The Pleasure Principle

As his hips bucked beneath her and Gizelle rode him, another orgasm hit her hard and fast. And then D.T. let out a low, primal growl as came, too. His hot seed flooded her already wet pussy. She clenched him tightly, prolonging the pleasure for both of them as they enjoyed every last second of their climaxes.

When the sensations finally ebbed, Gizelle wrapped her arms around D.T. and slumped against his hard body. “It doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Sure it does. Just give me twenty minutes, sweetheart.”

Gizelle let out a short laugh. “You may only need twenty minutes. I, on the other hand, may need a little longer to recover from that.”

As it was, her entire body tingled from head to toe. But it was her heart, hammering in her chest, that really needed time to recover. While her pussy throbbed with the lingering effects of D.T.’s lovemaking, her inner walls continued to hold him tight, as though unwilling to let him go. She didn’t want him to slip from her.

She could hardly blame her body for responding as it did. D.T. was an incredible lover. And being naked with him, their bodies pressed together, joined in the most intimate way, was one guilty pleasure she wasn’t inclined to give up easily.

Even if they were having trouble seeing eye to eye on some issues.

Thinking of her missi

on, Gizelle pulled away slightly and stared at D.T., whose ruggedly handsome face was made all the more gorgeous by the lingering traces of desire and fulfilled pleasure. “You’re really giving me the gold?”

D.T. grinned. “Think I just told you that so you’d fuck me?”

She shrugged. “Not really, but….”

A dark eyebrow crooked. “You wouldn’t put it past me?”

At that remark, Gizelle tilted her head and eyed him curiously. “You’ve been known, on occasion, to bend the rules so you get your way.”

“True,” he conceded. “But seriously, Ellie, I don’t need the gold. If you do, take it.”

“Oh, I do,” she insisted. “And I will.”

She pushed off his lap and out of his embrace, though, admittedly, she hated the sense of loss she felt as his cock pulled out of her. Gizelle brushed her skirt down so it swung into place, the hem caressing her legs at mid-thigh.

“The Protective Forces are in need of provisions, there’s no doubt about it.” She turned away and began to pace. She lifted her arms and swept up the mass of damp hair on her neck and back. The cool evening breeze that touched her skin felt heavenly. Almost as good as D.T.’s touch.

“The invading forces—the Gyllians—have made it difficult to transport necessities from planet to planet within our own galaxy,” she continued. “Since all the citizens of the Solar System have become accustomed to trading specialties, once free trade opened up, they’ve been reliant on certain items from certain planets.” She turned back to D.T. and added in a grave tone, “And with exchanges being so difficult—deadly even, because of the Gyllian snipers blowing trade shuttles out of space—it’s become nearly impossible for each planet to produce enough medicine, food and supplies for its inhabitants to survive.”

D.T. nodded. “I’d heard times were getting tougher.”

Her hands dropped to her sides and the thick strands of hair fell back into place. “Not just tougher, D.T.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Impossible. But I can procure provisions, provide amble currency for people to buy what they need, and maybe, just maybe, keep our Protective Forces and the inhabitants of our planets healthy, strong and able to continue fighting. To finally defeat the Gyllians.”

D.T.’s jaw tightened, but Gizelle rushed on before he could say anything. Like how much he didn’t want to hear about her involvement in the war. Or the way she risked life and limb to achieve what needed to be done.

Hope and excitement entered her voice as she told him the rest of her grand plan, the part no one else knew but which Gizelle was wildly optimistic about. “I can use some of the currency I get from selling the gold to buy back the one commodity the collective, galactic Protective Forces need above all else.”

D.T.’s eyes narrowed on her. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

She couldn’t help her cocky grin as she said, “I’m going to sway General Tanner to return to duty. With the amount of currency I’m going to offer him, there’s no way in hell he can refuse me.”

D.T. shot to his feet. Gizelle stood in front of him, reveling in exhilaration over her impending coup—one she was certain would put the Protective Forces back in control, strengthen the fighter brigades and ensure victory. She felt damn proud of herself for coming up with the idea all on her own.

But her enthusiasm was, quite clearly, lost on D.T. He closed the small gap between them. His large hands clasped her shoulders and he looked deep into her eyes. “It’ll never happen, Ellie. Don’t even bother trying to bribe the General. He won’t concede.”

“And how, exactly, would you know that?” She knew her look challenged him. Admittedly, she hated that they’d veered off in this direction, but when it came to her job, the war and D.T.’s avoidance of it all, she got riled in a heartbeat. Her passion simmered as she stared at him, waiting for his answer.

His jaw ground tight. His broad shoulders bunched and one thought entered Gizelle’s head. Here we go again.

Letting out a sigh, she lifted her hands in the air in surrender. “Goddamn it, D.T. Why does this keep happening with us? We’re on totally different planes. We don’t share the same ideals. We don’t have the same commitments or concerns. You get to while away your days on a planet that encourages—no, evokes—hedonistic behavior. Meanwhile, back home, people are dying.”

D.T. let out a low growl and spun sharply away from her. In an instant, it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the room. And the windows were all wide open.