Lust Plague (Steamwork Chronicles)

by Silverwood, Cari

  “Wait.”

  So easily he took her hands above her head, tied them. Leaves rustled as he linked the rope to something. His strength dwarfed hers. Resisting was like holding back a mountain.

  “Wait!”

  “Stop? Now?” He sat back on his heels, parted her thighs with his big hands, and studied the juncture of her legs. Seeing how he looked at her sent a fresh tide of moisture seeping out and trickling along her slit. She tried to slow her breathing, but her entrance clenched as if he’d brushed her with a finger. One side of his mouth curved up. “Damn. I don’t think so. No.”

  His shaggy, sun-bleached hair dangled across his face and he pulled a strand from his eye. Methodically he took another piece of cut rope and tied his mane back into a rough ponytail. The rolling shift of muscle awed her. Then he settled his warm palms on the tops of her thighs, thumbs down and close to where she wanted them, and inched them inward. She whimpered, embarrassed, humiliated yet so hot. Legs quivering, she struggled not to push her groin at him.

  “You want me, well, you’ve got me.” He laid three thin wires across her stomach.

  Oh no. No.

  The first clamp went onto her clitoris, and she came, screaming, from that alone. When the second and third bit her nipples, her mind was still fogged from orgasm. He pegged those wires to the ground on each side of her. Mute, panting, uncomprehending, she watched him kneel. Shock hit at the first wet lick of his tongue across her clit where it poked up between the clamp. Every muscle in her body stiffened. The sapling behind her creaked as her arms strained and the rope pulled taut. Breathing stopped. Thoughts froze.

  The licking went on and on. Excruciating yet divine, building up to a level where her body hummed with tension. She’d thought the wire gone from the clamp attached to her clit, but something tugged on it. He’d pulled it tight as fishing line, down into the earth between her legs. Hands, nipples, clit all strung. With those little teeth, he controlled her. She wanted to writhe, couldn’t. Heels digging into grass, fists clenched on rope. One final scorching path of tongue across her willing flesh, and she cried out and plummeted into blazing ecstasy.

  Alight with pleasure in a way she’d never experienced before and finding her eyelids welded shut, Kaysana slowly shuddered back into normality.

  She opened her eyes, found him there, waiting, watching, kneeling above with his arms propped on either side of her chest. Her tongue probed and traced the soft inside of her lower lip. Words refused to arrive.

  He reached and undid the clamp that held her clit.

  Gah. The casual release scorched her. In that moment, she was his.

  A smile touched his lips. “Never ever thought I’d enjoy seeing a woman come so much.”

  He bent and kissed her stomach. His mouth marked a path with little kisses up between her breasts, across the bodice to her throat, where he bit. Her eyes hooded. She hated his sort, acknowledged the fact, and wanted him so bad. The scent of him was as potent as the roughest liquor to her senses.

  “Don’t,” she managed. The word, half glued to her tongue, came out mangled.

  “Don’t?” This time he brushed her lips with his, drew back, said firmly, “Too late. You’re mine, Kaysana.” He arched his palm under her breast, let his thumb skim across where skin and cut fabric met.

  The placement of his hand on her breast seemed such a casual possession of her flesh. That she couldn’t do anything was both frightening and horribly thrilling.

  Thoughts and logic frantically reassembled in her head. She had a mission. Zombies to…

  He stood and stripped his shirt off, unveiling his immense chest, then took down his trousers. This time her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. When he kicked the trousers aside, she knew her eyes must be as wide as they could possibly go. She’d heard rumors, but the captain didn’t always hear the truth about the dirty stuff. He had the longest cock she’d seen. Maybe it came gratis with being a frankenstruct? Whatever. He meant to put that in her.

  Hell.

  By his feet was a haversack, and he rummaged within, pulled out a flask, poured oil on his hand, and stroked the handful along his shaft until it glistened.

  I should be worried. Instead she trembled, swallowed, anticipating what was to come—couldn’t move or escape, and really didn’t want to.

