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Damn the man. Eva sat on the easy chair in the corner of her room, her knees tucked against her chest.
He had left to tend to his duties during the day, but as soon as he’d returned, Eva had gone back to her room. She’d sat in this room for hours, trying to come to terms with her situation. Staying on this ship was intolerable, but she had no choice. Listening to that damned sex constantly displayed on the video device was driving her insane. She couldn’t stop thinking about sex, couldn’t stop thinking about Commander Raa-ling.
She didn’t want to want him…didn’t want to feel anything for him…didn’t want to feel anything for any man ever again. She could take care of herself, including satisfying her own sexual cravings.
What she wanted was to go back home. To Earth.
She pushed herself to her feet and browsed the books in the small corner bookshelf beside the chair. Romance novels. Erotica novels. More romance novels.
Damn, she didn’t want to read about love, and she certainly didn’t want to read about sex. She’d almost succeeded in tuning out the sexual sounds from the video device. Almost. She didn’t need books to stir up her hormones.
She plunked back into the chair. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t stop thinking about sex.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the way Commander Raa-ling’s honey-colored hair curled over his broad, muscular shoulders. About how his dark teal eyes glittered when he gazed at her with passion—which was most of the time. How his erection had felt pressed against her belly.
She squirmed in her seat. Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to calm the tornado of hormones accelerating through her. She longed to see Commander Raa-ling. Larson. To just look at him.
She glanced at the screen, ignoring the view of a man kneeling over a woman licking her pussy while another woman lay beneath him, swallowing his cock deep into her mouth.
So why not?
Chapter Seven
Eva stood and strode to the video control panel, then pressed the button to change the video view. She tried “Q55-L”, but the video image didn’t change. That meant Larson was not in the living area. Hesitantly, she flicked it to “Q55-B1”, quelling her guilt by reminding herself he had been quite adamant that she was welcome to watch him anytime she wanted. Again, the video image didn’t change. Maybe he’d left the quarters.
She stepped toward the door. When she moved within a foot of it, it opened. She peered into the bedroom beyond—Larson’s room. As she stepped into the room, she breathed in his scent. Musky male. Her vagina clenched in need.
His uniform jacket hung over the back of a chair, along with his shirt and pants. Socks and underwear lay strewn in a path to another door. The bathroom.
He was taking a shower.
Before she could even think, she’d slipped back into her room and switched the view to “Q55-S”. Shower.
Her breath caught as a back view of his long, lean and quite naked body appeared on the video screen. Water droplets sparkled across his broad shoulders as water streamed down his back. She followed the flow over his muscular torso, down past his trim waist, then over his—she sucked in a breath—tight, round buns. Oh God, she could imagine sliding her hands over those and squeezing.
He turned around, and her eyes widened at the sheer length and girth of his penis. It had to be nine or ten inches long and as big around as her wrist. She felt a bit light-headed. He pressed a button on a dispenser on the tile wall, and a translucent blue gel streamed into his palm. Foam followed his hands as he ran them over his shoulders, then down his chest. Mesmerized, she watched the suds glide over his muscular frame, down his rippled abs, over his strong legs.
She slid onto the bed and plumped the pillows behind her. She gasped as he stroked his long penis, luxurious suds foaming over it. Oh, how she longed to stroke him like that, to feel the hot, slippery flesh within her hands, to wrap her fingers around his steel-hard shaft.
He glanced straight at the camera and smiled. Oh God, did he know she was watching him? But he glanced away, and she simply couldn’t drag her gaze from his gorgeous, naked flesh. He rinsed the soap from his body, and she sighed as he stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a white towel from a drying rack and patted his body. His shoulders, his chest, his legs, then his groin. In fact, he paid very close attention to his penis, holding it out and patting it from base to tip. He grasped the towel at each end and shimmied it back and forth across those incredible buns.
Finally, he hung the towel on the rack and left the bathroom. As soon as he stepped into the bedroom, the video view changed to follow him.
Rather than getting dressed, he stacked up the pillows on his bed and sat propped against them, still totally naked. His hand curled around his penis, and he started to stroke it. His flaccid member grew. He seemed to stare straight at her. Maybe he actually could see her. He could be watching her right now. Of course, that didn’t mean he knew what she was watching. He knew her video was on all the time. He would expect her to be watching it sometimes.
He would expect her to be getting turned on.
And she was.
His hand stroked up and down the length of his cock. It inflated, growing larger and fuller. The scene cast a hypnotic spell on her. Long, smooth strokes. Soon it was fully erect.
She licked her lips. She wanted to feel that cock. To stroke it. To taste it.
And she could. All she had to do was walk toward the door and step through. He would be happy to accommodate her.
Her vagina clenched, feeling so empty. Wanting to be filled.
She clenched her fingers around the edge of the bedclothes, reminding herself she did not want to be with a man. That path led only to pain.
