Desired and Captured

"Drag her over here!"

Naia struggled against the chains fiercely as the guards pulled her into the large tent, dropping her in a corner. She had been captured in the early morning raid on her town. The bandits were hot on the trail for gas and oil reserves and whatever other resources they could claim. She had fought valiantly against the outlaws, but alas their tiny town had been no match for them. In the last five years, it had been this way. Communities of people fought for what little property and reserves they had in the post-nuclear age in order to survive.

Naia and her clan had been no different. Their tiny commune called All Saints was forged from the survivors of the Genesis. Individuals left behind when the spaceships left for other galaxies, abandoning the planet to a set few. Now, here she was captured and chained, left to ponder her fate. She knew their leader well. Sol Destroyer. His family had once resided in All Saints and they had even gone to school together. Everyday they'd play and laugh; the very best of friends. Sol was always a happy boy despite the trade his family had taken up. It was that very occupation that caused his father to be banished from the commune when it was discovered he was siphoning off the gas reserves to fuel his raiders.

That day, Naia's father and his soldiers had fought well to be rid of the nuisance, but Naia still missed her friend. Now, she was a prisoner in his camp. Could she bargain her way out of trouble? Her eyes roamed about the tent, trying desperately to find a Plan B, in case she could not reason with Sol. Nothing jumped out at her, except for knickknacks. He must keep his weapons in another part of the tent, she reasoned. Suddenly, her eyes fell on a doll. Naia recognized it immediately. She'd believed the doll had perished in a different raid years ago, but here it was as if untouched or changed by time.

She was a mere 12 inches in height, but she wore the most gorgeous black satin gown complimented with a ruby and diamond necklace and opened toe pumps. She was her Nubian Princess, her Aalyiah. Naia remembered combing her hair every night before bedtime and making sure her clothes were always crisp. When she disappeared, Naia had cried and cried. It was the last thing her mom had given her before she had passed away from the sickness and when she lost it, she felt as if she'd lost her mother all over again. How did Sol get it?

Her thoughts were slammed back into the present when Sol swooped into his tent. He hadn't even glanced in her direction as he read through the field reports on his phone. The Destroyers had pretty much claimed the air and cellular waves. So, their communications network was above and beyond all the other towns. Some towns would pay them top dollar to utilize their tech, making them the richest commune on the barren planet. Some wondered why they still continued to raid, but Naia knew it was the pure sport of it. She watched him quietly from her corner.

He was tall and lean with etchings of muscle carved into his long arms, along with a maze of tattoos. His rich tanned skin glistened beneath the dusty film and grime acquired from the battle this morning. Long dark sand colored dreadlocks hung well passed his narrow hips, piled high into a ponytail, warding off the extra heat they drew. He wore baggy, black cargoes that fell carelessly over well-worn combat boots. A sturdy flak jacket covered a good portion of his torso disguising the muscles beneath from harm. Knives, grenades and assorted smaller weapons littered the exterior of the vest for easy access. From what Naia could remember from the battlefield was seeing his expertise in utilizing them. She couldn't help but remember his eyes.

Their steely blueness had penetrated the very depths of her soul and stirred her insides. He was a fighting machine; what could be expected from a Destroyer. He was trained from the cradle to defend and conquer. She also remembered how cute he had been as a little boy, but now he had become an even hotter man. Seeing him this close only confirmed what she had noticed on the field.

"Are you hungry?"

Naia stared up at him surprised. He had been aware of her presence the whole time. She glanced about to make sure she was indeed the one he had spoken to. "Nah, I'm good."

Sol finally turned to acknowledge her. His eyes roved over her, taking in the lush woman before him. Her long chestnut colored hair fanned out in amazing layers of waves and curls. He remembered a time when they had been plaited in pretty rows, tied with colorful ribbons to match whatever outfit her mother had made for her. She was a dark creme sister with immaculate and strange violet colored eyes framed with spindly lashes that crisscrossed one another when she blinked. Her lips formed a sensuous pout that beckoned a kiss and encased a soft spoken, but authoritative voice. Naia was both angelic and wicked. Her skills as a fighter could not be compared or matched. Her father had taught her well.

Sol had secretly harbored a crush on Naia when they were younger, toddling around the schoolyard. He swore he had grown out of such childish endeavors when he had become a man, but seeing her on the battlefield today and looking at her now, he knew it hadn't. It merely matured. He desired this chick with a passion that bordered on obsession. He'd followed her exploits as close as he could. She had risen through the ranks of her father's regime to stand by him as a lead guard and he had not gone easy on her. He studied her body now - the honed weapon she sharpened in each fight. She was everything he wanted and needed in a woman - tough, smart, desirable. An odd electric current ran between them now as he inched closer to her. Crouching down, he rested his arms casually upon his thighs to study the woman. He noted that the men had chained every limb on her full frame. They knew her reputation and left nothing to chance. Pulling a key from his pocket, he tapped it on his fingers thoughtfully.

"I'll make a deal with you. I'll remove those chains as long as I have your word you won't bounce from this tent. A'ight?"

Naia thought over the deal. He wasn't asking for much, just her cooperation. She nodded compliantly and watched as Sol unlocked her hands and ankles. She quickly rubbed the raw areas of her wrist, smearing the dirt and rust. Sol snatched up a bottle of water, pouring it on them to clean. Suddenly, Naia slammed her fist into his cheek angrily, but made no move to run.

"What the hell, Sol? Why'd you attack All Saints?" she demanded.

Sol gripped his cheek glaring at the woman fiercely. "Damn, Naia! They weren't kidding your hook is rough."

"Answer me!"

Sol thought over her question. With the resources growing smaller by the months, stronger towns were looking to unite. Some were even thinking of taking on space, but had limited materials or access to do it. Sol and his crew were one of them. However, they lacked the raw materials that All Saints had in abundance. It also was Sol's secret piece of revenge for what had happened to his dad all those years ago. But there was something more Sol had wanted than revenge.

"The future, Naia."

"What?"

"Towns are getting eaten up by the minute," he explained. "If we didn't nab you, trust me, some other bandits would have. In fact, the Enforcers were planning the same heist on you, but we beat'em to the punch. And would you rather us or them?"

Naia's countenance changed from anger to grave concern at the prospect of being attacked by those murderers. The Destroyers maybe bandits, but they only killed when necessary. Enforcers killed for fun.

"Why us, Sol?"

"You wanna know why, Naia? Your father has been sitting on that liquid gold mine for years. Word has it that he's found another energy source. Is it true?"

Naia pursed her lips and twisted her neck defiantly. Her father had in fact found another energy source, hidden deep within the mountains behind All Saints. His concern had been this exact situation; that once word had gotten out about the new source, trouble would come banging on their doors. Now here it was landing harsh on their doorstep. She debated if she should confirm it. If the Destroyers and Enforcers had gotten wind of it, there was no telling who else. Sol was right: better Destroyers than anyone else.

"Yes," she sighed. "Argo and his crew had stumbled onto one of the caverns, but it's not stable. It requires more reinforcement before anyone mines the reserve."

"Will your father be willing to negotiate?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would your father be willing to join our forces together? We can get the tech and man support he needs - for a price."

