The Pleasure Slave (6 page)

He wanted Julia, and he liked not the fact that she found him unappealing. But oh, the challenge of changing her mind enticed him on every level.

His friend Roake would have laughed right now had he been here. The scarred, battle-hardened warrior had often commented that Tristan needed a refusal or two. Built character, he said.

“Do you find me ugly?”

“Ugly?” Julia stared up at him. How could he possibly think she found him ugly? He was like a nineteenth-century porcelain hand-painted dessert plate topped with chocolate éclairs. “You aren’t ugly.”

His baffled and slightly wounded expression didn’t waver.

She knew exactly how it felt to be found unappealing and lacking, and the thought that
she
had caused someone to feel that way pained her greatly. “I mean it, Tristan. You aren’t ugly, and I’m so sorry I gave you that impression. To be honest, you’re one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen.”

“I see.”

She lifted her lashes and looked up at him imploringly. “I truly am sorry that I upset you and made you feel unattractive. I didn’t mean to. Honest.”

Tristan tried not to let her ardent apology affect him, but it seeped into his bones like the sweet nectar of
gartina
petals. As he had never witnessed its like, such genuine concern for his feelings mystified him. “If I am so desirable, explain why you do not like me in
that
way.”

“You’re just so…well, you carry a sword.” Finger shaky, she pointed to his talon.

Ah, she feared his mighty blade.

The double entendre made him smile inwardly. Women of every world had adored his weapon, clinging to the danger and excitement it added to their seduction. For Julia’s benefit, he uttered a long-suffering sigh, gripped the talon by its handle and unhooked it from his belt.

“One blade is hardly a thing to fear,” he told her. “When I lived in Imperia, I strapped weapons all over my body.”

“Good Lord. Why?”

“To execute my enemies, of course.”

She blinked. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Worry not.” He smiled reassuringly. “You are not my enemy.”

“I’m thankful for that, at least.”

“You will soon be thankful for many things,” he muttered. The silvery metal glistened as he laid his weapon across the table—close enough that he had only to reach out if he needed it. He arched a brow. “Does this satisfy you?”

Her relief pounded through the room like a palpable force. “Yes, thank you.”

“You are most welcome.” With her one objection to him obliterated, she would want him in
that
way. He was sure of it. She confirmed his thoughts by moistening her take-me-now lips with the tip of her tongue.

Unable to stop the action, he drew in a breath. He became trapped in her sorceress-like spell, craving another glimpse of that pink tongue, unable to blink, much less look away. His groin tightened painfully with need, and he fought a wave of confusion. More than six hundred years had passed since he’d experienced an impromptu erection—and now he did because of one glorious little tongue. ’Twas shocking, that.

“Now that we’ve got everything settled,” she said, reaching down and gripping his jewelry box in her hands, “we can go to bed. If you’ll follow me…” She turned and strolled away, swaying her hips in rhythm to a mating call.

A call he had every intention of answering.

W
ITH ONLY A BACKWARD GLANCE
to his talon, Tristan trailed behind Julia. He continued to watch her buttocks as she moved. Very nice. Very nice, indeed. By Elliea, he wanted those hips under him…over him…beside him.

He was actually excited about bedding a woman. He was still shocked by that fact.

By her next words, she was obviously as excited as he was.

“I am so ready for bed,” she muttered.

“So am I, little dragon,” he said. “So am I.”

They passed through a room crammed with treasures. There were paintings, dolls and books. Jewelry, pots, pans and glassware. Had he not been so eager to lose himself in Julia’s body, he would have wanted to explore this haven. But that, he decided, would have to wait until he and Julia found release. Twice.

Abruptly she stopped in the center of the room and turned to face him. “Close your eyes, please.”

He did so immediately, without question, and hated
himself for it, but over the years he had learned his lessons well. Obey the spell and, in turn, his
guan ren,
or suffer. He heard the rustle of paper, the scrape of…something. What was the woman doing?

“You may open your eyes now,” she said.

She was standing before him as if she hadn’t moved, yet she was no longer holding the box, and she was blinking up at him as if she expected him to balk. He didn’t. How could he? Hiding the box was the action of an intelligent woman. He’d lost count of how many greedy, pleasure-minded women had stolen him—mayhap because he no longer cared who he belonged to.

“This way,” she said, continuing her journey. She led him into a dark, narrow corridor. There were no trinkets here, only candles lined against the walls. A soft, sweet fragrance, like sugar and spice, overlaid the air. From there, Julia showed him into a tiny bedchamber.

“This is where you’ll sleep,” she told him.

He glanced around, taking in the furnishing. A redwood dragon cabinet, a mirrored dressing table, ethereal wine-colored drapes and turquoise decorative pillows. “What type of animal is that?” he asked, indicating to the far wall where an alabaster beast sprouted green leaves.

