StarlightComplete Page 11

  Then he smiled. “Ah, honey-cat, you’re deliberately taunting me.”

  “I said on your back, cat-boy.”

  Grinning, John did as ordered. She leaned over him, and slid her palm down his body, then twirled her thumb above his navel.

  Kuno lifted off the bed. Score One to her for finding another of his hot spot meridians.

  He reached his hand to her nape and drew her head to his. His tongue danced with her, entwining in the sinuous, sinful oral dance of the felinus. His thigh behind her, guided her down against him.

  John splayed his fingers over her abdomen, pressing the tips into her skin. A different intensity for each finger and site. Kneading her like a cat.

  “Does a boy know how to please you? Does a boy know this?” He rippled his fingers over her. “Well?” he demanded

  “You’re not a cat-booooooy.”

  Sam shuddered her release as his tongue continued to dance with her. He slid over her, resting in the cradle of her thighs. His erection begged entry and she raised her body. With one swift, sure stroke he was inside her, the ridges teasing her inner muscles. He remained immobile, his phallus flexing, contracting and expanding, loving her.

  “John…oh!”

  “This is my name.”

  “What…are…you…doing…?”

  “I thought it was obvious.” He rolled his hips.

  “Yes, but…”

  “Didn’t I promise to love you in one thousand and one ways for one thousand and one days?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Is that all you can say, Sammi?”

  “I can’t think when I’m with you, Kuno.”

  “That’s the general idea.” His laugh was like honey flowing through her.

  He retreated a few centimeters and extended, then, bore down into her and expanded. Even more. His tongue stroked against hers as he flexed inside her, a loving tandem—she saw stars.

  When a measure of reason returned to her, Sam made John see stars—and the way he screamed, maybe he saw a supernova…

  Later, when a measure of calm had returned to them both, John began to teach Sam more about felinus loving.

  His fingers swept lightly over her ribcage, as a feather stroking, so soft, but her every nerve ending sprang to life.

  “I told you to lie still, kitten-mine.” Between her spread legs, he rested on his heels, trying to frown at her, but the tawny fire in his eyes gave him away. “You must learn to resist the climax, Sammi. Postponement brings its own rewards.”

  “Yeah, right. How can I when you’re doing that? It’s too much to bear.”

  John laughed. “What am I doing, but just stroking? Hardly touching you.”

  “It’s the hardly bit that’s killing me.”

  “This?” John asked, his index finger skimming beneath her right breast.

  Sam choked another sob. That was so good, so bloody good.

  “You can learn to delay the orgasm. Mystics have been doing so for centuries. It’s a lesson of Tantra. We felinus practice it. Now, a deep breath and hold. Much like singing, kitten-mine. Concentrate.”

  One of his finger tips pressed against her pubic bone, a nail lightly scraping upwards, another finger scrolling down. He gently probed in two places, just above her clit and just below. Her cleft contracted, ached, a tension that was tearing her apart.

  “I can feel your pulse,” John said. “It’s telling me how much you like this.”

  Understatement! She’d show him control and cleared her tight throat. “Is that another meridian?” Her voice was casual, coldly clinical.

  “Mmm.”

  “Just how many of those places are there?” She clenched her inner muscles, her teeth as the first climax-current touched her. Control it!

  “Few women are so endowed as you, kitten-mine, or as receptive, I’m pleased to say.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the sight of his slow, sultry smile. The bloody cat was playing with her. She was through with playing.

  Sam reared upwards and flung herself across John, pushing him down to the bed. She teased his body with splayed fingers, in the same way as he had caressed her. In response, he lifted off the mattress.

  “You’re a fast learner,” he ground out.

  “Yes, when I’m inspired.”

  “Are you inspired?”

  “Oh yes. I never knew it could be so good.”

  “It?” John asked. “What it?”

  “Everything.”

  He smiled, then, a very self-satisfied male smile. “Honey-cat we haven’t even begun. Good is just the beginn…ahhhhh.”

  Sam scraped her tongue over his hard nipple and he flung his arm across his eyes, thrashing on the bed.

