Overlord: The Fringe, Book 2 (41 page)

She rested against him for a moment, then pulled back and looked right into his eyes. Teasingly slow, she slipped her tongue to his mouth. “Are you ready, Michael?”

“Ready for—”

In one smooth motion, she impaled herself on him with a shuddering gasp. Slick heat engulfed his straining cock. The intense pleasure of her grasping core caused him to utter a cross between a bellow and a growl.

“Don’t move or I’ll stop.” She took his face in her hands and looked right into his eyes. “I’m in charge this time.”

Rotating her hips in a tight circle, she clutched his cock even tighter. Her eyes were half-closed, slightly unfocused, dazed, and dreamy.

He didn’t dare move. He had to grit his teeth to control the overwhelming urge to thrust his hips. The silk that bound his hands began to chaff. He wanted to work his way out but the silk of Mary bound him to hold still.

“Very good.” Placing her hands on his shoulders, she lifted and lowered herself with excruciating slowness. “Am I hot enough for you? Tight enough? Wet enough?”

Her intense gaze, her whispered voice, her wicked questions, and the rich scent of her caused his penis to twitch within her.

“You moved.” She began to climb off him.

“Granted.” He begged her back with his eyes.

She shivered, smiled and again raised and lowered her body to his.

When he grimaced and grasped the back of the bench hard enough to bend it, she grinned. And stopped.

Through gritted teeth he ordered, “Untie my hands.”

“What’s the magic word?” she asked teasingly, rotating her hips. A skewer of tight pleasure swirled down the straining length of him.

“Please.”

“No.” She smiled and rocked slower, letting him come almost all the way out of her before she plunged down again.

Sublime torture. The scent of love and desire rose to a peak he thought he’d passed long ago, but Mary worked his need higher. Just when he thought he could stand no more, she made him
beg
for more.

Her scent changed, as did the rhythm of her breath to his ear. Faster and faster she went. Tighter and tighter she clung to him.

“Set me free.” To his own ears, his voice sounded part command and part desperate plea.

“Do the same for me.” Fumbling at his restraints, she helped him push the silk shirt away.

Grasping her bottom, he helped her lift and lower her body against him as he pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit. Gauging her reaction by her eyes, her breath, the scent of her, he worked them both to the peak.

Mary climaxed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, hanging on to him as he stood, gave one final deep thrust, and surrendered. His body shuddered as he finally found release. The simultaneous climax filled the air around them with a scent of love that consumed them both.

Standing, with her curled around him, he tried to catch his breath, but he couldn’t, not with the maddening scent enveloping them. Panting, he pulled her tight and sat heavily on the bench, with her still clinging to him.

He tilted her face up. “Marry me.” Right from his heart, he asked her for what he wanted most.

She pulled back and looked away. “No, Michael you.”

It took a moment to sink in. “Don’t make a silly joke.” Cupping her face, he caught her gaze. “Not after what we just shared.”

She swallowed hard.

“I want you to marry me, Mary. Be my wife.”

A thousand denials sprang up in her eyes. “And what? Live like a prisoner on your world?”

“We don’t have to live there. We can go anywhere you want. We can do anything. With your amazing mind, my money, Duster’s paranoia, why, we could run the whole of the Fringe, if we were so inclined.” He kissed her quick. “We could take Windmere and Sangfroid, and build them into a collective of independent worlds.”

“You really believe that.” She looked deep into his eyes.

“I know it.”

She leaned a little closer. “We don’t have to be married to do that.”

“I know, but getting married is the first step in building a family.”

Her eyes went wide, and she pulled back. “A family?”

Wanting everything on the table, he nodded. “I never had a family, but I’ve always wanted one. I never knew my mother, just my father, and he wasn’t much of a father.” When tears welled up in his eyes, he wanted to look away but didn’t.

“Did he beat you?” Mary lifted her hand to touch the tear that fell down his cheek.

Unable to speak, he nodded.

She pulled him close, nestling his head against her shoulder. Stroking her hands through his hair, she offered comfort and acceptance.

“My father would punch my arm. If I cried, he would call me a pansy and tell me to toughen up. If I didn’t cry, he’d punch me until I did.”

