The Pleasure Bot (Planet Desire Book 4) (10 page)

Declan woke by
degrees—Celsius, that is.

The small warm hands that smoothed over his chest and plucked at his hair built a pleasurable heat. Not fully awake, he rolled onto his back, stretching his arms and legs wide.

Somewhere between his dreams and reality, he was sure he’d landed in a fantasy world where a dozen silken-skinned harem girls vied to provide him pleasure. One talented nymph slid her hands down his belly to cup his sex.

Blood fled from his brain and toes straight to his cock, raising his flagging sex to full staff. Warmth pooled in his loins as she caressed his balls, rolling, squeezing, gently tugging—
Christ!—mouthing
his orbs until his dream world melted away like molten rock, and he awoke.

Priscilla’s luscious bottom rose in the air as she labored over his flesh, a target too tempting not to explore.

He slid a finger between her cheeks and tickled her asshole.

Priscilla screeched—a sound that dealt his balls the most extraordinary sensation he’d ever experienced in his sexual career. He was just relieved she’d opened her mouth to scream rather than chomping down.

Priscilla peeked over her shoulder. “You’re awake.”

“A man would have to be dead not to wake up to such a delightful experience.”

Her tongue poked from between her lips, and her fingers picked at something on the tip. “A thoughtful lover would have let me use my depilatory to remove his hair.”

“This considerate lover was only thinking of your dental hygiene, love.”

At her quizzical expression, he added, “Floss.” He grinned and slapped her ass. “Why don’t you bring that delicious cunt of yours over here, and we’ll both partake of a sip of passion.”

She rolled her eyes.

“No appreciation for my eloquence?”

“Oh brother. Do you always talk this much when you first wake up?”

“Prefer action, do you?” He smoothed his hand over her rump. “Give me your clit, love.”

“Promise to shut up then?”

“Fill my mouth with cream, and I’ll be too busy licking to give you lip.”

Priscilla snickered. “Bet I’ll make you come first.”

“You’re on!”

She straddled his head—her enthusiasm making her clumsy. His nose suffered a glance from her knee, and he nearly smothered when her pussy flattened against his mouth, but soon the moist, slurpy sounds of their mutual enjoyment filled the room.

The woman had a glorious mouth. Her lips closed around the head of his cock, and she sank, taking him to the back of her throat, strafing his shaft with her teeth. He nearly forgot his part of the wager until she wriggled her ass to get his attention back to her pussy.

His palms settled on a cheek each as he guided her flesh to his mouth. He suckled on the thin, inner folds, and then tunneled his tongue as deep as he could reach.

Her delight was evident in the quivering of her thighs. He didn’t forget the ultra-sensitive bud that hardened beneath his tongue. He plied her clitoris like it was rock candy, rubbing his tongue on it, sucking it hard to draw it into his mouth.

She mewled and moaned, her hands gripping the base of his cock like the gearshift of a hovercar as she bobbed her head up and down, faster and faster.

It wasn’t enough. “Climb onto my cock!” He shoved her hips down his body.

Quickly catching his meaning, she sat up, still facing away, and centered her pussy over his cock. With a little encouragement from his hands on either side of her hips, she sank all the way down his length.

“Now what?” she asked.

He liked how pliable and eager she was this morning. All she’d needed was a little sleep to lose her grumpiness. “Massage my balls.”

Her hands reached between to caress him. He let her slide forward and back on his cock, building a delectable friction between their bodies. Her hands stayed busy gently squeezing and tugging his balls until the familiar pressure built in his groin, and he had to move.

“Crouch over me,” he gritted out.

She got her feet beneath her, which raised her on his cock, giving him just enough room to maneuver. He bent his knees and planted his feet firmly in the mattress, then slammed his hips upward, spearing into her.

Her hands clamped around his ballocks, and he bellowed, “Easy now!”

“Sorry.” Her hands relaxed their grasp, and she aided his movements with short, countering slams of her hips. “Ah, ah, Declan!” She flung her head back and moaned.

Declan continued to pound into her, lifting her body with each upward stroke. His body strained against hers as her legs trembled and finally collapsed beneath her.