“That’s an elephant plant stand.”

“And what is that?” Frowning, dreading her answer, he pointed to a small boxlike structure.

“That is the bed,” she told him.

Just as he’d suspected. “A child would not fit in such a contraption, much less two people.”

“You—you’re sleeping alone,” she said. “The bed
is
big enough for one.”

She began chewing on her mouth, an action he was beginning to loathe almost as much as he liked it. Her lips were spectacular—lush and soft and pink. They were the kind of lips that made a man willing to battle a thousand armies for a single kiss, and Tristan swore to Elliea the next time she nibbled on those delicate morsels, he was going to soothe them the only way he knew how—with his tongue.

“Nay. I am not sleeping alone. I am sleeping with you.”

Her eyes darted around the room like those of a trapped animal searching for escape. “I thought you understood the sleeping arrangements.”

“I understand that I do not want to pleasure you in such a small setting. We must find larger accommodations since I plan to bring you to climax over and over again.”

“Climax?” She made a strangling sound in the back of her throat, and even folded her hands around her neck. “Over and over again?” More strangling sounds.

Had he frightened her to the point of choking? Concern rushing through him, he pounded her between her shoulder blades.

“I’m…fine…thank…you…Stop!” she managed between blows.

He did as instructed, though his palm lingered on her back. “You are unharmed?”

She arched her back, then twisted about at the hips, maneuvering each section of her spine. “Except for a few broken bones,” she said dryly, “I’m okay.”

Broken bones? Tristan ran his hands up and down her body. And what a body it was, all soft curves and feminine roundness. Her shoulders were small and fragile, her hips soft and voluptuous. Her breasts were full and heavy, and the plump mounds overflowed in his hands.

Were her nipples pink or brown or a color in between?

He caressed one peaked tip with his fingertip. She sucked in a breath but never once uttered a protest. Encouraged, he traced his finger over the other tip. “Your bones do not feel broken,” he whispered, letting the warmth of his breath fan her ear.

“I was joking,” she said, the words barely escaping.

“So you are well?”

She nodded, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Promise.”

There she was, chewing on her mouth again. Always a man of his word, Tristan leaned down until his lips were only a rustle away from hers. “This I am glad to hear…because now I am going to taste you.”

She didn’t pull from his grasp, nor did she attempt to push him away. She merely blinked up at him as if he’d spoken a foreign language. Then her eyes widened. “I’m not sure—”

“No lecture.” His fingers tangled in her hair, dragging her deeper into his embrace. “Not now.”

She gulped and tore her gaze away.

“Look at me, Julia.”

Slowly, so slowly, her long, sooty lashes swept upward until she met his stare. He knew what she saw in his eyes. Hunger. Raw, primal hunger. He wanted her, wanted to forget his surroundings, wanted to forget who
and what he was, wanted to lose himself if only for a moment and find strength in the familiarity of a woman’s arms.

“My tongue burns for the taste of you. My hands itch for the feel of you. And my shaft screams for the core of you. Let me have you.”

Lust flared in
her
eyes, causing the deep, dazzling green irises to darken and the lids to lower halfway. She was desire incarnate just then, and an invisible force seemed to draw her closer, closer still until his hardness nestled her softness. Her exotic scent, like moonlight and stars, wafted to his nostrils.

He moved his hands lower and palmed the soft skin at the back of her neck, guiding her face inches from his. Her small, soft body fit perfectly against him, and he knew instinctively that he would fit even better inside her. Once, twice, his lips brushed hers, lingering, hoping to absorb her sweetness.

His breath caressed her nose, her cheek, as he waited for an invitation to partake of what waited within. When she didn’t open, his tongue flicked out and traced the seam of her lips. She moaned, a low, shimmering sound that weakened his knees as it washed over him in slow, erotic waves.

“Open for me,” he said.

Surprisingly she did so without hesitation.

His tongue slipped easily inside, and he began a slow dance of touch and retreat. She moved with his mouth gently at first, as if exploring and learning, but soon her dam of restraint collapsed and she increased the pace.
She thrust hard and fast. Her lips meshed against his, and her arms locked around his back, her nails clawing at his flesh. She moaned, trying to sink all the way past his skin. Her taste deepened with passion, a heady combination of savage desire and untapped wildness.

“Delicious,” he whispered, forcing himself to disengage from her for a moment to gain perspective. “I want more.”

“More. Lots more.” She jerked him back to her, holding him tight and keeping him close to her as she rocked her hips forward, sank back and rocked again—no longer acting the innocent.

She was feral with the force of her need. His brow furrowed with confusion. He’d never before encountered a woman who erupted so quickly. “Julia?”

