STARLIGHT ECSTASY.

The following material is for adults only and is copyright to Astrid Cooper and reproduced here by permission of the publisher, eXtasy Books (www.extasybooks.com). 

This material is presented free of charge to all readers as a sample of the work contained in the print edition of STARLIGHT now available at Amazon.com and at selected bookshops (the book is contained on the Ingrams database, so in theory should be available for order from any bookshop).  If you have problems locating a copy, please email Astrid Cooper.

CHAPTER ONE:  STARLIGHT ECSTASY 

I CAN DO THIS! SAMANTHA SINCLAIR LOOKED AT HER REFLECTION IN the bathroom holo-mirror. The black silk negligee clung to her body like a second skin, hiding nothing, highlighting everything. 
She might be wearing a seductive outfit, but she was no seductress; just a thirty year old widow whose Christmas Night was to be celebrated in the arms of a man—a very special man—whom her friends had gifted to her for the night. 
John was some gift. Make that capital ‘G’—Gift! A flesh and blood sensualator, he didn’t come cheap—literally and figuratively. Come being the operative word. 
She had asked him what his true name was, not his professional alias. Laughing, he had insisted it was John. 
They had met, as arranged, in the cocktail lounge of the Saturn Hilton, had a few drinks, then dinner. 
Sam was awkward at first, but John had quickly set her at ease. He was a professional, after all. Once she had relaxed, his tactics altered. The slow seduction began. A scrape of knee against hers beneath the table, a fingertip meeting hers as he handed her a fresh glass of green Centauri champagne. She was aware that he studied her throughout the night, but when her gaze lifted to his, she always found that he was looking elsewhere. 
“Are you a vegetarian?” she asked, trying to make conversation, watching as he swirled a skewered piece of tofu around the lime and coriander sauce on his plate. 
He set the fork down and nodded. “And I don’t eat Nutrina either.” 
Sam shuddered, remembering the times she had been forced to consume the liquid nutrients. “Nutrina tastes like plastic.” 
“You’re in the habit of eating plastic?” 
“You know what I mean. It tastes like plastic smells.” She laughed. “So you’re a vegetarian. I am, too. People used to eat dead animals for food. Some still do. Imagine that!” 
“I’d rather not.” He paused. “I’m a slow, real food guy. As with all things that count, Samantha, I prefer to take my time.” 
“So, you’re Mr. slow and thorough?” 
He grinned and raised his champagne flute in salute. “Verrrry slow, verrrry thorough.” 
Sam laughed. “Can I ask you something?” His golden brow arched. “Tell me about sensualators. No one knows about you guys and…” 
“Honey, I never kiss and tell.” He paused. “Besides I’d rather know about you.” 
“There’s an old earth saying: curiosity killed the cat.” His gaze narrowed at her, a measuring that Sam didn’t understand. “I’m a very dull gal. You must have guessed that by now? I’ve never left the solar system, never done anything—” 
He waved a dismissive hand. “You told me you’re an artist. I saw some of your work in the hotel foyer. I liked how you captured the mists of Neptune, all the different blues and greens and the sweep of red, hinting at the inferno within. Your eyes are green and I think there’s a fire smoldering inside you. Perhaps I’ll call you Maera Passionata.” 
She stared at him, flushing all the way to her heels. Maera Passionata—Mistress Passion. Yeah, right! “You speak Galactic Standard with an inflection I can’t place. And as for your old earth English, the words are clipped, sometimes harsh, sometimes soft.” Contradictory, like the man—she kept that to herself. 
“I roam the stars, Samantha, I pick up accents from every world I visit.” 
“Occupational hazard?” She grinned at him, catching his gaze. “What else do you pick up on your travels? Or, rather who?” 
He laughed. 
She liked the sound. “You did it again.” 
“What?” 
“When you laugh, at the end, it sounds like a purr.” 
“Does it? I hadn’t noticed.” 
“You’re teasing me.” 
“Am I?” 
She flushed and reached for her glass. His right hand intercepted, his fingers sliding over hers. 
“Relax, honey. You don’t have to prove a damn thing to me.” 
“You’re a dead cert, is that it?”
“I’m here because I want to be.” His eyes narrowed, the light and amusement gone. “Not because…” 
“Because…?” 
He shrugged and smiled. Back to games, Sam thought. 
“So, tell me about yourself. Your work.” John topped up her glass. 
Admitting defeat—for the moment—she talked and he listened…listened attentively until she realized she had told him far too much. 
Sensualtors were good at listening; it was part of the job, to find out about the client before going in for the fuck. 
“Is that what you think, honey? Moving in just for the fuck?” 
“Are you telepathic?” Horror raced through her. If he knew what she’d been thinking… Oh stars! 
He ran the little finger of his right hand around the top of his glass. “I have a sensualator’s awareness.” 
“Is that an explanation?” 
“All you’re gonna get from me. At least here.” The last added sultrily, leaving her in no doubt of the meaning of his double entendre. 
She glanced around, trying not to stare at the clientele, all dressed in their finest, with jewels flashing at throat or temple, tail or tentacle. Several performers were dancing in the null-grav field in the center of the room, their bodies painted golden and shimmering with diamantes moving in time with the electronic music. She flinched as the discordant syntho-sounds grated on her nerves. 
“Honey, am I upsetting you, or is it that stars awful music?” 
“Both.” 
“That beat’s all the rage on Deneb. But then the locals have six arms and four legs. Believe me, it brings a whole new interpretation to the tango.” He paused. “What music do you like?” 
“Opera.” She paused, studying him. “And you?” 
“Opera.” 
“You’re just saying that as part of the deal.” 
“No, Samantha.” For the first time there was a hard edge to his voice. “Computer-generated music has no soul. Do you sing?” 
“Only in the shower.” 
“Ah, then I’ll have to be around when you shower next—only to hear you sing, of course.” His eyes danced mischief. “Who is your favorite composer?” 