Naia stared him up and down. "What price?"

He smirked. It was sexy. "You."

The way he said that 'you' sent tingles to her stomach in the worst way. "Me?" She eyed him carefully trying to figure him out.

"Other towns are sealing their deals with that old school method of arranged bonds," he explained. "That way neither camp can destroy the other because they were now bonded together."

"And you want to bond yourself to me?" she asked in a mixture of awe and uncertainty. "Why?"

"For the obvious, your reserves," he shrugged. He couldn't very well admit to her that he still had a full-on adult crush. "And you aren't bad on the eyes."

Naia stood up and crossed her arm.  Her eyes roamed about before landing on the doll again. Pointing to it, she remarked, "How did you come across that?"

Sol had the decency to blush. On one of his dad's many raids on All Saints, he had come across Naia's doll. He had been missing her something terrible and needed a reminder of her. So, he had snatched the doll without thinking and ran off with it. For many years, he had felt guilty about snatching her trinket, but not enough to part with it.

"I took it."

"Why?"

He shrugged carelessly as he stood up, reaching for the item in question, fingering the hem of the dress absently. "I liked her. She reminded me of you."

Naia's breath caught in her throat. Sol's eyes riveted to hers pinning them with heat and lust. Suddenly, he took hold of her waist and drew her up against his body. Her hands pressed against his chest, but she couldn't escape. Sol studied her lips carefully, then leaned forward for a taste. His lips were cool against her own, quenching and satisfying, yet addictive. He pressed and molded them easily over hers drawing her into his spell. Her hands moved from his lips to his cheeks, feeling the stubble there.

Hoisting her from the ground, Sol carried her to the large mattress toward the back of the tent. Many a night he had dreamed of Naia being here with him; his body filling hers, touching, tasting. He barely broke their kiss to lay her on the large soft pallet. Pulling away he quickly unlaced and tugged off her large boots, throwing them over his shoulders. Then his fingers made fast work of her cargo zipper, tugging her pants down and over her rounded booty. Tossing them aside, he reached for her boy shorts next.

Naia was in a daze. The sensations she felt were overwhelming, almost dizzying. She had daydreams of moments like this with him, feeling his locks caress her bare skin, tasting his lips and other places. She just never imaged it happening this fast. She worked off her own vest and sturdy sports top, revealing her rather large boobs. As a soldier, she had been hampered by her bosoms one too many times in training. At one point she had been prepared to lop them off for all their trouble, but her father had begged her not to alter herself and enlisted the aid of another heavily endowed sister soldier to help her learn. However, their heft made her feel freakish sometimes, but seeing Sol's eyes gaze on her brought about a warm glow.

His mouth watered to taste her. She was completely exposed to him, devoid of her soldier's uniform and totally the woman. There wasn't a scratch of girl to her anymore. She was purely a specimen of the fairer sex. He quickly shed his clothes and stood before Naia just as naked as she. Her eyes drifted down to his dick and gasped. If she was merely dripping before she was a puddle now. Desire coursed through her veins fiercely as her mouth begged for a taste of him. Without further hesitation, Naia crawled up on her knees to take possession of him.

Sol had not been fully prepared for what the impact of her mouth would do to his manhood. Her tongue burned him deliciously as she licked the underside to the tip. Then he thought he'd loose his seed when she enclosed her mouth over him for a full taste. Velvet softness enveloped him as she pulled and dragged his organ. Her fingers gently gripped his balls, rolling them in her palm. Never had a woman given him such care. His hands gripped her head, massaging the wavy curls, feeling the strands through his fingers. His head reared back taking in all the pleasures of her mouth. She owned him - fully. By this simple act, Naia had claimed him.


She pulled away from his body to trail kisses along his hipbone, tenderly sinking her teeth in the flesh there. Sol dropped to his knees to wrap his arms about her, claiming her mouth to share his taste. It was hot and steam rose steadily. Leaning her onto the pallet, Sol began to sample her. His lips immediately sought her breasts. His tongue swirled swiftly around the tight buds, breathing a new life in them. A moan of utter delight filtered from her lips and danced on his ears. Her fingers burrowed into the mass of locks, binding him to her. His other hand fondled her other bosom, plucking and molding the tiny aureole, prepping it for his mouth to savor.


"Sol," she sighed. "You make me wanna holla."


"Don't worry I will," he whispered against her stomach.


Just as she had given him immense pleasure, he was set to do the same. His tongue plunged fiercely in her folds lapping up the glistening juices flowing there. She quivered and shook in extreme ecstasy. No man had touch her there. She hadn't had the time to engage in something so trivial as sex. However, at this moment, at this second, she was focused on the act like the most trained harlot. Her hips rose off the pallet to accept his lips. Sol entangled his arms in her legs keeping the tasty trinket prone for his mouth. His eyes studied her pink bud thoughtfully, watching it react to each lick and pluck. Soon, his eyes roved over her frame to lock with hers. Hot flashes of desire flitted from iris to iris taking in everything that transpired in her lower regions.

With slow precision, Sol delved his fingers deep within her recesses causing a jolt to shoot through her. Naia's fingers dug into the sheets as her hips moved against his digits, moans clogging her throat as she struggled for a breath. She reached out for him, but he swiftly dodged her. He was enjoying her pleasure too much to end it too soon. The more he played in her puss, the harder he became. He ran his free hand over his stiffened friend, preparing him. His fingers beckoned Naia to come for him. She writhed back and forth over his hand, demanding more.

Pulling his digits from her furnace, he licked up the sweet juice. Naia was quivering on the pallet in the throws of complete surrender. It's not over yet, he thought running a hand over her thigh. He took hold of both her legs and drew her closer to his hips. He lined up his soldier to hers, watching it hover just over it. He could just make out the barely there hairs on her mound. She's a waxer, he mused. At last, he began to ease inside the sugar walls, feeling them surround his tip.

Naia arched her back in response, a cry echoing from her lips. She prepared herself for the inevitable tear that would accompany this first act. She wasn't a complete idiot about sex. In fact, she had enjoyed her own solo adventures. She had just been too frightened to complete the act herself. But then why wasn't she afraid of Sol doing it? Staring into his face, she knew why. She'd kind of always had her heart set on him. He was being so gentle with her, totally out of character for a Destroyer. Somehow she had known it would be this way with him.

Sol pushed further into her depths, enjoying the way she milked him in, then suddenly he became aware of the obstruction, which halted his movements. His blue eyes quickly found her violets and locked. She was biting her lower lip expectantly, nervously. He didn't want to hurt her. Didn't want to be the one to cause her this pain, even though he knew without a doubt that this chick was tougher than steel. Naia feared he would stop. So quickly, she wrapped her legs about him halting any retreat he would make.

He made a grab for her ankles to stop her progression. "Naia..."

"Please, Sol. Don't stop."

"But..."

"It's yours. If you don't take it, no one else will get it."

