Fugitive (20 page)

   Then their eyes met. Manx forgot to purr. Drusilla forgot to
breathe.

   She could feel him moving, but the warning signal her body sent out was even stronger. Something was about to happen, something that would forever change her. It began deep inside her, near where the head of his amazing cock was sweeping back and forth, and sent a stream of fire out to all corners of her being. Letting out a guttural cry as her orgasm detonated, Drusilla fell forward helplessly onto Manx's chest.

   Capturing her in his arms, Manx held her tightly before cupping her cheeks in his hands and pulling her up to face him, watching her expression as the realiza tion struck. He kept moving, gently rocking into her, feeling her warmth sheathing him as he tried to disap pear inside her completely.

   As another orgasm burst from her, and then another, and another, Drusilla gasped in astonishment. "Does it ever stop?"

   Manx grinned delightedly. "Eventually," he replied. "But it takes a while." Taking note of her dreamy eyes and her equally dreamy smile, he asked, "Good?"

   Drusilla nodded, still smiling. "Better than straw berry cheesecake."

   Manx laughed.

   "You don't know what that is, do you?" Drusilla asked.

   "No, but from the look on your face, I'd have to assume it's something
very
good."

   "It's one of the best things I can think of," she said, "but I think I'll have to put what you're doing at the top of my list from now on."

   "I can keep it up for as long as you like—or I can stop any time," he said. "You just tell me when you've had enough."

   Shuddering as yet another wave of ecstasy swept through her, Drusilla couldn't imagine ever wanting him to stop, but thought she could probably stand a break once in a while. Manx sat her up then, altering the angle slightly and as her mind tilted sideways, Drusilla decided that if other men were comparable to strawberry cheese cake, Manx was
chocolate
cheesecake with strawber ries, whipped cream, chocolate curls—and maybe even some pecans. "Ohmygod," she sighed. "How are you
doing
that?"

   "It's a Zetithian secret," Manx replied in a conspira torial whisper. "Don't tell anyone."

   He wasn't even moving much and she was still feeling the fireworks. "You haven't even told
me,
" she gasped. "How could I possibly tell anyone else?"

   "You're pretty smart," he said with a knowing nod. "You'll figure it out."

   "Mmm, don't want to," she murmured. "Besides, I think it's magic."

   "No, Drusilla," Manx said.
"You're
the magic." Gazing up at her, Manx longed to hold her, giving her joy forever—but he knew he could do better. "Think it would hurt your shoulder if I laid you on your back?"

   "My darling Manx," Drusilla whispered. "Right now, you could probably rip my arm off and I wouldn't feel it."

   Grinning broadly, Manx flipped over with Drusilla still impaled on his cock, her beautiful hair spilling out across the sheets. "How was that?"

   "Impressive," Drusilla replied. "But then, everything about you is impressive."

   "Put your arms around my neck," he said, sounding pleased. "And hold on tight."

   Drusilla was looking up at him, but just then her eyes lost focus as he
really
began to move.

   Manx gave it to her every way he could think of—in and out, back and forth, up, down, and sideways. Undulating his spine and curling his hips forward, Manx plunged in deeply, drowning in her, never, ever, wanting to come up for air again. Drusilla was moaning with every move he made, but when he started doing figure eights inside her, she screamed, and Manx lost all control. Letting out a growl, he gave up trying to be creative and simply fucked her as hard and fast as he could until his balls spewed forth their sweet, intoxi cating cream. The sweeping motion of his corona soon followed, and he delighted in the delirious sensation of fulfillment.

   "I can feel…
something,"
Drusilla gasped. "I feel…" Momentarily speechless, Drusilla's eyes widened as she felt a warm glow begin in the small of her back, felt it grow and spread as it fanned out to the tips of her fingers and toes. Then, suddenly, her entire body seemed to burst into bloom.

   As Manx gazed into Drusilla's lovely eyes, he saw the sight he'd been craving ever since catching that first glimpse of her. "Joy," he whispered, "unlike any you have ever known?"

   "Oh, yeah, that's it," Drusilla sighed, pulling him down for a poignant kiss which lasted until sleep over came her.

