The Assassin's Salvation (Mandrake Company) (24 page)

Sergei was exercising, hanging upside down from the curl-up bar again, when the door chime sounded. After the meeting with the captain, he had thought of working off his lust with his hand, as Hazel had more or less suggested, but the last time he had seen Jamie, she’d had blood smearing her face and a torn shirt. That was the image that filled his mind when he thought of her, and it made him want to hurt people, not get off. Granted, he had already killed the person who had attacked her, but there was the mission to the planet to think of. That Laframboise woman was ultimately responsible for Jamie being attacked, so he would drive a dagger into her chest with relish. Knowing she had been a counselor in the Fleet would only make it that much more satisfying.

“Come in,” Sergei said.

He couldn’t imagine who would come by his room this late, but maybe it was Mandrake. Maybe he had changed his mind and wanted to
order
Sergei to take someone other than Jamie on the mission.

When the door slid aside, Sergei’s breath caught. Even upside-down, he had no trouble recognizing his guest.

“Jamie,” he blurted.

He hung there stupidly, stunned that she had come, then worried as to why she had come. To tell him to stay away from her? To tell him he was an idiot? That she didn’t want anything to do with his mission?

“Sergei,” she said softly, hesitantly. “Are you, uhm, busy?” She stared at him, doubtlessly wondering why he was hanging upside down.

“No. Just passing the time.” He tried a quick smile, then flipped down, twisting so he landed facing her. Her hair, usually back in a braid or two, hung about her face, wavy and disheveled, but attractively so. She had washed and changed clothes since he had seen her last, and there was no sign of the blood. The doctor must have given her something to help with the swelling, too, because her cut lip looked fine, and a bruise on her throat was the only sign of the attack.

Realizing he was staring, Sergei shrugged apologetically. But she wasn’t looking at his face and didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze was lower, toward his bare chest. For a minute, his fantasy of her licking his belly—and other things—leaped to his thoughts, and his groin swelled, pressing against his trousers. He barely kept from rolling his eyes at himself. Hazel had been right. He
did
radiate lust.

“Sorry,” Sergei said and headed for the bed where he had left his shirt. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

Jamie stepped forward and caught his wrist before he could pick up the shirt. The wrist had to be the least erogenous zone on the body, but her touch sent another surge of desire through him. She looked up at him, her eyes large and wholesome, and he gulped, certain she knew his every lascivious thought.

“Are you planning to throw me?” he asked lightly, hoping to deflect attention from his thoughts and from the fact that there was a rocket trying to escape from his trousers.

“I…”

“I heard you’ve been tossing the boys in the intelligence department around.” Sergei couldn’t help it; he beamed at her with pride.

She flushed and looked at his chest. He hoped she wouldn’t look lower.

“That one wasn’t that intelligent,” Jamie said. “He was mostly mean.”

“Mean?” Sergei asked. It came out as a growl. He told himself she had already handled the man and didn’t need his help, but he couldn’t sublimate his protective instincts.

“Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is there… something else you want to talk about?” Sergei asked, hyperaware that she was still gazing at his chest. His naked chest. He had been working out for a while before she had come, and sweat was still dripping from his hair and running down his torso. He should put his shirt on, make an attempt to appear decent for her, but she hadn’t let go of his wrist.

“Yes,” she whispered.

She met his eyes again, a question in her own, as if she was asking for permission for something. Before he could puzzle out the what, she leaned forward and kissed his collarbone.

Her lips were lighter than the wings of a butterfly, but they were electric, sending a bolt of energy charging through his veins. An urge rushed into his mind, to pick her up and carry her to the bed, but he kept himself from moving, not the faintest hair. He didn’t want to scare her away. Her lips lingered, and she kissed him again, lowering her head as she went, following the swell of his pectoral muscle. Goosebumps formed on his damp flesh, and a delicious heat built anywhere her lips went. He longed to touch her face, to stroke her hair, but he didn’t want to interrupt her. He wanted to let her explore, to touch, to
kiss
anything she wished.

She paused and looked up at him again, her face a little worried, as if she didn’t know if he would approve. A tangle of words got bunched up on the end of his tongue, and all he could do was nod eagerly. Oh, he approved. Yes, he did.

