  I slowed as he did. He shuddered as I gave him one last lick before sitting upright again.

  “Wow.” His gasp echoed my thoughts.

  “Can I offer either of you a drink?” The flight attendant’s question startled me, tripping up my heart.

  I turned to face her, wondering if my guilt looked as obvious as I thought.

  “Diet coke for me.” His smooth tenor had returned.

  I managed to drag up my voice. “Same here.”

  “Of course.” She flashed us a smile and turned back to her drink cart. Seconds later, two glasses with ice sat in front of us, open cans next to them.

  “So.” His voice was calm after she left. “Are you traveling for business, or pleasure?”

  And now we were back to basic small talk? Was that awkward? Should I expect more? What was I supposed to say though to a guy I’d just masturbated for and then sucked off on a plane? Small talk it was. I bit back the obvious response about pleasure. “Business. I’m attending a marketing convention.”

  “Thinking outside the box?”

  “That’s the one.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I hate marketing people. No offense.”

  I couldn’t help a laugh at the disdain in his voice. That made two of us. “None taken. I’m not one of them.”

  He chuckled. “I knew there was a lot to like about you.”

  He pulled a business card from his shirt pocket and handed it over. “Tell you what. If you get tired of mingling with them, give me a call. I’d love to see what else we could get up to.”

  About Allyson Lindt

  Allyson Lindt is a full-time geek and a fuller-time contemporary romance author. She prefers that her geeky heroes come with the alpha expansion pack and adores a heroine who can hold her own in a boardroom. She loves a sexy happily-ever-after and helping deserving cubicle dwellers find their futures together.

  Find Allyson Lindt Online

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  Rewriting the Law

  Part 1

  By Daisy Banks

  Ansgar Vorstil set the controls on the ovens for the morning's bread. He hummed one of the legions marching tunes as he stacked the dough rounds. Some things couldn’t be trusted to a machine and he preferred to place the loaves himself.

  Daily practice of these rhythmic movements kept him in good condition. The profits of his increasing sales in this retirement community allowed him to add to the funds he’d saved.

  All the loaves in place, he flipped the oven control to automatic. He strode across to the bakery’s door and shoved the top half open to enjoy the last of the pale stars disappearing into the morning. He leaned his elbows on the top of the lower door and rested his chin on his fists. A soft breeze blew cool against his face. He breathed in the final traces of the night’s chill, enjoying the temperature before the day’s heat grew to steal all the moisture and whip up small sand whirlwinds from the pavements.

  His top lip quivered at the aroma in the air and he opened his mouth. Anxious for another taste he gulped at the delicious odor. A stir of heated blood swirled through his loins creating an astonishing tingle.

  Wafts of promise rippled in aromatic strands from across the dusty causeway dividing the street. His nipples tightened in pleasure. A thrum of sensation rose on his quills. His heart beat faster and the heavy weight of his balls gave an insistent powerful throb.

  Only one creature could create this effect.

  A lone female.

  He scanned the street, but found nothing. Yet all his other senses screamed she was there and he must find her.

  Unable to believe the power of this heady aroma he licked his lips and inhaled again. The blast of scent so ripe and rare was something he knew by instinct alone. A fragrance he’d not thought he’d be able to afford to breathe in a mating ritual for the next ten years commanded his response. The thickened quills down his back shook as he let out a powerful, shivering thrum. His first ever call to a prospective mate.

  He prayed he’d find her before another male did, stepped into the street and sniffed to locate her. The same as he had when on campaign with the brothers, he quartered the familiar view and inhaled in each direction as he slowly turned his head.

  There, across the causeway. His precious quarry hunkered down in the soft sands.

  Where had she come from?

  Half kneeling, almost hidden by a trash dumpster, her long fingers intertwined and laced about her head, the solitary female keened a soft moan of distress.

  His pulse rate shot up, waves of his mating fragrance fought to rise, and he swallowed hard, drinking in this most unnatural sight. He lifted his hands to his face in unison with her movements, spread his fingers over his lips and rocked back and forth in time with her. Overwhelmed by her presence he fell further back to his military training.

  Assess, evaluate, and move forward.

  Though she was dressed in a drab garment that proclaimed her both sacrilegious and from off planet, his senses didn’t deceive him. An adult female truly sat across the street. If she wasn’t owned she was his for the taking. She made his mouth water. Having inhaled her deep he’d no choice but to try to claim her. He shoved the lower half of the door open.

  Thighs pumping hard, feet pounding, so blasts of dust puffed up from his heavy tread, he ran faster than he’d done since he left the brotherhood. Mere seconds passed and he’d crossed the causeway.

  No matter what, he’d be first, even if he died breathless in the attempt.