He pushed her off his body and rolled her over, ignoring her gasps to settle between her thighs and sink his cock inside her heat. His strokes weren’t gentle or tentative. He reamed her pussy, his thighs and buttocks straining to hammer his cock into her body. Their groins met in wet, savage slaps. His thrusts drove her down the bed until her head and shoulders draped over the edge, but he didn’t stop—not until she cried out.

He gave a final thrust and the head of his cock exploded with a stream of come. Falling over her, he gasped for breath. He was paralyzed, unable to move a muscle. Her pussy throbbed, caressing his cock with the last ripple of her orgasm, milking him dry.

“I can’t breathe,” she gasped, her hands pushing against his shoulders.

He rumbled a protest and slowly lifted himself off her body. He didn’t move far—just to the side of her, and stretched out on his back, staring at the ceiling. The heavy scent of their sex filled his nostrils. “I think you’ve done me in.”

She scooted down the bed and flung out her arms. “I won’t move until next week,” she said, her voice rasping.

He laughed. The pair of them were a sorry, soggy mess. “Does your valet clean the bedding, too?”

“Not unless I toss it on the floor. Why?”

“Good. I was afraid it would sweep me up with the rest of the refuse.” He patted the mattress beside him. “Come here.”

Priscilla scooted across the mattress and draped herself over his body, using his shoulder for a pillow. Her fingers combed through his chest hair.

He wondered if she still had designs on removing the fluff.

“Declan?”

“Yes, love,” he said, as he rubbed a hand lazily up and down her back.

Her head tilted, and she looked into his face. “What’s your life like?” she asked, her voice soft. “What do you do when you’re not…doing this?”

“When I’m not selling my services to spoiled little executives, you mean?”

She pulled his hair.

He clamped a hand over hers. “I told you. Whether you believe me or not, I’m captain of a ship. My crew and I travel three galaxies seeking exotic goods to trade.”

“Like the whiskey you were wearing?” she said, wrinkling her nose.

“Don’t remind me about the damn whiskey,” he grumbled. “It was the black label. Smooth, potent. One of my best sellers.”

“Why would you deal in contraband when there are plenty of legal goods you could trade?”

“Now, where would be the fun in that?” The offhand quip was his stock answer. For some reason, he wanted her to know the truth. “I tried the straight and narrow wares, but the taxes and the red tape ate my profits. So, at first, I smuggled the odd case of liquor to make a little extra cash. But the market was there for the ‘black’ stuff.” He shrugged. “And the orders were coming from the very people who collected the profits from my legally traded items.”

“How unfair.” She rubbed a fingertip over one of his nipples, causing it to pebble, then she scraped it with her fingernail. “Is your job dangerous?”

“Only when someone gets greedy.” His gaze sought hers. “Why the twenty questions?”

“I was just wondering. My life’s so different.”

“Well, it’s safe to say you’ll never have to resort to a life of crime to support yourself.”

“That’s right.” She sniffed. “I’m spoiled.”

“It’s not like you’ve ever wanted for anything, Princess, have you?”

Her brows drew together in a frown. “Am I supposed to feel guilty about that?”

“Of course not. If ever I had children, I’d want them safe and swaddled as well.”

“Swaddled?” Her voice rose. “I’m not wrapped in cotton wool, you know. I live in the real world. I work.”

Declan cringed. The last thing he wanted now was an argument. His ears couldn’t take another high-decibel barrage. “My word choice was unfortunate. I was merely pointing out that you’ve enjoyed advantages most people couldn’t comprehend.” He waved his hand at her room. “You’ve a house for fucksake. Most of the rest of us can only aspire to an apartment.”

“Or a cabin in a star cruiser.” She tapped his chin. “I think that’s pretty extraordinary. I can’t help it my parents are rich, or that they wanted to make sure I was well set before they left on their latest mission.”

“How long have they been gone?”

She drew in a deep breath and sighed. “Five years.”

“They must be well-placed in the government to afford to gift you with a piece of hardware like your Agnes.”

“I guess so. You know, I never really thought about it. I’d rather have them here than have their money.”

Declan knew she thought that was true, but the woman didn’t have a clue what a cutthroat existence she would have led without money to ease her way. “Do you mind my asking what do your parents do?”

“They’re in the Diplomatic Corps. They build new trade agreements, negotiate treaties. Important stuff.”