Those words struck Sol hard and straight to his core, hardening him even further than he had already been. Naia felt it like a lightning bolt and reared her head back to absorb it. The action pulled her hips closer to his, pushing the unbroken cherry harder over his dick. Sol had to physically restrain himself from moving. The offer had been too tempting for his body to decline, but his mind was fully aware. Staring down at her, he knew it was futile to resist. He'd dreamed of this moment, needed this moment. It just wasn't about the reserves or anything. It was about Naia.

Gently, he rearranged himself, leaning his torso over to cover her. His hand tucked under her butt bringing her closer to him. "It's going to hurt, baby," he whispered, his mouth just covering hers. "But not for long."

Naia nodded her understanding as she laced her arms about his neck. Then she felt the pressure of his manhood pushing against her cherry. He didn't ram it, but rocked it, building up the pleasure around it. His dick swelled in and out, hot like fire. Then with one finally push he tore through the wall, embedding deep in her harbor. His mouth crashed over hers to absorb the primal screams. The pain had been so brief and forgotten instantly to allow her to relish in the pleasure of his fullness inside her. The breath she had been holding released in a moan, building to a series of cries as orgasms rocked her. Her nails scrapped down his back leaving red lines in his tanned skin.

Sol quickly took up his rhythm, stroking her with his full body. Once she had recovered from her initial initiation into the world of sex, he was hard pressed to keep his natural instincts from kicking in. Hoisting her to him, wrapping her legs firmly about him, he arranged his body so she could ride him. Naia took to the exchange immediately and began to roll her hips over him. He watched as she bounced on his dick with her own natural skill. His hands rested on her hips, gripping them possessively. She was his.

"Ride me, Naia." His husky order quickened her canter, making him buck beneath her. Feeling the strains of pleasure pluck her nethers again, Naia rode the new wave. This time she wasn't alone in her ascent. Sol's breathing had quickened and his movements hastened. Suddenly, he flipped her on her back again and began to push harder into her. And just when he thought he couldn't give another stroke, his body stiffened and a loud groan gave way from him. Hot juice filled Naia as her core pulsed, drinking him in.

Spent, done, Sol fell to the side of Naia, allowing his body to calm down. His fingers twirled absently in her curls as his nose inhaled the magic scent of their sex. His eyes drifted over to the Naia's. Elation filled them, which made him smile. He was pulling her closer to him for a kiss, when he heard a voice call out to him; one of his men.

"Sol, Argo is heading your way!"

His eyes closed against the news, but then reopened to meet Naia's. With a playful smirk, he said, "Do you want to tell him or should I?"

Naia laughed as she wrapped her arms about him, kissing his lips. "I'll let you do the honors."

The Fairchild Chronicles: Solo Mission

Destiny toiled over her ledgers trying to balance the monthly books. Every since the newspaper mergers started, she has had to work twice as hard to make sure the numbers were balancing to the penny every month. Her staff were all accounting geniuses in their own rights, but her meticulousness reduced them all to first graders. She was quick to point out the mistakes and demand beyond perfection in their correction. It had gotten so bad, she had started noticing her team scurrying like rats whenever she'd enter the office. She had to remember to buy them all lunch when the mergers were complete. Until then, noses to the grind stone!

A firm knock at her door pulled her eyes from her books and into the stunning gaze of Mr. Xavier Drake; the man who had been haunting her dreams since that night in the club. He was looking rather handsome today in a pair of fitted jeans, a plaid button down and brown V-neck sweater. With gentleman-like panache, he doffed his cap and flashed her a friendly smile, leaving her completely dumbstruck. He was just simply too sexy for her own good; making her vulnerable to certain parts of her. In fact, it was the first time in her adult life that her attraction to a man was on a human level rather than an objectified one. Men were her toys, but this one could have greater potential. This both fascinated and horrified her, which was why she had made it a point to keep her distance from the observant reporter since their first meeting.

She would have seen the dashing investigative reporter sooner, but had decided to forgo her brother's big merger bash; settling to celebrate with the new quarter numbers instead. She was sure Mr. Drake would have been in attendance along with everyone else at Montgomery Media. In fact, she knew he had been since that was all the girls could titter about on Monday. They all were vying for a chance to get at the very single Mr. Drake. Glancing behind him, she noticed several of her female (and one male) staffer checking out the reporter standing in her doorway.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Ms. Montgomery? I'm Xavier Drake, one of the reporters at the Norfolk Reader. I was wondering if I could take a bit of your time?"

"I guess so, but I'm curious as to why?" Destiny closed the ledger in front of her to make room on her desk.

"Well, readers have been wondering about the mergers and writing and calling into the paper for answers. So, the big editors wanted to give them a scoop from all angles. I've been charged with the financial side."

"Ah, the exciting stuff," she joked sensing his dissatisfaction with the task by his heavy sigh. "Did you draw the unlucky straw?"

"It was paper strips in a hat, but who's dwelling?" he teased back, entering her office. "May I sit?'

"Please." She indicated the chair in front of her desk. Once he was settled, an awkward silence fell in the room with their eyes going back and forth.

Xavier was mesmerized by her beauty. The way she carried herself spoke volumes for her upbringing. She was regal, almost royal with the haughty lift of her chin. She wasn't cool, but she seemed reserved with her warmth. He could tell she was sizing him up. He was sizing her up too. Her long, brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun accentuating her high cheekbones and gentle doe eyes, which lay hidden behind a pair of funky retro, tortoise-shell specks. She barely wore any make up; maybe foundation and some gloss, but those long lashes were all hers. Her gray pantsuit was impeccable and crisp, molding to her shape nicely, professionally. She certainly looked the part of a CFO.

However, of all the Montgomerys, he knew the least about this one. By all appearances, she was the wall flower of the group, preferring to stay in the back ground while her brother and sister took center stage. But he sensed she had a quick wit from just their simple exchange a few moments ago. Something he admired in a woman. He had dreaded coming here to do the interview, but with the staff being cut down from the mergers, it was all hands on deck for the big project. Now, he seemed eager to learn more about this particular Montgomery, if only on a professional level.

"Where shall we start?" she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Ah, I have a list of questions from the readers as well as our team," he said, pulling his notes.

"Well, let's see if I am can answer them."

The moment he had asked for had turned into a two hour back and forth, which found Xavier actually even more fascinated by the financial reasoning used to start the mergers. Destiny knew her stuff and had done thorough research with her team to try to initially save the papers separately, but, in the end, they had seen the mergers as a much better option. And he had been right about her wit. She had given him some choice quotes that would definitely spice up the article and make it understandable to the readers. But he found he was also intrigued by the woman behind the money. The more he listened to her voice, he found himself pulled into her story. It was husky without being overtly sexual; warm, rich. The way she allowed the words to flow turned figures into poems.

"I hope I answered everything for you, Xavier."

Her voice woke him from his daydreaming. "Ah yes, you have, Ms. Montgomery," he stated rising from his seat. He reached over to shake her hand. "May I call you Destiny?"

"You may not. I tend to keep things very professional here."

Something in the way she said that reminded him of Fairchild Letts. Damn, there he went again thinking of that cold-hearted harlot. He had promised himself that he would not conjure up thoughts of her, but he couldn't help himself. Unfortunately, he had grown very attracted to the minx as his expose on the Norfolk underground continued. A couple of times, he had even caught himself with a bad case of the wood at his desk. And no amount of fat nuns or images of road kill would clear it up. It was even worse at night. Sadly, he admitted to rubbing one out to a racy thought of her, which only made matters worse, because now he really wanted her; no substitutes. The only time Fairchild had not crossed his mind was during his interview with Ms. Montgomery.