She smiled, her lips returning to his hot skin. She found his nipple, as hard and erect as his straining shaft, and her tongue slid out, tasting the sensitive flesh around it.

He closed his eyes, nearly shuddering with pleasure—and restraint. He didn’t want to disturb her in any way, but when she took him in her mouth and sucked experimentally, it took tremendous control for him to keep his hands at his sides. Her fingers came up to rest on his waist, and his belly shivered. She kissed her way toward his other nipple, pausing at the crease between his muscles, licking up a drop of sweat beading down his chest. Seeing her sweet pink tongue brushing his skin made his eyes cross. His pelvis shifted toward her of its own accord. She took his other nipple in her mouth, sucking at it, laving it with her tongue. Eagerly. Was she… enjoying herself? It seemed presumptuous to think that, but she made pleased little noises as she attended to him, and her fingers started to knead his side.

“You taste good,” she murmured.

That admission sent blood surging through him, to all of his extremities, especially one. But his mind soared too. She
was
enjoying herself. His hand lifted, but he hesitated before touching her. He dearly wanted to stroke her face and other parts of her body, but would she mind?

Her teeth grazed his nipple, and he gasped, all thoughts fleeing his mind. The swelling in his trousers was growing painful. He lowered his hand to his waistband, wanting nothing more than to free himself and bury himself in her, but no, he wanted to make her night wonderful. To do that, he had to do more than stand there like, as Sergeant Hazel had said, a missile about to launch. But he was reacting so strongly to her touch already that his urgency made him selfish, made him think only of taking her. He didn’t want her to stop kissing him, but how could he handle her sweet explorations without exploding?

“I bet you taste good too,” Sergei rasped, his voice so hoarse he sounded like he had swallowed a bird. This wasn’t going to work—he was too hard and ready. “Jamie?” He caught her hands between his, forcing a gentleness to his grip. He wanted her to feel safe with him. He lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Do you want to be with me tonight?”

Some of the wide-eyed innocence left her face as she quirked an eyebrow at him. “Isn’t that what nipple kissing means?” Her playful candor faded and she added, “Do you… want me to be with you?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, then swallowed, trying to clear that hoarse lust from his throat. “But…”

“Are you afraid you’ll have trouble?”

Trouble?
He would have no trouble whatsoever. He—

“Because of what happened before?” Jamie added. “With the… uhm, in the Fleet?”

“Oh. No. I mean, not with you.”

This time both of her brows rose. “Not with me? How can you be sure?”

“Because you’re sweet and nice, and I’m fairly certain you didn’t bring ropes, electric prods, and branding irons.” He didn’t want to talk about the past, not now, so he smiled and kissed her hands again, his fingers lingering on her knuckles as he watched her eyes for a reaction. He didn’t want her to be repelled or—worse—afraid that he would have some violent panic attack. Worrying her was the last thing he wanted. And he knew from experience that she wasn’t in danger of anything from him. “You wouldn’t even throw me,” he added, still smiling.

“Sergei,” she whispered, her eyes full of emotion. Not fear, but empathy.

Jamie leaned into him, against the bulge in his trousers, and he winced, not wanting to spear her, but she didn’t seem to notice. She rose up and kissed him on the lips this time, sweet and hot and beautiful all at once. And arousing. He kissed her back, sliding his tongue along her lips, the taste warm and salty from her explorations of his chest. Before he realized what he was doing, he slipped one of his hands around her back and pulled her closer, until her breasts pressed against him, the fabric of her shirt not hiding their swell, the peak of her nipples nudging him. Her lips parted for a breath or to utter some word, and his tongue dove in, hungry and eager, wanting to be in her. She drew back slightly. Startled?

Gulping, Sergei broke the kiss. She didn’t pull her chest away from him, but she did have an uncertain look. Too hard, too fast. He had to back off.

“Sorry,” he whispered, struggling to get his breath under control. He lifted a shaking hand to the side of her face and stroked his fingers down her smooth cheek. A hint of a smile returned to her face. “I’ve been on edge for the last week.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

She didn’t know? Truly?