   Manx laid her down gently and cradled her in his arms, purring contentedly until late in the afternoon. He would gladly die to protect her now, and if he ever lost her, he'd simply give up and let the bounty hunters take him, knowing that, without her, he'd probably die anyway.

***

Drusilla awoke to the most deliriously beautiful morning of her life. Outside her window the sky was a brilliant purple hue, the green leaves of the jungle were glossy after a day of rain, and the lake sparkled invitingly. There were no dangerous animals afoot, and Manx was still beside her, right where he belonged. Birds were singing, and a whole flock of what looked like aquama rine flamingos were wading in the shallows.

   "Dwell," Drusilla said quietly. "Do the windows open?"

   In reply, a soft breeze blew in from the lake, touching her hair and caressing her skin. She stretched, finding it remarkable that there was hardly a twinge of discomfort from the wounds on her shoulder and side. Among other things, Manx seemed to be a pretty good doctor—though his skill as a healer was nothing compared with his ability as a lover! She'd been with other men—had heard other women's descriptions of their own experiences—but Manx was so far beyond the rest that you couldn't even call it sex; it was more like… well, she couldn't even come up with a word that described it.

   She felt absolutely perfect. The only thing she might be missing was—

   "Thank you, Klog," she whispered as the droid hovered beside the bed with a cup of tea. She took the cup and inhaled the sweet fragrance of white tea flavored with peach and mango. "Perfect."

   If only Manx would be as perfect when he awoke. Drusilla sighed, taking a sip of her tea. Men were never perfect. Women were never perfect. It was too much to ask of anyone, but Manx seemed to come awfully close…

   She gazed at him, her eyes drinking in the steady rise and fall of his chest, his thick mass of curls, his deeply tanned skin. He was lying on his side, facing away from her, almost on his stomach and she wanted nothing more than to spoon up behind him, let her hands glide over his back and shoulders, down his arms… If the way she felt wasn't love, it was definitely something very special— and Manx was the reason for it.

   Drusilla hadn't taken more than a few sips of her tea before she simply had to put it down and nestle up next to Manx, resting her hand on his hip, laying her cheek against his back while his hair tickled her face. She could feel him breathing, hear his heart beating as she closed her eyes and inhaled his essence, hoping that nothing would ever disrupt the way she felt right then. She wanted to remember this moment forever—never to forget how much her life and her whole world had been changed by this one, remarkable being.

   But Manx had been awake even before Drusilla and was just as afraid to do anything to disrupt his feeling of
laetralant
bliss. Was she having second thoughts? If he rolled over and took her in his arms, would he be repulsed, or would she be as warm and welcoming the morning after as she had been the day before? Then she touched him; he felt the warmth of her body against his own and knew he couldn't feign sleep any longer—and began to purr.

   Drusilla smiled, her eyes filling with tears of joy. No, he wasn't going to spoil it. It would go on as it began.

Chapter 12

BREAKFAST IN BED WITH YOUR LOVER WAS TRULY A JOY, Drusilla decided—especially when neither of you had to get up to fix it. Klog was the perfect solution to the lack of privacy associated with a real, live cook; you didn't have to worry about being caught in a compromising position by a droid.

   Klog might not have had any feelings on the subject, but Drusilla suspected that he approved, somehow. She couldn't explain why—at least, no more than she could explain why Klog had been so pleased to be able to fix dinner for Manx again—but she definitely got that impression. It might have had something to do with his programming—an overall desire to serve, perhaps—but it seemed to go beyond that.

   However he felt about the situation, Klog outdid himself with a breakfast of biscuits and gravy with bacon and eggs, something Manx remarked upon.

   "Klog never made anything like this for me before," he said, digging into a mound of scrambled eggs and cheese. "This is
really
good."

   "He must be making up for the fact that we missed dinner last night," Drusilla said. "Though this
is
a traditional Earth breakfast, at least, in the region I'm from. Might not be typical in China." Scrutinizing Manx out of the corner of her eye, Drusilla decided he didn't look at all malnourished, so he must have been eating something, even when Klog was trying to remain discreet. "What do you usually have for breakfast?"

   "Since I've been here? Fish, mostly, and, I'm sorry to say, the occasional bird," Manx replied.

