Deep Pressure [Trigon Rituals Series Book 2]
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by Angelia Whiting
Category: Erotica/Erotic Romance/Romance
Description: Karen's suffered from a condition her entire life that's made her life hellish. Unable to bear a lover's touch, she's twenty five and still a virgin so she can't figure out why she's started having these really intense, erotic dreams about Lemac and Dgor. Unfortunately, by the time she fully realizes the dreams aren't dreams at all, she finds herself on a space ship headed for the CalyTron Galaxy, captive of Leman and Dgor, who are laboring under the impression that she's their mate . just as soon as they complete the Trigon Ritual! Rating: Contains strong language, graphic sex scenes, adult situations, and menage scenes
eBook Publisher: New Concepts Publishing, 2007
eBookwise Release Date: March 2007
586 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [537 KB]
Reading time: 318-446 min.
A gasp left Karen's mouth. One firm hand fondled her breast. Another rubbed between her thighs, his palm flat and pressing as he cupped her. Behind her a sturdy cock shifted against her bottom. Unyielding lips clamped tightly to her mouth. A tongue dashed in and out. He was wrapped all around her, solidly holding her in place, the pressure from his body--deep, soothing, arousing, strangely so, since she still had her clothes on. He never removed her clothes.
She started to climax.
Onw steb tixe--It is time to leave you now.
No, Karen protested. Why did he always abandon her just before ... ?
Stuj roftib--Only for awhile...
Karen's eyes lifted slowly.
She was in a state of frenzied arousal that had her moaning sexual need. Her thought waves tapped along her brain, sliding her from sleep and back into reality, and she realized she'd had another one of those dreams.
Bart Phillips stood in the aisle and was staring at her.
She stared back.
"That must've have been some dream."
Her eyes widened as she felt herself blush from the top of her head straight down to the tip of her toes. Was she writhing in her sleep? Oh God! What had he seen?
"Are we there yet?" Karen glanced out the plane's window, noting sunny blue skies all around and clouds way below. She gasped at the dark green spikes jutting everywhere through the white mantle for as far as her eyes could see. It was the very tips of the Amazon canopy, the plane flying so close to them Karen could swear she heard the bottom of the craft graze a few. Her stomach flipped and disconcerted by that thought, Karen turned her head away.
Bart was still staring at her.
Pushing at the heavy blanket that Karen hid beneath, she stood abruptly, the covering falling to a heap on the floor. Bart's smile widened and Karen didn't have to look down to know her nipples, still tingling from the touch of her shadowy dream lover, were hard and poking through the light blue, spandex material barely concealing her braless breasts.
Her blush deepened.
She never wore a bra, couldn't stand the way the lingerie clenched at her shoulders and ribs. It was a good thing her breasts were small and perky instead of a couple of plumbobs dangling in the breeze otherwise she might not get away with it.
Gripping the opening of the sleeveless blouse that Karen wore as an over-garment, she pulled it closed. "I have to go to the bathroom."
Ignoring the comment, Karen snatched her travel sack from the seat beside her and pushed Bart aside gaining access to the plane's narrow aisle. She stalked to the back of the craft, irked by the sense of his eyes burning into her ass as she moved.
Jerk. She wasn't in the mood for his teasing. Karen had too many things to think about right now, like how the plane was going to maneuver through those massive trees and of lusty dreams that like the spread of the Amazon jungle never seemed to cease.
Karen reached for the handle on the slit of a door to the bathroom. Simultaneously the plane hit a series of air pockets and the craft began to dip and rise. Her stomach lurched opposite to the movements and she grimaced. It would only be a matter of seconds before a secondary reaction assaulted her. Slipping quickly through the door, Karen locked it shut behind her. She fell back against it and then slid downward until her bottom was planted on the floor. The anxiety slammed through her and Karen closed her eyes hoping it passed quickly. Crossing one arm over the other, Karen squeezed them tightly to her chest. She shrugged up her shoulders and tensed while pressing against the door putting pressure on her back. It was a technique she used to self-calm. Sudden changes in movement, particularly when it was simultaneously bi-directional, sent Karen's nervous system into a tailspin.
Karen would never consider riding a rollercoaster with its frequent twists and turns or, god forbid, anything that went loopity-loop. She even had trouble with the round and round, up and down movements of a merry-go-round horse. It didn't matter that Karen realized she wasn't falling. Her body couldn't adjust quickly enough and physically reacted as if it might.
Vestibular Processing Disorder.
She'd had it all her life. It was the reason she avoided most amusement park rides.
"Why the hell am I on this plane," she whispered to herself.
Taking in a deep breath she began to relax, one muscle at a time. "Beetle secretions that's why."
Slowly Karen rocked herself from side to side. Just as a mother might do with her infant, the linear swinging motion was calming. She released a long breath until the tension began to melt away. The plane continued to sway around her but Karen could tolerate it, at least for the moment.
"Twenty thousand dollars for collecting bug juice." Not that Karen needed the money. The combination of her trust fund with her salary afforded Karen quite a cushy income. She was more interested in the research than the money.
Reaching up, Karen grasped the rim of the sink and pulled herself to a stand. She looked in the mirror. Hazel eyes stared back at her, red and somewhat glazed from the deep sleep she'd just emerged from. "I must be crazy."
The last time Karen was on a plane--her parent's private jet plane, she threw up all over the place. Of course she was only three years old and her jetsetter parents attributed it to air sickness. On the return flight, she kicked and screeched all the way down the concourse and then cried on and off--mostly on--during the entire four hour journey home. Nothing her parents did comforted her. Her anxiety had escalated to a point of no return. That is, until she went into shut down as the plane landed, falling asleep for nearly twenty hours afterward. It was a long ago memory firmly embedded in Karen's mind, though she was told that her aversion to flying was par for the course since the day she was born. Her independently wealthy, we must be in whatever trendy part of the world this year, parents likely had grown tired of her in-flight tantrums. They never took her on another trip after that. Even as she got older and they asked, hoping her condition had passed, Karen always told them, no. It didn't stop her mother and father from their lavish travels, however. And for long periods of times, weeks, sometimes months, they left her home alone. Well, not exactly alone. There was a staff of twenty-five that resided in the Whitaker mansion estate, all more than willing to fulfill Karen's every whim, though somehow she ended up appreciating her luxuries instead of becoming spoiled by them.
Karen shrugged off her blouse, unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down. She peeled her arms out of the long sleeves of the full-length, one piece, body suit she wore and then stretched the spandex material over her bottom. She plopped down on the commode, gritting her teeth against the feeling of the cold seat.
"Look at me, Jen." Karen mumbled to herself. Jennifer Sealy was Karen's best friend. Jennifer Sealy was also five years dead. "My mom would go into shock if she knew I was on this trip."
But she didn't know. Karen hadn't spoken to her parents for four months and she had no idea what part of the world they were venturing in at the moment.
They would eventually call.