Page 72
Story: The Lottery
It is a brand new day here on our brand new planet.
In the distance the sun slowly rises over the red snow-capped mountains, casting its long rays of pale golden light over the slowly waking world as the second moon of the night fades from view.
Our first Mars sunrise. Both Azalea and I pause outside the ship to watch the sky fill with faint light. We are on a much smaller planet, and further away from our light source than on Earth, so it is a strange sensation to look upon the same sun that feels so very different. Its rays are more subdued, as though it struggles a little harder to give us light and warmth all the way out here.
“This should have taken at least 100 years,” Azalea says as she studies the landscape. Tall spindly trees dot mountains and valleys, their canopies high and snow-dusted, their roots digging deep into the rust-red soil of our new home.
I reach for her hand. We are both cold, but the feel of her palm against mine sends heat to my core. “If not for Metis and our scientists, we could not have done this.”
“If not for the man who had the vision and pulled them all together,” she says with a smile.
“If not for our team, and the decades of research that my work was built upon,” I counter. I have always believed firmly in giving credit where it is due. In all my business dealings and endeavors, that has been one of my guiding principles. It is foolish and arrogant to take credit for that which belongs to others. We are all better when working in collaboration. I could not have done any of this alone.
“You’re a lot more modest than I expected.” She nudges my shoulder and winks.
“It is a fair judgment,” I say with a smile. “Most of the billionaire class would not count modesty amongst their qualities. For me, it is less about modesty and more about honesty. I know what my strengths are, and I know what I depend on others for.”
She squeezes my hand and another flare of desire nearly undoes me, though we have arrived at our vehicle and my focus now shifts to getting Azalea as far away from Robert and the other members of our colony as I can.
I load our bags into the back section of the cabin, grateful this rover survived our crash. It was designed for just this type of mission, with versatile tank tread that can overcome harsh terrain and an enormous covered container for hauling cargo. I do not have high hopes for recovering all of the supplies we lost—but without this truck, I would have no hope at all.
“Hey, let’s go,” Azalea calls from the seat in front of me. “I meant what I said earlier, we need to get moving.”
I need no more convincing, as I am just as eager to begin our voyage. The only thing that holds me back is a fear that this trip will come to an end. I have bought myself a night or two with Azalea by less than honest means, and I do not expect I can continue such behavior when we return. At this moment, my desire to be with her outweighs all else.
I know only that I must cherish every moment I have with her. If they are to be our last, they must be full enough to deliver a lifetime of memories.
I start the engine and remove the break then speed into the open space ahead of me.
No sooner has the spaceship fallen into the rearview mirror than I feel Azalea’s hand on my thigh. I return the touch, placing my palm on her leg and kneading my fingers into her flesh. I feel fiercely compelled to climb over to her, but keep my hands on the wheel.
“I hope I’m not distracting you.” Azalea’s expression is playful, her lips parted, her eyes intense.
I shake my head, my tone serious. “Everything else is the distraction.”
Her eyes stay locked on mine as her hand moves further up my thigh. I inhale sharply as her palm runs over my shaft, teasing me through the cloth of my pants.
“Good,” she says, sliding her other hand over to unzip my fly.
I force my gaze back on the road--or rather the red expanse of land before me, though my eyes quickly shut as I feel her fingers wrap around me, turning me hard with her touch. The cab of the truck is cold, and the sensation of her warm hand and the chilly air hitting my skin causes my heartbeat to accelerate. She speeds up her movements, causing me to ache with need. “Azalea…”
She pulls away, leaving me breathless.
Before I can beg for her touch once more, she lowers her head, taking me in her mouth. All of me. The sight of her soft lips wrapped around my cock drives me wild, and I feel myself swell inside her. “You’re so beautiful,” I whisper. And she pulls back, meeting my eyes with hers, flicking her tongue teasingly against my sensitive underskin and sending a shiver from the soles of my feet to the base of my skull.
I have fantasized of this moment for so long, but even my imagination could not prepare me for the visceral feel of Azalea taking me into her mouth in such an intimate and intoxicating way.
The rumble of the engine slowly fades, now just background music to the titillating sounds made by Azalea’s lips and tongue. The way she softly moans as she kisses the side of my shaft. I run my trembling fingers over her braid, my gaze shifting away from the view through the windshield briefly to watch her head moving up and down.
With great effort and focus, I steer the truck to a long stretch of flat ground. Our GPS will question the move, but it will significantly reduce the likelihood of a crash.
Azalea pulls her mouth away, resting her head on my thigh and looking up at me, her hand continuing to stroke my shaft, flaming the fire of desire building within me.
“I dreamed of this last night,” she says, her warm breath teasing every nerve ending of my body. “I’ve wanted to taste you all morning.”
Then she takes me inside her mouth once more. Her lips pushing to the base of my shaft, her tongue swirling as she moves her head up and down, taking my cock deep down her throat. I grip the steering wheel so tightly my hands turn white, every movement of her mouth bringing me closer to climax.
It is not just the feel of her flesh that drives me to new heights of pleasure. It is that this is Azalea. Azalea’s mouth. Azalea’s touch. Azalea, exploring my body with hers.
Table of Contents
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