   "You can catch the birds?" Drusilla said incredu lously. "Really?"

   Manx nodded. "Other animals too," he said. "Some of them I can catch by hand, but for others I use my bow or spear. I don't go hungry when I'm living out in the wild."

   Drusilla laughed at this. "Klog must have thought you were starving."

   "Maybe," Manx conceded. "But I wasn't. He
is
a good cook, though."

   "Any idea why he always seems to know what you want even before you ask him for it?"

   Manx shrugged. "No."

   Drusilla frowned as she considered the matter. "Maybe he can sense your body chemistry and know what you're craving that way." Then she laughed as she thought of something else entirely.

   "What?" Manx prompted. Her laughter was infec tious, and Manx found himself chuckling along with her without even knowing why.

   "I've been craving you," she explained between giggles. "I'm surprised he didn't drag you in here sooner."

   "He didn't
drag
me in here," Manx protested. "Actu ally, Dwell and Zef had more to do with it," he added reflectively. "They helped me find out more about you." With an apologetic smile, he added, "You have to understand, I've been hiding out—I don't normally have breakfast with just anyone."

Drusilla smiled. "So, I'm special?"

   "You are so much more than special," Manx assured her, leaning over to steal a kiss. "In fact, you may be my destiny—though I never believed in that sort of thing before now."

   Drusilla was already feeling quite warm and fuzzy about the entire scenario, but bringing destiny into the equation made it seem even more romantic, and she snuggled closer to him. "You mean we were destined to meet?"

   "Seems like it to me," he said. "After all, neither of us belongs on this planet, and yet, here we are."

   "Yeah," she said thoughtfully. "What were the odds?" Slim to none, as the saying went. "And the really strange thing is that it feels surprisingly comfortable, like we've known each other for years."

   "I know exactly what you mean," he said. "I feel the same way." Taking a sip from his cup, he asked, "What did you say this was?"

   "Tea," she replied. "Like it?"

   Manx nodded. "I'm not used to drinking hot fluids, but yeah, I like it. Warms you up on the inside."

   This description took Drusilla back to the night before when Manx had done the same thing to her—but with his hot cock, rather than a cup of tea—and the warm, fuzzy feeling intensified. "There's another thing I don't understand. I've never felt quite like this before. It's an afterglow sort of thing, but more… I don't know, I—"

   "It's called
laetralance
in my language," Manx said. "And you don't just feel it after mating, either. It's a—a state of mind that comes when you're at peace and—"

   "Everything's right with the world?"

"Yes, but it's got something to do with your soul, too."

   "Well, whatever it is, you must be the reason I'm feeling this way," Drusilla said warmly, leaning up against him. "And it feels really good. Thanks for sharing it with me."

   Manx smiled. "You're not the only one who's feeling grateful. Not every woman would have responded to me the way you did. Here I am, hiding out in the jungle like a wanted criminal—between your leap of faith and my sense of destiny… it's a pretty strong combination."

   Klog floated in and took their empty plates, leaving Drusilla curled up in Manx's arms while he purred. It was nice, cozy moment, but one that quickly progressed to something more… feral. Drusilla's fingers toyed with the hair trailing down to his groin, reaching ever lower, becoming more sensuous, until finally she was teasing his cock. Stroking upward from base to tip, she reached the head and then froze. Pushing back the sheets to get a look at what her fingers were telling her, she gasped in astonishment. She'd already seen the ruffled corona, and fluid was pouring from the star-like points, but it was what he was able to do with it that had her completely amazed. "No wonder you had me going nuts last night!" Mesmerized, she watched as it pulsed, sending more fluid cascading down the shaft before it shifted to point right at her lips. "You can move it?"

   "Mm-hm," Manx replied. "In any direction." To demonstrate, he drew circles and squares in the air with the head.

   "Holy Toledo!" Drusilla exclaimed. "How come no woman has you tied to her bed?"

   Manx grinned. "That's been tried—well, sort of. I was a slave, remember?"

   "But you escaped?"

   "Before I was ever sold, actually, so technically I wasn't ever a slave, come to think of it," he added reflectively. "Came damn close, though."