Jarring from his thoughts, Xavier picked up his notes. "That's cool and totally understandable, Ms. Montgomery."

"I hope to see the finished product, Mr. Drake. I certainly enjoy your current expose."

"Oh, you've been following that?" he asked, intrigued, crossing his arms."What do you think?"

"I think you capture the individuals perfectly. Some of them are quite the characters."

"They sure are," he agreed his thoughts flying back to Fairchild again. With that, Xavier bid farewell and headed out of the office. He glanced back to see Destiny closing her door, but just before it sealed shut, he noticed that her eyes trained on him thoughtfully. Now, what was on her mind?


Destiny breathed a sigh of relief before retrieving her secondary phone from her purse. She punched up one of her contacts and dialed. After one ring, the person picked up. "Yes, Fairchild."

"I wish solace tonight, Maggie."

"A,B, and C will be very disappointed, but as you wish, Fairchild," Maggie Soon replied retrieving the numbers from her Rolodex.

"Inform them their mistress needs time alone. She cannot give them the proper attention they deserve if she is not focused. Send them a trinket or two."

"Anything specific."

Destiny thought for a second. "Has Raquel, Rolanda and Rochelle returned?"

"Yes."

"Then send them their way with my blessings. They will fulfill their longings this evening."

"Very generous, mistress."

"I know. Oh, Maggie, did we learn anything about Mr. Drake?"

"I've compiled the usual report for you. It will be waiting for you in your quarters."

"Excellent. And, Maggie, make sure my room is fully stocked tonight."

"Yes, mistress. All your toys have returned from the cleaners. Do want any particular one?"

"All of them."

"Yes, mistress."

Destiny disconnected her phone with a sigh of anticipation. After today's encounter with Xavier Drake, Fairchild would have her hands full, wiping away his memory. With a delicious smirk, she pushed to finish her day.


Later that night, Fairchild entered the club looking more vampish than usual. For the evening, she had opted for a formfitting, one shoulder jumpsuit with black Louboutin pumps. The ensemble served to enhance the deadly curves of her hips and breasts. This was proven true when the usually stoic bouncer, Guard, did a double take up allowing her access into the club. This made Fairchild grin happily. About her wrists jangled an array of gold bracelets coupled with a matching pair of large hooped earrings, drawing attention to her long neck. Her hair was in a full on poofed 'do that sat back on her head to accentuate her gothic-like make up with an urban twist courtesy of her MAC Viva La Glam collection. She was definitely out to t'work it.

But, then again, so were the rest of the Elite.

The Children (as she called her faithful clientele) were in full swing tonight. Just entering the den, she had been greeted to two males having their way with one another, while their female voyeur watched avidly. The live band on the main stage had decided to perform naked with just their instruments shielding them. This prompted the go-go dancers to do the same, bouncing about in their cages and atop the bar in the altogether, much to Jacob's chagrin. He had to keep reminding them to keep their bare asses off his granite.

"Everything all right, Jacob?"

"It will be when Minx finds her damn panties," he growled cleaning off the area vacated by the bleach blond dancer. "The usual, Fairchild?"

Fairchild thought about it and decided against the normal wine. Leaning into the bar, she flashed Jacob a wicked gleam. "Give me one of your sweetly dirty martinis."

"Godiva or Lindt?"

"Surprise me." Jacob went to work creating the beverage for her, while Fairchild perused the house. Something seemed out of place. "Where is he?"

Knowing who she referred to was easy, since she had asked after the nosy reporter every time she had come in. "Laila is his next target tonight."

"Hot wax lady?" she scoffed.

"He was lured by the word dungeon," Jacob teased handing her the beverage, which she quickly swooped up.

"Perfect as always, Jacob. Now, tell me what you know about Drake."

Jacob paused to look at the boss lady. She had never come to him with such quandaries; that was usually the work of the lovely Miss Soon. "Why would I be that helpful?"

"You were college roommates. Played basketball together at Howard. And have gotten each other out of some pretty tight jams, hence that scar on you left hipbone."

Jacob seemed annoyed that Fairchild could get any info she needed on anyone. How she ever knew about that scar from that club brawl in Florida he'll never know? Shaking off the annoyance, he leaned on the bar, squaring off with her. "What do you want to know that you haven't already found out?"

"He intrigues me. I want to know his interests, his fetishes."

"Fetishes? What makes you think he has any?"

"He's here, isn't he?"

Jacob was rolling his eyes upward when he saw his friend on the hotel level of the club, heading away from Laila's dungeon toward Fairchild's suite. Shit, dude, what are you doing?

"You don't have to answer now, Jacob. Think about it." Fairchild dismissed walking toward the stairs, causing the barkeep to panic.

"Fairchild, wait!"


Xavier eased into Fairchild's room after seeing her gorgeous, Asian assistant leave. He had learned the girl's name was Maggie Soon and was Fairchild's trusted right-hand gal. He had tried gleaning info about the mistress of the realm from her, but had failed miserably. Maggie Soon was as closed up as Fort Knox and no secrets would or could be had from her. Speaking with several of the clientele, it seemed as if no one knew the inner workings of Fairchild Letts' circle. None of her subs kissed or told. She was an enigma of the worse kind. Now, he'd resigned himself to snooping around her private quarters like a tabloid reporter. Standing in the middle of the room, he took in the lavishness of it all. It was a room definitely outfitted for pleasure. Satin bed sheets, silk drapes, huge harem-style pillows and richly crafted divans and a huge king-sized bed decorated the room. A large, Oriental silk dressing screen sat in one corner, while a well-stocked, dry bar dominated the opposite side.Vegas had nothing on her.

He walked about the room taking in the other luxuries, taking special note of the loops built into the head post and foot boards of the elaborate bed. Did she use them to tie down or be tied down by her many lovers? For some odd reasons the thought rubbed him the wrong way. It did every time. His eyes scanned the night stand and was awed by the items he found there. Any array of toys that could only be defined as a mini sexual torture chamber. Curious, he picked up a hand-blown glass dildo. It was smooth to the touch yet surprisingly warm, despite being made of glass. The tip was the exact replica of a penis head, but the rest of the barrel was blown into a series of ripples and bends meant to target key zones inside her body.

He didn't know what possessed him but he pressed the item to his nose, hoping to catch her scent, and was disappointed to smell nothing. It was as clean as a whistle. With a smirk for his audacity, he placed the item back on the stand next to a manila file baring his name. This set off alarm bells. What did Fairchild learn about his past? He was ready to pick it up when he heard a commotion outside.

"Jacob, I'm sure you stocked the bar just fine. What is with you tonight?"

"Just let me get in there before you enter, Fairchild. I would so hate to disappoint you. I just want to make sure," the bartender insisted.