“Wanting you,” Sergei confessed. He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, fighting even now to not give in to his desires, hardly believing she was there, in his arms of her own volition. “In the spa… on the judo mat… in the shuttle… standing behind you on those sidewalks. Every time you’re near, and in my dreams at night even when you’re not.” He kept himself from going into details about what he did when he woke up from those dreams of her. He had probably already admitted too much, made her think he was some horny stalker. He risked opening his eyes to gauge her reaction.

“I wanted you in the spa,” she said.

He almost laughed, but his body was coiled too tight for that release of tension. “When you were drugged? Good to know.”

“You said the spice just took away one’s inhibitions.” She shrugged, her breasts moving against him, the fabric of her shirt rasping against his nipples. He was too on edge, as he’d said. Every little movement from her forced him to reach deep to summon control, to stay still, to not dive back into her. “I was very disappointed that you weren’t the one giving me that massage,” she added, smiling, unaware of his libidinous thoughts.

“I’d like to give you one. I’d also like to make your first…” He hesitated. She hadn’t told him, so he shouldn’t presume. “
Is
it your first time?”

This time she hesitated before whispering, “Yes. Is that all right? I know I’m not experienced, but just tell me what you like, and I’ll try it.”

Her earnest smile nearly undid him, or maybe it was the cascade of images that flashed through his mind at her offer.

“Good,” Sergei croaked, “but I want to make sure
you
like it too. Here.” With great reluctance, he separated himself from her enough to guide her to the bed. He sat on the edge beside her. He was tempted to ask her to stay there for a few minutes, while he ran down the corridor to the lavatory to take care of his needs, so he could more calmly attend to hers, but he was terrified she would regain her sanity at any moment and leave. Besides, he selfishly wanted her next to him, the heat of her body against his, the clean smell of her skin teasing his nostrils. He slid his hand to the clasp of his damnably tight trousers. “Do you mind if I take care of myself first?” he asked, watching her face, not certain if she would understand or be offended that he wanted to jerk off in front of her. He licked his lips. “Then we can—I can take my time and please you. Then later, we can both come together. If you want.” And he would make sure she
did
want it.

She slid her hand across the top of his thigh, and his groin twitched in response, straining toward her. She laid her hand on his, and he thought she might want to stop him.

But she smiled up at him, almost impishly. “Maybe I can help.”

“Oh, I have no doubt of that,” he whispered, aware of the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

She slid her finger down the seam of his fastener, and his penis sprang free, nudging at her hand as if it had a mind of its own. He snorted. It certainly had control of his mind at the moment. He watched Jamie’s face, not quite believing she wasn’t pulling away from him, scared or off-put. But she was looking from his chest to his crotch and, dare he hope, admiring everything? She lowered her head to his nipple and took him in her teeth again, flicking him with her tongue.

Sergei groaned and wrapped his hand around his straining shaft, so relieved for her permission to find release. More than that, her eagerness to help him filled him with such gratitude toward her that he couldn’t have expressed it if asked to.

He thought about digging out the lube in his bag, but he didn’t want to disturb her, not when his body was quivering with each suck and nip from her lips and teeth. Her hair fell across his chest, stirring a thousand delicious sensations. He slid his hand up and down his cock. It wouldn’t take long, not with his water so close to boiling already. But having her there, licking him and pausing to watch him, it made his whole body rejoice, and he found himself not wanting to hurry. He leaned back, his abdomen tensing to keep himself partially upright. He wanted to watch her and himself. He curled his free hand around the back of her head. His fingers tangled in her soft hair, and he massaged her scalp and neck, longing to let her know how pleased he was to have her there. Words were far too hard to manage.

She kept stroking his nipples, first one, then the other, her hair dusting his chest. As he worked himself, she sucked in rhythm with him. She made contented noises at his massage, and he felt their reverberations through her lips to his stimulated skin. Her hand slid across his belly, fingers brushing the wiry hair at the top of his groin, and the new sensation sent a fresh surge of blood to his cock. Her tongue ran between his pecs and down to the taut skin of his abdomen. She nipped at the ridges of muscle, and his hand paused as he wondered—dare he wonder?—if she might go lower with her mouth. Would she think to do so? Should he ask? She’d said to ask… No, he told himself. Save that for another time. Best to finish pleasuring himself, so he could do the same for her. Licking his chest couldn’t be
that
exciting.