StarlightComplete Page 6

  Sam nearly fainted on the spot by the promises in the depths of his eyes, by the stroking of his long fingers on the cushion beside him.

  “Please wear it. For me.” He growled. “Please do as I ask.”

  Oh God…anything…Sam nearly blurted, but bit the words back just in time.

  She carefully opened the parcel—she never was one to tear open gift-wrapping—and held up the gown: a kaftan of green, shot with silver and decorated with diamantes about the sculpted bodice and hem.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’ll be more beautiful when you’re wearing it. Please.” He exhaled, low and long.

  “If you keep purring like that, John-Kuno, you’re going to get a sore throat.”

  He grinned. “Not the only thing that’ll be sore by tonight’s end, I assure you.”

  “You’re bloody impossible.”

  “Naturally, I’m a cat.” He lifted his chin, a silent entreaty for her to wear the kaftan.

  Sam fumbled with the buttons of her dress. Her heart was beating so fast, the blood swirling in her veins, she couldn’t think straight.

  She slipped off her dress and reached for the kaftan.

  “Remove your underwear, Sammi,” he said. “Play fair.”

  She paused. Sammi? She rather liked that. Their gazes locked and they smiled.

  Sam undressed, slowly, taking the time with each garment, teasing out the moment, like a stripper. And John watched every movement, his eyes narrowed, passion-dark. She sensed that he was as tense as a coiled spring. Had it confirmed by the narrow line of his lips.

  She allowed no more than a flash of naked flesh before she smoothed the kaftan over her body, shivering with delight as the silk caressed her skin. Sam shook out her hair, fluffing it to its meager length, wishing she had hair like Golden.

  “No you don’t, honey-cat,” John said. “It’d get in the way.”

  “You’d know would you?”

  “Jealous, Sammi?” John smiled tightly. “I like Kareena, we’re friends, but lovers? Never.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s not my type.”

  “Not your type? What are you suddenly, a eunuch? She’s every man’s type.”

  “Not mine, Samantha. I prefer spitting blonde honey-cats.” He stroked the cushion beside him. “Now, come here.”

  Sam tossed her head and folded her arms. “What if I refuse?”

  “I’ll come to you.” He lifted a fraction from the cushion. “Come to me. Come with me.”

  “Ah… Stop doing that.”

  His look was all innocence. “What is that, honey-cat?”

  “Peppering your speech with sexual innuendos.”

  “You don’t like my game?”

  “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that…ah hell!”

  Outside a small sound, like a wind chime tinkling in the breeze distracted her.

  “Enter,” John said.

  The shimmer-screen opened and Golden stepped through, carrying a tray with two red, long-stemmed glasses, a red crystal decanter and a large covered silver bowl. Kareena halted, her eyes narrowing. She inclined her head to Sam, then to John.

  “Now I understand, Kuno. The kitten is lovely.”

  Sam’s mouth gaped. This woman was calling her lovely?

  Kareena bent down and placed the tray on the table, her full breasts all but spilling from her bustier. Straightening, Golden-woman turned to Sam and put her hand, talons extended onto Sam’s wrist.

  “He is very lucky to have you. You are lucky to have him. Be happy.”

  The shimmer-screen closed behind her, leaving Sam staring after her.

  “She’s got a good heart,” John said.

  “She’s got a good everything!” Sam retorted.

  “Now, where were we?” John furrowed his brow. “Ah, a little matter of where you’re going to sit. But please. I’m hungry and thirsty and Kareena makes the best shovan in the galaxy.”

  Shovan. Sam had heard of it. Felinus liqueur—rare, expensive and off-limits to humans because it could lift the hair from the scalp before it turned one inside out with its potency.

  John was busy pouring it into the glasses on the tray. She sat down, cross-legged on the cushion opposite him and tentatively took the glass he held out. She sniffed. Nothing. How disappointing! She had expected shovan to have a piquancy to match its reputation, but the clear liquid was innocuous. She raised it to her lips.