  “Cat-boy, I want you to turn over, face down, spread your legs.”

  “I’m not cat-boy. My name is…oh, stars!”

  “What is your name?” she demanded, stroking his erection, leaning over so her hair teased his sensitive flesh. “What is your name?”

  “I…oh…stars….I can’t think…”

  “Good evening, Samantha, Kuno,” Harimal’s voice intruded.

  Sam gasped, rolled off John and pulled the sheet to her chin. Her act of modesty provoked a low chuckle from Hari. Her ears burnt. Mortified, she couldn’t look at him.

  “Don’t you ever damn well knock?” John snapped.

  “In my own apartment? Besides, if I was so polite, I’d’ve missed an interesting display. I’ve never seen such a response, Kuno.”

  “Harimal!”

  “You remember my name, at least, brother-mine. Moments before I think you said you’d forgotten yours.” He laughed.

  Sam glanced at him. Hari was leaning against the door, arms folded, his deep blue eyes sparking. He winked at her, flinging his hair back in that unconscious manner that made every woman in the universe melt. She swallowed.

  “You turn up everywhere uninvited these days, Harimal,” John said.

  “Me—uninvited? Where?”

  “In the holo-room. I didn’t think even you would have the nerve.”

  “Ah, did I offend you, Samantha?” Hari’s narrowed gaze was almost tinged with uncertainty. Almost.

  “No, no it was okay.”

  “You see, Kuno, nothing to worry about.”

  John groaned. “You shouldn’t encourage him, Sammi.”

  Hari padded across the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, lying back, reclining on his elbows. The curl of his lip and the glint in his eyes told Sam all she needed to know. Hari-cat was intent on mischief.

  Harimal grinned at her. “I know I’m interrupting, but when I’ve gone, you’ll rise to the occasion, Kuno. That I’m sure.” His narrowed gaze took in his brother’s body, naked, engorged. “And as for the holo-room, I seem to recall you both were purring loudly when I left.”

  “You know what I mean Harimal.”

  “It’s never worried you in the past.”

  “That’s the past, Hari. This is now. Times have changed.”

  “I can see that.” His gaze flashed. He smiled, slow, teasingly, aiming to devastate.

  “And you can stop looking at me like that, too,” John said. “Go play with someone else.”

  “Tsk,” Hari said, grinning at Sam. “And I thought my brother’s humor would improve now that he has you. If anything he’s worse. And that’s saying something. Kuno, your temper can be so human.”

  “You needn’t insult him, Harimal,” Sam said.

  “The she-cat comes to your rescue, brother-mine. I like it when she spits.”

  “You’re impossible,” Samantha snapped.

  “Impossible has some interesting connotations.” Harimal laughed, a deep throated sound that was a mix of purr and a growl.

  Could John laugh like that? She’d have to ask him.

  “Yes, I can, in private, Sammi.” John’s thumb ran down the side of her neck. “That sound is personal.” He glared at Harimal. “What do you want, brother-mine?”

  “You know I
’ve been ordered home, so I’m here to say goodbye. If I didn’t have a schedule to meet, I think I might remain behind and explore your definition of impossible. That is if I’m allowed into my own apartment.”

  “Yeah, I know, you’re so gracious as to let us live here—”

  “I couldn’t bear the thought of you both remaining in that hotel a moment longer.” Hari grimaced. “I mean, all that plastic and metal. Do you like my apartment, Samantha?”

  “Oh, yes.” When John had first opened the door, she had been shocked. Delighted. Resembling the interior of Rendezvous with its draped curtains, thick rugs and rich cushions spread over the floors, or nestled against carved wooden screens, it was lit by mauve and green crystal lights embedded in the walls and cinnamon scented to mask the metallic aroma of artificial atmosphere. A few pieces of human-style furniture—a table, six chairs, a sofa and a computer console and dispenser—seemed incongruous among the exotic felinus décor. The view from the conservatory was even more spectacular than the one from the Saturn Hilton observation lounge.

  “So where was I?” Hari asked.

