Allyson James - Eland

Eland

Allyson James

Like many Bor Nargan women, Jeanne has never had sex. The planet publically shuns intercourse, branding women as wicked for even talking about sexual urges. Then a man unlike any shes ever seen stumbles through her doorliterally. Even his disheveled appearance doesnt stop her from wanting to strip bare and place her body in his talented hands.

Created solely for pleasure, Eland is a level-three Shareem. Rough, edgy, commanding. Oh, the things he could teach Jeanneif he can stay alive long enough.

Publishers Note: Sexy and sensual? Or down and dirty? If you enjoyed this tantalizing taste, the Tales of the Shareem series has a level of pleasure just for you.

An Elloras Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Eland

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Eland Copyright 2009 Allyson James

Edited by Kelli Collins

Cover art by Syneca

Electronic book publication December 2009

The terms Romantica and Quickies are registered trademarks of Elloras Cave Publishing.

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Elloras Cave Publishing, Inc. 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors imagination and used fictitiously.

Eland

Allyson James

Chapter One

Who the hell?

Is banging on my door in the middle of the effing night when I have to be at work at the crack of dawn? Trust me, I need all the beauty sleep I can get.

Jeanne stomped to the door of her tiny apartment, mumbling threats at whoever had the gall to wake her. She thumbed open the door, and then let out a cry of shock as a huge man fell through it. He grabbed her on his way down, his big hand covering her mouth before she could scream.

The door automatically closed, leaving Jeanne alone on the floor under a gigantic, nearly naked man with weird-looking blue eyes. Weird-looking, gorgeous blue eyes.

I. Need. Water.

His voice was broken, lips cracked. Bor Narga was a desert world and people died quickly without hydration. When the sandstorms blew through, it was law that you shared your shelter and water with anyone who needed it.

But there was no sandstorm tonight.

His hands tightened on her wrists. Water. Please.

You have to let me up first, Jeanne said, trying to keep her voice steady.

He blinked at her with those bizarre eyes then slowly hauled himself to his feet and pulled her up with him.

He stood a good foot and a half taller than Jeanne and wore nothing but a loincloth around his hips. A black chain encircled his right biceps, made of some flexible metal that moved with him. Blond hair straggled down his back in a filthy ponytail.

Who the hell are you? Jeanne demanded.

The man braced himself on the wall, arm muscles bunching around the chain. He wet his lips and tried to speak, but only a dry croak emerged.

Water. Right. Jeanne hurried into her small kitchen and brought back a dripping container. The man took it without thanks and gulped the contents in two seconds.

I asked, who are you?

He wiped his mouth and handed her the empty container. Im called Eland.

She waited for a surname but none came. Im Jeanne, she said, not offering her surname either. What are you doing wandering the streets dying of thirst? Youre not Bor Nargan , are you? Bor Nargan males were slender and on the small side, and this man was a giant.

To her surprise he laughed a grating, dry-throated laugh. I am Bor Nargan . More Bor Nargan than anyone on this planet will ever be.

Jeanne stared. What the hell did that mean?

His lips were still wet. He raked his gaze down her body in a slow, sultry study, then up to her breasts, which tightened behind her sleep shirt. The blue part of his eyes got wider.

A droplet of sweat rolled down Jeannes throat as she fought the sudden urge to rip off her shirt and let him look his fill. Did he sense her secret desire for sex? On Bor Narga , sex was publicly shunned. Children were conceived in a lab, no need for bodily intercourse. Women who wanted sexhell, women who even talked about sexwere considered dirty and wicked. Sluts.

The way Eland looked at her made Jeanne want to touch herself, to part her legs and show him how wet she was growing. His hand on the wall balled to a fist and sweat dotted his forehead.

Do it, he whispered as though shed spoken out loud. Pull up your shirt for me, Jeanne.

His voice had gone velvet soft, the dry rasp gone. It was a voice that could make even the coldest womans pussy ache.

Jeannes hands shook as she grasped her hem. No one would guess she could hold a delicate laser tool and fix the tiniest engine circuit. Right now she couldnt have bashed scrap metal with a bludgeon.

Elands eyes went even darker blue as she lifted the shirt. Modest underwear hugged her hips beneath it, but her chest was bare. Elands gaze shot to her breasts and her nipples tightened as though shed fallen into ice water.

Play with them for me, he said.

Jeanne found her hands going to the areolas, teasing the buds between fingers and thumbs. Her nipples grew harder, and she suddenly wanted him to suck them.

But he was filthy. Eland must have been walking the streets for some time, which was weird because there were no homeless people on Bor Narga . Everyone had somewhere to go.

Jeanne let her shirt fall, the fabric rasping against her now-sensitive breasts. I have a sterilizer in there. She pointed at her bathroom door. You can clean yourself up before you go.

I didnt tell you to stop. His voice was low and firm, controlling.

Jeanne swallowed. No? Well, this is my house and you only get to see what I show you.

The blue eyes fixed on her in a way that made her start shaking again. Jeanne never shookshe was strong, competent. This man made her feel small, almost delicate, like a desired object. Beautiful. Sexual.

He touched her hair. That was all, a touch, but electric warmth shot through her, like an arc from a welding torch.

Youre strong, he whispered. I like that.

Jeanne felt as weak as a newborn desert cat. A smile tugged the corners of his mouth and her heart pounded. She wanted to kiss that mouth, lick those lips, taste the water that lingered on them.

He lowered his hand and entered her bathroom, pulling off his loincloth as he walked.

Holy mother goddess, help me now.

Elands ass was beautifulfirm, tight and sun-bronzed. His back was as well muscled as his shoulders and arms, and the black chain on his biceps only made him sexier.

A year ago, Jeanne had succumbed to temptation with an off-world pilot and got her first taste of fondling. No full sex, just touching and exploring. It was a secret naughty memory she relived when she got lonely.