“Puccini. And if you say Puccini is your favorite, then I’ll…” 
“What will you do? Something drastic maybe?” He grinned. “We share 
good taste, Samantha. We like real food and opera. I think we both enjoy good company. I’m enjoying yours, how about you?” 
She swallowed nervously. “Yes, when you’re not interrogating me.” 
“Do I?” 
“Like the Inquisition.” She glanced at the entertainers. 
“Do you like to dance, Sam?” 
“I’m out of practice.” Like a lot of things. 
“Mm. I prefer to dance in private.” He purred. 
The buzz of conversation around her faded, her gaze, her attention diverted to the man sitting opposite her. As he probably intended. 
“Let me show you the steps.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Time, Samantha…” 
She drew her thoughts back to the present and swallowed hard against the tight dryness in her throat. 
Yep, now it was time. 
She had left him sitting in the lounge-room of her hotel suite, before excusing herself, using the old cliché, “To slip into something more comfortable.” 
His reply had made her blush—he was going to be the one slipping into something comfortable. 
In the mirror she watched the trembling path of her fingers as she fashioned her blonde hair into its customary bob. Her green eyes, now dark with desire, and perhaps fear, stared back at her. 
She fluffed up her hair, grimacing at the result. Instead of sexy, she looked like she was having a bad hair day. She smoothed it down. Stars—who am I kidding? Can I do this? Can I? 
Her stomach muscles were coiled like a spring. But beneath was tension of another kind—she ached for a man. Celibate for five years since Andy’s death, her needs and frustrations had been assuaged through other means. Sometimes with surreal sex from the computer link, but most often through work. Bone-numbing, sex-numbing work in her art gallery. 
One morning she had awoken, knowing that she needed to be held. To wake up, for once, not alone. To be loved. Well, she couldn’t expect love tonight, and she’d never, again, trust a man who said he loved her. Sex with John was safer. No strings attached. 
The light knock on the bathroom door snapped her from her reverie. 
“Honey, are you okay?” 
“Um, yes, just coming.” 
“Lucky you,” he responded, laughing. 
Samantha squared her shoulders, palmed the door open and halted. 
He was leaning against the back of the metal divan, arms folded, waiting for her. In her absence he had removed his jacket. His grandpa collared cream shirt was rolled up to the elbows to reveal muscular bronzed arms. Not a man of space, his skin was sun-kissed. Which sun? Which world did he call home? He never did tell her, despite her questions about his accent. 
His clothes were expensive, natural fibers—no synthetics for him. The platinum bracelet around his left wrist was studded with diamonds and pearls. 
His raw silk trousers clung to his lean hips. She followed down the long length of his crossed legs, ending in an expanse of ankles before disappearing into woven green and purple leather shoes. 
Naked ankles. She hadn’t noticed before, sitting in the dining room, or walking beside him to her room. Now in the privacy of her suite, she could not help but notice his every nuance. 
Especially his ankles, her particular turn-on. Around his left ankle was a chain similar to the one on his wrist. Her conniving friends had obviously informed John about her penchant. What else had they told him, in preparation for this night of seduction? 
Shivers of anticipation raced up her spine. Her nipples strained against the silk negligee. In that moment she longed for his hands to cup her aching breasts, longed for him to stretch his body over hers and fuck her, again and again. She drew in a deep breath. 
“Do I pass muster?” he asked, sultrily. 
His lazy smile teased as his hazel eyes swept her from head to toe and back again to linger on her breasts before lifting to hold her gaze with his own. 
The butterflies in her stomach increased their frantic gyrations. Her heart thudded against her ribs and her inner muscles clenched. She cleared her throat. 
“John, this is… I’m not…” 
He stood then—nearly two meters of predatory, seductive male dominating the room. Daunting, his height, the width of his shoulders, and she, standing at one point six meters, in her bare feet felt intimidated. 
“Are you scared of me?” he asked. 
“No. Well, yes.” 
He spread his hands in a gesture to placate. 
Long fingers, strong; her skin goose-pimpled with the thought of his hands 

5upon her, over her, his fingers in her, stroking… 
“We’ve got all night, Sam. I’m not going to leave until—” 
“Until I’ve got my money’s worth?” 
He grinned. “Something like that. More champagne?” 
“No, my head’s spinning already.” 
“I’m gonna make it spin even more, sweetheart.” 
She lifted her chin, watching him with hooded eyes. “Is that a promise?” 
“Yep.” His indolent smile tore at her insides. He was a professional and knew how to lure her, reel her in. “Honey, that black silk is something else, but I kinda’ think you’d look better without it.” 
Samantha laughed. How skillfully he charmed. It was not difficult to imagine that he meant what he said. 
Her friends had selected him, theirs an appropriate choice because they knew her too well. Not a toy-boy for her re-introduction to sex, but a man perhaps a little older than herself. Tall, slim, muscular and bronzed. His golden-brown sun-streaked hair, tied back in a tail, highlighted the strength and beauty of his face. A face of harsh planes, softened by his easy smile. 
He walked up to her and Sam stood her ground. “Now you are moving in for the fuck,” she whispered. 
Smiling, taking her hands and turning her wrists, he lifted her hands and nibbled at her pulse points. “Relax, sweetheart. No need to be tense.” 
She ran a tongue over dry lips, instantly aware that his eyes darkened as he followed the path of her tongue. His gaze flickered over her. Reaching out, he framed her face with his hands. 
“This night is for you, Sam. Only for you. Whatever you want; however you want it. Okay?” 
“Okay.” She hardly recognized her throaty whisper. 
He bent forward. The whipcord warmth of his arms enfolded her. At this touch, her muscles clenched and she felt the subtle tightening of his arms. Through the clothes separating them, his erection pressed against her stomach. And yet she also felt him trembling. Why? The thought intruded and was swept away as his mouth slanted over hers. Again she breathed in his scent, an unusual combination of sandalwood and man-spice…and something else; unidentifiable. His lips moved with gentle insistence against her mouth. 