  “Leaving,” John ground out.

  “No, I believe I was attempting to understand your definition of impossible and trying to accommodate it.”

  “And do what exactly, brother-mine?”

  “Why, whatever I was asked. If I was asked.” Hari put a finger on Sam’s foot, tracing the arch.

  “I’m not ready for that,” Sam said. “I…I can’t.”

  Harimal smiled and touched her big toe. “Ah yes, I know that, Samantha. One day you’ll want to share and I hope I’m around when you do.”

  “Have you...before?” she asked John.

  He flushed and Harimal laughed. “You can’t have forgotten that dancer on Vega? Or her sister? When she put her tentacle into your ass, I thought you were going to detonate.”

  “I never kiss and tell, Hari, unlike you, it seems!”

  “Who said anything about kissing? She fucked you and you—”

  “That’s enough, Harimal!” John glanced at Sam.

  Samantha grinned, pleased to see her lover so discomfited. No longer the cock-sure cat. “Enlighten me, oh do! A few days ago that would’ve shocked me. After Rendezvous, I don’t think I can ever be surprised.”

  “You want for me to shock you?” Harimal asked.

  “You could try.”

  “Ah, a challenge and I so love a woman who challenges me. Alas, no time to shock you, Samantha.” He pushed himself up from the bed. “I have to leave. But first, my disguise.”

  “Your what?”

  “Most felinus travel incognito. It saves…entanglements.”

  “Felinus live for entanglements.”

  Harimal grinned. “There’s entanglements and then there’s entanglements, Samantha. Kuno understands. I wonder if we could make you appreciate the difference?”

  John snorted.

  Harimal strode to the wardrobe. It opened automatically at his approach. He hunted through the garments and drew out a black frock coat and trousers. He stripped off his silk kaftan.

  Samantha tried really, really hard not to watch. A flash of bare skin, the scrape of cloth over flesh. He was doing a strip-tease in reverse.

  When she glanced up, Hari was facing the mirror, brushing out his hair. The slow drag and scrape of the brush was the only sound in the room, suddenly thick with sexual tension. Slide. Scrape. Sam shivered with every stroke. She watched the glide of the bristles through his gleaming blue-black mane, noticing the copper highlights. His gaze held hers in the mirror. Hari continued to groom himself. John swore in exasperation.

  “You have something to say, brother-mine?” Harimal asked. “Or something to do?”

  John fell back on the bed, an arm across his eyes. “Stars have mercy!”

  “Don’t let my presence here upset you. Can’t you rise to any occasion?”

  “Any time.”

  “So what’s stopping you?”

  “You.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re shy?” Harimal bit his lip as he winked at Sam.

  “I want privacy.”

  “Oh, how boringly human.”

  Sam grinned at Harimal. He shook his head and her mouth became dry, her throat constricted. Hari dressed was…overwhelming.

  The high-necked coat reached to his knees, the matching trousers and black boots—he was a man of shadow, of contradictions as only a felinus could be.

  He braided his hair, rolled it into a bun, pinning it at his nape with a silver clasp.

  “If that’s your disguise, Harimal, I can tell you now it’s not gonna work!” Samantha said. If anything, Harimal covered from neck to toe, with his long hair bound had the opposite affect. Every woman would want to remove each layer of clothing, to reveal the layers of man beneath…

  She chewed her lower lip. She ought not to be feeling this for the brother of the man who was even now lying naked beside her, his finger stroking her nether curls. She hadn’t even felt John’s hand creep under the quilt to find her.

  Harimal was exuding sex from every pore. She’d have to be dead not to respond.

  Glancing at John, she saw his tight smile. A smile of understanding and of sympathy. “He’s a bloody cat, Sammi, what do you expect?”

  “Thank you for the compliment,” Harimal said and inclined his head.

  “It wasn’t intended as such.” John eyed him dangerously.

  “No?” Hari laughed. “Every felinus journeys in disguise, Samantha. Before John met you, he traveled as I…because his hair, well…” He rolled his eyes for emphasis.

