The Pleasure Slave (26 page)

O
N
M
ONDAY
, Julia opened up the shop one hour and ten minutes late, which wasn’t bad in her estimation, considering she’d forgotten all about her business. Of course, she blamed Tristan for that. The man constantly consumed her mind, body and heart. In bed and out.

Perhaps some of her preoccupation with him stemmed from the fact that she’d almost lost him. That Zirra wanted him enough to hurtle him through galaxies and time, wanted him enough to destroy his
guan ren’
s possessions.

Perhaps the same worries lingered in Tristan’s mind, because he remained at her side, his eyes always watching the store safe, where she’d locked his box. Neither of them had wanted to leave the house without it. He remained tense and guarded, as if he expected a monstrous alien to fly into her store and attack, which was exactly what she considered Zirra. A monstrous alien with a God complex who needed someone to knock her down a peg or two.

The image of doing just that flashed through her mind, and she smiled. And as she smiled, she recalled all the other reasons she had for smiling. First and most important being the fact that she had a lover! Her. Julia Anderson. She’d gotten laid. She’d had so many glorious orgasms and had given her lover numerous orgasms of his own.

Practically skipping, she went to the register, lifted the candy canister and selected several pieces—all of them chocolate. She deserved a treat for her fantastic performance this morning. The first one she ate teased and tantalized her taste buds, reminding her of Tristan. With her eyes closed in surrender, she ate the second, and then the third.

Moments later, she
felt
Tristan come up behind her.

“Stop moaning every time you eat those,” he said fiercely, his warm breath tickling her ear.

Awareness rustled along her skin. Thankfully, they were alone in the store. “Or what?” She turned to face him, her expression daring him as she fought a rush of sensations between her legs. “You’ll beat me?”

Gone was the intense guardian of the day. In his place was a man who only responded to the sensual. His heat bored into her, sending tingles of delight along her nerve endings.

“Aye,” he said. “I will beat you most soundly.”

The way he said those words made her long for whips and chains and anything else he might need to properly punish her. Where had this playful, flirty wanton come
from? she wondered, amazed with herself. Plain, awkward Julia had finally become a tease!

He looked so beautiful, seething with sensuality, life and carnal intent.

Huskily she said, “Do you promise to make it hurt real good?”

He clasped a stray tendril of her hair between his fingers and smoothed it from her cheek. “Whatever happened to the shy maiden who tried to defend her honor with karate?”

“She took lessons from the master of seduction.” Laughing throatily, she ran her hands up his chest. “It’s too bad those lessons are completed.”

“How dare you say such a thing,” he replied with mock ire. “The lessons were never completed. There is so much more I must teach you.”

“Oh, really?” Her teeth nibbled at her bottom lip just the way she knew he liked. She teased the waist of his jeans with her fingertips, then dipped lower and cupped him. “What else do you need to teach me?”

He hissed in a breath. “That there is a penalty for teasing your man. Later,” he promised. “You are mine.”

Oh, yes. She was his. And he was hers.

“Now, if we do not change the subject,” he added, “I cannot be responsible for my actions.”

Though it required all of her strength, Julia pulled away from him. Her store was no place for a seduction. Not during working hours, at least. With a sigh, she glanced at her wristwatch. “My landlord’s son is supposed to fix the bathroom pipes today, and he’s—big surprise—late. Since
your knowledge is so
advanced
—” she almost choked on that one “—would you mind taking a look?”

“I do not mind,” he said. He licked his lips with wicked intent. “That is to say, I do not mind…if you will agree to pay me for my services.”

Still thrumming with excitement, she flicked her hair over one shoulder and acted nonchalant. “What kind of payment?”

“The lascivious kind, of course.”

She tried to appear reluctant, she really did. “All right,” she said, hoping her tone sounded less eager to him than it did to her. “But only because I’m desperate to have those pipes fixed.”

“I will take great pleasure in the receiving of my payment.”

As would she, she was sure. “Just out of curiosity, have you ever done any plumbing work?”

“Nay, but my knowledge is—”

“Sufficient. I know.” She placed her hands on her hips. “I should supervise.”

“Let us get to work.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head, baring his body from the waist up. His deeply tanned muscles rippled with the movement.

Her mouth watered because she knew exactly how that skin tasted. She’d licked every inch of it only this morning, and she knew he tasted much better than chocolate. If only he weren’t so handsome, so beguiling that even the air in her lungs burned for him. Lord, not even six hours ago, the very body she was now ogling had been pressed up against hers, doing wonderful things to her.

The man needed only to remove one item of clothing, and she was hot for him. No, the man needed only to look at her, and she was hot for him. Almost trembling with her desire, she followed him into the bathroom and watched him as he worked. She was struck again by the raw masculinity of his form, the panther-like grace with which he moved, even while doing manual labor.

But half an hour later, she was jerked from her sensual reverie when Tristan began shouting curses at the pipes. She gasped when she saw that he had cut his hand. Concerned, she rushed to his side. Blood seeped from the wound, running with constant force.