  He skidded to a stop in the gritty dry sand. Instinctively he took up a protective stance over where she nestled. Though all he wanted to do was look at her, he glanced around the empty street instead to make sure they were both safe.

  This early in the morning in a retirement settlement no one else had yet left their home. He bent to where she knelt with her lower limbs curled beneath her. She pressed her hands tight to her copper colored hair and cupped her ears. She looked up with wide blue eyes the color of night skies and whispered in a language he didn’t know.

  His stomach lurched. She could speak! A stray female who spoke? Even if he didn’t understand her words this was something beyond any expectation. He’d never heard of such a lone female on Jagan.

  During his years in the legion, he and the brother pack he’d hunted with, they’d sometimes scouted for unmarked females. Their pack had even been officially decorated for the capture of s
ome off-worlders on an early trip. Those females had possessed the capacity for a guttural form of speech. As Jagan’s need for breeders remained urgent, he and his fellow brothers brought the unusual females back to much acclaim from the governing Council.

  Suitably silenced by necessary medication, those females had been acceptable to some members of the male population. Most had bred prolifically, or so he’d heard. He’d not have had the stomach to touch one of them, nor the funds for their purchase price.

  But this? He glanced over her again. So beautiful! A flame haired female like no other he’d ever seen. She appeared ethereal, slender, and perfect. She prompted his deepest, gut churning response, even though she could speak.

  Ansgar glanced around again, clasped his hands together, rubbed and rolled his palms to keep from grasping her. He absorbed more of her scent while he looked about for her owner in the barren dawn. Surely, no Jagan male with half a mind could have been careless enough to leave this exquisite dainty alone for a minute. Yet he didn’t catch a whiff of a male scent mark from her.

  The first hot breeze of the day lifted a tiny swirl of sand. No male in sight confirmed her truly a stray, and from the yellowish dust clinging to her strange suit, she’d come here from much deeper in the desert. How had it happened? Damn it all, he didn’t care how it happened. The great god Kobis smiled on him this dawn.

  Mating lust, induced by her aroma, powered through his body. A response he struggled to control stirred in his groin. Every cell she woke within him juddered in pleasure. He inhaled another breath, but even as the first flashes of mating fervor blasted through him, he appraised her.

  Could such a frail female mate with the likes of him?

  A creature this delicate might be broken in the mating rite, but she was female, rounded where she should be beneath the foul garment. Surely, if he took care and made allowances for her physique, he could mate with her.

  Tendrils of her long hair had escaped its binding and wisped about her face. She stared up, blinked and moved her hand to shield her eyes. He couldn’t recall seeing anything so hypnotically beautiful in his life. He reached out to her for he must reassure her she was safe.

  “Help me?” She used the intergalactic distress code.

  His stomach flipped again. Only a monster could ignore such a plaintive cry.

  The rich and exotic fragrance wafting from her, whether she knew it or not, demanded his attention. She forced his hormones to the point that his mating cock hardened until the appendage he rarely used for his solitary sensual pleasure, along with the thickness of the quills running down his spine, resembled the texture of stone. The complexity of her scent promised so much. She offered him the intricate and multi-layered message that announced her close to breeding readiness. He flicked his tongue over his lips in anticipation.

  “I need aid,” she said in heavily accented Jagan. “My ship crashed.” She reached out and as she touched one of her fingers to his sent a hot flash of sensation through him.

  Careful not to clasp tight, he took her palm in his. Never had he seen anything so fascinating as her hand. The vessels carrying her lifeblood seemed to glow through the lustrous skin. Realization of where they were, so exposed, broke into his absorption. He must get her inside before anyone else tried to take her.

  “I've got to get you off the street. There'll be a riot if I don't. Every unmated male from here to the capital with be compelled to try scent mark you.” Uncertain if she understood what he’d said he lifted her up into his arms and rose. He marveled at her slightness and joyfully inhaled another dose of the smell from her skin.

  His luck had held this far. With a silent offer of praise to Kobis for the god’s benevolence, for no other male strode down the street to challenge him, Ansgar clasped her a little tighter. She rested her head against his shoulder. Loving this initial contact, he smiled wide, for beyond his wildest dreaming he’d found his female. One more glance down the street convinced him of safety, and with her safe in his arms, he loped back to the bakery as fast as he could.

  Inside the workshop Ansgar shoved the door behind him closed and lowered his precious female down to the tiled floor. The tiny whimper she made panicked him. A zing of hormone powered sensation snapped to his finger ends.

  Was she damaged? She’d appeared to be whole and exquisitely perfect.

  He crouched next to her. Her fragility made him soften his tone to near a whisper. “Are you in pain?” He traced one fingertip on her cheek to flick off a thin line of ochre yellow desert dust.

