Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

He caught my hand, tugged me back into his arms, then kissed me soundly.

“I would rather partake in the promised massage,” he said eventually. “Otherwise I fear I might be poor company tonight.”

I smiled and led him up the stairs. “I’m afraid the bedroom is rather small compared to yours.”

“I’ve slept in smaller,” he said, amusement evident in his tone as he glanced around. “I may be from a wealthy family, but I did my required stint in the corps when younger.”

Surprise rippled through me, though I checked it before it got anywhere near my expression. But it was a reminder of just how little I knew about life in Central—and how careful I would have to be both when I was with Charles and once I got into Winter Halo.

Once we were in the bedroom, I told him to remain still, then slowly began to strip off his clothes. I took my time, exploring his body by taste and touch. By the time his shirt fell to the floor, his chest was heaving and his body was quivering with desire. I kept going, kept teasing, my fingers playing around the waist of his pants but not undoing them. Not releasing him.

When I finally did, his groan was one of sheer relief. His cock jumped free, thick and hard and quivering with expectation. I ran my tongue over its tip and he groaned again, the sound almost desperate.

“God,” he said with a shudder. “If you treat all your clients this well, I can imagine you’d be in high demand.”

“I did start training in the therapeutic area, but the demand for sexual massage was so high I soon switched.”

He grinned. “I’m betting most of your clients pretended to have problems simply to enjoy sessions with you.”

“It would be cheaper and easier to go to one of the approved brothels than come to me.” I rose, brushed my lips across his, then stepped back and motioned to the bed. “Lie on your stomach. I’ll go get the oil.”

His gaze skated down my length. “I do so hope you intend to get naked somewhere along the line.” He paused and ran a finger across the top of my breasts. “Although I am rather liking the corset.”

“Then perhaps I shall leave it on.”

He nodded thoughtfully, though amusement teased the corners of his lips. “I would quite enjoy releasing your bounty later, I think.”

I didn’t comment, just motioned to the bed again. He took a deep, somewhat shaky breath, then climbed onto it. I retrieved the oil from the bathroom, then quickly slipped out of my skirt and sat astride him. His skin quivered where our flesh touched.

When the heat of my hands had warmed the oil enough, I undid the top and dribbled it onto his skin, starting at the base of the spine, then moving upward to his shoulders. Once the bottle was recapped and dumped onto the floor, I moved back to his butt and began to work the oil into his flesh, alternating long sweeping strokes with more circular ones. I kept my hands on his skin, increasing sensations for him as much as snagging information for me. The pieces were fleeting, somewhat insubstantial, but I could examine and connect them all later. I slowly worked my way up his spine, across his shoulders and down each arm, and then repeated the process back down his body. After dribbling more oil onto my hands, I continued on, over rump and down his sinewy legs, concentrating on his feet and toes for a while before moving back up his legs. When my thumbs slipped between his thighs and brushed his balls, he jumped slightly and groaned.

I smiled and did it again. This time his groan was more a growl. “God, this has to be the sweetest form of torture I have ever experienced.”

“And it’s a long way from over yet.” I slid to one side. “Roll over.”

He did. His cock glistened with precum, visible evidence of the desire that rode the air heavily. I sat astride him and repeated the process until his need was so thick and heavy it caressed my skin with its heat and filled every breath. It was more his than mine, but that was okay. I wasn’t here for pleasure. I was here for information.

I leaned forward and said, “How badly do you want me?”

“Very.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not really convinced. Perhaps I should continue—”

With a low growl, he wrapped his arms around my body and quickly flipped our positions. With very little finesse, he thrust inside me, driving deep and then holding still, his body quivering with the effort of restraint and his expression one of utter pleasure. Then he began to move, and as he did, I unleashed my seeker skills. I didn’t have time to sort through the images and try to understand the information—I’d worked him into such a state that he wouldn’t last too long this first time. But that had also been very deliberate. Not only were cat shifters more sensitive to this sort of intrusion, but they also tended to compartmentalize the various bits of their lives—meaning that when it came to sex, that was all they focused on. Everything else—their day, their plans, and often even their emotions—were locked away into neat little boxes that could only be accessed when need was all-consuming.

I became aware of the increasing tempo of his thrusts and carefully withdrew from his energy and aura. As I reimmersed in the sensations flooding my body, I wrapped my legs around him and raise

d my hips to meet his movements. It was his undoing. He came with a roar, his face twisted in sweet ecstasy as his body shuddered and shook. For several seconds after, he didn’t move; then he rolled to one side and gathered me close.

“That,” he said, kissing my forehead lightly, “was a most excellent massage. I did notice, however, that your enjoyment was not as great as mine.”

“We have the rest of the night for that.” I pushed away from him and sat up. “Right now I think some food and wine might be in order.”

“Followed by dessert,” he murmured, one finger lightly tugging at the corset’s drawstring, “which is, of course, the unwrapping of your glorious breasts.”

“Perhaps.” I bounced off the bed.

He followed me down the stairs, and for the rest of the night we shared food, alcohol, small talk, and sex. Each time I gained a little more information about Winter Halo, its financial and staff problems, but there was never much on the project that had him so worried. It was frustrating, but it couldn’t be helped. I’d obviously done my job too well; he was totally and utterly relaxed, and that project was now the last thing on his mind.