The Challenge by Susan Kearney Page A

stopped.
    He gave her hot stinging flesh no time to recover. His fingers delved between her thighs, sinking one finger deep into her. But she needed him to move. She yearned for friction. And he knew. Yet again, the bastard denied her, holding perfectly still. With the suit’s mouths on her breasts never letting up for a second and her bottom radiating heat, she panted, squirmed against the suit that held her locked into place.
    “You’ve . . . got . . . to . . . let me . . . come.”
    He didn’t.
    At her half-sob, half demand, he inserted another finger between her cheeks. At the unexpected invasion, as he slowly wriggled two fingers inside her from two angles, she sputtered as he took her to another level.
    “Please.”
    Another finger found her clit, and she couldn’t tell where one catalyst began and another stopped. Her entire body was on fire, desperate, needy. Her breath came in pathetic rasps, her throat released urgent moans.
    Frantic, she pleaded. She cried out. She cursed him to finish, allow her release.
    Instead, he spanked her again. Slap.
    He was creating more heat. Slap.
    She was burning up with need.
    Slap.
    Raging with desire.
    Slap.
    Whimpers escaped her throat. Gasps of delight mixed with sobs of frustration.
    When he finally stopped, she no longer recognized her own voice that was hoarse. Once more he gave her pleasure between her thighs.
    But not enough.
    Never enough.
    And she burst into tears.

Chapter Seven
     
    BY THE STARS! Kahn couldn’t take any more. The manuals he’d studied had told him to expect her to want sex, but they hadn’t told him he would have to go this far or mentioned how he would feel disgusted and sickened with himself after frustrating her. Not to mention how hard he’d had to work to tamp down his own longings to soothe her, to comfort her, to give her what she wanted. And it had all been for nothing.
    Tessa had not exhibited one sign of psi ability, and after she’d burst into tears, Kahn couldn’t continue. He’d abruptly ceased the training session, removed the stimulations from her suit, and fled the room, hoping that soon she would fall into a deep sleep. Once outside the chamber, he’d fought to keep himself steady. Without his suit compensating and regulating the flow of blood to his sex, his job would have been much more difficult. And although he’d followed Federation procedural manuals to the letter, then gone further and touched her as she’d asked, the recommended procedure wasn’t working.
    Helera’s advice wasn’t helping. Perhaps a man’s point of view would be better.
    Heading straight for the ship-to-planet communications console at the ship’s helm, Kahn shot a hyper beacon to Rystan. Moments later, Zical, his right-hand man and second-in-command of their people materialized on the holoscreen. The two had been friends since childhood. They had attended school, hunted, and shared several hair-raising adventures together.
    Zical took one look at Kahn and frowned. “You look worse than a frozen octar .”
    Octar were the primary source of meat on Rystan. The creatures were nutritious and known not only for their ugly faces, but their temperamental personalities. Even the thought of food made Kahn’s stomach uneasy, and he swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth, noting that his friend looked thinner, his normally squared jaw more drawn, and the creases under his eyes deeper since they’d last spoken. “The Earthling has not yet shown one sign of psi ability.”
    Zical’s frown deepened. “He should—”
    “ She should have at least changed her suit’s transparency before now.”
    “She? The Terrans sent a female?” Zical rubbed his hand over his jaw, probably to hide a smile.
    Since Rystani customs dictated that the widows teach the younger men about sexual matters, all men knew how to please their inexperienced wives. But Kahn had even more experience than most since he’d been married—an experience he tried hard to