At his touch, his nearness, warmth flowed heavily through her veins. His fingers traced a sensual path over the bare skin of her back, down the curve of her hips to clasp her bottom. He raised her gently against him, and rested his pelvis against hers. Again she felt his taut arousal, now larger, hotter than before. 
As his kiss deepened the warmth in her veins turned to fire, a heated maelstrom that pooled heavily at the juncture of her thighs. Her body throbbed and pulsed and cramped. She sighed against his mouth. 
He drew back to look down at her. “Still okay?” 
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Again his mouth possessed her. This time his kiss was harsher, demanding. With determined, assured strokes his tongue coiled with hers, mimicking a dance of thrust, retreat, thrust. 
Beneath her hands, muscles bunched. While his kiss held her captive, she felt herself raised into his arms and carried. But instead of laying her down, he sat on the bed edge and drew her onto his lap. His kiss intensified. On the periphery of her invaded senses, Samantha heard and felt the rustling caress of silk as he eased it up from her ankles, to knee, to thigh. She shivered at his slow assault. Feather soft, his hand traveled upon her, like a whisper, a hint of a caress, a delicious itch that she couldn’t scratch. 
He stroked her inner thigh, just infuriatingly short of her aching need. She moved her hips, anxious for him to relieve her, but his hand slid away. As she moaned, he smiled against her lips. 
His fingers walked up her thigh to finally cup her mound; his thumb lightly stroked against her curls. Despite herself, Sam trembled. Immediately his finger stalled. 
“You’re not scared of me, are you?” he asked, drawing back to study her. 
“Not exactly.” 
“How…not exactly?” 
“John, for over five years I haven’t been with a man. I’m out of practice. I… never… Oooh!” 
She forgot what she was going to say as two of his fingers parted her folds, rubbing down to her nub. A fingernail grazed gently over it. She gasped. He continued his assault and she clung to him as her world was suddenly turned topsy-turvy by his delicious torment. Her pussy ached. 
He purred deep in his throat. “I never use that word.” 
“What word?” 
“Pussy.” 
She gaped. “You are telepathic.” 
“I’m what I am, Samantha. A sensualator.” 
“A very good one.” 
He smiled. “Thank you.” 
“Um, why don’t you use that word?” 
“In some circles pussy has certain connotations. One day I’ll explain.” He stroked again. His playful nibbles along her throat and ear lobe made her shudder as his fingers deftly brought her clit to a throbbing peak. 
She held her breath as he slid a finger down to find her entrance. He quested inside and then retreated. Returned, again, this time angling to the right. A frisson of heated pleasure raced through her cleft. A sigh escaped from her, almost a moan. 
“Good, now you’re relaxed. I can feel you, your essence. That’s what they call it on Rigel—Essence. It’s considered a gift, the highest compliment a woman may pay her man. Very nice. Don’t blush, it’s perfectly natural. I want you to enjoy me.” 
He lay back on the bed, drawing her on top of him. His hands roamed up and down her spine, lower, raising her negligee to her waist. 
Samantha halted his hands. 
“Am I going too fast for you?” he asked. 
“I know it’s silly after what we’ve already done…” 
The lips of his sensuous mouth, now swollen from their kiss, broke into another lazy smile that made her every muscle constrict; pound. 
He gently lifted her from his body. In one fluid movement he had drawn his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He took her hand, placed it on his chest and guided it down across the taut plane of his stomach, lower across his navel, lower to the erection straining against the silk trousers. With his other hand he tugged down the zip. 
Rolling her onto her back, he leaned into her, his mouth descending to hers, while he pressed his length against her palm. Instinctively, her fingers curled around him. 
“John,” she whispered. 
“That’s my name.” 
“You…um…feel different.” She went to look down, but he positioned his knee, blocking her vision. “What are you hiding?” 
“Twenty centimeters of throbbing manhood.” He laughed. 
“Oh, pleeeasssse.” She paused. “Twenty centimeters?” 
“Give or take. How about you take and I give?” His teasing grin turned her inside out. 
She hesitantly stroked his taut flesh. 
“Yes,” he whispered. “Yes, do that again. Please.” The last added in a hoarse, frantic whisper. 
His mouth moved lower, across her face, down her neck, playful nips along her skin, down to her left breast and the nipple that he coaxed to a tight peak through the thin film of the negligee. His mouth claimed her other breast, the pressure creating an urgency that swept the length of her body. Grasping his cock, she pumped him while his hips rocked against her. 
“That’s good, honey. It feels so good. Don’t stop.” 
Her hesitancy gave way to confidence; she stroked, squeezed and stretched him, varying the speed and angle of each movement. He groaned. 
Instead of allowing her to bring him to climax, he pushed her hand away. She heard his long inhalation, held, before a slow, controlled exhalation. His body shuddered as he fought to control the climax. Sensualators could delay it for hours or days, depending on the client. 
“John?” 
In response, he shook his head and kissed her deeply, completely, his tongue stroking against hers, mimicking that union she prayed would soon become reality. How she longed for him to be inside her spreading her wide, filling her. 
He lifted her against his body. She felt his hardness through the prickle of raw silk. She fumbled with his belt. Patiently he waited as she tugged down his trousers, raising first one foot and then the other as she divested him of his pants. She drew her fingers over his ankles, studying the chain, delaying the moment. 
“You’re gong to have to look at me sometime, Sam. Unless you really have an ankle fetish…?” His gentle laugh made her lift her gaze. 
Samantha glanced at him. Naked. Beautiful. But—stars! 
“What’s that thing you’re wearing on your…um…it’s red and green and silver!” 
“Boy scouts are always prepared. I’m a careful guy. I’ve got a sheath with seven rows of ticklers, if you prefer?” 