She had to bite back her fear as she grabbed his shirt from the floor and hurriedly wrapped the material around his hand. Soon crimson soaked through the white, and dripped to the floor.

“I need another bandage. This one is useless. Do you still keep a spare set of clothing in your office?”

“Yes. I’ll just go get—”

“There is not time. I’m bleeding too badly. Remove your blouse and hand it to me,” he demanded, his attention centered on his wound.

“Of course.” Her concern for him increased. She tugged off her shirt and helped him rewrap his hand.

“Now give me your panties,” he said.

This time she paused and blinked up at him. “What?”

He winced. A little too forcefully, perhaps?

“Give me your panties,” he repeated.

She studied his features, and suspicions grew in her mind. “Let me see your hand.”

“There is no time. I have need of your panties.”

“What kind of need?”

“I am in pain, woman, and you dare question me?”

She didn’t doubt he was in pain. It was the type of pain that was in question. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, and she knew her thin, lacy thong would offer no protection for his injury. Still, willing to play along, Julia cast a quick glance around the corner to make sure no customers had entered. They were still alone.

Feeling daring and uninhibited, she removed her pink lace thong and gave the tiny scrap to Tristan. Cool air touched the heat of her, making her shiver. Delightful bumps popped up all over her skin.

“There,” she said, trying to hide her growing excitement. “Happy now?”

“Nay. I need your skirt, as well.”

Not wanting this to be too easy for him, she crossed her arms over her chest. “What for?”

“Come here and I will show you.”

“No way. You only get paid when the pipes are fixed. And they aren’t fixed.”

“True, but this is just to inspire me.”

Well, how could she argue with that? If the man needed inspiration…A fog of anticipation wrapped around her as she closed the distance between them. Grinning, he lifted her up and placed her atop the sink’s edge.

“That is better,” he said.

With slow, deliberate movements, he removed the
shirt from around his hand and tossed it to the ground. She stared down at his palm. As she watched, his wound was even then healing itself. The tissues were weaving together, interlacing and sealing. Soon there was no evidence he had ever been hurt.

Her jaw dropped. “How did you do that?”

“A function of the curse.” He tugged her skirt from her body and dropped it with a whoosh. He held fast to her thong. “This is mine.”

“Okay. But you have to give me something in return.”

“Hmm, I like the customs of your world. What do you say I keep your panties and in return I give you your woman’s pleasure twice?”

As if she needed to think about that! “Sounds like a good bargain to me.”

Through the fabric of her bra, he circled his fingertips over her nipples. Just as it did every time he touched her, the heat of his skin seared her to the core. She gasped.

“I want you, Julia. Are you too sore?”

Yes, but need pulsed through her anyway. It was like melting, dissolving into hot flames. “I want you,” she said, “and I’m willing to bet you can make me forget any discomfort I might feel.”

“Such will be my personal mission.” He placed drugging kisses along her breasts, making her bra moist, causing delicious friction, then he flicked each nipple with his tongue.

“Did you lock the front door?” she asked suddenly.

He shook his head and gave her a soft, sweet kiss that captured her breath. “Nay.”

“Then don’t make me scream, okay? I have to know if someone comes in.”

“If I cannot make you scream, little dragon, I am not worthy to be your lover.” With that, he slipped inside her. Five minutes later, she was moaning. Ten minutes later she was ordering him to move faster.

Fifteen minutes later she screamed over and over again, the sound echoing off the walls.

Neither heard the bell above the door chime.

“U
H
,
EXCUSE ME
,” a deep, slightly accented male voice called. “Are you okay in there? I heard screaming. Should I call the cops?”

Julia glanced at Tristan, then down at their still-joined bodies. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening.

But it was…

She’d just had a mind-shattering orgasm. Tristan had just had an earth-shattering orgasm. And there was someone in the shop’s vestibule, wanting to know if everything was okay. Her cheeks erupted into flames. Here she stood, her clothes a few feet away, a half-naked man between her thighs, and the echo of her screams ringing in her ears.

Why, oh why, hadn’t she locked the door and posted the Closed sign?

Just how long had the customer been there? What had he heard? Enough to want to call the cops, obviously.

Tristan, the jerk, seemed totally unconcerned with the thought of having an audience. Smiling, he pushed
the bathroom door shut with his foot and continued to grip her hips in his hands.

“Hello?” the voice said again. “I’m dialing 911 right now.”

“No!” Julia shouted. “I’m fine. Really. I’ll, uh, be right there.” She scrambled away from Tristan.

“Do you need any help?” the stranger asked.

“No, no. Stay where you are.”

“Allow me to aid you, little dragon.” Tristan picked up her skirt and helped her step inside.

“I need my panties, too,” she whispered.

“Nay.” Eyes darkening, he shook his head. “You gave them to me.”

“Well, I’m taking them back.”

“I will fight to the death to keep them.”

Her teeth ground together. Without her underwear, cool air continued to kiss her exposed skin, a potent reminder of everything they’d done. How was she going to face this customer with that knowledge fresh in her mind?

She’d once thought having a boyfriend would solve all of her problems. Now she learned a boyfriend created a whole new set of complications she’d never imagined.

