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Leaning down, she lapped gently, bathing the head of his cock with her tongue and savoring his rich, salty flavor.

  The extra stimulation of her tongue when she was already pumping his shaft and pressing lightly at his nether entrance appeared to be too much for Saber.

  “Lissa,” he gasped, going rigid. “Get back. I’m going to—”

  Before he could finish his words, a warm, wet jet of translucent white spurted from the head of his cock and covered her fingers. Lissa was surprised, but only at first.

  He’s coming, she thought with a surge of triumph. I’m making him come—giving him pleasure just like he gave me!

  Feeling empowered, she continued to stroke, holding his throbbing cock in her hand until he finally stopped spurting.

  Finally Saber lay gasping on the bed, his arms still raised over his head and a look of wonderment in his eyes.

  “I don’t understand,” he said at last, when he could talk again. “You were so upset earlier when we were just kissing and now…this. What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I guess I’m just tired of being afraid and feeling guilty all the time. And when I saw how much pain you were in, I just…I realized we don’t have the luxury of burying ourselves in shame and recrimination. Not if we’re going to do what we came here to do.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Saber admitted. “I guess…I’ve been feeling pretty guilty myself.”

  “Well, I’m tired of that.” Lissa tossed her hair out of her face. “From now on, let’s forget about being from the same clan. We’ll do what we have to do and not feel guilty for any of it. Do you think we could do that?”

  “We could try.” Saber sounded doubtful. “I guess. As long as we don’t…”

  “No, we won’t go that far,” Lissa promised, her heart pounding. She looked down at her hand, still covered in the evidence of his pleasure. If any of this got into her, if she would have let Saber give her the Deep Touch and pump the white, creamy cum into her pussy instead of her hand…but no, she wouldn’t let her mind go there.

  “So we’ll just do what we need to in order to play our parts?” Saber said.

  Lissa nodded firmly. “Of course.”

  “What about…” He cleared his throat. “Forgive me, but I can’t help remembering the way I’m supposed to acknowledge you when we go to a formal party like the sensation party we’re going to tomorrow night.”

  “You mean when you…when you have to kiss my panties?” Lissa’s breath was coming short again and she could feel Saber’s cock, which had grown almost soft, getting hard in her hand again.

  “Yes, Mistress.” Saber’s eyes were steady but his deep voice was hoarse. “And remember what Lady Sha’rak said about split panties and that I should…” He cleared his throat. “Should use my tongue on you to show extra respect…”

  “Oh.” Lissa bit her lip—she hadn’t considered this. Yet, it still fell under the heading of things they had to do in order to complete their mission. “Do you want…” She looked at Saber uncertainly. “Would it bother you to…to have to do that?”

  “Would it bother me to taste your sweet, wet pussy? Of course not!” His hazel eyes were suddenly half-lidded with lust. “It’s my greatest desire.”

  “It is?” Lissa felt hot all over. Was this really what Saber fantasized about when he thought of her?

  “Mmm-hmm.” His voice dropped until it was nothing but a soft, sexual growl and she felt a hint of his whisper-fingers brush against her cheek.

  “I…I don’t know if we should do that, if we should go quite that far,” she whispered. She wanted to look away from him but his hazel eyes were drowning deep—holding her gaze, making her feel like she couldn’t contain herself much longer. “I mean I don’t think—” she began again, stumbling over the words.

  “Lissa…” he murmured, still holding her eyes with his. “Amalla…"

  Suddenly the tension between them was too much for Lissa. If she didn’t leave the room at once they were going to start kissing again. And this time, Saber had no trousers on to separate them. The nighty she was wearing wouldn’t help either—it was too flimsy and see-through to form any kind of a barrier. If she kissed Saber, if she went to his arms and let him pin her to the bed again, there would be no stopping this time. She would spread her legs and let him give her the Deep Touch, whether it was right or wrong.

  “I…excuse me,” she mumbled. “I…I need to clean up.”

  She jumped off the bed and raced to the bathroom, her heart beating as she considered what she had just done. And more importantly, what she had agreed to do in the near future.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Draven was sleeping when L snuck into his room.

  She didn’t even know why she bothered. They had said their goodbyes the night before after supper. To her surprise, Draven had been a perfect gentleman throughout the entire meal. He’d been charming and witty and even made her laugh once or twice—which she almost never did. Her life so far hadn’t been very conducive to levity.

  And yet, throughout the entire meal, his silver eyes remained blank—devoid of that certain something she couldn’t quite name but which seemed vital to existence. A human element, she supposed she would call it if she’d ever been anywhere near Earth. Which she hadn’t, no matter what her memories might suggest.

  Yes, Draven was definitely lacking something but she felt drawn to him anyway. It was almost as though he had a void inside him, a hole that no one and nothing could fill. L knew that feeling of emptiness well. She lived with it every day. And so, though she reminded herself that the Hoard Master was a murdering bastard who would kill her in a moment if he felt like it, she couldn’t help coming to see him once more before she left his twisted realm.

  L stood just inside the doorway, still wearing the guise of one of his imps, and watched intently. Trying to understand him. Trying to see what was missing. She’d sent his other attendants away and they were alone in the vast bedroom, which was filled with the treasure of the thousand worlds his forces had despoiled. Empty conquests, she thought, watching as he twisted restlessly between his silken sheets.

  For the Hoard Master did not rest easy. He groaned, his face tight with some unspoken agony, then put out a hand as though to ward something off—or warn someone. As L watched, his groans became words.

  “No,” he gasped. “No, I will not accept defeat. I will vanquish you even if it means—” The rest of the sentence trailed off into indistinct mumbling but L found herself fascinated all the same. Unaware that she was doing so, she drifted closer to the vast bed until she was standing right beside it, watching Draven much more closely than she had ever intended to.

  His face contorted in pain and to L’s surprise she saw something glimmering on the tips of the Hoard Master’s inky black lashes. Were those…could they be…tears? Surely not—Draven would be the first to claim he had no tears to shed for anyone and yet…

  Hardly knowing what she was doing, she reached out a hand to him. It was almost as though she was drawn to touch him, to touch the first evidence she had seen of genuine emotion welling up from within. Her hand changed from an imp’s claw to its natural form and she brushed one slender finger against his cheek so lightly it wouldn’t have awakened even the most savage beast.

  But Draven was more than a beast. In an instant his eyes flew open and one strong, long-fingered hand was wrapped in a crushing grip around her wrist.

  L gasped and barely had the presence of mind to change her hand back to the imp’s claw before he spoke.

  “What in the seven hells,” he rasped, “do you think you’re doing touching me?”

  “Forgive me, Master,” L begged, doing her best to imitate an imp’s frightened squeak. “There was a bug—it was trying to land on your face. Your cheek. I think…think it wanted to drink your tears,” she added, almost in a whisper.

  “Tears?” Draven let her go and put his own fingertips to his fa