The Pleasure Slave

CHAPTER EIGHT

Your Body And Mind Belong To Your Master

At the super center, Julia grabbed Tristan a bit of everything. Jeans, sweatpants, T-shirts, shoes and underwear (in every style and all extra-extra-large, of course). She only prayed they fit. A man that big and that sexual needed extra room to breathe.

On her way to check out, she passed the hunting and fishing section where she spotted a display case of weapons. One knife in particular drew and held her gaze. She paused, studying the intricately carved hilt, a pattern of slashes and symbols. The metallic blade gleamed sharp and deadly.

She knew instinctively that Tristan would cherish the weapon. Was it smart to purchase a lethal blade for him, though? One so easily hidden? Drumming her fingers against the glass, she imagined his reaction if she presented him with this gift. He'd smile, then tug her into his arms. He'd plant a lingering kiss on her lips and whisper exactly how he wanted to thank her.

"I want that one," she told the clerk in the next heartbeat of time.

"Excellent choice, ma'am," he said. With a face smothered by freckles and bright, silver braces covering his teeth, he looked about twelve years old. The giant tattoo on his forearm—a squirrel eating a pair of nuts—upped his appearance to seventy. "The handle is a wicked work of art."

"Wicked, you say?"

"Oh, yeah. Totally bitchin'."

She'd have to remember to tell Tristan that.

Julia paid for the rest of her purchases, spending over three hundred dollars. "You better appreciate this, Tristan," she muttered, wheeling the basket to her car.

Within ten minutes, she eased her sedan into her driveway. One of the bags tore as she lifted its weight from the trunk. "Argh." Frowning, she gathered everything together as best she could and stumbled inside the house.

Tristan was perched on the living-room couch, his sword on the woolen rug in front of him. He leaned over the coffee table, his fingers picking at her phone, which was now in more pieces than a jigsaw puzzle! Mouth agape, Julia dropped her purchases on the floor with a hard thump.

"What have you done to my telephone?" she demanded, hands anchored on hips.

"I have conquered it," he said, looking up at her with pride. Worse, his tone carried the unspoken words, Bow to your knees and thank me for this great service.

At least he was no longer distant and emotionless.

"I don't have another phone in the house," she growled.

"Then my work here is done."

What did I do to deserve this? she thought, shaking her head in bewilderment. She didn't kick puppies, or run over children who played in the streets. She lived an honest life and even made a yearly contribution to charity.

"I thought the knowledge you gained from other worlds far surpassed mine," she said dryly.

"That it does." He leaned into the pillowed chaise, his arm draped over the edge, both his hand and the veer of the chair curling like a lover's palm just after an erotic caress. He locked his other arm behind his head and slanted her a glance between half-lowered lids. The pose was carnal. Seductive. "There is much you have to learn."

She heard his true meaning: There is much I can teach you.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer magnificence of the man. When she drew near him, inexplicable things happened to her mind and body, and she could never quite gain the upper hand. He had only to speak; hell, he had only to glance at her, and she craved the forbidden. Craved him.

Physically, he was faultless, majestic and regal, and his wild fall of hair proved the perfect frame for his chiseled features. How easy it would be to go to him now, to straddle his legs and sink into—onto—him. To demand the pleasure he offered so willingly.

Her face must have betrayed her thoughts because the moment their eyes locked, his nostrils flared. His sensual lips parted.

She gulped.

Change the subject, Julia. Change the subject now. "Um, I bought you some clothes," she managed to croak. "I hope they fit."

"I'm sure they are fine." His tongue swept over his lips, an intoxicating invitation she struggled to ignore.

When he made no other reply, she prompted, "Put them on. We need to leave." Staying here, no matter the deliciousness of the reason, wasn't an option. "We've only got twenty minutes to get downtown. I always open the shop at eight o'clock, and not a minute later." Well, except for yesterday, she silently added, but he didn't need to know that. "Oh, I almost forgot. I bought you a present, too."

"A gift?" His eyebrows drew together, and a flicker of surprise darkened his eyes, chasing away his seductive intent. "For me?"

"Yes, for you." Grinning, she handed him the bag that contained the knife.