  She wrapped her hands around her head with another anguished moan.

  “Ah, you're a telepath,” he said and nodded, pleased he understood her movements and thrilled she’d not turned away from his touch. “Don’t be distressed. I've a cure for the drones.”

  Unwilling to let her out of his sight for a second, he went to the wall cupboard where he kept medicines. He fought to control his compulsion, but couldn’t, and counted himself lucky again, for as an off-worlder she’d not know his shame that he couldn’t stop his gaze returning to her. He snatched glances at the boxes and packs he rummaged through until he found a silencer tablet.

  After years of doses, the effect of the silencers became almost permanent, and he hadn't had to use one of these for some time, but it was always useful to have one about. Right now, he breathed in satisfaction that he could help ease her pain.

  He knelt beside his soft, sweet female, handed the tablet to her and with his prayer she would accept it, offered his container of water. “Take the medication. It will quiet things down. The voices won't be so invasive and you’ll be able to think. Accept water from me.” He could scarce believe the sheer charm of her movements as she reached for the flask. Lovely, despite the wretched garment some fool had tied about her.

  She swallowed the tablet and drank in long gulps. He anticipated her grateful and gracious nod after she’d finished, but received none.

  How could such an exquisite creature be this unmannerly? Didn't she know the importance of taking his water? Surely she must, but instead of a ritual sip she’d drunk a good part of his morning’s water ration?

  Another thought stormed after the last. Did she have no idea what to expect having accepted water from him? By Kobis’ mighty balls he hoped she knew exactly what would occur.

  Perhaps she no social graces. What a tragedy. No Jagan female would have behaved like this. Her world must be a brutal place.

  He sniffed again and discovered she’d been burned. The odor of scorched fabric was a low key scent when compared with her fabulous aroma.

  The lower leg of her appalling suit bore a blackened patch. A speckle of smaller burns dotted the grim fabric on her arms and one shoulder. Such a sacrilegious male piece of attire wrapped about her every limb was an abomination. Thankfully, the vile garment looked ruined. The dingy gray covered what was bound to be priceless and unblemished skin. A flash of fear cut through everything else.

  For her sake, he ought to get her out of the suit as fast as he could. He’d never had any trouble with the commission and he’d not let one of them complain he’d tolerated this abhorrent thing longer than he should have done. This most precious desert explorer could end up in real trouble if she were discovered by one the commissioners while she was dressed in such a thing. She’d be far safer naked.

  To strip the thing from her would be for her good and if he found delight in examining her flesh he would keep a tight control on his responses. Somehow he would do his best not to frighten her. Besides he needed to find out if she were damaged in any way other than he’d yet seen. “I want to help you, but I must remove the suit you are wearing. The garment is sacrilegious and is also damaged. Here your clothing is a wicked heresy. You could be beaten raw, even have your brain reprogrammed if a zealot caught you wearing such a thing,” he said.

  Uncertain how to continue he offered a smile to soothe her fears, helped her to stand and unhooked the belt at her waist. Involuntarily a quiver strummed h
is quills, for her fragrance betrayed her initial ripening. She wanted him. This escalation in response to him proved it beyond any doubt. He’d not have to wait too long now. The enhancement of her female hormones was set and biologically accepted. Every passing second would boost the sensations within her. She stared with widened pupils, another sign of her growing arousal.

  “Be still while I remove this thing.” He reached up for his sharpest dough snips and started where the suit was damaged at her lower leg to cut the thing from her. His first glimpse of her true hide stole his breath. Apart from the burn on her lower leg she shone as fair and gemstone smooth as he'd hoped.

  Beautiful.

  She offered no resistance and seemed to understand the removal of the suit was necessary. All his concentration on revealing more of her, he clipped with methodical care through the rest of the multilayered material. It would be a great pity to cover such loveliness with any fabric. Though for modesty’s sake she would have to be clothed, eventually.

  A sigh of pleasure welled up from his chest, for her skin glimmered like the finest desert sands glossed by moonlight. Though slight in his grasp, as he peeled the shredded fabric layers from her, he discovered his female possessed a pair of legs, long and slender for her frame. Her breasts, small, but deliciously curved and rounded, were tipped with tight rosy pink nipples that held the charm of a magic spell.

  She held her head again, eyes narrowing. “When does this noise stop?”

  The poor, soft creature, she still suffered in pain, and allowances should be made, well, they would be by him with the fragrant lure of her so close. She was an off-worlder after all. “Soon, the tablet will still the sounds you hear.”

  Concerned by the dark mark he noticed near her elbow, that could only be from his grip, he resolved to be gentler still.

  Naked and so alluring she stood before him, favoring her injured leg. Her stance convinced him the delicately muscled limb must hurt.