A Centaur for Libby Page 4

  “Don’t…don’t call me that,” she protested feebly. “No one calls me that.”

  “But you are the embodiment of what is fair and beautiful and bold. Let me worship you, Libra. Let me awaken your body.”

  He had her at worship. Check, please! screamed her spasming sex. Still, there was propriety to consider. “Listen to me, Markos.” It took every ounce of will to take back her hand. “I am going to get up and walk out. Do not follow me. Do not try to contact me. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

  This time Marge was not there to stop her. She did not turn back, she did not look over her shoulder. She kept going all the way back to her office. Panting, she closed and locked the door.

  Trembling like a leaf, she sat down at her desk. She intended to work, but her fingers could not manage to open a single file. All she could do was sit there, rocking in her squeaky chair, rubbing herself against the surface.

  Her panties were soaking-wet. Her breath caught in her throat. Her pussy screamed for attention, an itch that could not go unsatisfied. Libby had never behaved this way in her whole entire life, let alone at work. Pants, seemingly unbuttoning themselves, the material pulled down her legs, her sex bared, her hand…immersed.

  The other balled in her mouth to stifle the scream.

  Libby came almost at once, eyes closed, the moan held deep inside. It was a clitoral orgasm, the liquids of her sex dripping shamelessly down onto the chair. She couldn’t keep it clear in her mind. Who loved her? Markos or the centaur…or both?

  Oh god, it had been so long. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to soar and then fall, to ride the edge of pleasure, the angled wing, sharp and tantalizing. Not satisfied with the one orgasm, she went to work on a second. Greedy little thing, wasn’t she?

  She could only hope this would get it…and him out of her system.

  No more sex, no more dreams and no more Markos from nowhere-land with his vain dreams of passion and his fancy words. Where could any of that lead? Except to ruin.

  Case closed. The man was history. Sentenced to life…apart from her.

  Now if only she could keep him from filing any appeals.

  Chapter Three

  Markos employed every ounce of self-restraint in not following Libby Daniels out the door. His every centaur instinct was to pursue, to chase and to hunt. For fun, of course, though he had to remember he wasn’t a centaur any longer, he was a human and humans didn’t appear to have any fun.

  To be human, he had learned so far, was to be uptight, frustrated. Miserable. Markos grunted, tearing at the silly cloth collar on his neck. The clothes were constraining his body, suffocating. How did they endure such misery? And the unsatisfied hard-on. That was the worst of all. It made no sense. The woman wanted it as much as he did. Why weren’t they making love right now, here on this silly table or on the seat or on the floor or any number of other possible places?

  A man cleared his throat, breaking Markos’ reverie.

  “I have your sandals,” said the policeman.

  “Thank you,” said Markos, amazed at how quickly he had assimilated the humans’ language. “Tell me, what must a man do to sleep with a human female?”

  The policeman smiled. “That’s the question of all time, buddy. You figure that one out and you’ll be a millionaire. You might try flowers, though. Or candy. A nice candlelit dinner never hurts either. I assume you’re talking about the woman who was in here with you?”

  “Yes.”

  The smile broadened. “You got your hands full there. They say that one’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox.”

  “Fort what?”

  “Fort Knox, you know, where the gold is?”

  “I have gold with me, in my bag.”

  “Good, good,” said the policeman, looking to the door for a way out. “I gotta be going, okay?”

  Markos nodded, already deep in thought. There had to be a way to get at Libby’s gold. And until he did that he would never get close enough for her to trust him when it came time to take her back with him to Constellia.

  And take her he must if he was to save himself…and his people.

  This much was clear. What was not clear was why he was feeling so passionate about the woman. She was beautiful and she was going to be his first human female conquest. But that didn’t begin to describe the delight he felt looking into her eyes, the way her smile lit him up, the way he enjoyed teasing her.

