She would never forget who she belonged to.
He thrust deeper, feeling the bed sway beneath them as they moved. She whimpered something at him, her voice needy. He couldn't understand what she was saying. The blood was pounding too hard in his ears and slowing down was not an option. Each thrust brought him that much closer to the achingly beautiful conclusion they both needed. He had to go harder, faster. He had to hold on and not give in to the desire to explode. They were going to come together, or not at all. He wouldn't give her a choice about that.
A sudden, sharp pain broke through his thoughts, and he realized that she had scratched his back. Her fingernails tore through his skin, each one clawing a trail of fire through him. It helped him focus. He reached down to pull her hips more firmly under his and she gave a little scream.
Time to finish it.
He pulled one hand free and pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing it back and forth as he breached her. She gasped, and a fine sheen of perspiration broke out across her face. He could feel her muscles stiffening, could see her pulling air deep into her chest. It was only a matter of seconds now. He gave one last mighty thrust, working her clit with his thumb, and watched her face intently. Her head flung back as she came with a scream. Her internal muscles gripped him tightly, and he gasped. He wanted to watch her, take her pleasure into himself, but it was too late. His own orgasm was upon him, his body had taken over and making the decisions now. He could feel the pressure and tension explode out his c**k as waves of pleasure shot through his body, radiating out from his pelvis. It was spectacular, better than he could have dreamed.
Was every time with her going to be like this? A new high, a new kind of sexual ecstasy? If so, he may very well die with the next few weeks, he thought wryly. One man's body was not designed for this kind of stress…
* * * * *
Jess stole through the corridors of the station, taking care to attract as little notice as possible. It wasn't hard; it was the middle of the sleep cycle and this was a quiet area.
It was amazing to him how things had changed, and yet stayed the same. He had lived in these halls all of his life, yet everything was different now. Their Saurellian overlords had been active during their brief tenure. The port was still wild and full, but there seemed to be more order in the rest of the station. There were certainly more guardsmen. There were also more public receptacles for trash, and much less graffiti.
The Saurellians, apparently, preferred their spacestations to be clean.
Another major difference was the public notices calling on station residents to register to vote. He had no idea what they would be voting on; he couldn't even imagine doing so. Never, in his entire life, had there been a vote on the station about anything. Strangely enough, the few businesses owned by Pilgrims appeared to be shut down. Was Jenner's disappearance connected, he wondered?
He was near the hostel where he had grown up now, and it was hard to remember caution. He felt far too comfortable here, yet was far more dangerous for him outside the port. There, the population was transient. Now he found himself among people who might very well recognize him and report him as an escaped slave. Under Imperial rule that would have resulted in his death; the Goddess alone knew what the Saurellians might do to him.
If anything happened, Bethany would be all right, he reminded himself. He had registered her as owner of their new ship. The hostel owner had instructions to check on her if Jess didn't return. She'd be all right; there was more than enough money for her to survive.
He'd come too far to be caught now, though. He was going to free Calla and get out of this hellhole once and for all.
Finally, he reached his goal—the long, narrow passageway. There was a vent at the end that would lead to the storeroom in Jenner's hostel. He and Calla had discovered the secret route as children. They'd always assumed that Jenner had created it in a bout of paranoia, something common enough among Pilgrims. After all, they tended to hoard supplies and tried to always have at least one escape route. Now he would use it to steal Calla right out from under the noses of her masters.
Moving quietly, he opened the vent and started crawling down the shaft. Every inch of it felt familiar to him. He'd used it a thousand times to sneak out of the hostel. As a child, he would go down to the port and follow the traders around, copying their speech and asking questions about foreign worlds. He could have escaped long ago, if Calla hadn't been so afraid.
As a young man, he had discovered the joys to be found among the women of the port. He was handsome and strong—even the women of the most expensive pleasure houses had welcomed him to their beds. More than one had offered to buy him his freedom.
Once again, he had stayed because of Calla. His stomach turned as he realized how foolish they had been; Calla had been fearful, terrified that they would be caught and killed. He realized now that death was far from the worst fate a slave could suffer.
Moving through the passage, he counted down the vents until he reached the one that opened on the hostel. With a flash of triumph, he discovered it was still loose. The vent cover was supposed to be firmly welded directly to the station, making it impossible for a man without sophisticated tools to open it. The welds on this one had been broken for decades, but he had been half afraid the Saurellians would have noticed and fixed it.
Keeping quiet, he pushed the grill open and lowered it to the floor. He slithered out of the vent into the room . Dank and dusty as ever, he thought with satisfaction. Nobody was coming in and out of here regularly.
He crept across the floor and listened carefully at the door. Outside was silence. Unless things had changed significantly, everyone would have been asleep for hours. Calla would be in the kitchen, her pallet laid out with those of the other women. For the first time he realized Calla might not be the only slave who wanted to leave. His gut twisted. It would endanger them all if he brought too many back with him to the ship, but he didn't have a choice. If his fellow slaves wanted to leave, he would help them.
It was the only right thing to do.
Walking down the hall, he looked carefully at each door, trying to determine if anyone was awake.
Jenner's office was open, although there was no light inside. He'd never seen it left open like that before; she really was gone. It was hard to imagine in some ways. Jenner had always seemed like a force of nature to him, immovable and certainly unstoppable. Yet she had left for the first time in years. Was it really a business trip, or had the Saurellians frightened her that much?
He kept moving until he reached the kitchen. Fortunately, Calla always slept closest to the door because she had to go to the fresher at least once every night. He'd teased her about it mercilessly as a teenager.