He glanced at her, then the bag. Her, then the bag. Finally he hesitantly accepted her offering. "I do not know what to say."

"Don't say anything. Just open it." Eagerness flooded her veins, almost bubbling over. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

Slowly he smoothed the plastic aside and lifted a long, shiny black box. With exquisite care, he withdrew the blade from the velvet center and studied every angle. The sharp-edged metal winked in the light and fit perfectly in his hand.

Silence surrounded them.

She waited, watching as his lips tightened into a fierce frown. Still she hoped for more of a reaction, but her excitement drained little by little. He didn't like the gift. The knowledge caused her shoulders to sag. Maybe she should have gotten him a leopard-print thong instead.

"Thank you, Julia," he said suddenly, his voice laced with reverence. His lashes swept upward, and he pierced her with such gratitude she wanted to promise to buy him an entire arsenal—guns, grenades and all. "Where I am from, weapons such as this cost more than living quarters."

He'd never received a gift before, she realized. How… heartbreaking. This wonderful man had lived over a thousand years, yet no one had thought to buy him a present. She sank to the carpet and rummaged through the surrounding sacks. After a few moments, she withdrew a shirt, a pair of jeans and boxers. Delighted she had other items for him, she handed him the bundle.

"Here, these are for you, too."

"I—thank you," he said again, then placed the clothes beside him on the couch and continued his scrutiny of the knife.

"You're welcome. We need to leave in five minutes," she hinted. "I don't want to be late."

"Tardiness can be a benefit, little dragon, especially if the time is spent in bed—or on the kitchen tabletop. Or on the floor. Mayhap one day you will allow me to prove all of this to you."

Each word he uttered made her body ache in a different place. Her left nipple. Her right nipple. Between her legs. Behind her knees. Practically in a trance, she watched as Tristan set his blade carefully to the side. He eased to his feet. Tie by tie, he unlaced his pants, then inched them down his hips, revealing more and more skin.

"Tristan!" she gasped, realizing he didn't plan to stop any time soon. "What are you doing?"

"I am undressing."

"I can see that." And a lot more.

With her sitting, and him standing, their positions gave her a dazzling view of his assets. He was all taut male, hard muscles and, yes, he was large all over as she'd suspected. But she would never have imagined… Julia gulped, felt her body pulse with need, and gulped again.

"Is something wrong?" he asked innocently.

"No, nothing's wrong." Nothing except the fact that she needed to catch her breath—and she would, just as soon as she looked away. But she couldn't seem to remove her gaze from his body. The phrase "mighty sword" suddenly made sense.

"You are staring, Julia," Tristan said, an underlying «tsk» to the words.

Yes, she was staring, and she wanted to continue doing so. Since he had been rude enough to point it out, she couldn't continue without being, well, rude.

"Uh, I'm going to get my briefcase." Did she even own a briefcase? Slowly she rose and inched from the room. She only tripped once, though her attention stayed glued to him until the very last possible second.

Tristan watched Julia's retreat. Alone now, he allowed a slow, devilish smile to lift his lips. Very interesting. Very interesting, indeed. Julia found his nakedness appealing. So appealing, in fact, she had been unable to glance away from him. That pleased him on every level, considering she had told him only last eve that she did not like him in that way. The little dragon more than liked him; she was transfixed by him.

Ah, what a sweet revelation.

Slowly his smile faded. Was that why she had bought him a gift? Because she wanted him? Nay, not so, he thought. In all of his existence, no other woman had ever given him a present—and all of his women had desired him most forcefully.

So what had prompted Julia to do such a thing? The answer continued to elude him. He finally sighed and pushed the question to the back of his mind. He, a master of female passions, did not understand the workings of Julia's mind.

He tugged on his new clothing piece by piece. If he'd had the currency, he would have bought her the finest jewels, the purest stones to match her eyes. Had any man ever bought her such a gift? His fingers clenched, and he realized he wanted to be the first. The only.

He shook such a dangerous thought aside, wondering instead what he was going to do with this woman who defied him like a warrior, kissed him like he possessed the last breath of air for survival and treated him as if he were a man, not a slave.