“You couldn’t win.”

“No.”

Mary wrapped herself tight, embracing him with her whole body.

He clung to her as if she were a mast in a storming sea.

“At fifteen, I realized I was bigger than my father. I told him to stop, but he only laughed and kept hitting me. I damn near beat him to death, then ran away.” When he shuddered, she gripped him tighter but said nothing.

Holding her, he let his tears fall, feeling safe in doing so with her. “I never looked back, but one morning I woke up and realized I was just like him. I hurt innocents and blamed them for their suffering. I was a loathsome slaver.”

She forced him to look into her eyes. “You stopped.”

“But I traded in humans.”

“You stopped.”

He shook his head.

“I love you, Michael.” Holding his face between her hands, she very simply said, “I love all of you. The good, the bad, the past, the future. Don’t you dare let me love a man who doesn’t love himself.”

Her forgiveness washed over him, cleansing and soothing. He closed his eyes on tears, so afraid to believe that anyone could love him.

“Like you, I hate what you did, but I understand, and don’t hate you.” Softly, she kissed his forehead. “Do you hate me?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No?” Forcing him to look at her, she grimaced. “I hurt people too. And I stole. For a factitious cause.”

“But your intentions—”

“Were no better than yours!” she interrupted, shaking his head gently. “It’s not so black and white. Everything has shades of gray.”

He pulled her tight and finally forgave himself for his corrupt past.

“I’ve always wanted a family.” Her voice turned wistful. “A mom and dad, brothers and sisters, all of that. But I don’t think we can have that.”

Crashing, burning, his heart plummeted. “Why?”

“I’m part IWOG. For all we know, my father could be the CEO of the InnerWorld Government. How could you ever trust me?”

“Because I know you, and I love you.” The plaintive tone of his voice must have touched her because a lone tear fell from the corner of her eye. With a press of his lips, he kissed the tear away. “I want you to have my name, Mary.”

“Mary may not even be my real first name.”

“I don’t care. I know my name and if you want my name to be yours—”

“Mary Parker sounds so—unassuming.” She frowned.

“Woe be unto him who underestimates you.” He stroked a strand of purple hair from her flushed cheek.

She flashed him a sudden, sneaky grin.

“What?” He nestled her tight.

“Well, I was thinking. If you’re the Overlord, and I marry you, wouldn’t that make me the Overlady?” She giggled.

“Not a chance.”

“No?”

“Because there’s no way in hell this is ever going to be over, lady.” He gave her firm bottom a pinch.

She squealed, wriggling enough to cause his body to stir.

“Where do you want to go, my lady?”

“Home.”

“Taiga?” he growled, surprised.

“No, Windmere.” She leaned in and teased a lingering smooch out of him. “Let’s see what we can do about that prison of yours.”

He used his wrist com to instruct his pilot to take them home. “Windmere won’t be a prison with you there.”

“Hope not. If it is, I’ll have to break us both out.”

“I have no doubt that you could.”

About the Author

Anitra Lynn McLeod has been writing since she was twelve. Creating unique worlds is her forte, combining unlikely genres such as historical, fantasy, futuristic and erotic into a steampunky—and steamy—brew.

Reading, writing, and white-water rafting are the three things she enjoys the most. You can visit her at www.AnitraMcLeod.com, write to her at [email protected], or fan her at www.facebook.com/pages/Anitra-Lynn-McLeod

You can also follow her on twitter @AnitraMcLeod

Or if all else fails, you can also snail mail her:

Anitra Lynn McLeod

PO Box 16631

SLC, UT 84116-0631

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Look for these titles by Anitra Lynn McLeod

Now Available:

The Fringe

Thief

Onic Empire

Wicked Empress

Coming Soon:

Dark Empress

On the edge of freedom lies a dangerous love.

Thief

© 2010 Anitra Lynn McLeod

The Fringe, Book 1

Nothing has ever come easy for Jace Lawless, captain of the salvage vessel
Mutiny
. Forced into thievery after a virus unleashed by the InnerWorld Government killed his family, only one ambition burns at the back of his mind. Kill the next IWOG officer he has at his mercy.