"No! Now go back down below!" Her tone was not to be brokered with and Jacob sighed in defeat,  retreating down the stairs. Jacob's eyes rolled to the ceiling in a short prayer as he heard Fairchild slam the door closed behind her. Her bartender had put her in quite a mood now, but she was determined to not let it completely ruin her night. "Silly, man."

Stepping further into the room, she immediately stripped out of her clothes, tossing them to the waiting divan in the corner. She had opted for no panties, wanting to feel the fitted jumper's material on her skin. Now that she was freed of her fetters, her eyes avidly studied her framework in the large mirror. She loved looking at her body; the lush lines and curves; the rich, coffee dark skin; the symmetry between her breasts and ass. It turned her on, making her instantly forget the mood Jacob had thrown her into. Her hands firmly gripped for her breasts, feeling their heft and cuddling them to her body. The darkened aureoles quickly perked up under her gentle ministrations, easing her stress. She smiled seductively at herself, enjoying the view.

She wasn't the only one.

Behind the silk screen, Xavier watched her fondle herself. The way her hands moved over her body was like an old lover touching his cherished beloved. She knew her every spots and knew them well, which prompted him to take mental notes. Strangely, he envied those hands touching her, bringing her joy. He definitely liked the exotic look she was rocking tonight. His fingers itched to entangle in that curly 'fro and give it a good tug. His mouth burned to suck on those delectable nipples, too. He wondered if they were semi- or bittersweet. The curiosity was so much that  it caused his manhood to throb like a twisted devil. How was she able to do this to him?

Fairchild had an odd feeling possess her; like she was being watched. Most of the club voyeurs knew that her suite was off limits to them. Not that she minded being watched, loved it actually, but when she wanted her solace, she was very protective of it. Glancing about the room suspiciously, she listened for sounds of breathing other than her own. Xavier held his inhale and froze, while the lady made sure she was indeed alone. He prayed under his breath she could not hear the loud pulse of his dick as it thrumped against his zipper. Once she was assured no one had invaded her sanctum, Fairchild made her way to the bed to recline.

She stretched her long, ebony legs out over the satin coverlet, while her hands went back to work on her breasts. Her fingers tugged on the sweet nips, elongating them and bringing about a mixture of pleasure and pain that shot right to her core. Because of their heft, she was able to hoist one to her long, waiting tongue. With expertise, she flicked the sensitive bud, causing her body to serpentine to and fro in a sexy rhythm only she knew and that Xavier wanted to learn. Erotic sounds filtered from her mouth caressing his ears, touching his core. He pushed his palm against his manhood hoping to ease some of the building pressure, but it only increased it tenfold as he continued to watch her.

Fairchild had reached over to the nightstand to retrieve a small glass bottle. It was sweet smelling Argan oil; another gift from her insanely rich pasha friend. She drizzled a liberal amount on her torso and began to slather it all over, leaving a glisten on her skin. It warmed her already heated body and sensitized her fired erogenous zones. Splaying her thighs open, she gave the hidden Xavier a prime view of her pink center, covered in a thick, clear dew. It made his mouth water, hungry to taste her offering. Her clit was taut, straining against the folds, begging to be touched as his dick wanted to be.

He quietly eased the zipper on his jeans down, hoping the sound was covered by her own steady panting. Just as she reached down to massage her throbbing nub, he gripped his dick. Fairchild relished in the sensation of her fingers moving over her slick folds. It was like a wind up toy as she twirled it over her digits and grazed her nail over the delicate engorgement. She could feel her insides tighten in pleasure, pushing her pelvis up and forward. At the same time, images of Xavier Drake flashed through her mind; his sexy smile curving those luscious lips, causing an indent in his cheeks; that husky laugh that caused her belly to quiver; those long fingers wrapped about his pen taking notes. She'd give anything right now to be his notebook.

Fairchild quickly rose up on her knees never letting go of her clit, strumming it fiercely as she rotated her hips against her hand; the steady jingle of her bracelets keeping rhythm. Her other hand returned to her breasts showing them love. The sweet pleasure was definitely going to her head, shortening her breath.

Xavier was stroking at the same pace, biting his lip against the waiting groan in his throat. Her tempting mouth hung open daring him to fill it; and he wanted to - badly. Would he dare reveal his presence now to fulfill both their needs? He was sorely tempted. From his hiding spot, he could tell she was nearing the final stages of this first act and he was looking for an encore. Her fingers twirled about frantically forcing louder moans from her throat. Reaching for the glass wand he had handled earlier, Fairchild ran a wicked tongue across it before dipping it in her depths, never breaking the stride she'd built.

Her hips moved back and forth over the treasure, loving the filled sensation. Her fingers continued their magic, adding to the deliciousness. Soon the pressure became so overwhelming she could feel her muscles tighten over the glass, milking it. She was coming undone. Warm juices began to rain over the wand and onto the sheets, accompanied by a myriad of trembles and shakes. Fairchild's head reared back as a scream ripped from her mouth to echo about the room, drowning Xavier's own orgasmic growl. He prayed she hadn't heard him as he scanned the small hiding spot for a hand towel, settling for a scrap of silk to clean himself.

He shivered with extreme satisfaction and awe. He'd slept with a lot of woman, but he'd never had an orgasm so profound without ever touching a woman. Dare he say, he really wanted to know Fairchild now if she could do this to him without laying a finger on him.

"It's been a long time since I'd been spied on." Her voice echoed out to the room, stilling his movements.

Xavier swore under his breath at being caught, but when he looked out into the suite, he saw another man. Dressed in clothes straight out of the Arabian Nights, he stood tall, at least 6'5", and was extremely handsome, Xavier grudgingly admitted. The man was staring at his Fairchild with all the passion and lust one man could muster.

"Too many nights have passed between us, Fairchild," he spoke coming forward. "What gave me away?"

"The oil." Fairchild slipped on her robe before approaching the man. "When did you get in?"

"Just this evening. I had to come see you, my dessert rose."

"Your timing is impeccable, Kasim. I need your talents to rid me of a certain someone."

"Your wish is my command." The pasha swept Fairchild into his arms.

"Not now," she chuckled wrapping her arms about him. "Let's catch up in the salon."

With that, the other man carried her off into another room in the suite, giving Xavier a chance to escape. He was fuming and annoyed. Who was that guy? A diplomat? An oil baron? He and Fairchild seemed real chummy, which didn't sit well with him. She said his name was Kasim and, by the look of him, he dripped of money. He was turning from her door when his thoughts were roughly interrupted by Jacob slamming him up against the wall by his shirt front.

"What the fuck are you doing, dude?" the bartender barked at him, slamming him again for good measure.

"Some investigative reporting," he lied, easing the man's hands from his shirt.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble your in?"

"Relax. She didn't see me."

"Yeah, but her security cameras did!"

The reporter stared wide eyed at his friend, who'd shoved a video cassette into his hand. "You're welcome!" Jacob growled a curt before stalking off back down the stairs, shaking his head. Xavier tapped the item in his hand, smiling. At least, he had a memory of what happened tonight. But he also remember something else; something more pressing. What was in that file Fairchild had on him? More importantly, how would she use it?

