No Holes Barred: Stranded
by Shelley Munro

This excerpt is intended for those 18 years and older.

A soft click behind made her backbone hit the back of the chair.

“So you want to work here.” His voice was deep. Husky. It sent a shiver of pure longing pulsing through Cimmaron. Her gut sucked in while blood seemed to pool low. What was wrong with her today? This male—he wasn’t her type. If she wanted a male she’d look to her own race, not an otherlander. And that was about as likely as Campbell returning and telling her it was all a joke. There was more to life than mating. And so much more than spending life as a slave to a mate.

“Yes, I am good at my job.” True. She was a good pilot. Also a reasonable bar tender.

He nodded, his expression not giving anything away. He glanced through the open door. “Sorry, I’ll be back in a few microts.”

Tamaki made an excuse to leave the office. He had to. It was a matter of gathering his wits before he did something stupid. Like grabbing the golden woman, forcing her sexy mouth open and shoving his tongue half way down her throat. Hell, he wanted to do more than that. Confusion lay beneath the desperate need coursing through his body. In his job as manager of the club, he’d seen lots of beautiful women. He’d spent time with some of them on the upper level, fucking their brains out for mutual pleasure. He’d only dated, never felt the need to have the woman three times. Twice a date, thrice a mate. Now there was the kicker. He’d never wanted that before. He ambled out to the bar deep in thought.

“Problem?” Rico asked.

“Yeah.” Tamaki jerked his head toward his office. “You could say that.”

“You want me to get rid of her?”

“No!” Tamaki’s reply was instant. No, he didn’t want that. He had rather more sensual plans in mind. First he’d strip the ugly tunic from her body. It made her appear sexless. Instinct told him that beneath the brown cloth she bore a pleasing shape. It was the way she held herself, the proud bearing, the flash of vulnerability in her eyes that disappeared the instant she noticed she was being watched, replaced by a tough, no-nonsense attitude. Tamaki imagined sliding his hands under the brown tunic, fanning his fingers out to measure the width of her waist. And slowly moving them up to cup her breasts. He wondered about size. Shape. His palms tingled, and his cock woke abruptly, pushing against the placket of his trews with enough vigor to make Tamaki uncomfortable.

“Earth to Tamaki.”


Rico grinned at him. “I said, Earth to Tamaki.”

Tamaki moved so the glossy hi-tech bar was between him and his friend. “We’re on Marchant. Remember? Light years away from the blue planet.”

“What’s up?” Rico stared at Tamaki before his gaze moved down his body. “Ah. I get it. Wee Willie Winkie is exerting his say in the interview process.”

“Get fucked,” Tamaki muttered.

“Oh, yeah. And I’d sure like that. The microt I can talk my way into Marianna’s pants I’ll be sure to let you know. Hell, I might even take out an ad in the Marchant Communicator. Hire a market crier or something. Marianna’s surrender will be worth celebrating.”

Slightly diverted, Tamaki studied his friend and co-worker. Rico had taken one look at Marianna, a local female, and declared this was the woman for him. Yet, he hadn’t been able to talk the female into a date. Not within the club or a casual meeting in the city. Tamaki hadn’t been able to understand why Rico wouldn’t go with any other female. He glanced toward his office. Suddenly, it all seemed to make sense.

“I want her, but I can’t fuck the hired help. It’s against the rules since the company was sued for the Martian scandal.”

“Don’t hire her then the rules won’t apply,” Rico said. “Go and interview the female and tell her she isn’t what you’re looking for.”

“Lie, you mean.”

Rico snorted. “Come on, Tamaki. You’ve done it before.”

“Yeah, when I was young and stupid. Lies have a way of coming back to bite you in the arse.”

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