Bargaining over goods with a middleman isn’t exactly his strong suit. But who in his right mind spends an entire salvage job’s profits on a woman, even if she has a body built for sin and eyes so fathomless a man could lose himself in them? He must be getting soft.

Once Kraft realizes Jace expects only the “cook” part of their cook-whore contract, she sets out to change his antiquated ideas about women. A challenge she relishes, especially if it earns her the freedom and money to get her own ship. Her big mistake is letting down her guard.

Shameless flirting only intensifies the itch to ride Jace hard and put him away wet—several times. It’s an itch it would be dangerous to scratch. Exposing her heart could reveal her secret, one that the still-grieving Jace must never know…or showing her mercy will be the last thing on his mind.

Warning: Contains a celibate ship captain who can’t abide swearing, a kick-ass woman with a marshmallow heart, a motley crew of misfits, interstellar battles, thwarted groping, sensual seduction, and a total bastard who owns his own planet.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Thief:

Kraft willingly cooked, willingly fought, and claimed she would willingly whore. By her own honor, she offered the full of herself up to him, but Jace sensed that she expected him to restrain himself by his own dictates of honor. Asking her to cook and fight was one thing, but asking her to whore? Well, that was an entirely different matter.

When she saw him approach, Kraft stood at full attention with her face demurely lowered. All at once he felt a foot taller than her when he wasn’t.

He’d ordered her to his bunk as a spur-of-the-moment way to get her to stop defying his authority. He never thought Kraft would actually obey. Now that she had, he wasn’t sure what to do with her. Feeling awkward and shy, he thought the first thing he should do was explain and apologize.

Embarrassment at her having saved him and his crew fueled his need to remind her and himself that he was in charge. As he drew close to her, he longed to reach out and touch her face. On a rush of emotion, he wanted to confess he didn’t always know what to do, or how to proceed, and sometimes acted rashly, fueled more by his heart than his head.

As a captain, Jace wanted to ask for her help and make her his partner in crime. Perversely, he felt he shouldn’t need her help and should make her his partner in bed. As a man, Jace wanted to possess the full of Kraft. He wanted to protect her even though he knew he couldn’t. Worse, he knew he didn’t have to coddle Kraft, which only increased his longing to claim her as his bedwarmer. Beyond that corral of confusion, Jace knew Kraft shouldn’t have to protect him.

Instead of saying anything, he unlocked his bunk with a slap of his hand to the wall com. The metal catch released with a soft snick that vibrated the floor below their feet.

Her braless breasts jiggled against the worn yellow fabric of his secondhand shirt. The enticing movement caught his attention, and he forgot what he intended to say. Instead, he found himself imagining what she would look like topless.

“If you’d like, I could put the harem outfit on.”

His gaze went from her chest to her mouth.

Lifting her lowered face a fraction, Kraft met his gaze, and whispered, “Someone placed the costume in my closet.” She flashed him that slow, lazy and sexy smile.

Jace had no idea who put the outfit in her closet, but he wouldn’t mind seeing her in that getup again. Fluffpink clinging and exposing the full promise of her undeniably strong and sexy body was certainly worth a second look. After seeing her in the revealing outfit, he knew her nipples were large and toffee-dark against her skin. He remembered the snug slit of her innie bellybutton drawing his gaze down to the wide pleasure of her hips. Between her lush thighs, he would find another snug—

“Should I fetch that costume, Captain?”

Her seductive, superior attitude dispelled all his thoughts of apologizing. Kraft didn’t worry one bit about him taking charge, because she assumed she had the upper hand. His blushing and backing off made her think she could say or do anything, and he’d just turn away. Normally he would have, but not this time.

Slipping a finger under her chin, he lifted her face until she met his gaze. Fathomless black eyes held a smirk that he wanted to quash in a sudden rush. For the first time, she didn’t flinch away from his touch. She melted to him as he stroked his finger across her full, sensuous lips. More than anything in the Void, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to taste every bit of her luscious mouth. Kraft had a body built for sin, but she had a mouth destined for seduction.