“You didn’t want to follow in their footsteps?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Not because you weren’t smart enough, I’ll warrant.”

She sighed again and rested her chin on his chest. “I’m not sure why I didn’t study harder.”

“Were you distracted?”

“What do you mean?”

“By boys?” He could well imagine a string of boyfriends vying for her attention. The thought rankled.

“No. I didn’t date much.”

He raised both eyebrows, disbelieving.

She frowned. “Really! I was always daydreaming.”

“About pirates?” he growled.

Her blush told him he’d struck gold. He arched a brow. “What kind of daydreams did you have?”

“This is a silly conversation,” she said quickly. “I was just a girl.”

He placed his arm beneath his head so that he was high enough to see the emotions that chased across her face. “Not fair. I laid bare my past.”

She scowled, and then spoiled the effect by pursing her lush lips. “This is so embarrassing.”

“You can tell me anything. Remember? I won’t be around to spread your secrets.”

She looked stricken. Her skin grew pale and her eyes solemn.

“Oh, don’t get maudlin. You’ll be glad to see the arse of me.”

“True.” She lifted her chin. “If you really must know, I dreamed about star cruisers and treasure chests.”

“Not pirate’s hairy chests?”

She plucked his hair again. “No! I just wanted to meet one particular pirate. Captain Adamarik Zingh. When I was young and very naïve, I pretended I was a prisoner aboard the New Attica, and that he swept me way to his paradise planet.”

Declan couldn’t suppress a grin. “What if I told you I’ve met Adam?”

“He doesn’t exist,” she scoffed. “He’s a myth.”

“Oh, he’s very real.”

Priscilla’s gaze was shadowed with some dark emotion. He’d almost swear it was pity.

The thought was unsettling, emasculating—almost.

She laid her head on his chest again. “So, tell me what he’s like. Is he handsome?”

“Adam? Well, I don’t fancy him, but I imagine women might like his mug.”

“He’s dark, right? Like you?”

“He has black hair and blacker eyes that can look right though a man—or woman. He doesn’t suffer fools.”

“Does he have many women? I imagine he’d have his pick.”

“Well, you’re wrong. He has just one. Her name’s Evena. She’s a redhead, like you.”

“Really?”

“But she’s taller, stronger. She could kick most men’s asses.” He winced at the memory of one of her roundhouse kicks. “She sails with him.”

Priscilla’s lush mouth pouted. “Are you saying I’m too wimpy to attract a great pirate like Captain Zingh?”

“I’m saying he’s too besotted with his wife to give you a second glance.”

“He’s married! I never heard that part of the tale. Damn.” She sighed and swirled his hair with her fingers. “Another fantasy bites the dust.”

Declan found himself annoyed at her disappointment. “Shouldn’t you be dreaming of princes, anyway? Like some real estate mogul or an Arturian ambassador? Most women are hot for anything Arturian.”

Her mouth twisted with disgust. “You think I’m some hothouse flower, don’t you? That I want to be taken care of.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you already?”

Her hand flattened on his chest, and she smoothed it down his belly. Any lower and she’d be setting a fresh blaze. “Looking at it from your perspective, I suppose you’re right. I haven’t done a lot with my life.”

“That’s not true. You have an education, right? A career? Make bags of credit? I’d say that makes you pretty successful.”

Her fingers combed through the hair at his groin.

Declan shifted his legs apart—just in case she really intended to do some more exploration. His cock was already alerted to the possibility and was hardening by the second.

“If you could make bags of credit here, would you give up your ship?”

His face must have registered his horror at the thought.
Give up his ship?
“Priss, I’m not like you. I’d never be happy here.”

“You’d be bored to tears, wouldn’t you?” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Well, perhaps not—if I had someone like me to play with after dark,” he teased, hoping to lighten her mood and get her mind back to the part of him her fingers were now caressing.

She arched one eyebrow. “Think you can add the touch of spice my life’s missing?”

“Haven’t I already?” he murmured, finding it harder to keep his mind on the conversation.

She tugged his shorthairs. “I have plenty of spice.”

His hand closed over hers before she could do more injury. “The comm circuit’s ringing off the wall, all right.” He lifted the same hand to caress her cheek. “Where’s the boyfriend who should be ready to tear me head off for being here with you—like this?”