Dee Brice

Virtual Bride Her Virtual Consort

Available in

eXtasy Books |ISBN 978-1-55487-758-4

A Marsian queen ripe for seduction. A banished Sednan prince desperate to find a home world. A battle of the sexes instigated by the gods.

Marsian queen Paris needs an heir, but she's running out of options for her child's sire. She also wants to grow her own cocoa trees so she can stop paying Venus' outrageous prices for chocolate. Banished from Sedna because he lacks the markings of his royal caste, farmer-prince Jirkar needs a home world. If Paris doesn't accept him, he'll spend the rest of his life on spaceships, never again able to plant anything in life-giving soil.

Each has a dream. Can they fulfill it, or will they spend the rest of their lives alone?

feather line

 An Excerpt

Copyright © DEE BRICE, 2010
All Rights Reserved, eXtasy Books

“We’re naked. Both of us. When did that happen?” she wondered aloud.

Laughing, he stood with her in his arms. “Somewhere between our first kiss and our stopping.” He stepped into the  tub, then spooned her against his body. When he sat, his erection slid between her buttocks. So near. So far.

“I want to look at you,” she protested.

“Later. I promise. For now I want you to imagine. See your own body through my touch. Will you do that for me?”

“I-I’ll try.”

“I’ll help.” He found the hairpins she kept in a volcanic glass tray on the tub rim, then fastened her hair atop her head. “I’ve scented the water with your bath oil.”

“You’ll smell like me.” Astonishment laced her voice. Of course he would smell like her. Even if they didn’t bathe together, but only lay against each other, their scents would mingle. “I’ll smell like you.”

“Yes. For a time. Close your eyes, Paris. Relax against me. Trust me.”

“If I lean on you, you can’t wash my back.”

“We’ll get there. I promise.” His rough fingertips traced her face from her hairline to her jaw. “Such an imperious little nose. Such a determined chin. Unclench your teeth, my queen. Relax. Such soft, sweet lips.’

She bit his finger, then sucked it into her mouth. His breath hitched and his erection pulsed between her buttocks. Good! At least he suffered equally in this awakening torment. “Imagining yourself in my mouth, Jirkar?”

“There and in your cunt.”

The crude word, the vision of him inside her, heated her entire body.

“For now I’m your perfume. You dab me behind your ears.” His tongue moistened her neck just behind her lobes, a brief touch that drew a grunt of surprised pleasure from her. “Dot me in the hollow of your throat.” Leaning over her shoulder, he laved that hollow, then nipped his way up her neck for a soft kiss that left her yearning for more.

“Grow bolder as you stroke me in the valley between your breasts. Dare you go further? Should you scent your nipples?” He grazed those rigid peaks, caressed that valley and then returned to play with her tightened areolas. Moaning, she arched into his hands.

“Where else might your lover sniff you? Kiss you? Between your toes, perhaps. Perhaps not. Maybe at your ankles.”

He ran his hands down her body to her knees. Anticipation tightened her muscles and dissolved her bones.

“You know he’ll kiss behind your knees, so you place a dot just there.”

She kicked. “That tickles.”

“Trust me, it won’t. You pray he’ll kiss between your thighs and you stroke me, your perfume, at each juncture.” Wedging his legs between hers, he spread her thighs. “Not too much lest I overpower your own intoxicating female scent. That sweet aroma that tells your lover how much you want him.”

Her heart beat so hard she feared it would break her ribs. Every pulse echoed in her pussy. She had no voice to tell him what she wanted him to do. Willing her boneless hands to obey, she guided his hand to her mons, then found the strength to flex her hips until his fingers rested on her clit.

“You wouldn’t put me there,” he muttered against her ear, his breath hot and moist. “But you might sprinkle me like dew on these.” His fingers stroked her curls.

“I don’t care. Touch me, blast you!”

The wide tub allowed him to turn her so she lay across his body. His feral eyes raked her from head to toe, then returned to her face. “I’m going to touch you, Paris. I’m going to kiss and lick and nibble you everywhere. But first…”

She shouted her frustration and pounded his chest.

Catching her hands in one of his, he smiled at her. “First I’m going to wash you. Even your back. If you don’t struggle, I’ll be quick about it. Fight and who knows how long it will take.” He freed her hands.

Growling, she straddled him and jerked his face to hers for a hungry kiss. “I could take you now,” she threatened. All she had to do was shift her hips and plunge down.

“And miss the pleasure I’ve promised? I don’t think so.”

“There’s something you should know about me, Jirkar.” He cocked one dark brow, his dawn gray eyes amused. “While I am still a virgin, I’m not an innocent. I know about pleasure and—trust me—I can bring you very quickly.”

Grinning up at her, he firmed his hands on her hips. His fingers tightened until she yelped and pulled away completely. She backed across the wide tub, glaring at him even when she bumped against the tiled edge.

“There’s little pleasure in rushing,” he told her, his grin smug. “Something I’ll wager you didn’t know.”

“Don’t even try to read my mind.”

“I won’t. I’m reading your body. I’m remembering what I read from your body.”

She gave an indelicate snort as she folded her arms beneath her breasts.

“You arouse and seek release quickly. You’ve never learned the sweet anticipation of a slow flame. A fire that must be nurtured until it bursts into a conflagration. An inferno that consumes you even as you pray it will never go out.”

His low voice flowed around her, arousing her as if his hands still glided over her body. Her breasts swelled. Her nipples puckered, begging for his touch. She hid them behind her folded arms. His grin widened.

Picking up the bar of soap, he ran it around his neck, across his wide shoulders and then down his rock hard chest. His chest hairs curled beneath the soapy bubbles. Her fingers twitched. She wanted to slide her hands over those firm pecs. Tweak his nipples until they hardened like her own. Stroke the suds down his solid torso to wash his cock and balls.

His feet rubbed against hers, then up and down her calves.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warned.

“I’m not moving, ma petite. My legs are long enough to reach across the tub.”

“I’m taller than Nyx. I am, in fact, taller than most Marsiennes.”

“A veritable Amazon. But as I told you earlier, the difference in our heights won’t matter when we’re both horizontal.” Before she could form a retort, he drew her into his arms and kissed her.

She fought, but soon surrendered to the magic in his hands. To the glide of rough fingers and silky soap. To his lips and tongue ensorcelling her mind, clouding it until she couldn’t think. And—sweet gods!—the fire burned hotter as he nurtured it, drifting his fingers, his mouth and tongue to every pulse point he’d anointed with her imaginary perfume.