  “Careful, honey-cat. Just a sip at a time until you get used to it.”

  “Is it the drink you’re talking about, or something else…someone else?”

  He grinned and inclined his head.

  Samantha snorted and swallowed a mouthful. She turned inside out. Fire tore through her veins. Its taste was like honeyed mead, with cinnamon and ginger and vanilla and sandalwood and nameless, unknown alien herbs and spices. She felt the hair at her nape stand on end and every desire, every sensation she had ever experienced, ever dreamed existed, or dared to imagine in her naughtiest moments, swept through her.

  She set the glass on the table. “Bloody hell.”

  John roared with laughter. “And that’s not her most potent drop. She’s diluted it for you, so you’re not overwhelmed.”

  “Overwhelmed? I’m shattered!”

  “Not yet, but you soon will be. Come here, Sammi.”

  She crawled forward, teasingly slow, her hands and knees stroking against the plush velvet.

  Stopping before John she leaned forward and kissed him, leisurely, deliberately.

  He breathed into her, his tongue merging with hers.

  “You dance the oral very well, Sammi,” John said pulling back from her, licking his lips.

  “Dance the oral?”

  “A translation from felinus to human, except sometimes it doesn’t make much sense.”

  “I know, don’t tell me—you have to experience it to understand.”

  “Exactly so. Dance the oral with me again, Samantha.” His hand at the back of her head guided her to him. Their tongues merged, joined sinuously, broke apart, returned, like dancers. She began to understand.

  Sam lifted herself onto his lap, the kaftan bunched around her thighs. His hands supported her bottom, bringing her closer. He bent his head to her neck, his lips slipping lower, his mouth sucking and nipping. Through the silk of the gown he took first her right nipple and then the other into his mouth, laving and loving. Sam rocked against him, mimicking the dance of sex; his right hand cupped her mound, his left hand cupped her bottom, his fingers joining at her apex, stroking every part of her body between her thighs.

  Sam reached down, pulled open the ties of his kaftan and bent her head to his neck. She mouth-teased his earlobe and dipped her tongue inside. He groaned and shivered, but all the while his mouth and fingers plundered, seduced and enflamed her.

  She bit his flesh and then moving upward, poised over the crest of his cock, then lowered down. Slowly, a fraction at a time, she found his length. Hot, hard, adamant.

  Sam unclasped the thong at his nape and smoothed out his hair, lacing her fingers in its golden length as she rode him.

  They moved as one, sometimes fast, sometimes languid.

  The first climax rocked them to the core.

  Sam was dimly aware that he lowered her to the cushions, bringing her thighs to his shoulders. He bent down and loved her with his tongue, lapping, kissing, sucking, the occasional bite to her inner thigh.

  He licked once more and stopped, breathed against her tumescence, cooling. Edging upwards, he rested against her, his gaze consuming.

  His hands beneath her buttocks lifted, positioning her for that movement where he would touch the secret inner place known only to those of his kind. The place that made her erupt like a supernova…

  He entered her, probed to the right, withdrew, returned and pressed. She screamed.

  He pulled back, plunging deep into her center.

  She sobbed.

  He nudged this time
to the left, aiming straight and true, no preliminaries.

  She could not speak.

  Comets streamed past her as he loved her, finding those zones again and again that no human could touch…starlight ecstasy…but this time with more intensity. Their bodies shone with gold-blue light; it submerged into their skin, swirling through their veins, engulfing every cell. Behind her clenched eyelids she saw yellow rayed suns spreading outwards.

  The world shattered as she shattered; as he shattered.

  He held her to the pinnacle; she gasped as his mind stroked hers, as his flesh stroked her from inside out.

  Linked in body they now experienced a deeper union: the mind.

  This is first level Convergence, kitten. Enjoy!

  Wave upon wave of pleasure passed through them, shared, heightening until mutual release. They purred. Screams were so deficient. The purr of a cat could only convey the intensity of the climax…

  Purrrrr, she mimicked.

  “The kitten has found her voice, at last.” Purrrrr.