  Carefully he positioned himself between her legs, lifted her thighs, and pushed his shoulders into the back of her knees so her butt lifted off the ground and tipped up at him. Without taking his gaze from hers, he pressed forward until the head of his cock poised at her nether entrance. He leaned in, folding her body. With her knees up near her breasts, he settled in closer, more intimate, his face just above hers; then he nudged. His hard flesh moved in her wetness, slipped a half inch into her until she felt the stretch of her anus and groaned.

  Every part of her seemed fastened down—by wires and rope, by his cock, and she breathed sharp and fast, watching him as he watched her. The two of them engaged by nothing else in the world except each other.

  Move, please. More.

  “Have you been taken there before?” he asked, his voice a murmur, barely louder than the buzz of insects.

  Lie, stupid. Lie and he may stop. “N—” And he moved. She dilated down there, unable to resist. Pleasure trapped her, seized her tongue. Remembered actions dictated her response. Cao. She’d liked it before. But having a love life didn’t mesh with being the captain. Love no one. Hate no one.

  HE SMILED GRIMLY. “Lie and it’ll only hurt you, not me. I’m big and it’s all going inside you, unless”—he nudged again, just a little deeper, and she wriggled and sighed—“have you done it there before?”

  Silence.

  “Talk, woman.”

  Kaysana fascinated him. Her unpinned hair fanned out around her head—black as an eclipse, black as a pit in hell, he might once have thought. The tight grip of her on his cock was heaven, though. Whenever she contracted around him, it took all his concentration not to groan. He couldn’t stop looking at her beneath him. At the clamps and the way her nipples played peekaboo through the holes in her top and how her liquid eyes met his, as if he was her universe. A dark shade of whiskey brown colored her irises. Gorgeous.

  Kaysana whimpered.

  Speaking seemed way down on her list of things to do. “Cat got your tongue?” Still no reply.

  “In case”—he pushed in a fraction, slid out—“you’re wondering. I’m taking this slow, real slow.” He groaned on the exhale. “Fucking you is something I’d like to take a damn. Long time. Doing.”

  Then with a tiny advance, the swollen head of his cock breached her circle of muscle. Inside her. Seated. “Aah.”

  Kaysana gasped, pushed her pelvis up at him the small amount his weight on her allowed.

  So easy, and she loved it. “You’ve done this before. Good.”

  Instinct made him move rhythmically, and faster, despite his vow, and each time he went deeper. The slide of her along his cock was damn glorious. The motion built, the two of them breathing harder, panting, until at last he slipped the length of his cock all the way in, his groin met hers, his balls hit the cheeks of her bottom. Then he leaned down, undid one clamp, and sucked on her nipple.

  The tremor that hit her went all the way to her calves—he felt the shiver against his back.

  Now he had her confused—she pressed her breast up at his mouth, her ass to his cock. He sucked even harder, pleased at her whimper. Lick, slurp, and yesss, the delicious slide in and out, the suck and squish of her juices between them as heat built.

  With his shoulders securing her legs in place, stroking slowly, he reached down, found and clasped her clit. Using his thumb on the top, he rubbed up and down in time with his movements. Her little almost grunts sounded so damn primitive and so gorgeous coming from this elegant woman. Her mouth parted. Her body tensed. A final press on her clit and her head curved back, her eyes closing in ecstasy as she came. Fuck.

  Unblinking he watched, enthralled
, making sure he didn’t miss a single second of her orgasm. Every movement of her body, every sound she made, he tucked away in his memory as if this were something to be cherished. Why the hell he did this, he wasn’t sure, but a strange connection seemed forged between them.

  When at last she lay there barely moving, he fixed her now open eyes with his, took a big, twisted handful of her hair, then smoothly sped up his thrusts. Inside, she clamped down on him, and her eyes dilated. Whatever, whoever she was outside this moment, right then, now, she was his.

  Faster and harder, he hammered into her. With one last lunge, he buried himself within her flesh and came into her hot and willing body.

  Arms shaking, he examined her. Dammit, if only all those women who despised him would lie under him looking spent and sweaty and vanquished like she did.

  He leaned in, kissed her gently on the lips, and pulled out of her.

  Then he looked again and saw, what? Disgust? Nothing good, anyway. He narrowed his eyes. What had happened?

  “Get off me.”

  “Ah. Don’t be like that. We were off to such a lovely start.” To punctuate his words, he smacked her on one ass cheek. The startled outrage was worth bottling.