She stared at the sheath with its ridges, amusement warring with amazement. “You’ve been wearing that all night? Wasn’t it uncomfortable?” 
“Yes to both questions.” 
“I doubt you could ever be a boy scout. Too naughty.” 
He laughed, ending it in a deep rolling purr. “Yes, way too naughty. I’m wearing this because it’s the law for me. Protected sex.” 
“You don’t have to worry, I’ve had my shot.” 
“I had this sheath especially made with the Christmas colors, red, green and silver with the ridges. Why I felt funny to you.” He grinned. 
laughing at me, but you can’t imagine the trouble I had to get it made. Anyway, I prefer a sheath to protective drugs because medication impedes the pleasure. This one will drive you crazy. Promise.” 
Sam swallowed against her tight, dry throat. His penis reached up to his navel. Her heart lurched with the realization that he wore no underwear, that he had been wearing the sheath all night. Had he arrived, perhaps anticipating immediate action, to satiate her without preliminaries? Samantha’s nerves spiked at the thought. 
“Now you,” he said, tugging up her negligee, bringing it over her head. He flung the gown aside and gazed at her. “You’re beautiful. Well worth the wait.” 
I bet you tell that to all your clients. His lie was part of the game, included in the price. She did not care. “Can I do something?” 
“Whatever…within reason. I’m not into kinky.” 
“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said. 
“Maybe later we could experiment?” He smiled. “On the moon of Tau Ceti—no, maybe not.” 
“What do they do?” 
“I might show you, when you’re used to me. They like to have a ménage…they’re shifters and they can extend certain parts of their anatomy, so that they can enter their partner’s every orifice.” 
“It sounds interesting.” 
He laughed. “Honey, interesting is an understatement.” 
“You’re not a shifter, are you?” Humans who had the ability to alter molecular structure to mimic other sentient life—some became sensualators and were in demand the length and breadth of the galaxy. But they were rare, expensive and insatiable. Especially the cats. He didn’t look alien, but one never knew and some had the ability to glamor themselves, so it was said. When it came to understanding the shifters—no matter the species—humans had more rumor than fact, as if the shifters were deliberately enigmatic. Well, who could blame them—after what humans had done to some of their kind? 
She touched his hip bone, stroking. 
“No, Sam, I’m Sol-human. Born and raised on earth. Does that disappoint you?” 
“How can you disappoint anyone?” She meant it as a compliment, but for a second she thought she saw his eyes harden, narrow. 
“Harimal, my half-brother is felinus.” 
Sam paused, her mind echoing with the disclosure, with the pronunciations: Ha-rrrrimal and fe-lin-usss. “Your brother is a cat-shifter?” 
“Mm. My mother was human, my father, felinus.” 
She frowned at him. “And you wished you were, also?” 
He lifted back to study her, his gaze narrowed. “Very perceptive for a…” 
“For a what?” 
“A human.” He traced his knuckles over her cheek. “My tastes are a hybrid of man and cat. Which would you prefer me to be, Samantha?” 
“Yourself.” 
His smile was tender. “Most women would demand the exotic.” 
She shrugged. “A sensualator is exotic enough for me. I’m not most women, just Samantha. I don’t think I could face a felinus…or any shifter. From what I’ve heard, I’d be eaten alive.” 
John laughed. “Honey, what makes you think I’m not going to eat you?” 
She stared at him. “I…um…” 
“Cat got your tongue?” 
“You’re playing with me!” 
“Right now, you don’t understand what it is to play, but at the end of tonight, you’re gonna know its meaning good and proper.” 
She reached out and ran her fingers across his cheek. His lips strained to capture her hand. She gasped as the liquid fire of his tongue swirled against her palm. Drawing off his hair-tie, she finger-combed his hair, smoothing it around his neck. Unusual, the texture of his hair. Like velvet, but not. She frowned. 
“Is that all you wanted to do?” he asked. 
“No.” 
“Then tell me what you want.” 
“For…for you to…you know.” 
“I need for you to tell me—exactly—what you want.” His gaze held hers. 
The silence in the bedroom beat against her ears. “I want you to love me…thoroughly.” 
“Love you? That’s a polite word, Samantha. Is love what you truly want? I’m here to fuck you. But if you have a preference as to how, then please be specific.” 
Samantha flushed, then laughed as she saw the glint in his eye. “You’re teasing me.” 
“I’m not. Yet. But I mean it, if there is something you want, a fantasy that will please you, then all you have to do is tell me. I can be very accommodating.” 
“I’m sure you can.” 
“Is that censure in your voice, honey? I am what I am. You want the illusion of a lover; you want me to whisper undying love in your ear? Do you really want the lie, when the truth is so much better?” He studied her. “Does it disgust you that I’m not fully human? Your friends seemed to think it wouldn’t matter to you, when they made the booking. I have to disclose my breed to the client—another law…” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. 
“But that’s discrimination! Doesn’t the Galactic Equal Rights Tribunal—?” 
“You should have seen the draft law before the Tribunal watered it down. Certain groups have always lobbied against shifters.” 
Sam stared. “But felinus and humans fought and died side by side in the starlord wars. That’s all the thanks you get?” 
He stroked the back of her hand. “Don’t worry about it, honey, shifters have powerful allies. Starwatch, for example; its directors know how to fight for us.” His gaze was intense. “Is my breed acceptable to you, Samantha?” 
She touched her lips to his. 
“So you would like for me to stay?” He purred. 
“Yes.” 