  Sam opened her eyes and saw John and for a moment his tawny eyes became the cat: glowing, citrine, slitted…

  He whispered: “Kuno, querel an far nat!” For you…only for you.

  Samantha wept with the gift, with the joy, the pleasure, the…everything. She wept for him and for herself. Because it was too much to bear. Because having been touched like this, she would never be the same again.

  The touch of the cat—having known it, no mere human could ever satisfy her. This was Convergence!

  She rolled into John’s embrace. “Can we do that again, Kuno?”

  He lowered his head and his body and probed; converged.

  “Honey-cat?” His whisper caressed her temple.

  “Mmmm.” Slowly, she opened her eyes. How long had she been unconscious? That last convergence had tipped her over the edge.

  They shared a smile, a caress of mind to mind, like a strand of warm silk flowing between them: images and words became one.

  He nudged her cheek with his. “It is the felinus gift, this mind-speak.”

  Sam sighed. “Another gift? I’ve nothing to give you.”

  His smile became a frown. “Nothing? This isn’t a contest, Samantha.” For the first time since she had known him, his voice was tinged with ice. “You give me everything of yourself. A man can ask no more.”

  She stroked his turgid flesh, shining now with their mingled essences. “I love you.” The words shocked her, because it was true. For years she had vowed to never love another man… How had it happened without her knowing? Obviously gradual, layer upon layer, a relationship developed during the times she and Kuno met in their private cyber chat room. Sam stared at John, wondering what he would say and do: that a human revealed her love for him…

  His tawny eyes misted. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Because loving me won’t be easy. I’m part felinus, I’m a sensualator. A potent combination. My name is Kuno and I exist for you, only for you. Love is but a part of what I feel for you, Samantha.”

  Their gazes locked. “Kuno…”

  He smiled, shaking his head. “Feel it, don’t analyze it. Accept it.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, tracing her nail over his chest, flicking each bronze nipple. “It’s rare, isn’t it, for a human and a shifter to…um…join.”

  “Why so coy? You truly amaze me, Samantha! A spitting, teasing she-cat one moment and a demure kitten the next. Such contradictions are destined to drive me wild.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s rare for a felinus and human to tangle, but when they do… My father was felinus, my mother human. They shared starlight ecstasy, then starlight rapture, the other levels. They mated. I’m the result.”

  “Starlight rapture—I haven’t heard of this.”

  “Only felinus know it, and their soul-mates. It goes beyond starlight ecstasy.”

  “Beyond?” Her mouth went dry. She had hardly survived ecstasy. There was more?

  “Much more,” John said.

  “And you’ve experienced them?”

  He shook his head, his golden hair swirling around him, teasing her cheek. “No, the first only.”

  “With your clients?” She couldn’t help the question, or keep the bitterness from her voice.

  His narrowed gaze was heated—not with passion, but anger. Felinus anger—no human who evoked it was left unscathed. John’s nails tensed against her thigh.

  “No, Samantha. I don’t share my felinus self with clients. I’m a sensualator, human for them. Never the cat.”

  “I’m sorry. You’re angry. Why?”

  He sighed. “You have to ask? You’re such a kitten.”

  “There’s no need to insult me.”

  His smile was almost warm. “I’m angry because you think I would be a cat for a client. Never! I’m felinus for you only. I’ve never wanted to give the felinus gift to another.”

  “Not wanted to experience even more of the exquisite pleasure? You would, wouldn’t you, with a felinus woman?”

  He shrugged.

  “Every human in the galaxy would kill for a touch of heaven.”

  “It can be hell, Sam. Hell.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Be pleased you do not.”

  “But—”

  His mouth swept away more words. “I’ve only shared this with you, Samantha. Only you. A felinus shares this with only one woman. I’m yours, forever.”

  “Until you grow tired of me.”

  His gaze grew cold, his body tense. “Grow tired of you?”

  “I’m only human. You’re so much more. I know it’s only a matter of time. I understand, truly! I know…” She tried to turn her head away, but his fingers halted her, cupping her chin.

