Collision Course - By Zoe Archer Page 0,19

both of them fierce and demanding.

Kell’s kiss moved through her body in hot, humid waves. Her breasts grew heavy and sensitive. Her pussy dampened, a fast clench of need that wanted to be filled.

She felt his large hand cupping the back of her head, angling her to take his kiss deeper. And when she did, he groaned his praise.

Using strength gleaned from desire, Mara pushed him back so he sat in his chair. He went willingly, understanding her intent. She straddled him, her arms wrapped around the width of his shoulders. His hand still held the back of her head, while his other hand gripped her waist hard. Mara pressed her hypersensitive body to his and found that he was as tight and solid as she’d imagined. But it was better, so much better, than in her imagination. He had a fighter’s body and a fighter’s strength, and all of it, all of his strength and fire, was focused on her.

Her skirt rode up. Her hips pressed into his. Beneath the searing heat of her pussy, she felt him. The hard, thick length of his cock pressing into her. He wanted inside her. She wanted him there. She rocked her hips into him, and even through the fabric of her panties and his pants, the shaft of his cock edged between her folds. God, she was so wet. Wet for him. He had to feel it.

“Yes.” His voice rumbled into her mouth, as if in answer to her silent speculation.

The world tilted as he leaned her back, pressing her against the control panel. His thighs were hard beneath her, solid. The hand at her waist released, then she felt the blazing trails of his fingers drifting down between them. In a moment, he would touch her, and she knew with total clarity that the instant he did, she would come, and come hard. And then she wanted him to fuck her right against the control panel.

The comm line shrilled. “Who needs the sex acrobats at Folco’s Bar when we have a show right here?”

Both she and Kell froze, trapped in place. Slowly, very slowly, Mara turned her head to look out the cockpit window.

Standing outside the ship were half a dozen grinning men. One of them wore a comm headpiece. When he caught her looking at him, he gave a cheerful wave.

Mara gave him the finger.

With a groan that was part animal, part man, but all frustration, Kell’s big hands wrapped around her waist and lifted her up. He deposited her back in the captain’s seat. For a moment, all she could do was sit in dazed, thwarted wonder, her lips swollen, her pussy still extraordinarily wet and wanting.

Kell’s hands knotted into fists and pressed hard into the control panel. “I’ve got a rule,” he gritted. “I don’t fuck in front of an audience.” He eyed her. “Cover up.”

The implication being that if she sat around with her skirt bunched around her waist, revealing her damp panties, he just might break that rule. She tugged her skirt down.

She glanced over at him. He looked tight as a sonic bow, ready to snap. And the thick shape of his erection under his pants drew her gaze. Her mouth watered.

“Look somewhere else, damn it.”

She had to get away from him or else she would attack him. Just rip his clothes off and screw him in front of the dock crew and whoever else might be watching. Once she was fairly certain her legs wouldn’t collapse out from under her, Mara stood. Still, she found herself a little unstable as she tottered into the galley. A few moments later, Kell joined her, and he looked just as volatile and unsatisfied as she felt.

He stared at her, then took a deep, shuddering breath and dragged his hands through his hair. It stood up in sharp spikes, making him look even more like a blade. She knew what she must look like. Eyes glazed, mouth red. A woman on the verge of an orgasm. A woman who wanted the man who stood before her, his big body faintly shaking.

But she reminded herself of where she was and why she was here. And her white hot arousal began to slowly, slowly cool.

“This is where the mission truly begins,” she said.

He nodded, a quick, clipped movement.

She moved toward the door, placing a hand on her plasma pistol. “Be ready. Beskidt Bay is a dangerous place.”

His own hand hovered above the plasma weapon strapped to his thigh. Yet