then
spank her sweet ass. With his hand, with a paddle. He’d pleasure her with a
vibrator for a while, then he’d slide his desperate cock inside her hot, wet
pussy, and it would be so, so, good.
Too bad the lady he was fantasizing about was a declared
celibate. He smothered a groan. The world was a shitty place.
Elisa raised her head. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. Fine. I’ll live.”
Another fantasy reared its head—Elisa and him in the train
car in which they’d ridden down here, her kneeling in front of him to take his
cock in her mouth.
Oh gods.
“You don’t look all right,” Elisa said, still holding onto
the table. “I know Shareem aren’t allowed to touch a lady in a sexual way
without permission. It triggers your pain sensors. Is that what’s happening?
Even though you didn’t touch me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Or maybe I’m just dying for you.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Anything you do will just hurt more, sweet baby. You
fingering the table has me about to explode. I’m imagining those fingers on my
cock, sweet and warm.”
She stilled. “You are?”
“Yes, baby. You’re torturing me.”
Elisa let go of the table. “How does this torture you? I’m
not touching you.”
“You got that right. Now, if you touch me, you might
ease the pain.”
“How?”
Braden was sweating. “Just touch my face. Don’t be afraid. Please .”
Her eyes flickered at his plea. Would she help him or turn
frigid and flee?
What he’d done a moment ago—brought her off, even with
fantasy alone—was a legitimate reason for her to run to the patrollers. Braden
would spend his last hours locked in a cell with transparent walls, unable to
release, which would probably kill him faster than the patrollers could.
Elisa lifted her hand. Soft fingertips touched his cheek and
Braden closed his eyes. “Thank you.”
“That helps?”
“A little.”
Elisa traced his cheekbone, her touch cool on his hot skin.
“I still want you,” he said in a low voice. “And I know I
can’t have you. So now I want to spank your pretty ass for teasing me.”
Elisa jerked her hand away. “Spank?”
Braden opened his eyes, which he knew must be molten blue.
“I’m level three, love. It’s what we do. A little discipline never hurt
anyone.”
“Discipline?” She looked startled but not afraid. Curious,
instead.
“I’d love to teach you. And instruct you how to touch me.
Spank you when you get it wrong.” Braden was sweating, breathing ragged.
“I’m hurting you again,” she said in concern.
“A little, sweetheart. But it’s a good hurt.”
Which would get worse until he released. We fuck or die.
Braden wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed
when Judith came noisily in through the door that led to her private stairs.
“Sandstorm’s over,” she said.
The gritty slaps on the door had ceased, and Braden hadn’t
even noticed.
Judith noticed Braden and Elisa sitting so close, the flush
on Elisa’s face. “Damn it, what did I miss? I step away for ten minutes…”
Elisa abruptly got to her feet. “Nothing at all. What do I
owe you?”
“It’s on the house. I never charge during a sandstorm.”
Judith switched her gaze to Braden. “Don’t tell me ‘nothing’, Braden. You look
sated and yearning at the same time.”
Braden adjusted his leggings, stifling a groan at the brief
friction of cloth on cock. “I was telling Elisa a little fantasy I had about
her.”
“Fantasy. That can be fun.” Judith smiled. Judith considered
fucking four Shareem at once fun, too.
“It’s late,” Elisa said. “Can you call a taxi for me?”
“Taxi?” Judith laughed. “In this neighborhood, this late,
after a sandstorm?” She swept up their empty ale cups, still laughing, and went
to open the storm doors.
“Trains don’t start running until dawn,” Braden said. “Don’t
you have your own car and driver?”
“I gave them up as part of the Way of the
spank her sweet ass. With his hand, with a paddle. He’d pleasure her with a
vibrator for a while, then he’d slide his desperate cock inside her hot, wet
pussy, and it would be so, so, good.
Too bad the lady he was fantasizing about was a declared
celibate. He smothered a groan. The world was a shitty place.
Elisa raised her head. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. Fine. I’ll live.”
Another fantasy reared its head—Elisa and him in the train
car in which they’d ridden down here, her kneeling in front of him to take his
cock in her mouth.
Oh gods.
“You don’t look all right,” Elisa said, still holding onto
the table. “I know Shareem aren’t allowed to touch a lady in a sexual way
without permission. It triggers your pain sensors. Is that what’s happening?
Even though you didn’t touch me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Or maybe I’m just dying for you.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Anything you do will just hurt more, sweet baby. You
fingering the table has me about to explode. I’m imagining those fingers on my
cock, sweet and warm.”
She stilled. “You are?”
“Yes, baby. You’re torturing me.”
Elisa let go of the table. “How does this torture you? I’m
not touching you.”
“You got that right. Now, if you touch me, you might
ease the pain.”
“How?”
Braden was sweating. “Just touch my face. Don’t be afraid. Please .”
Her eyes flickered at his plea. Would she help him or turn
frigid and flee?
What he’d done a moment ago—brought her off, even with
fantasy alone—was a legitimate reason for her to run to the patrollers. Braden
would spend his last hours locked in a cell with transparent walls, unable to
release, which would probably kill him faster than the patrollers could.
Elisa lifted her hand. Soft fingertips touched his cheek and
Braden closed his eyes. “Thank you.”
“That helps?”
“A little.”
Elisa traced his cheekbone, her touch cool on his hot skin.
“I still want you,” he said in a low voice. “And I know I
can’t have you. So now I want to spank your pretty ass for teasing me.”
Elisa jerked her hand away. “Spank?”
Braden opened his eyes, which he knew must be molten blue.
“I’m level three, love. It’s what we do. A little discipline never hurt
anyone.”
“Discipline?” She looked startled but not afraid. Curious,
instead.
“I’d love to teach you. And instruct you how to touch me.
Spank you when you get it wrong.” Braden was sweating, breathing ragged.
“I’m hurting you again,” she said in concern.
“A little, sweetheart. But it’s a good hurt.”
Which would get worse until he released. We fuck or die.
Braden wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed
when Judith came noisily in through the door that led to her private stairs.
“Sandstorm’s over,” she said.
The gritty slaps on the door had ceased, and Braden hadn’t
even noticed.
Judith noticed Braden and Elisa sitting so close, the flush
on Elisa’s face. “Damn it, what did I miss? I step away for ten minutes…”
Elisa abruptly got to her feet. “Nothing at all. What do I
owe you?”
“It’s on the house. I never charge during a sandstorm.”
Judith switched her gaze to Braden. “Don’t tell me ‘nothing’, Braden. You look
sated and yearning at the same time.”
Braden adjusted his leggings, stifling a groan at the brief
friction of cloth on cock. “I was telling Elisa a little fantasy I had about
her.”
“Fantasy. That can be fun.” Judith smiled. Judith considered
fucking four Shareem at once fun, too.
“It’s late,” Elisa said. “Can you call a taxi for me?”
“Taxi?” Judith laughed. “In this neighborhood, this late,
after a sandstorm?” She swept up their empty ale cups, still laughing, and went
to open the storm doors.
“Trains don’t start running until dawn,” Braden said. “Don’t
you have your own car and driver?”
“I gave them up as part of the Way of the
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