Imperfect Partners(11)

She rose as gracefully as one could rise from her position. “A s you wish, Master.” Though she was half afraid to look at him and was terrified that she would not please him once she took off the concealing robe, Nebula looked forward to having his big, rough hands on her.

She longed to feel the heat of another human body on her, in her. For a moment she mourned the loss of her libido, but she quickly squelched her sadness.

A fter all, her own pleasure was immaterial as long as she was able to please her mate. She should be grateful that he was rescuing her from a life of drudgery, of nonentity. Hopefully, he would bring her the friendship and emotional closeness she wanted so much but had thought was forever beyond her reach.

She would do whatever she must to please this big eunuch with the booming voice, to serve and service him as was his pleasure. She’d do anything to keep him.

* * * * *

For the first time since losing his manhood, Conan thought he must have pleased the gods somehow.

They had blessed him with a beautiful mate. Her auburn hair, long and silky and hanging halfway down her back, contrasted with satiny skin the color of rich cream—except for her cheeks. They flushed prettily when she shed the robe and stood before him, her eyes downcast.

Her firm, ripe breasts were just the right size to fill his hands, and the rosy tips beckoned his mouth. When his gaze moved lower, his cock rose to full attention. She had the prettiest belly, slightly convex, and a plump, delectable-looking mound. His mouth went dry at the sight of her little clit poking impudently out from between her creamy white labia. Gods save him, he could barely wait to feel her long, sexy legs wrapped around his waist, his neck.



She had lost her fertility, but her lack of perfection didn’t show on the outside except for the distinctive tattoo on her mound. “You please me, slave,” he said, forcing a smile he hoped masked his insecurities.

If only she would be as happy with him as he was with her. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for the less-than-happy reaction he expected, he tossed back the hood of his own robe and loosened the ties that held it closed.

“Y-you have hair,” she stammered, her sober gaze fixed on the bristly crop of dark hair he’d insisted be left to grow on his scalp. “I never

—”

“You never saw a man with hair growing on his head? I doubt very much that you’ve ever seen one with a glowing, neon-veined cock and no balls, either. Or one who could take off one of his hands and put it back on again.” A fter shrugging out of the robe, he unbuttoned the row of shining fasteners on his tunic and shed it.



Gods, but Conan had massive shoulders and a smooth, tanned chest that tapered to a trim, narrow waist. Nebula couldn’t help watching the unusual-looking rings swing from his taut, brownish nipples. Then she remembered what he’d just said, and she turned her attention to his hard-muscled arms. They both looked fine to her. “What do you mean, you can take off your hand?”

“Will this bother you?” He rolled back a flap of skin, revealing some sort of electronic circuitry embedded in his flesh.

For a moment she looked at the circuits and finally the prosthesis itself. “No, it doesn’t bother me. How does it work? A nd how did you happen to lose the hand?”

The smile he shot her this time seemed genuine. “The hand is bionic. Sensors embedded in the stump translate my mind’s commands to it. Occasionally the mechanism requires adjustment, so Pak Song decided to make the entire unit detachable. A s for how I lost the original part, it was hacked from my body by order of the Federation rulers.”

“Why?” Nebula would rather have heard that Conan lost his hand honorably, in battle. Or in an accident. A ny way other than as punishment. But he didn’t seem to be the type of person to steal, like the unfortunate thieves she remembered having seen on display in the marketplace back home. “What did you do?” she asked, not entirely certain she wanted to know.

“I helped my half-brother escape from Earth before the rulers had time to turn him into a drone. Nothing I wouldn’t do over again. If you think the hand is shocking, brace yourself for a real surprise. You haven’t seen anything yet,” he muttered as his hands went to his belt.

His lower abdomen was ridged with muscle. Nebula had to restrain herself from reaching out and touching the satiny skin, exploring the neat indentation of his navel and sliding her hand lower to explore the impressive bulge beneath the fabric of his tight pants. He sighed then shucked the rest of his clothes and straightened, his gaze defiant.

“Go ahead. Say whatever it is that you’re thinking.”

Nebula was speechless. Her voice caught in her throat. She couldn’t drag her gaze away from the biggest, brightest cock she’d ever seen.