Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Pleasure's Foehn by Charlotte Boyett-Compo Page A

the much-practiced mouth of the woman who occasionally shared his quarters and trying not to show the complete boredom he felt.
    Amethyst ran the tip of her limber tongue over the head of his cock, laving it as she massaged Cair’s balls with one hand while gently twisting his shaft upward and downward with the other. She was a highly sought-after pleasure girl on the Foehn and was an expert in most techniques. The one she was using on Cair was among her favorites.
    Closing his eyes and drawing in a long breath, Cair tried not to wince as Amethyst stuck her tongue into the slit of his cock. He was still sore from their bout the night before and—if truth was told—feeling far too drained to be engaging in a bout of sex this morning. Though he’d refrained from taking even a sip of his beloved brandy, he found he still had a bit of a hangover and a headache that was starting to make a nuisance of itself.
    Amethyst pushed up to her knees then placed herself between Cair’s legs, spreading his thighs further apart so she could have better access to that sensitive area at the base of his scrotum. She slid her fingers there—stroking and pressing gently—
    then eased her middle finger toward his anus. Enveloping his long rod in her mouth, she relaxed her throat until her teeth were grazing the thick hair at his crotch. The Vic-Com chimed for the last time and Cair let out his breath in a long push, reached down and took Amethyst’s head in his hands, pulling her mouth from his flesh.
    “Enough, Sweeting,” he said gently. “We’ve run out of time.”
    Amethyst ran her tongue over her full lips, looking up at him through the sweep of her long, artificial eyelashes. “You seemed a bit distracted this morning, my Prince.”
    Cair clenched his jaw. He wasn’t her prince and he was irritated afresh each time she used the term. “I’ve things to do today,” he said.
    “But you’re still hard,” she protested and started to lower her head but Cair twisted, threw a leg over her head and slid from the bed before she could gulp him in again. He padded into the bathing chamber, leaving her kneeling on the bed, an unbecoming pout puckering her lips.
    As Cair stood before the urinal, he glared at the erection he hoped was piss-inspired and not Amethyst-induced. Of late, he had begun to tire of her appearances in his quarters and when she was there, her constant manhandling of his privates. Conversation was limited to her telling him what had annoyed her during the day and 35
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    what she demanded he do about it. He considered the woman one step above the moronic and longed for someone of intelligence with whom to converse.
    “What you need,” his mother had told him the day before, “is a woman who will challenge you. One who won’t let you bully her. You need a good old-fashioned berserker type to set you back on your heels from time to time. Someone who will tweak your nose and not let you get away with your juvenile browbeating.”
    “Did you send that spooky-haired woman to my ship?” he had demanded. His mother had actually smirked at him. “Now, why would you ask that, Cairnan?”
    “Don’t you think I recognize your hand in this? I’m not stupid, Madame!”
    “Well, Cairnan, that remains to be seen and you certainly haven’t convinced me over the years that you aren’t.”
    “I want off this ship!” he had yelled, slamming his hand against the wall, and that had been a mistake for his mother—that imperious Queen of Amhantar who ruled his home world with an iron fist gloved in velvet—had broken the Vid-Com connection without so much as a goodbye.
    Nor would she accept his return calls during the remainder of the day. He could hear Amethyst talking to him but he ignored her. She never had anything interesting to say and what she did say always concerned what she thought or what she wanted, or what she needed. The splash of his urine drowned her out and he was relieved to see the