Taking her in his arms, he bent his head to her neck and licked. Samantha squeezed her eyes shut. Beneath her hands, she felt the rippling of muscles as he moved against her; his fingers gently feathered over her body, kneading, squeezing, massaging. Lower and lower his palm worked. Two long, strong fingers stroked across her mound. She opened her thighs, arching upwards, inviting—no! Demanding. She allowed the sex-lethargy to creep over her, focusing her attention on her body and its pleasure; to live for the moment… 
John felt her honey-warmth spill over his hand and smiled inwardly. She was ready for him, as he was for her. How he ached to bury himself deep within her. But it was too soon. She had waited a long time for this release, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt her. It might kill him, though. He shivered with the pleasure of her soft hands tracing across the small of his back, skimming—in all naiveté—his favorite meridian point. Soon, he’d teach her how to manipulate it; the thought made him shudder, his gut cramping with the most delicious anticipation. 
His mouth teased down her breasts, tormenting each already contracted nipple to tight buds. Lower his mouth quested, sucking, licking, scrolling around her navel. He exerted a tentative pressure on her thighs, a silent question that she silently answered by opening her legs wide. He drew her knees up so that she rested her feet on his shoulders. 
Settling against her, his fingers parted her folds as his hand braced against her pubic bone. She held her breath. Slowly, deliberately, his mouth devoured her. His tongue swirled across her clit, teasing it lightly, drawing it to a peak. Her thighs trembled as a wave of pleasure rippled outwards. One of his fingers, then two crept inside her. A movement in and out, a nudge to one side, then the other. The pressure within her built. He halted; fingers and tongue, waiting. Holding. Denying. 
“John, I can’t stand it anymore!” 
“I think you could if you really tried.” 
“Please.” 
He blew across her nether-lips, cooling the heated flesh. His tongue lapped. “You want more?” 
“Mmmm!” It was all she could say. Words were forgotten, need, passion making her mute. His mouth feasted on her as his fingers began their gentle, yet inexorable massaging to that pinnacle he had denied her. Her temples throbbed in unison to the tempest between her legs. 
Her climax came, a sudden release of heat; a tension, painful and harsh bursting forth from her. 
“Do you want me inside you, now?” he asked. 
“Mmmm...” 
Impatiently, Samantha waited for The Moment. 
He lay beside her and kissed her. She tasted her own musky self on his lips and tongue. Moments later, he moved away and kneeling between her thighs and bracing himself on his outstretched arms he used the crest of his penis to trace a line across her stomach, probing downwards, finding her folds. His erection slipped back and forth across her sex. Her hand fisted around him, holding him. 
“Now?” he asked. 
Their gazes locked before he lowered himself into her. 
Samantha gasped. A moment of panic quashed her desire. 
He halted. “What’s wrong?” 
“You’re so big, and it’s been a long time. I don’t think I can. And you’re vibrating! Is that what that sheath-thing does…?” 
“You like it? Is it too much?” 
As he went to draw away, she grasped his buttocks. “No, I want this. I want you. All of you.” 
“Do you?” His narrowed gaze held hers. “You look as if this is an ordeal, not a pleasure. I’m sorry.” 
He went to pull back, but her leg thrown across the backs of his thighs restrained him. 
“I want you. I’m tired of being afraid.” The last said in a whisper and she regretted it the moment the words escaped her. 
“Afraid?” he demanded, snarling. “Has someone hurt you in bed?” 
“A long time ago. Now, sssh. I insist. Please.” 
John settled against her, his knees taking his weight. He entered slowly, giving her time to grow accustomed. He kissed her gently, tracing his lips and tongue over her mouth, cheeks, neck, while his hands and fingers stroked, soothed. He lifted and aimed inside her to the right. He heard the subtle catch of breath in her throat. Good. Slowly, her hands spread over his back, her finger tips pressing into his flesh. He teased her some more, as he kissed and stroked. 
Her essence flowed around him as her woman’s muscles imprisoned him. It took all his will power to control the urge to bury himself to the hilt. Five years without a man, she had told him that. Now he knew it to be true; despite her arousal, she was tight. Ignoring his own body screaming for release, he focused instead on extending her pleasure. 
One centimeter in, and then retreat, slowly he probed her, the sheath straining, pulsing—for them both. It was a delicious massage of every inner muscle and Sam thrashed on the bed in delirium, pain, pleasure, passion. 
“John, now.” 
“No, honey. Wait.” 
He smiled to himself. He was going to tease her, fuck her good and proper as she deserved. He would truly make her head spin, to turn her inside out before he soothed her from inside out. Make her his, truly his. 
He slipped his hands beneath her buttocks and raised her, rocking his hips against hers, easing his full length into her. He drew back, resting at her entrance, to return again to full possession. Again and again, the slow seductive rhythm that she began to match. His languid pace increased until they moved as one, a tempestuous joining. 
He came, paused, then continued to surge against her. She pinioned her legs around his waist, crossing her ankles, holding him fiercely. 
She was almost at the brink when he halted. Unfastening her legs he turned her sideways. Lifting her, he drew her back against him and raised her left leg. He entered her again. With one arm holding her to him, he used the fingers of his other hand to caress her clit as he fucked her, slowly, deeply. His tongue teased up her neck, returned to lave her nape. A gentle bite, a soothing kiss, a swipe of his tongue. Bite. Kiss. Lap. 
Sam shivered as inside the delicious pressure-pain built and built. Lights danced before her eyes. Her body strained against the hand that worked her, bucked against the flesh impaling her. A moment of suspended awareness, she felt certain she would explode. She screamed. 
“That’s it, honey, give it all you’ve got.” 
And she did. Wave upon wave of excruciating pleasure. She writhed against him as his body and fingers continued to stroke her. Her next climax matched his. They cried out together. With one long, slow, deep thrust that seemed to stretch forever, he drove into her and calmed… 
Samantha opened her eyes. Beside her, the bed was empty, with only the indentation in the pillow and the tangled sheets to remind her that she had not slept alone. 
Correction…not much sleep had occurred. 
She raised herself on an elbow. He must have left as soon as she had fallen asleep. Satiated sleep after hours of making love. 