“Don’t stop,” she said. At each point of contact, each time the apex of her thighs brushed his erection, her hands clutched him tighter, a little more desperately. No matter Julia’s former protests to the contrary, these were the actions of a woman in need of immediate fulfillment.

She liked him in
that
way.

Satisfaction swept through him as he imagined fulfilling her in every fashion he knew.

“I can’t get enough,” she panted, her breathing labored, her eyes still closed. She continued to gyrate against him. “You promised more. I want more.”

Her words went straight to his shaft, making him harden and swell to the point of pain. He knew she was wet, so wet he would have no trouble sliding his width inside of her.

“I’ll give you everything,” he said. His own breaths were coming a little too quickly. “This I swear to you.”

This time when he claimed her mouth, he did not have to request that she open for him. Eagerly her tongue swept out to meet him, rolling and sparring with his. Even their teeth clashed with the force of their need. She nipped at his bottom lip as if she wanted to devour him. Her legs entwined with his, and she rubbed more forcefully against his erection. She gripped his buttocks, then reached around and cupped his heavy sac through his drocs.

He sucked in a breath. She was like liquid fire and a wild storm combined. At that moment he wanted to push so deep within her she could only gasp his name. He wanted to feel her inner walls clench as she searched for release, wanted to feel that powerful surge of pleasure while he held her naked and spent himself inside her.

He wanted all of that from one simple kiss and a few caresses. Inconceivable.

A kiss shouldn’t be this good, this
magical,
he thought. A kiss shouldn’t consume him, shouldn’t make him yearn for impossible things. But it did. Suddenly he yearned. With each press of their tongues, with each brush of their bodies, he yearned for their souls to connect, for their hearts to beat in sync.

He yearned for forever. No, surely not.

He had never felt this…pull before. This
need
for another to be a part of him. Surely this had nothing to do with Julia herself, he rationalized, but everything to do with a man’s desire to conquer.

Aye. That was it. Little Julia was proving to be more
enticing, more
exciting,
than he’d first imagined, and his warrior’s instinct demanded he conquer her. That was all. She might taste like ambrosia and feel softer than
gartina
petals, but she meant nothing more to him than the rest of his women.

She was not special.

Determined now to prove to himself that he could take her and remain emotionless, he trailed kisses down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, all the while keeping his mind detached.
She is nothing,
he told himself,
merely a
guan ren.

“I’m going to remove your clothing now,
nixa.
”

“Yes, I—” Julia paused. Something wasn’t right, she realized. Something was different now. He sounded cold and callous, completely uncaring.

She shoved her way out of the sensual fire raging inside her mind and slowly regained her common sense. Details danced within her grasp, then solidified. Tristan wasn’t breathing hard, wasn’t even winded, while she labored for every breath. He appeared perfectly skilled, dispassionate and restrained while she arched and writhed for more.

His expression was impassive, his eyes devoid of emotion, his lips firm, hard. He did not look like a passionate lover. He looked…removed. Like a slave doing his master’s bidding. He didn’t really want her, she realized. He merely played a part. Nausea and embarrassment churned in her stomach.

With calm, sure movements, he began to work her shirt over her head.

“No.” Julia jerked backward, away from Tristan and the magnetic force of his body.

I’m an idiot.
Why hadn’t she pushed him away the first moment he touched her? But she already knew the answer. When his hands had moved over her body checking for injuries, she’d found herself confronting every fantasy her mind had ever conjured. Pure sensation, raw maleness. Total desire.

How she’d craved—how she
still
craved—more of his caresses, more of his taste. Lord, he had stroked his tongue across her lips while his hands kneaded her. Tingles and need had shot straight through her like the lightning bolt she’d wanted God to strike her with. Desire had pooled deep in her belly, between her legs, and her nipples had pearled tightly. She’d simply reacted.

For the first time, she’d known true, consuming desire. Every cell in her body had gone on alert, ready for sensations she didn’t quite understand but wanted to. Desperately. His flavor…well, chocolate didn’t compare. He’d moved his tongue, body and hands so expertly, bringing optimum pleasure. As she remembered, a dreamy sound of promise and passion slipped past her lips. She craved another kiss, another taste. Would do almost anything to experience one more. Just one more kiss…

Julia blinked, realizing she was once again losing herself in Tristan, and this time he hadn’t even touched her! How could one man affect her so strongly? And how in God’s name could Tristan remain so unaffected?

Was she
that
undesirable?

I am,
she thought, battling a sudden torrent of self-
pity and sadness.
I truly am.
If she’d had more experience, she might have bolstered her confidence with memories of all the men she’d left in satisfied comas of sexual bliss. But she didn’t. And she couldn’t. Tristan probably had more experience than most porn stars, while she kissed like a ninety-year-old grandmother suffering from heart disease.