Aris and Evangeline

Port-Au-Prince, Haiti, May, 1891

Evangeline stepped off the passenger boat where she had spent four months crossing the great Atlantic. This was by no means a pleasure trip. She had received three letters within the last year from her step father, begging her to come retrieve him from the clutches of a merciless trader to whom he was indebted. She had ignored the first letter, tried ignoring the second, but by the third, Arnoldo had gotten crafty and sent it to her brother, Rui, who begged on his behalf. Unable to refuse her youngest sibling, out of her deep love for him, she agreed to retrieve the bastard.

She had no loyalty to Arnoldo DeCosta. He had made her suffer all her life and had practically squandered her mother's money on gambling and women, leaving her and her brothers poor and destitute. He had even sold her to the highest bidder to pay off a minor debt. Something she could never forgiven him for. It was thankful for her that her late mother's strength and resolve filled her veins or else she would've gone mad years ago. It was also her luck to get out from under Arnoldo when she did to make her own way in the world. That same luck garnered her a marriage to an ailing old man, who needed to leave his money and business to a wife rather than his rotten, spoiled children. She wouldn't call herself a gold digger since it had been a beneficial arrangement for the both of them, but she had no great love for her now deceased husband, only respect. She had spent his last years learning how to run his loges and bars, which brought her a hefty penny and gave her siblings work. Through his teachings, she had become a rather shrewd and successful business woman, better than any owner on the island.

Now, here she was coming half way around the world to retrieve Arnoldo's sorry carcass home. Disgust didn't even describe her dislike. She fairly felt sick. Thankfully, at her side was her loyal company, Como Andrade. A stout fellow of mixed cultures, Como came in handy in negotiating more difficult traders and merchantmen. Particularly those who disliked dealing with women as was often the case.

"Como, I do not want to be stuck here for more than two days," she stated firmly descending the gangplank. "Whatever Arnoldo has got himself into, if money cannot get him out, then he stays and we return to Matu."

"Singha," Como agreed in their native tongue.

"The nerve of him to ask for my help," she fumed. Como sighed, having heard the same argument since leaving port in Santiago. "Oh, and to use my brother to get what he wants. He will pay dearly."

"Don't stress yourself, Eve," he consoled calmly. "Arnoldo knows the debt he will owe you."

They entered a waiting coach and proceeded out of town to the villa mentioned in the three letters. By all accounts, Arnoldo was being held hostage by an Aristotle Beauvois, just outside the city limits. He was demanding not only payment for the goods Arnoldo "lost", but an extra sum for his release. Evangeline tried to think how to spare the payment for Arnoldo. She had been so deep in her thoughts she had not noticed the estate coming up. It was the guards at the gate demanding identification that drew her attention. Evangeline finally noticed the palatial mansion before her and stared in awe. It stood in immaculate white surrounded by gorgeous palms and shrubbery and was heavily gated with armed guards standing sentry.

A barrage of French curses streamed back and forth between the guards and driver before her coach door swung open to allow the two men to see Evangeline and Como. Satisfied, the guards granted them passage into the estate. It took another two minutes to reach the front of the house. Como dismounted from the carriage to lend Evangeline his hand. Once she stepped down her eyes swept the beautiful courtyard. It was magnificently tiled a mixture of rough marble and rock and covered with blooms and a babbling fountain. It was all very lovely.

So engrossed in the beauty around her, Evangeline had not noticed the front door open nor the man filling it, but Como did. The giant was intimidating at first sight, dark as sin with his long, raven-colored hair parted into two large plaits running down his back. He was dressed like an aristocrat, but his intensity was far from genteel. Como quickly waved to Evangeline to draw her attention, since the man was heading right for her.

"Madame Monteiro, I presume?" he demanded startling her.

Evangeline turned toward the deep voice and found that her breath ceased to move in her lungs. He was sinfully handsome with his dark skin and striking features. He was built like an ox with strong broad shoulders and a barrel chest. The dark framework of his square face gave way to a freshly trimmed beard and full lips. The sable hint to his eyes could be compared to the soulless depths of a shark. They were meant to bring fear not instill desire. Yet, Eve's eyes could not help but rake over his frame from head to toe in the most unladylike manner. She was quite impressed.

"Yes," she replied, coming out of her awe, "I'm Evangeline Dias Monteiro. I take it you're Aristotle Beauvois?"

She had lent her hand for a firm shake, but Aristotle merely glance at it before returning his eyes to her face. The hand was far too delicate, and he feared he'd crush it. She was not what he had expected based on what Senor DeCosta had described. He had fully anticipated a hag of a woman walking through his door, not this raving beauty. Her skin was just kissed by the sun giving a sweet canvass to rose petal lips and gold colored eyes. Hidden beneath a large sun hat, he noted that her brown hair was tinged with streaks of blond adding to her goddess like visage, falling down her back in long, silken curls. A man would kill to possess a woman like her. Maybe he should rethink Senor DeCosta's original deal.

"Yes. Please. Follow me."

He turned to re-enter the villa, fully expecting Evangeline to follow. She spared a tentative glance toward Como who seemed leery of the situation, despite coming this far. Lifting her skirt, she proceeded into the house, where she was treated to more beauty and luxury. Sunshine spilled into the large, open foyer, twinkling against the marble floors. A round table held up a huge vase of freshly cut tropical flowers. However, Evangeline could not stop to admire the area long since she was doing her best to keep up with Beauvois who had disappeared into a room toward the back of the hall.

"Monsieur Beauvois, I hope I am not being too rude in saying that I would like to conclude this ugliness with my step father as quickly as possible," she announced upon entering the room, removing the hat.

"It has been settled with your arrival," he threw back, settling in the chair behind a massive desk.

Como and Evangeline exchanged looks again, confusion shadowing their brows. "I beg your pardon?"

"Senor DeCosta will be sailing back to your homeland once word of your arrival has been sent," he explained.

"What?"

"Your step father negotiated his release by placing you in his stead. He claimed you were a wealthy heiress who could more than cover the loss as well as the extras. He also sweetened the deal by offering your services to me." The last had been said as his eyes roamed over her frame much as she'd done in the courtyard, causing an improper heat to seep into her along with an indignant rage for Arnoldo.

"He did it again, Como!" she blasted in her native tongue. Como tried to halt her pacing but knew better than to grab Evangeline while she ranted. Stopping mid step, she took in a deep breath to calm her nerves, then she turned her golden eyes toward the man, who sat calmly watching her. "Monsieur Beauvois, I cannot accept those terms. I have businesses to run back home. Surely, Arnoldo mentioned this. I can pay whatever you want, but staying - "

"One year."

"One year!" she shrieked in surprise, all other thoughts fled her mind. "That is preposterous!"

"Your step father destroyed one year's worth of my cargo, that is more than fair," the man bargained, his eyes penetrating hers soundly.

"A debt that is not mine but his," she stated firmly. "Make him work for it."

"As your step father, he has authority over you, which means he can put you in his stead," Aristotle countered.

Evangeline stared the man down, her golden brown eyes twitching with her irritation, but also with cunning. A smile creased her sweet lips. "How fooled you've been, Monsieur Beauvois. Arnoldo DeCosta has had no hold on me since he sold me to the highest bidder at age thirteen to cover his last brush with death over his debt. Since then that snake has had no authority over me. I am my own woman, a widow and business owner. I am here at the request of my half-brother for whom I dearly love, not because Arnoldo's ordered me here."