  What a little bundle of contradictions. She was a fierce fighter, no-nonsense, he could tell. But she was wrapped so tight, like a package just crying to be opened. And what would he find inside? He was dying to find out, just like he wanted to know what her skin would taste like and how exactly she would clutch at him when she came. He wanted to devour her, drink her in, lick the sweat from her skin, twist his fingers in her midnight hair, pin her lithe, pale body beneath him, releasing its wonders.

  He wanted to ride her and ultimately for her to ride him.

  By the stars, what would it be like, making love as a human? Having two legs seemed such an awkward thing. He could not gallop, seducing his lover upon his back. Nor could he tickle and tease with his tail.

  Time would tell. For now, he must collect the needed items and return to Libra. Hopefully she would still be in the building.

  “Got jilted, did you?” said Marge.

  Markos held up the sandals. “I need help putting these on.”

  She winked at him once again. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

  Well, he certainly had one female on his side. “You aren’t a lawyer, are you?” he asked.

  “No.” She bent down to put on his sandals. “But I play one on TV.”

  “What is TV?”

  “It’s crap, that’s what it is.”

  Markos rubbed his hand over his stomach. He felt an odd queasiness. Perhaps it was the pie. “It hurts,” he said. “Here.”

  “Maybe you’re in love,” said Marge.

  “What does that mean?” he asked. “To be in love?”

  “You know, wanting only one person? Marriage? Commitment and all that?”

  Markos did understand marriage. There were some creatures meant for it and some which were not. “In that case,” he said firmly, “centaurs don’t fall in love.”

  “Humans do.”

  He thought of Libby and how she seemed to be crowding every other thought from his mind, even the most paramount thought of his mission. “I’m not human. I play one on TV,” Markos said.

  Marge laughed. “You catch on quick.”

  “Thank you.” He reached in his pocket, where he had put the remainder of his diamonds. “I have bread to pay for the coffee.”

  “Whoa,” said Marge, looking at the diamond. “That’s some rock. You keep it, though. Your lady friend already paid. See?”

  Marge picked up the small, green parchment on the table. Markos hadn’t even noticed it.

  “Centaurs don’t fall in love,” he repeated. “They make love to whomever they please.”

  “Sounds nice. You want any more coffee?”

  “No, I must be going.” He stood and gave her a kiss on the cheek. She blushed nicely. “Take care, Marge. Thank you.”

  “Sure, kid,” she said. “And good luck. You’re going to need it.”

  He had to agree with her there. He needed all the luck and all the wit he could summon. Not to mention all his powers of Sagittarian seduction.

  * * * * *

  Libby was virtually alone in the building when he showed up. She saw him standing there in the doorway to her office.

  “You,” she rasped, nearly snapping her pencil in half. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Time is of no importance when watching a beautiful woman.”

  Damn it, he was good. “Markos, this needs to stop.” She held up her hand. “You need to go. Now. I’m not even sure how you got in. The offices are supposed to be locked.”

  “Kevin let me in.”

  “Figures,”
she sighed.

  “I am here to give you these.” He held out the flowers, a dozen red roses. Another layer of ice melted off her heart. How long had it been since a man had done that for her? He had candy too, a huge heart-shaped box, more than she could eat in a lifetime.

  She noticed the tie was gone and the pinstripe jacket too. His shirt was half unbuttoned, down to his solid waist. He had a fine layer of chest hair, tawny like the rest of him. Her eyes traced down the line of his legs, past muscular thighs to his feet. He was wearing sandals, brown leather. Oh, how she ached to see more of the man…to do more with him.

  “Markos, this gesture is very sweet,” she said firmly, “but it’s really not appropriate.”

  “One of the policeman said these would convince you to make love with me,” he said.

  Anger flashed to the surface. She tried to remember the man was harmless. “Markos, you can’t buy a woman’s affections. It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Then let me take you to dinner for a date, is that the right word?”

  Libby fought off a small swoon. Dear god, he was asking her out. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “You aren’t hungry?”

