Mal had been on the receiving end of more than one fire-and-brimstone speech about the wickedness of his ways.

The most embarrassing was when he got caught by Rev. Wilkinson in the middle of the act with his daughter Becky at age 16. Wilkinson had come up with one barn-burner of a sermon the following Sunday, and it was plain to everyone who he was talking about.

There was also the chaplain attached to the first unit Mal served with, who used to take extra delight in lecturing the recruits about the wickedness of associating with whores. Mal secretly suspected that the padre sorta got off on the whole notion of imagining what it would be like and took his own wicked thoughts out on the recruits.

But nothing had prepared Mal for the wickedness of a particular Companion. She'd prolly kill that army chaplain, even before they got to the act itself, with the sheer force of her wickedness.

Mal, however, was bound and determine to live to a ripe old age so that he could enjoy as much of it as he possibly could.

He'd start with her lips. The way they moved over every part of his body. The responses that they coaxed (and sometimes demanded) of him. The secret sly smile she'd get around him, knowing that he had no choice but to surrender.

Then there were those breasts. Definate wickedness there. The way she'd tease him by keeping them just out of tongue's reach as she rode him like a horse at branding time. Hell, the view he'd gotten from just the dresses she wore, long before he got to experience them in their full glory. That alone had sent him to his bunk with many a wicked thought in his head.

Not to mention how she tasted on his tongue. Night-blooming jasmine mixed with exotic spices. Mal was not usually a man to get all poetical on it, but he did imagine that just the thought of that taste was enough to get him wanting to experience other types of wicked from her.

But none of them could compare to the complete delicious wickedness of how she felt around him. The way she'd ever so slightly tighten her muscles to draw out his pleasure even further. Not even that old padre could conjure how that felt.

Yep.

Definately lots of ways to be wicked when it came to her.