Aristotle thought over her words. Clearly Arnoldo had indeed fooled him, but seeing the lovely krioula before him now made him want to continue being the fool. She had fire and spunk the like he had never seen before. Most woman, and some men, cowered in fear of him, but she wasn't intimidated by him at all. She held her wits about her and controlled what appeared to be an unruly temper very well. What drew him to her more was the underlining passion and sensuality she exuded. He had noticed her perusal of him in the courtyard. She had liked what she had seen, and was bold enough not to mask it.

"Authority or not, you are here and I've waited long enough for my payment," he stated firmly rising. "You will stay to cover your step father's debt."

Evangeline glared fiercely at the man. "Then renegotiate the term. I cannot, in good conscience, be gone from my businesses for that long a period. Two months."

Aristotle's blood surged in unexpected excitement. She was seriously going to negotiate down the time. "Nine months."

"Four months."

"Seven months." He stepped closer hoping to unnerve her to accept.

"Five months and no more." She too stepped closer, her hands placed firm on her hips and her chin lifted. "And you must let my man, Como, return to the islands in my stead."

Aristotle looked down at her lips. The pout was so lush he itched to taste them. Her bargain was more than fair and he was certain he would tire of her long before then. Glancing at the other man, who stood wide eyed with anticipation of his answer, he nodded his head agreeably. Relieved, just slightly, Evangeline motioned Como forward. She reached for the pen and paper on the man's desk and began to scrawl something. Once finished, she handed two sheaves to Como. "Make sure one gets to Nato, and the other to my lawyer, Marceo. Get on the fastest boat back to Matu. Beat Arnoldo home."

Como nodded. "But, Eve. Shouldn't someone stay behind and..."

"And what, Como? That dog's done it again. But don't worry, this time he'll get his. Marceo will insure me of that," she replied cryptically. "I have no doubt Arnoldo will tell my brothers that I left him in charge and try to ruin my businesses. Now, go before it's too late."

"Singha," he replied adding, "As soon as I deliver the messages I will return."

She nodded before accepting the hearty hug from her friend. Once Como had left, Evangeline turned toward Aristotle. The last time she had been traded into servitude, the man had been looking for more than just dusting and cooking. Lucky for Eve, the man's wife was ever vigilant and had protected and shielded her. It was when she left them a year later that she had to barter her virtue for food and a roof over her head, since Arnoldo had refused her her childhood home. So, she was no fool to a man's lust, but what made her different from other women was she was no fool to her own. She knew he had liked what he'd seen, just as she had liked what she'd seen. Maybe being his servant wouldn't be too bad. It would be no more like playing a mistress, a role she was more accustomed to.

"Should I ask what you sent to your solicitor?" Aristotle wondered curiously.

"Nothing for you to be concerned with. Marceo has been instructed to take care of Arnoldo when he gets home," she explained. "A parting gift from my late husband on his deathbed should Arnoldo ever darken my door again. And he has."

She was ruthless he quickly noted. If he understood correctly, either a jail cell or coffin awaited Arnoldo DeCosta and she had no remorse in issuing the order. He snorted in surprise.

"That's a very unladylike gesture."

"If you'd been on the tail end of Arnoldo's treachery you'd think me merciful," she explained. "I blame that monster for my mother's death and for the things that have happened to me. It is only by my mother's guiding spirit that I still stand with my head high... despite my past hardships."

Aristotle nodded understandingly. He noted the pain tinged in her eyes and strangely it pricked his heart. Apparently, Arnoldo had taken much from the woman and probably deserved no pity at all. If he had fast runners he would have him retrieved back from the ship, but it should've have sailed by now. Once Evangeline's ship had landed and she had disembarked, he had been released to the captain and they had sailed within the hour. However, the desire he had for her was far outweighing fulfilling her need for revenge. Besides, now that he knew she had taken care of the situation via her man, he could toss his concern away.

"And now, Monsieur Beauvois-"

"Please, Aristotle or Aris."

"We will need to set ground rules, Aris."

"Ground rules?" A brow lifted in curiosity.

"Yes, ground rules. Let's not act like this arrangement is for a normal servant. I already noted several maids and footmen, so you are in no need of that kind of indenturitude."

"You get right to the point, don't you?" he stated drawing closer to her.

"Years of practice." She lifted an arrogant chin before turning her golden eyes on him. "Now, you may have the use of me all you like, except on certain days. Those being obvious, unless you keep French letters handy. At the end of this, I have no desire of leaving here with a child, you understand? And I also require Sundays off. Lord's Day, you know. Even mistresses respect that. Second, I want nor do I desire a relationship. It's obvious we both find each other appealing, but lust is as far as it goes. Understood?"

Aristotle stood amazed by her frankness and business-like approach to the whole matter. He thought over everything she had said and had to admit he had mentally made those same rules. Unlike any other woman, even a whore, she wasn't trying to pose a challenge, be difficult or romanticize the situation. She wanted it to be a clean and cut arrangement. It was actually daunting having the terms spelled out.

He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it gently, stirring desire in her stomach. "I agree to your terms."

"Good," she smiled sexily.


Evangeline escaped to the safety of her new quarters after making arrangements for later with Aristotle. The room was more than lavish. It was beautifully wallpapered in an ivory and gold pattern and freshly painted chair rails with complimenting wainscotting of a warm bright white. The bed was a large four poster beast covered with tulle netting to keep out pesky bugs. The wooden posts adorning it was painted a shimmery gold to match the wallpaper and other trimmings. A gentle breeze billowed the sheer curtains providing some cool air as it stirred the steam in the large claw-foot porcelain tub, which Evangeline could not resist after the day she'd withstood.

Sliding into the water's sweet embrace with a heavy sigh, she recalled the conversation she had with Aris. He had seemed surprised by her ground rules but had not flinched in agreeing to them. The rules were more for her than they were for him. She hadn't lied about her attraction to him, but she hadn't admitted that it was stronger than she had let on. Evangeline had prided herself on her approach to lovers and keeping them at arms distance. Love was a trivial thing she had no time or want for, but Aristotle had stirred things in her that she had not anticipated. She felt the deep need to employ further restrictions on herself to keep her heart safe. How foolish would she be to fall for a man who lived across an entire ocean? Preposterous, she admonished. He would be good for a roll or two, but he was no way long term material.

A soft knock drew her from her thoughts. Glancing at the clock above the mantle, she frowned slightly. It couldn't be Aristotle since he had mentioned dinner would be in the hour and afterwards they would begin their arrangement.

"Enter."

Her eyes widened slightly seeing the very man who'd filled her thoughts walk into the room. A curious countenance crossed her brow, causing the large man to smirk. He had removed his gray overcoat and looked quite rakish in his white linen shirt, unbuttoned just below his chest. His eyes locked with hers seductively as he sauntered toward her bath, swishing a glass of rum in his hand. Leaning casually against the door jamb, he studied her.