No, not love, she reminded herself. Sex. He had been her Christmas Night gift and whatever the cost, he had been worth every credit. John, a gentle lover. Insatiable. Inventive. She blushed to remember what he had done, what he had coaxed her to do to him, to herself. Together. 
They could teach those shifters on Tau Ceti a thing or three. 
He had exorcised her fear, the memories. 
If only… 
She winced at the thought, the longing—that for them there could be a future. He was a sensualator. With him there could be nothing more, just a night of pleasure, paid for. But—oh God! Once she had him, how could she forget the sensations…? How could she forget him? 
She couldn’t. 
She would have him again. Soon. Her body tensed at the thought. Pulsed. If only he was still here, she’d screw him senseless. 
Pushing herself off the bed, Samantha hobbled to the bathroom, her body protesting her movement. Her inner muscles ached—had been stretched and thoroughly used. 
On the vanity unit she saw a three-D business card and beneath it a long black velvet box. 
Going to it, she lifted the card, reading the gold print. Johnathan Lucas, Pearl Farmer. Broome, Australia, Sol-Terra, with a cell phone number and a galactic call sign. Who the hell was Johnathan Lucas? Maybe he was a friend of Kuno, her internet confidant? Kuno lived in Broome. 
Opening the box, she gasped at the black pearl necklace lying in folds of red silk. Had Kuno sent her the gift? How had he known…? She re-read the card and flipped it over, staring at the name and contact details—all handwritten in red ink: Kuno alias Johnathan Lucas (John). The email address was Kuno’s, followed by two words, underlined: Surprise, Tosca! 
Realization made her giddy. Tosca was her internet alias, the one she used when she chatted to Kuno. Only to Kuno. 
Was her male escort, in reality Kuno, alias Johnathan Lucas. John—the sensualator…? Oh stars! But how…? 
She didn’t have to be Einstein to figure it out. 
Her friends, Sue and Rob, must have conspired with John-Kuno. Against such a determined threesome, she hadn’t stood a chance. The fine details of how it was accomplished didn’t matter. The end result was that after eighteen months of shared confidences in their private chat room, she had met Kuno in the flesh. 
In the flesh. 
As memories surfaced of their night together, her insides melted with longing, with wanting more. She was beyond embarrassment; she couldn’t even blush! 
With a trembling hand she reached for the phone and keyed the number. It was answered after one ring. 
“Good morning, honey,” he replied. 
“Where are you?” 
“Room next door.” 
“Get in here, Kuno.” 
“Just coming, sweetheart.” 
“Lucky you.” 
His laughter tugged at her insides. Seconds later, the sensor outside beeped. She raced forward and activated the door. It slid open and she dragged him inside. He wore only a red silk gown, untied, revealing his erection. She stared at him. All of him. Oh man… 
“Samantha, is something wrong?” 
“You can stop that lil’ ol’ innocent me routine. Your eyes, your…” 
“My eyes? My cock? What about them?” 
His eyes were gold, green-flecked and luminous, like a cat. And his cock was ridged from base to head. “The sheath you wore, that was you beneath it, all the ridges.” 
“Yep.” 
“You wore it to disguise yourself. Who are you? What are you?” 
His amusement fled. “Samantha!” 
“Do I call you John or Kuno?” 
He sighed. “Kuno is my felinus name.” 
“So, you are a shifter!” 
“No, as I said before, I’m a hybrid. Only pure blood can shift. But I’ve inherited certain felinus traits from my father.” He spread his arms wide. “As you can see.” 
Sam stared at him, her heart beating in her temples. “You were wearing contacts last night, to hide your eyes?” 
“Yes. The color is perhaps unusual for a human, but not unknown. I couldn’t risk you seeing the starlight in my eyes—” 
“The what?” 
He smiled. “I’ve so much to tell you, show you. Where shall I begin?” He took a step towards her, halting as she held up her hand. 
“I liked Kuno. He was the first man I spoke to and trusted after…after... I don’t know you!” 
“I’m still Kuno. I’m also John. You can trust me.” He inclined his head, folding his hands over his heart. “Kuno, saer wan naemis-al.” 
“What did you say?” 
“In felinus, I was declaring myself to you. My name is Kuno and I exist for you.” 
Sam’s body vibrated with his words, his intention. His voice was richer, deeper, the rolling of every ‘r’ more pronounced, with some words ending in a husky whisper, almost like a purr, especially when he was speaking felinus. 
“Oh. Well…” She cleared her throat. “Are…are you telling me we aren’t finished?” 
“You think I came in here to say goodbye? Honey-cat, we’re only just beginning.” He leaned into her. “I think I’ll take you to Tau Ceti and then after that…” 
“I’d like to see Broome and swim with the dolphins.” 
“You can talk to them you know. The stories they can tell…” 
“I’d like to go swimming and do it to you at the same time.” 
“I can arrange that.” 
“Are you really a sensualator?” 
He laughed. “Yes, it’s my profession, besides being a pearl farmer.” 
“And a reprobate!” She slapped his bum, pinched him for good measure, then tugged off his robe. “Thank you for the pearls.” 
“Pearls can be used for a lot of things other than to grace your neck, Sam. Do you know what?” 
“I can imagine. But I want my pearls around my throat and I want you inside me. Now, Kuno.” 
“And later?” 
“We’ll make it up as we go along.” 
“I named you well, Maera Passionata!” He smiled that lazy smile that she would never grow tired of watching. 
As she studied him, her vision wavered, as if she was looking through running water. She blinked. Now she saw his deeper layers of beauty, the felinus and the human. Oh man! Or, maybe, she should say oh cat! 
“Kuno! You hid your true self from me, didn’t you? Your hair is different, now, gold with red and black streaks. Your face is smoother, less severe.” She paused. No, he was beautiful; inhumanly beautiful. “I’ve heard shifters can do that—glamor their true nature.” 
He nodded. “For our protection and for privacy. We’re pursued for our sex. You’ve heard the rumors, I’m sure.” 