  “Yes, I am,” she said, trying to stay calm. “But it’s not that simple.”

  “Explain it to me, then.”

  “A date is…well, it’s something that involves chemistry,” she struggled to explain.

  He gave her a blank look, terribly endearing.

  “You need a man to explain it, I think.”

  “No.” He shook his head, taking one deliberate step forward and then another. “I’m not hungry, anyway. Not for food.”

  Her heart slammed in her chest. “I am warning you, Markos, don’t come in here.”

  He set the flowers and the candy on the edge of her desk. His waist was at eye level. She could see his hard cock, long and thick, straining at the material of his pants. Despite multiple self-driven orgasms, she was desperate with need, desperate for Markos.

  “Markos, I am very serious.”

  “So am I.” He came behind the desk and grasped her hands, lifting her to her feet. “I’m sorry, Libby, but we have to set your soul free.”

  “Markos…”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Her protests died on his lips, searing hot. She dissolved right there, feeling her will drain away. If he should let go of her she would surely fall straight through the earth.

  Markos did not let go. He drew her all the tighter, as if to prove their bodies were meant to fit together. Ever the lady, she offered one final objection. “We…can’t—”

  “Yes, Libra, we can.” His hands moved behind her neck. She clutched at him, afraid of falling. She was helpless to resist as he did what he had wanted to from the start, releasing her hair.

  Libby moaned as the dark, silky curls fell about her shoulders. It had been so long…so long since she had felt like a woman.

  His eyes were liquid, like a depthless sea, blue and strong and brave. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he breathed.

  Libby sucked in her lower lip. Her voice was barely audible. “Markos…take me…please.”

  He swept her into his arms, making her feel light as a feather, treasured as a goddess. He took her to the couch, a generally useless piece of furniture left by the previous occupant. For once she was glad it was here.

  Markos laid her out on the faded, blue-striped fabric. He proceeded to undress her, making a ritual of it. First he took off her shoes, one by one lifting her feet and slipping them off. He kissed each dainty foot, nibbling teasingly at her big toe.

  She cried, she giggled and she tried to keep the noise down. She could only imagine what it would be like when they got to the sex.

  The sex. Damn it. What were the odds of a man like Markos having condoms on him? Zero, that’s what.

  “Markos?”

  He was opening her pants, getting ready to slide them off. “Yes?”

  “You will need to wear a condom. Do they have those where you come from?”

  Listen to her, she was acting like all this Constellia stuff was real.

  “Do you mean ritual cock piercings? I have worn them in the past but I have none now.”

  Libby tried to picture that. “No, a condom is a…a glove that you wear over your cock before putting it inside a female.”

  He pulled down her pants, down over each ankle. “Why would I want to do that?”

  She put her hands over her pussy. She had soaked right through her panties. “To prevent disease. And pregnancy.”

  Markos removed her hands, gently but firmly. “Why would you get pregnant if you didn’t want to?”

  “It just happens, Markos.”

  He put her wrists over her head, crossing them. “Leave them,” he said, putting her into invisible bondage.

  Her pussy stung with need. He was taking her control, he was being the man. There was a first in her sorry excuse for a sexual history.

  Still, she had to draw the line. “You can’t go in me without one—I have some in the drawer. Don’t go jumping to conclusions. A client left them once.”

  “What conclusions would I draw?” He knelt down on one knee next to her and bent to kiss the moist cotton panel.

  “That…that I’m some kind of slut,” she groaned as he pressed his heavenly lips to her thinly veiled pussy.

  “The word isn’t in my brain,” he said. “What is a slut?”

  “An easy woman.” She writhed as he took a long lick, right along the line between her swollen sex lips. “A woman who will sleep with anyone.”

  “Why is that bad?” he wanted to know.

  She balled her fists. “I don’t know, it just is. Oh god, Markos, don’t keep me waiting. Get the condom, it’s in the top left drawer. I’ll show you how.”

