HerOutlandishStranger Read Online Free Page A

responded to a slight exhalation and squirm as if she had
wrapped her arms and legs around him, eagerly pulling him to her.
    What would it be like to have this woman a full participant,
eagerly returning his kisses? The most arousing image he’d ever had.
    With one final thrust, he exploded deep inside her, shouting
out in astonishment at the intensity. He intended to pull away at once. He’d
done all that was required. Finished in plenty of time—seconds to spare. Yet
wrapped in the warmth of the woman’s body he couldn’t move. Not yet.
    “Good enough for government work” was a phrase the DHU
director was fond of. The stupid words had actually floated into Jazz’s mind as
he held himself above the woman panting and spent, still shuddering, unable to
move yet without collapsing his weight onto her body. He shakily laughed aloud
at the asinine thought.
    At that moment, her eyes opened to half slits, not wide
enough in the dim light for him to discern their color or quality. He froze,
and waited for her scream of fear and rage. She smiled and whispered, “More.”
    That was first time he heard her voice, he realized.
    She might have meant more laughter, more kisses, more heat,
or perhaps it was only nonsense uttered from a dream, but he didn’t want to consider
those possibilities. The single word provided the encouragement he needed and
soon he knew he could move in her again. More slowly then. And he touched,
stroked her again and listened to something other than the pounding of the
blood through his own body. Her sighs echoed through the small, odd space, loud
enough to cover the gentle chime of the CR.
    He reached into all the layers of clothing to stroke her
breast, feel the blossoming of her nipple, wishing he could see and not just
feel the satin under his fingers. She pushed up, and then, yeah, not just his
imagination. She really did move with him.
    He slid his hand down between their bodies, to finger the
lush moisture and the swollen bud of her clitoris. With his touch, she arched
up and cried out in a wordless and surprised exclamation. She quivered, spasmed
around his cock and then immediately fell limp as a rag.
    He paused, knowing he should pull out, leave her be. Instead
he drew both hands down to cup her bottom, warm and deliciously round under the
thin cotton of some mysterious undergarment. He held her steady, his hands
beneath her, as he thrust into her, driving himself toward a second release.
Mouth pressed to the side of her head, breathing in the already familiar
flowery scent in her hair, he panted to gulp back moans as the orgasm gripped
his body, longer but hardly less intense than the first.
    He pulled out at last and lay next to her. The uneven cave
floor under him seemed too hard even with the blanket he’d put down as a
cushion. Dismay struck him when he realized how uncomfortable she must be. He’d
supported her rear end as he’d inoculated—no, fucked—her, but perhaps she’d
have other bruises, on her shoulders or thighs, from the pressure of his
thrusts driving her into the rocky floor.
    Might as well give her some kind of comfortable place to
rest for a short while before he abandoned her. He figured his own bulk was a
better bed than the dirty ground of the cave. And the idea had appealed to him
for other reasons he hadn’t bothered to explore. Jazz had long understood how
to avoid certain thoughts.
    She remained unconscious and entirely limp as he’d lifted
her and settled her onto his front. A couple of hours later he woke as she
wriggled on top of him. A deep sigh at the end of an unintelligible murmur—she
again rose from the deep state of sleep into a lighter slumber.
    Now she would panic. He held his breath, waiting for the
screams of fear. But no, almost awake, she wrapped her arms lazily around him
and snuggled her head against his neck. While her father had probably died a
few miles away, while she had lain drugged, semi-conscious at best, he slept,
holding her to