  “Don’t! I never…something happened—” She squirmed, then stopped as the wire on her nipple pulled. “I’m better now. Let me go.”

  “Yeah? Let you go?” Better now? Fuck. Too good to be true. The molten-hot lover vanished, and the ignorant spitfire returned. “What makes you think I want to?”

  The sudden darkness in her eyes might have made a lesser man back off. He raised an eyebrow. “You’re mine, darlin’, leastways until I decide to let you go.”

  Everything rippled and folded in on him, just like on the airship.

  Kaysana closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.

  What did I just say?

  The trees seemed the same, as did the gyrocopter. The purple seed heads on the grass of this clearing swished in the breeze. Same. What had altered? Something had. He’d figure it out. Stubborn as shit was his motto.

  Then he looked down at Kaysana—tied up, exhausted, heavy breasts tipped with poppy red nipples he ached to put his mouth on every time he saw them—his sort of woman. But they’d just had sex while a shipload of people up there were turning into zombies and he’d tied her up.

  “I think we went a bit nuts.”

  “Ya don’t say.” She licked her lips, kept her eyes shut. The even tone radiated calmness. “Now can you untie me? Let me list some facts. I’m a captain in the GAM Air Fleet. I outrank you. We have a mission to complete. My people up there in my ship need me.” She paused, opened her eyes. Uncertainty hovered in those startling deep amber irises. “I can see we were both overcome by this effect. I’ll forgive you if you release me immediately.”

  “Forgive me?” That bothered him for some reason.

  He swiftly undid the last clamp on her nipple and sat back. She squeaked, rolled away, and muttered a whole rolling list of swear words at him. Bastard featured once. Leastways with her hands still tied, he didn’t have to fend off any blows.

  By the time he’d jumped to his feet, yanked on his trousers, and buttoned them, her breathing had slowed. She rolled back. “Frick. You could have warned me.”

  He shrugged, and this time the smile slipped out. “Guess I forgot.” Because wow, watching her squirm had been some turn-on. The effect, as she’d termed it, hadn’t quite worn off. He didn’t like watching bound women squirm from pain…did he? Maybe not yesterday or even an hour ago, but right now it was a yes.

  Still puzzling over his reaction, he walked around above her head and squatted on one heel to undo the ropes that wound around the shrub. “I think we can scratch that mission. I’ll deliver us back outside the zone and some upper echelon twit can muster up some more men. One man, even if it’s me”—he flashed a smile—“can’t do much.”

  She wriggled upright onto her bottom and held out her hands. Averting his eyes from her nakedness, from seeing the delectable shift of her breasts was impossible while unpicking knots, so he didn’t bother. The stone-chiseled appearance of her lips and brow told him she knew where he looked and disapproved. So he looked some more.

  “Mister, you take liberties with those eyes of yours,” she snapped.

  “Seems like you’ve showed me it all already. Damn I tie good knots, don’t I?”

  She muttered but kept her wrists steady and out where he could reach them. “Now just so we’re clear, you will be taking me back up to the Art of War. I’m not abandoning her.”

  He stopped unpicking, sat back. “The crap I am. No way, Captain. That’s madness. You know as well as I do that the longer they’re zombs, the more violent they get.”

  “That’s an order. I outrank you.”

  “You don’t. I’m not one of your crew.” He shook his head. “Plus you’re crazier than me, and I’m not risking my life for a loser idea. We go back across the zone line.”

  “Look, it’s not just pigheadedness as you seem to think. Those people up there are mine, my responsibility. If anyone’s alive, I want to find them, get them out.”

  “Damn admirable of you.” He shifted on his feet. A bee meandered across the purple swath of grass, buzzing. Normal as all heck when the world was cracking up. “Yep. I’m sure you’re a great captain, but that don’t make it right. It’s still stupid. I got out a few ladies already, told ’em where to go. They took a gyro from the looks of it. That’ll have to satisfy you. Anyone up there with brains will have gotten themselves out. So it’s a no. Order or no order.”

  The look might have blasted him ten yards back and turned him to ash, but he was no lightweight. He glared back from under his brow. “One. I ain’t taking you. Two. You can stay tied until we’re safe.”