  “Explain.”

  “It’s in the past.”

  “You asked me for explanations, please return the courtesy.”

  She slapped his buttock and he jumped.

  “Don’t do that, Samantha, unless you want to see it through to its conclusion.”

  “Huh?”

  “Pleasure from pain. Some enjoy it. I don’t, but if it pleases you, then…” He tossed his head. “Then I’ll indulge you.”

  “I don’t want to be hurt.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Ever.”

  “I promise you I won’t. Ever.” He smiled. “You diverted me. Clever. Very clever. Few humans can distract a felinus—even if the cat is of impure blood.”

  He glanced down, sadly. Samantha caught his face between her hands. “What do you mean, impure blood?”

  “In some shifter circles those of mongrel blood are considered outcast. Before the United Planets was created, there was talk of placing a bounty on shifter half-breeds.”

  “Mm, the starlord wars. I studied the history at school. The starlords were wiped out.”

  “Yes, but in certain societies half-breeds are still excluded. Prejudice is not the sole prerogative of humans.”

  “Fuck me,” she said.

  “I know it’s shocking.”

  She laughed. “No, silly. I want you to do me.”

  “Again?” He looked doubtful. “I was hard on you before.”

  She reached down to his erection. “Hard, yes. Ready to go.”

  “You are shocking.”

  “I try.”

  He rolled over, slipped into her, holding his weight from her by knees and elbows. He flexed once inside her and was still. “I want to know about this sorrow. I hear it in your voice, I feel it like a shadow in the back of your mind. Until you grow tired of me—this is what you said. Explain this memory.” He aimed to the left, the gentlest of probes.

  “Play fair.”

  “I am.” He probed to the right and flexed. “Tell me.”

  “If you keep doing that I won’t be able to talk.”

  “Okay, I’ll stop—for the moment. Now explain, please.”

  She stared at him. “So, you’re going to interrogate me while I
’m pinned to the bed? Ah! So I won’t escape, that’s the idea, is it?”

  He smiled. “Clever kitten. The sooner you tell me, the sooner I’ll let you go.”

  Sam sighed. “I was married. I told you this when we first met in the chatroom. Andy was a mining contractor on Luna. I met him there during an exhibition of my work. He was everything: rich, successful, handsome and I was swept off my feet. In those days I wanted a rich, powerful man; I was tired of the struggle. I wanted to be cared for; loved. For a time it was glorious; then came the demands, the restrictions. No more exhibitions, no more painting.”

  “He stopped you?” John was rigid with tension. Horror lurked in his gaze.

  “Mm. No more going out of the house, unless accompanied. He had a tracker inserted in my shoulder.” She shrugged involuntarily; sometimes it itched where it had been implanted.

  “Sam.”

  She glanced at him and saw his narrowed eyes, his gaze lingering on her before he looked away.

  “Oh, kitten, why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

  “I don’t want your sympathy. After he died, I had the tracker removed and I smashed it beneath my boot.”

  “But you’re a strong woman, why…?”

  “Why did I let him?” She laughed. “I protested at first. I soon learned…not to.”

  John’s sharp hiss of indrawn breath was the only sound in their alcove. “He hurt you?”

  Samantha swallowed. “Yes.” She closed her eyes a moment, as memories resurfaced. “You remember earlier today, you picked up my thought, that I was surprised a man could love a woman so much, not hurt her. You see… He never gave me pleasure, on the rare occasions we went to bed.”

  “That explains why you are almost virgin-tight, despite years of marriage. Don’t blush, kitten.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re saying that his pleasure was to inflict pain upon you—in bed and out of it?”

  “Mostly out of it.” She lifted her gaze to his. “I…I ran away the first time and several other times, but he had connections. You can buy anything, John, anyone, if you have enough money.”

  “Yes,” he whispered. “So, now I understand why you had no other man after he died. Your experience of him would have been enough. But your passion couldn’t be quashed forever.”