"Aren't we early, Aris?" she questioned aloofly returning to her bath, trying to ignore his presence. A tinge of annoyance clamored through as heat began to simmer in her body causing her nipples hardened invitingly. She disliked this immediate desire he ignited in her.

"Yes," he admitted taking a sip of his drink. "But ... a man can change his mind."

Her eyes shot over to him. "Change your mind? Change your mind about what?"

"I find I can't wait for the arranged time, my dear Eve," he stated plainly, placing the glass on the table by the door.

He was doing his best to feign indifference, but his body was goading him something fierce. Ever since she had left the study he had tried to still his need, but he couldn't. His manhood had throbbed mercilessly, begging for release. Truth be told, it had started the moment she had stepped out of the carriage. For some God awful reason he wanted this minx and he wanted her badly. There was something about Evangeline that fired his blood. Was it her boldness? The directness? The fearlessness? The beauty? Whatever it was, he needed to assuage this need now. In two strides, he was at the tub, reaching down to pull her from the steamy water.

His lips crashed over hers fiercely drawing the breath out of her lungs. For a second she tried to push a way from him, but the hot passion that transferred from his body to hers stopped her resistance cold. Greedily, her legs wrapped about his waist as her breasts rubbed slowly against his chest, firing her already sensitive nipples. Her waist long locks clung to her back providing little cover for her rounded bottom. Aristotle carried her to the bed, dropping her upon the mattress. Propping herself up, Evangeline watched as Aristotle tossed off the soaked shirt. Their eyes never wavered from one another. Aristotle took in the full magnitude of her nakedness as it stretched out on the bed, while Evangeline watched him undress.

Her waist was slim, flowing temptingly into curvy hips and lengthy yet rounded thighs. Her hefty, upthrust breasts were full and mouthwatering, framed by delicately strong shoulders. She was the very image of sex and all its trappings. He wanted to ravish her from head to toe and know every nook and hollow. Quickly dispensing with his boots, he unbuttoned his buff colored trousers in one swoop and tore them down his long legs. Evangeline inhaled slightly at the sight of his engorged manhood. Her throat constricted in awe and her tongue went dry, thirsting for the beast before her.

He was impressive. His dark skin glistened silkily against the fading sun streaming into the room. His muscles rippled tautly, leaving no room for pouches or loose skin. He must work his own ships right alongside his men, because he was a specimen of their rigors.

Aristotle approached, his fingers reaching out for her legs, caressing them gently. An electric current ran through her causing shivers of pleasure to shock her. Gripping the limbs securely, he pulled her body closer to him, surrounding her thighs about his own. His thick member rested a hair's breath from her apex, causing phantom tingles to titter there. Instead of going straight for the kill, Aristotle leaned his massive frame forward to place kisses along her quivering stomach. Inhaling deeply, he took in the scent of fresh cut flowers that perfumed her body. His hands explored her other treasures carefully, namely her delicate globes. 

It had been a while since her last lover; whatever his name was. Evangeline seemed never able to find the time to enjoy the freedoms of her widowhood with all the matters that needed her attention. Fate had deemed it necessary she take this time for herself; odd way of getting it, she mused. But despite the nature of their arrangement, Evangeline was dead set on making sure her pleasures were fulfilled along with this indentured servitude. It seemed that Aristotle was already fulfilling his end of the bargain most deliciously. His lips scorched her beyond reason as they caressed and suckled her. Her nipples roared to life as his mouth gently pressed and pulled, sending rippling shockwaves down and throughout her body.

Her fingers ran along the ridge of his shoulders taking in the broad muscles there. If she had been inclined to fight him, she knew it would've been a lost cause. For he possessed the strength of the fiercest ox. Suddenly, Evangeline was hoisted from the bed and placed astride the beast, the man. His lengthy fiend lurked just outside her wet entrance. Surprise had greeted her eyes at the position exchange, but soon a seductive leer and smirk replaced it. She rested her palms softly against his chest for leverage before swiftly plunging him into her depths. Aristotle's head reared back in immediate satisfaction, feeling the cavern close and open against him.

The thickness of him could only be matched by his lengthiness. A gasp fell endless from her lips as she pummeled again and again. Her long hair draped over them providing a small semblance of privacy. His hands rested possessively over her hips drawing them to him. Aristotle bucked wildly beneath her, drilling her with his lust, but Evangeline gave as good as she got as she swiveled and rode. In all his years, he had never encountered a woman as lust-hungry as himself. He watched with avid amazement as the petite krioula took pleasure in the ride he offered, never shying from him or the act.

Taken aback, he reached up to pull her mouth to his. He needed to taste her, feel her mouth meld with his. He raised up to a seated position, his legs dangled over the bed, cradling Evangeline to him. Their lips folded over one another, each trying to steal energy from the other. Suddenly, the lust began to pull into a new direction, urgency became desperate. Tremors began to rack Evangeline the likes she'd never felt before. It was near painful, but so euphoric. Her toes cramped against his back, trying desperately to seal him to her as his hips continued to wave beneath her. Ripping from his mouth, she screamed in breathless ecstasy, milking his snake of his sweet venom. Aristotle took a gentle bite of her neck hoping to mask his own cry of release, but to no avail.

Exhausted, they fell back on the bed sated. Evangeline lay with her head turned away from Aristotle hoping to hide the utter shock he had caused her. The clouds had not cleared, she was a muddled mess. She still throbbed; she could still feel him throb. What had just happened went beyond pure release and gratification. She gulped for air as she tried to recenter her thoughts. Finding the strength to mask her amazement, she rose from the bed to the bathroom.

Aristotle lay staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately to calm his warring body. Suddenly, his eyes sought Evangeline's body. He needed confirmation this woman was real and not a figment of his imaginings. Her back was to him as she entered the bath to retrieve a wash cloth. She was beyond beautiful, this was true, but she was beyond any man's sexual expectation. She had the grace of a lady, but the skills of, dare he think it, a lady of the evening. He highly doubted he would be able to let this trinket go in five months if this was what she delivered every time.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the lady herself. "I guess we've concluded this evenings amusements. Good night, Aris."

Aristotle's eyes diverted to hers in surprise. She had donned her robe, was just tying off the belt, when she had made the declaration. Was she dismissing him? He rolled to his side to lean on his elbow to study her closely. Her eyes were unreadable. Her demeanor spoke nothing of exertion from their little tryst. There was no afterglow or dreaminess. Aristotle was thrown, completely. He rose and absently pulled his pants back on. Had her reactions been a lie? A performance? Most of the woman he'd bed would be sighing breathlessly beside him, even common whores, but this woman seemed unaffected. For some reason, it annoyed him.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself," she stated, sauntering to the door. With a swish, she opened it.

Aristotle approached slowly staring her up and down. Evangeline smiled with the air of a feline as she handed him his shirt. He was damned to ask her since she had been well aware of his own enjoyment based on her own statement. Taking the shirt, he left the room followed by a soft click of the door.

Glancing back, Aristotle studied the door, curious about the women therein. "You will definitely be a challenge, Eve," he mused as he walked away.


"And you will be mine," Evangeline sighed as she leaned against the door, clutching her heart.