  Then he stood and scooped her up and strode to the gyro.

  “Put me down!”

  Cadrach rose from where he’d lain in the shade beneath a shrub and followed, eyes bright with happiness, gray coat fluffing up in the breeze.

  She stopped wriggling. “What is that?”

  “My wolf. Kept him outta sight on board. Hi there, boy. Get your hairy ass in the gyro.”

  The wolf leaped up into the copilot’s seat and laughed back at him. “Least he’s obedient.”

  Chapter Four

  Kaysana raised her head. Loose strands of her hair fell on her cheeks and glued to the sweat. Her bare back stuck to the gyrocopter seat. Sunny and hot despite the backdrop of snow-covered mountains. Memories of passion pattered across her thoughts, marched center stage, and demanded her attention. Time had gone missing. Did I faint? She vaguely remembered Sten tying her in place after some argument.

  She swiveled in the gyrocopter seat, saw him. The frankenstruct, all those glorious muscles covered again by shirt and trousers, standing by her side. He pulled something tight, strapping her into the right-hand backseat with her arms at her sides. Everything was there, in her head, but vague and disconnected. She’d done something she would never have thought she’d do—had sex with a frankenstruct.

  I wanted it. That hurt most.

  “Let me loose!” She strove to throw off the ropes and straps he’d used to tie her into the seat. The hemp rasped on her skin, leaving tracks of pain.

  “Stop.” He growled, put his hand to the back of her head, grabbed her hair, and slowly pulled her head backward over the top of the seat. “You’re hurting yourself.”

  She blinked up at him, scowled, remembered why she’d had that argument. “Okay, I get your point about the mission. Release me and I’ll return by myself. There’s a town a few miles in. I’ll find my own gyro. Just let me loose. I’ll walk. Some clothes would be nice too.”

  “No. How’s that for an answer? You’re still not thinking straight. You expect me to let you walk to the nearest town with a zombie plague happening? Sheesh.” He released her, squatted beside the gyrocopter, and ran a hand through his scruffy blond hair, sending tangled locks cascading over his s
houlders. At his neck swung a wolf pendant made of polished silver.

  “Look, there’s supposed to be more information coming…a way to destroy this plague. Get me to a telegraph office, and I may have a chance. We may have a chance.”

  “You don’t give up easy, do you?”

  He grabbed a pair of goggles from the front seat and brought them up to her face, casually fastening the buckle behind her head and checking the fit…as if he did this for her every day.

  “Good girl. Sit tight and we’ll be there in no time.”

  She glared at him. Good girl! “I’m a woman, fool!”

  “I think we already proved that one together. You’ve got a pussy. I’ve got a dick.” He grinned, bent to pick up the haversack.

  “You are so crude. Typical of a frankenstruct.”

  “Oh? I so love teasing you.” Then he grabbed her hair again and kissed her until her ears rang.

  When he stopped, she found her chest heaving, and her snappy answers had fled. His hand moved lightly down to her neck. Little creases appeared at the corners of his eyes like he’d found something amusing.

  “Much better. Maybe I should remember this way of closing your mouth. More fun than a gag.”

  Oh. Her thoughts slowly coalesced.

  Her thighs were sticky. With no more clothes than she’d had before, her nipples were still exposed, as was her bottom. Little bites of discomfort reminded her of where the clamps had been. She trembled, recalling how much she’d enjoyed them. She let her head slump forward, shook it, anything to send away those thoughts. With disaster threatening, all she could think of was sex?

  Not the best start to the day, but she’d never let that stop her. The way he’d tied these ropes…dare she hope?

  Whatever had clouded her mind had somehow gone away, even if her body still had problems telling right from wrong. There was always a way out. Given the slightest chance, she’d take it. A distant crump distracted her, and she looked up at the sky.

  “It’s your ship.” Sten rose to his feet, half turning to track the finely decorated craft that floated into view from behind a tall tree. The blue and white dragons clashing on the bow were just discernible. Beyond the Art of War, another ship showing the orange eagle of the PME closed in. Smoke trailed from the PME vessel to just below her ship. A warning shot? A flock of gyrocopters launched from the PME ship, spinning out in an arc and sweeping toward the lumbering Art of War.