  “Brother-mine, will you shut the fuck up?”

  “Even for a felinus, his vanity was remarkable. With good reason. Golden hair, longer than mine, tipped with red and streaked with black.” He paused and grinned. “Just overwhelming—that was the word you used before, Samantha. Yes?”

  Sam glared at him. Bloody mind-reading cat!

  He grinned harder and held up his hands in mock surrender.

  Sam glanced at John. His hair was in disarray around his shoulders and she noticed the subtle changes—more streaks of red and black amid the golden blonde.

  Hari nodded. “Not much to speak of at the moment, but wait a few months, when it’s grown. Do you know, for your first meeting, he cut his hair for you? Now that doesn’t happen very often—a felinus male cutting his hair.”

  “But why? You glamored yourself, John, wouldn’t that hide everything?”

  “Kuno, explain to your pussy,” Hari said, trying not to grin. He paused, his eyes sparking with mischief. “What? Cat got your tongue? My brother tried to glamor himself, but his mind wasn’t on the job. I saw his efforts. Feegling pitiful. So I helped him out with some tricks of the trade.”

  “What tricks?”

  “Ah,” Hari said, winking. “Secrets.”

  John snorted. “I only let you, Harrrrrimal, because… Hellstars, Sammi, it took me months to get you to talk to me one on one in the chat room. Even then you wouldn’t give me your real name. That took me another six months of—”

  “Coercion!” Sam said, recalling. John had been patient, but determined. She had given him the cold shoulder so many times, yet he kept coming back for more. A cat was single-minded when he had a goal in sight.

  Now, knowing what she did, she hadn’t stood a bloody chance.

  “Not a bloody chance,” John echoed.

  “Her call sign was Tosca as I recall,” Harimal said. “I know your love of opera. Is Tosca your favorite?”

  “Yes and…no.”

  “Ah,” Harimal said. “A mystery.”

  Samantha swallowed and felt John’s hand over hers. The lightest pressure of his fingers. “I was a different person, then. It’s in the past, Hari, let it remain so.”

  Harimal inclined his head, a smile passing between the two brothers.

  “You share all my secrets?” Sam demanded.

  “Not every one, but with his problems over you, he did come
to me for advice.”

  “Feegle you,” John growled.

  “Why thank you, Kuno, if you weren’t my brother, I’d take you up on the offer. I know how well you can fuck, when you put your mind to it—and other parts of your anatomy, of course!”

  Sam stared from one to the other.

  “We felinus share, Samantha, when our kin are hurting. John was hurting—then.” His eyes misted as he glanced at his brother, before he diverted his attention to her. “Does this alarm you?”

  “No,” she said. “No. Pain is better shared than suffered alone.” She stroked the bed cover, her fingers trembling. She knew about pain, contained, in the darkest nights…

  “Samantha!” One word from Harimal; it contained a world of understanding.

  She wondered if Hari had caught the images she had long tried to suppress—the images that only Kuno-John glimpsed.

  John leaned into her, his leg tossed over her thighs, holding her close, his spicy breath over her cheek. He purred.

  “That’s in the past, kitten-mine. No hurt in the universe will ever touch you. My promise—as human, as felinus as…ah…cat-boy.” The last whispered.

  Harimal bowed, his hands folded over his heart. “My promise as felinus, Samantha, no hurt in the universe will ever touch you. I speak as san-Duran.”

  Harimal, the Prince—san-Duran. Even John was shocked, his eyes bright with tears.

  Sam loved them both so much in that moment she thought her heart would shatter.

  “You cut your hair for me?” she asked. “Will you grow it again for me?”

  “I’ll do whatever you want, Sammi.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yes.” His gaze held hers.

  “Don’t ever call me Tosca again, Harimal,” Sam said.

  “I won’t.”

  The silence in the room beat at her ears.

  John cleared his throat. “I’ve been trying to convince Sammi that she ought to have a felinus name.”

  “Yes, that’d be appropriate,” Hari said.

  “I’m not felinus, I’m just a human…it’d be a complication.”