Gypsy Moth

Chapter 8

Michi stared at the snoring shape of her husband, passed out drunk on the bed.

She planted her hands on her hips and glared. "Jerk."

He didn't move. Or apologize.

"Do you have any idea what you did?"

He stayed silent except for some rumbly snores.

"You left." Left without saying when he'd return. Without a goodbye. Nothing. Left her in a room where she couldn't do a damn thing because he'd made the room only obedient to him.

He didn't drop to a knee and beg her forgiveness.

"Do you have any idea what it's like being locked in a room by yourself?" It meant pounding on a door, a door no one opened. Stupid soundproof space ships. "It means not being able to ask the computer to play music or a movie." Or calling her daddy and whining about her new husband. The jerk who'd left her all alone after refusing coitus, as was her right as his wife.

He snored.

It said he didn't care. She lost her ladylike mind for a moment. "Damn you." She hit him. Again and again. He didn't flinch, move, or do anything, and she suddenly stopped.

What am I doing?

Acting crazy that was what. She'd been knocked off balance and needed to regroup.

How am I supposed to do that? With him passed out, she was still unable to get out of this room. And while the replicator worked by simple button press, she wasn't sure where she'd go if she did escape this room.

In her culture, you were either married or living with family waiting for marriage. Single people of any age had no rights.

I'd have some as a widow, though. But only if she wasn't caught. Her religion had strict punishments for those that killed their partners without just cause or permission.

She stared at the sleeping shape of her husband. A man who'd gone through a culture shock, a man who did desire her even if he fought it. A man Father would hate. But who intrigued her.

She sat on the edge of the bed and ran a finger down his back. Firm flesh encased by fabric. She ran her fingers to the edge of the shirt and slipped under it. Hot skin met her fingertips, and she stilled.

This was wrong. The touching while he slept. The lusting. She snatched her hand away and bit her lip.

He's my husband.

Barely.

She needed to change that if this marriage was to survive her father's arrival. She had no doubt that would be soon.

Kneeling, she removed his footwear. Tugged off his trousers and did her best to ignore the perfection of his bare buttocks. She tried removing his shirt, but he proved too heavy.

Yank, push, shove. All she did was cause herself exertion and annoyance. She paused, kneeling on the bed beside him. "Dammit, can't you cooperate with one thing?"

He opened one eye. "Wassa matter, princess?" he slurred.

"I need your shirt off."

"Okay." He tugged if off and then rolled to his side, giving her an eyeful. She turned her head, a heated blush in her cheeks. The holodeck simulations might have shown her what to expect, but faced with the real thing, she felt suddenly inexperienced and shy.

"Come here," he ordered, squinting in the dim light he'd left on all day. He crooked a finger. "Come here, wifey poo." Crooned with a crooked smile.

"As you wish, husband." She shimmied out of her skirt to his appreciative gaze. Then got stuck a moment in her shirt trying to take it off. She tossed it to the side and thrust out her chest, only to realize he snored again.

"You have to be joking." Why did this man persist in making this difficult? Well, he wouldn't win, not this time. She climbed into bed, took a deep breath, then lay beside him, as naked as he was. Inched closer and closer until their skins touched, then froze.

Actually, more like she burned. The contact stole her breath. Then she couldn't breathe even if she wanted to, given the heavy arm he threw over her. He held her tight. Warmed her from head to toe and in a few places that made her cheeks burn.

How she fell asleep, she couldn't have said, but she did.

Next thing she knew, a hand cupped her breast, a thumb brushed over her n****e. A hard rod pressed against her backside, and her husband hummed as he nuzzled her hair.

Such small things and yet far more intense than the holodeck ever led her to imagine. Her lips parted in a soft sigh as his lips found her neck and slid over it. A trembling moan as he pinched the tip of her breast.

"I shouldn't do this," he murmured suddenly, pulling his hand away. Only to have her grab it and bring it back. She placed it on her breast.

"Touch me. Please." She didn't demand or order, but asked.

"This will make things complicated," he murmured, the words brushing the skin of her neck.

"It's already complicated. Why can't we find something pleasurable in it?" she asked, dragging his hand lower then sucking in a breath when his fingers brushed over her mound.

He cupped her, bold and heated strength holding her most private part. She closed her eyes and held her breath, fearful that any sound, even a movement, would send him fleeing.

"Why are we naked?" he asked, his hand motionless.

"Because it feels good." It did. She wiggled against him, and he uttered a soft groan.

"You shouldn't do that."

"Why not?" She squirmed again.

The hand cupping her squeezed. She gasped. His lips touched the lobe of her ear.

"It's evil to tempt a man."

"I'd say it's more evil to keep teasing me." She wiggled, giving herself a thrill as his fingers rubbed.

"Is this what you want?" His dragged a finger along the slit of her s*x, and she drew in a shuddering breath. "You don't have to answer, do you? I can feel it." He rubbed his slick finger against her c******s, and she moaned. His words rumbled against her as he continued to rub. "I thought I was dreaming when I woke up with you snuggled against me."

And she thought she dreamed now, his heavenly touch making her shiver in pleasure.

"You are really here, though. Wet and ready." He inserted part of a finger in her, and she tensed. "Tight. So f*****g tight."

He rolled her onto her back and poised himself over her. She stared at him, frightened and yet excited. Aroused and ready.

She went to drape her arms around him, but he shook his head. "Oh no you don't, princess." She might have protested except he chose to work his way down her body, starting with her jaw, then a slide of his lips down her neck.

He reached her collarbone and nipped her. She arched.

Every part of her throbbed with awareness.

His lips latched onto a n****e, and she cried out as her s*x clenched.

"Damon." She sighed his name, and he growled.

"Dammit, princess, when you say it like that..." He never finished his sentence, choosing to instead drag his lips down the silky skin of her belly, farther still to her mound.

Surely he wasn't about to... He did, and reading about it, seeing it on screen, and pretending on a holodeck did not do it justice.

The first swipe of his tongue and her hips arched off the bed.

He pinned her down for the second. Then she lost track of everything as ecstasy attacked her body. Made her cry out. Climax. Cry out some more.

When he finally poised himself atop her tingling body, the head of him ready to penetrate, she was more than ready.

A satisfied smile pulled her lips. "Take me."

"With pleasure." He began to push, the head of him spearing her, and she held her breath -

The computer interrupted. "First Mate Falkner, you are required on the bridge."

"Fuck."