“Except I know they’re not rumors, but the truth.” 
“So, you’d hunt me for my body?” 
“You give a gal a good time.” 
“Kitten, we haven’t even started.” Tilting his head, he flicked back the hair from his eyes. He purred, deep in his throat and the sound melted her bones, other places. His eyes lit up. “What other places are melting, Sam?” 
She gasped. “You are telepathic!” 
“Occasionally, when I’m in the mood.” He paused, studying her. “Does my felinus self frighten you? All of me?” He held his arms wide, his chin raised. For a moment his fear washed over her. His horror that she would reject him. 
Sam reached out and trailed her fingers through his hair—like thick velvet but with the texture of silk. Lower. Her gaze followed the path of her fingers. She halted at his right hip, frowning at the tattoo. The feather motif, showing every filament, was darkest blue and disappeared behind his hip. He half turned, so she could examine the design. It ended over his buttock, just near the base of his spine. The design was a work of art. She touched it tentatively and his flesh goose-pimpled. 
“That’s one of my hot spots,” he said. 
“Your what?” 
“You’ll find out.” 
She glanced at him doubtfully. “I love that tattoo.” 
“My clan brother gave it to me.” 
“Your who?” 
“I’ll explain, all in good time.” He faced her, standing tall. “If I hadn’t concealed myself—every part—would you have spent the night with me? I couldn’t lose you after it took me so damn long to coax you out of hiding. I know you would have run at light speed to the nearest spaceship if you knew Kuno was in reality Johnathan Lucas and he is both man and cat.” 
“Yes, I think I would have run.” 
“And now, kitten?” 
Sam caught his sudden tension in the darkening of his eyes, and in the sudden tremble of his body against hers. Was he so vulnerable? 
“I think I’ll stay,” she whispered, stroking his temple. 
“You think?” He stared at her and then smiled, that slow lazy, bone-melting smile. “You’re teasing me. How delightful.” 
“Tease me and I tease back.” 
“Promise?” He paused. “Good, now that’s sorted, we can have fun. I know a bar on the lower level—” 
“That place is forbidden to tourists.” 
His brow quirked. “Do you always do what you’re told, Sam? Don’t you want to live on the wild side?” 
“What I’ve heard about the lower level, my adventures would end before they had begun.” She paused, studying him, seeing the mischief. “Do you go there?” 
“Often. It’s where the shifters hang out and the others; sex and danger walk hand in hand, honey. There’s holo-dancing and—” 
“What’s holo-dancing?” 
John rolled his eyes. “I’ll take you there and show you, but suffice to say that if you enjoyed my performance here, you’re gonna love my dancing.” 
“And the shifters hang out there?” 
“Mm. The cats mostly. You know what they’re like.” 
“I don’t actually.” 
John smiled, running his finger over her mouth. “The cats love a virgin, I’m gonna have to put my scent on you, before we go out. I don’t want to have to call challenge to any felinus. It’s messy.” 
“I’m not a virgin,” Sam whispered. 
“Honey, a cat will tell you any person who hasn’t had a felinus as a lover has never been loved properly. Unless you’ve tangled with one of us, you’re considered a virgin.” 
“And you want to take me to this bar? What’s it called?” 
“Rendezvous.” 
“It sounds harmless enough. And what do you mean you’re going to put your scent on me.” 
“You’re my woman, now, so I don’t share, except with your permission. My brother’s gonna love you. From a distance, at first. After that, well, maybe you might want to ménage.” 
“Two lovers at the same time?” 
“Two is the basic number, the initiation for a virgin. Once you get used to us, all bets are off.” 
“John…” 
He kissed away her protests. “Sam, you don’t have to worry, no one is gonna do anything against your will. Especially against your will. You’re my pussy!” He grinned. “I’m not insulting you. Remember when I said that in some circles the word pussy has certain connotations? Well, among felinus, it means you’re mine. And if you call me pussy, then I’m yours. I’ve already told you that I exist for you.” 
“You can’t,” she whispered. His jaw clenched and for a moment she thought his eyes misted with tears. “I can’t let you. It’s not fair.” 
He almost smiled. “Fair? Who said about being fair? I’ve declared myself to you and you’ve rejected me. Why?” 
“I haven’t rejected you.” 
“Sounded like it to me.” 
Sam sighed. “I’m only human and inexperienced and I know I’ll bore you.” 
His lip quirked. “In certain shifter circles, the word bore has a multitude of meanings, none of them to do with lack of interest.” 
“Be serious.” 
“I am.” John touched her cheek. “You think you’re saving me from myself? That’s it, huh? If I didn’t want you, if I didn’t want to be with you, do you think I would be standing here?” 
“You don’t have to make promises.” 
“You think I’m not going to keep them? My name is Kuno and I exist for you. Only for you. Kuno, saer wan naemis-al.” He put his crossed hands over his heart and bowed. Straightening, his gaze was harsh. “I have made my promise. For a felinus and his mate...it is forever.” He put a finger to her lips, gently pressing. “No more talking, I want to tangle with you, again and then take you out of this synthesized, homogenized hotel and introduce you to the real universe. If you won’t listen to what I say, then take notice of what I do.” 
He carried her to the bed and placed her upon it. Kneeling between her thighs, he used the top of his erection to stimulate her clit. She lifted off the mattress. 
“You’re very sensitive, aren’t you? Mm, good.” He touched her again and Sam gritted her teeth as the quivers raced through her. “And you’ve got surprising control. You’ll need it for the future.” 
“What?” 
“A surprise.” 
“I’ve already had my fair share!” 
“Relax. It’s Christmas and I’m going to give you something you’re never going to forget.” 
“You already have.” 
“You think?” He paused, looking down at her. “You still gonna say no? Why don’t you do something daring and say yes to me?” 