Tristan watched the play of emotions cross Julia’s face. Embarrassment. Satisfaction. Aye, even excitement. Whether she protested or not, she was enjoying each new adventure tossed her way. And he liked that she liked them.

“Are you sure I can’t help you?” the man said.

“I’m sure!” Julia cried.

Tristan’s good humor quickly fled as he recalled this
man was alone inside the store and could even now be searching for the box. At the moment, Tristan suspected everyone, male and female, for a woman could easily pay a man to do her dirty work.

“You will wait here, Julia, while I interrogate this new arrival.”

“No, Tristan, I—”

He stalked off before she could finish.

Her fingers moved lightning fast over her shirt, refastening the buttons. She grimaced when she saw the crimson spots of dried blood dotted across the center. Too late to do anything now. She refused to greet her customers in her bra. If he’d just come back for a moment, she could change into her spare outfit in the storeroom. “Tristan,” she called.

Tristan ignored her. In the center of the shop he spotted a tall fair-haired man. He was dressed in ripped, faded clothing that showcased a warrior’s muscles. He also carried a red rectangular crate that held…weapons? Weapons to kill or to break inside the safe? Or mayhap both. Tristan’s gaze scanned the item in question. It appeared fine. He searched the rest of the store. Three other people, two female, one male, were wandering around the shop, inspecting the merchandise.

Tristan finally settled his concentration on the muscled man with the red crate and cursed himself for placing Julia in danger. He should never have relaxed his guard. But, curse it, the woman was too tempting, too alluring for him to resist. When she had taken that candy into her mouth, her expression had looked the same as
when she came. He had thought of nothing but bedding her from that moment on.

“What do you here?” he demanded of the man with the crate.

Before the man could answer, Julia shuffled around him. “Hello,” she said, then stopped. “I’m, uh…well, I’m Julia. The owner.” She took a deep breath and made a visible effort of gathering her wits. “How can I help you?”

Tristan lunged to grab her, to shove her safely behind him, but she easily sidestepped him.

“I’m here to fix your pipes,” the man said.

His voice was oddly familiar, Julia thought. But it was his eyes…they were deep blue, bottomless, and as clear as ice chips. They struck a deep chord of familiarity within her. However, she’d never seen him before in her life. She would have remembered. He was gorgeous, almost too beautiful to be real, as if he were wearing some exquisitely detailed mask.

“I believe you’re expecting me,” he added.

“Oh, yes.” She offered him a welcoming smile. “Morgan Schetfield, right?”

He paused a moment, then nodded. “That’s right. I am Morgan Schetfield.”

Tristan still did not relax his warrior stance. “I will need to see proof of your identity,” he said, taking Julia by the shoulders and forcing her to his side.

Her frown flashed in his direction. “I’m sure that’s not necessary.”

“It is
very
necessary.” He gave the man a pointed stare.

“Sure thing,” Morgan said easily. He muttered some
thing under his breath, then withdrew a thin card shaped much like Julia’s American Express.

Tristan took it, studied it from every angle and handed the colorful, thin square to Julia. She glanced over the surface. “He’s Morgan Schetfield, born December second, nineteen seventy-five. His license expires in exactly three months. Anything else you need to know, Tristan?” she asked dryly.

“That is sufficient.” But he planned to watch both Julia and the man until he was assured of Julia’s safety.

“The problem is in the back,” Julia said. “If you’ll follow me…”

Tristan followed. He almost smiled when her cheeks reddened as she entered the bath chamber. He did gloat. Both of her shoes were strewn haphazardly across the floor. She quickly stuffed her feet inside.

“What exactly is the problem?” Morgan asked.

Julia explained about the moaning pipes and unflushable toilet. “Think you can fix it?”

“I know I can.” Morgan jumped into the work, chatting the entire time, inquiring amicably about Julia and her life, asking if she was happy and other such things that were none of his business.

It irritated Tristan that the man showed such interest in
his
woman. What irritated him more, however, was the fact that the man accomplished something he himself had been unable to do, making the plumber appear a hero in Julia’s eyes. The cursed man fixed the pipes, just as he had claimed.

Even when his job was done, Morgan continued to
smile up at Julia, laughing and talking about people and places Tristan knew not. Tristan did not like it. He suppressed the urge to pound the plumber’s face into the cracked tile floor.
Let us see how well the man smiles when his teeth are ground into powder.

Contrary to her initial unease, Julia was perfectly content with Morgan; not the shy, nervous woman she had once described herself. She no longer seemed weighed down with self-doubts. She appeared confident. While he was proud of her inner growth, he did not like her ease with this other man.

By the time Morgan left, Tristan was seething with emotion. He was not jealous. Nay, he was furious. Julia was
his,
and he would not allow another man to poach on his territory.

Julia quickly eased him from his upset. When the last customer left, she wrapped her arms around his neck, drew him to her and whispered all the things she wanted to do to him. Only to him. By the time she uttered her last word, a sheen of sweat covered his entire body.

“Let us go home,” he managed.

Her lips lifted in a slow smile, and she nodded.