  “Not yet.” He tugged at her waistband, removing her panties. “I want you to beg.”

  She reached for him, as though she could compel a man that strong to fuck her if he didn’t want. “I said please, isn’t that enough?”

  Markos pinned her wrists in one hand, just above her head. “No.”

  Adrenaline surged. The urge to submit was overwhelming. “Okay, Markos…I give. I’m begging…”

  “You will have to beg harder.” He smiled evilly. And then he touched her, not at all the way she would touch herself. For Markos it was an act of conquest, domination pure and simple of her feminine essence.

  His finger grazed her clitoris, moving her immediately to the edge of orgasm. He held her there, making her dangle over the cliff.

  “I would stay very still if I were you,” he said.

  Her breasts trembled, her nipples were tiny, swollen beads, molten-hot, craving to be crushed against his chest. Her belly longed to be flattened, skin to skin. Her pussy burned to be opened, plunged, tested…used.

  “What happened to worshipping me?” she asked, feeling no more than the man’s slave.

  “First you learn to accept who you are, Libra.”

  “And what is that?”

  “You are heaven.” He plunged his fingers deep inside her, decisive, determined, yet tantalizingly gentle.

  She bucked against him.

  “You may not climax,” he said. “Until I say.”

  Libby felt her body fall away. She opened her mouth, gasping for air, her tongue craving a taste of him. What was he doing to her? He had stimulated her beyond explosion, but she was held, like a tiny bird in his hand.

  “Not yet,” he kept saying. “Hold it, longer.”

  “Yes,” she heard herself reply, breathing in needful obedience. “Oh, Markos, yes.”

  “Higher.” He nibbled at her ear, searing, branding, higher.

  She flew at his command, she shattered in slow motion, already gone, fracturing into a million pieces. It only remained to be released. “Pleeease,” she said, begging, at long last, just as he wanted her to.

  “Come,” said Markos. “Give it to me.”
<
br />   She rolled like a wave, crackling lightning, vivid rainbow-colored, belly-saturating thunder, sweet surrender pure and sweet, utter and complete female fulfillment, knowing herself…home…giving maximum delight to a man…her man.

  He continued to kiss at her neck, holding her close. He released her hands, but did not abandon her.

  “Markos,” she whispered, hearing her own voice in the vacuum of her opened soul. “Let me please you now.”

  “You have,” he said, unbuttoning her blouse, the salmon-colored one that was supposed to be a turnoff to any prospective lovers. “And you will continue to do so.”

  He had her lean up on her elbows so he could take off her jacket and undo the strap of her bra. He wanted her naked, he wanted to play with her at will.

  One by one he kissed her nipples, peaking them. She grabbed at his hair for a change, pulling his head down. “Oh god…that feels…”

  “Good?” he supplied the appropriate word.

  She nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  Libby was intent on stripping him. She worked furiously, if not effectively, alternating between shirt buttons and belt. He offered assistance, first with the shirt. Sitting up, his knees on either side of her hips, he finished with the buttons—he was painfully slow—and then shrugged it off his shoulders.

  She was rewarded with a bronzed chest, solid and powerful, perfectly developed, but not excessively so. There wasn’t an ounce of fat, just lean flesh covering sculpted muscle.

  “Markos,” she said in throaty appreciation of the view. “You’re like a…a god.”

  At first he tried to stop her touching him, but she gave a scolding. “My turn now.”

  His eyes slid shut in a combination of appreciation and frustration as her small fingers worked over his bronzed muscles. They had such a rugged, natural feel. Was there a difference, between gym-born muscles and ones born in the outdoors?

  On impulse, she pinched his nipple, causing him to pop open his eyes.

  His expression made her giggle, a combination of his serious, deep eyes and playful brows that spelled definite payback.

  “Your cock,” she said, slapping his biceps. “I want to see it.”

  He smiled slantedly, eyes glued on hers. “As you wish.” He undid his belt and opened the clasp of his pants.