Sam reached out and brushed back the hair from his face. Their gazes locked. She trembled with desire, with fear. She saw his fear, his desire, his horror that she would flee him, as she had fled many times from him in cyberspace, refusing his emails and hails for months. Refusing because of fear, because of the past… But did she want to be a prisoner of the past, or did she want to be free, to embrace the future, wherever it led? She touched his mouth with her fingertip, tracing her nail over his lips. 
“I want you inside me, Kuno. Now. I don’t want you to wear that sheath ever again. I want to feel you, all of you; I want you to make me vibrate with your flesh and blood. I know I can do it for you. Kuno. Now.” 
He bent forward and slid inside her. Settling against her, he pressed his face into her neck, nibbling, sucking and biting, a long, slow drawing that tugged at her cleft. 
“Now any cat looking at you will see my mark. You’re mine, Sam. Now. Forever.” 
“Forever is such a long time.” 
“In the universe’s scheme of things, honey, just a blink of an eye. Now, look at me, I want to watch your eyes when I love you. You want it this way, under me? It’s not very inventive. I can de-activate the gravity and—” 
“You can do that?” 
“Mm. Making love in zero G. is a unique experience. You can touch me all over. Not as good as holo-
“Just what is holo-dancing?” 
“Come to Rendezvous with me and find out.” 
“You’re not going to tell me?” 
“It’s not something you talk about, it’s something you do. And once you’ve tried it, you’ll never be the same.” He pressed into her for emphasis, drawing back and then re-entering her, this time changing direction. 
“Aaah,” Sam moaned. “What did you do?” 
“A felinus trick. There’s a pleasure-spot high up to the right. Among other places.” 
“What other places?” 
He purred and licked her lips. “One at a time, Sam.” 
“Do it again, oh please!” 
“Now, wrap your legs around me, lock your ankles at my back and I can touch deeper. Ready?” 
“I…” Sam’s words died in her mouth as John’s body impaled her, while his hands beneath her tilted her to another angle. Her mind exploded with light, the world closed in on her, the only sound, the blood pounding in her ears. Time stood still; she forgot to breathe as the exquisite pleasure rippled through her. She bit him on the neck and John cried out, not with pain, but pleasure. 
He moved against her, alternating angles, speed. Ah! That was so good… 
When Sam’s awareness returned, she found she was floating. Opening her eyes, she discovered that she and John were hovering over the bed. Somehow, sometime he must have de-activated the gravity. He kissed away her questions, while his hands fanned around her body, beneath her, probing, stroking, as his cock within her probed and stroked. She explored his body, every crevice, every secret. She bit, she licked, she clawed. 
“You’ve drawn my blood, Sam, do you know what that means to a felinus?” 
She shook her head. 
“It means, sweetheart, that you’ve marked me as your own. Forever.” 
Sam reached up and brushed back the hair flying around his face. “Forever is such a short time, let’s not waste a moment.” 
“Maera Passionata! I always knew there was a tiger lurking within you, the passion curbed by pain and memories. Now, there’s no more pain…well, not much…and I want you to be the tigress—claw me, bite me, love me, Sam.” 
“Like this?” She ran her nail down his spine. 
“Ah, yes! But harder!” 
Sam teased her nails over his flesh and he writhed against her. In the null-grav his movements made them turn over and over, spinning out of control, as passions spun out of control, as he loved her, as she loved him, insatiable, inexhaustible and inventive. 
“This is only the beginning, Sam,” John whispered. “I didn’t come more than a billion kilometers just for a one night stand.” 
“You didn’t? But what if I was a bitch, or…?” 
He purred against her. “You forget that we corresponded by email for over twelve months before you and I met in the chat room. Honey, I knew enough about you from the first letter, to know…” He purred again and held her face between his hands. “You’ll come for another billion kilometers, my promise to you!” 
“You promise?” 
“Yep. Under every known star, I’m going to love you Sam; starlight ecstasy—that’s what the felinus call it.” 
“Before, you said something about starlight. What’s it mean?” 
He smiled, his eyes afire. “Ah, kitten. Now that’s a question that can’t be answered, but experienced. Every level.” 
“Every level of what?” 
“Starlight.” 
“You’re being deliberately obtuse.” She slapped his ass. 
“Ouch.” He grinned. “You slap me and I’ll bite you. Deal?” 
“I dunno.” She paused. “You didn’t answer my question, about starlight.” 
He locked his legs around the back of her thighs and pressed into her. 
Sam gazed down at him. Then his body angled and probed and she squeezed her eyelids closed. Christmas Night had been and gone, but there would be many more nights to come. She smiled at the play of words, of the future stretching ahead, of a life lived no longer alone…to explore a universe that she barely glimpsed until this moment; of a life barely lived until this moment. 
She bit him hard and he groaned, then laughed. 
“You’re mine,” she said. “No she-cat had better look at you, either, or I’ll scratch out her eyes.” 
John turned them both and they hovered close to the ceiling. “Bite me again, hell-cat. Bite me; love me, Sam! And then after that, you’ll know what starlight ecstasy means.”

DID YOU ENJOY THE FIRST CHAPTER?  There’s more fun, more naughty sexy cats and an evil villain threatening the galaxy.  So, enter the worlds of the shapeshifters and purchase your copy of STARLIGHT today!  350 pages (125,000 words) of sexy space opera.  What IS space opera?  Think: “Casanova meets Star Trek” and you get the general idea. 
STARLIGHT: ISBN:  978 1 55487 144 5
Trade paperback, 350 pages (approx. 125,000 words).
Order from: Amazon.com or your favourite bookstore. In Australia: Astrid is negotiating with bookshops, but Gawler Books, Gawler, South Australia; will be stocking it.  Contact Astrid for more details.
Copies can be obtained direct from Astrid, but the postage is enormous. ($10 per book within Australia, $25 for international air mail!)  Each book will be personally signed to you, and with a beautiful bookmark. Paypal facilities available.