He didn’t. “My sister and I are—were—rocketers.” During the third world war, the number of babies born had sky-rocketed. Mostly as a result of women’s getting pregnant to avoid being drafted. His parents had agreed at least one of them should be guaranteed safety, so having him and his sister had been a conscious decision. Karma was a bitch, though, and his father had been drafted about two months before they were born.
Of course, mechanisms had been put in place to prevent things like that now. Thanks to technology and chemicals, people were artificially and temporarily sterilized, unless they had a license for children, and everyday drugs and mandatory testing made sure STD’s were a thing of the past in civilized parts of the world.
“My dad bought the bike because he knew it would be the last year they’d make the fossil-fuel models. He was drafted before it was delivered. It sat in storage until a few years ago. When I discovered it, I had to find a way to hold onto it.”
She set her chin on her hand, curious gaze never leaving him. “I get that. I was born closer to the end of the war, but there are still things I remember from being a kid that I don’t want to let go of.”
The nostalgia in her voice was pleasant and soothing. Damn it, he was enjoying the conversation. Then again, the woman in front of him seemed more genuine and relaxed than either version of Ana he’d met previously. Maybe he was finally getting to see who she really was. He hoped so. He could like this person. “What kind of memories?”
Her smile grew, and her gaze drifted, as if she was falling into a memory. “The first time I rode in a magnificent.” She looked at him again. “The Emerald City Mag-Line opened when I was six. I remember we took a Mag-Car to the grocery store. I was so disappointed the windows wouldn’t roll down.”
Cam pushed away from the counter and uncrossed his arms. He remembered that too. They’d given people a few years, and some significant tax credits to get rid of their fossil fuel burning cars. He moved to the stool next to Ana. There was no reason to keep the conversation removed; despite his lingering suspicions he was enjoying the company too much for that. “I remember my first time too. I wanted to look under the hood and figure out what made it tick. I drove my mom crazy, asking about it.”
She laughed and shifted in her seat so she was facing him. “I believe it.”
He beat back the urge to tuck a loose curl of auburn hair behind her ear. The conversation was comfortable, but that was all it was. “Emerald City, huh? What part?”
“Well, a suburb. Brickton.”
More memories, all of them pleasant, rushed back. He winced at the images of his sister’s face. He wouldn’t dwell given how much it ached deep in his chest. “Remember the old mall?”
Ana tossed her head back with a sharp laugh, before looking at him again. “You mean the local shantytown?”
“That’s the one.”
The conversation continued to flow, and Camden found himself drawn into it more with each passing moment. When she wasn’t trying to pretend she was someone else, Ana was fun, witty, and even more gorgeous than the woman he’d met in the bar two nights ago. The day drifted on, as they lost themselves in every topic either of them could think of. Somewhere along the way, after the sun rose high and before it hung low in the sky, they’d moved to the couch, ordered take out, and still he found himself enjoying things more than he had in ages.
The auto lights in the home kicked on, as the world grew darker outside.
She leaned closer, arm brushing his. “I know it probably sounds nuts, but someday, I think I’d like to move back to Brickton.”
She was near enough for her breath to brush his skin now, and he almost felt as if there were a bubble closing them off from the rest of the world. “It doesn’t sound nuts at all. In fact, I’m in the process of buying a place there. Few places in this world that aren’t cluttered with skyscrapers, but there’s a place for sale near my old neighborhood—all single story houses on the street.”
“That sounds incredible. I’d forgotten that’s where you were from.”
“You mean you didn’t memorize every single little insignificant detail about my life? You’re supposed to be my biographer.” He kept his tone light.
Her closeness made it easy to study her, and he couldn’t deny he liked the view. She had abandoned the expensive casual from the bar, as well as the painfully professional of the day before. Instead, the jeans hugging her hips were faded in all the right spots, and her shirt hung loose, but not so much so it hid her figure. In a way, it was too bad their physical relationship would never happen. He wouldn’t mind running his lips along her smooth skin and figuring out what it took to make her moan.
He shook away the fantasy; the reward wasn’t worth the headache.
“Sorry. I’ll make sure to commit it to memory better next time.” She slapped him lightly on the arm.
A shock ran through him at the contact, and he acted before he could consider it was a bad idea. He trapped her fingers between his, holding her hand captive. “You’ve got the most gorgeous eyes.”
She ducked her head, but didn’t pull away. Her soft, “Thanks,” was almost lost in the space between them. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “So, um…”
Something told him the conversation had just shifted. Did he want it to go down this path? His racing pulse said definitely. Whatever was about to happen, he wanted to see it through. “Yes?”
“I know about the one arm and the legs, but how much of you has been replaced?”
That again. He gritted his teeth. His organic fingers drummed against his leg. “Externally, everything between my thighs and shoulders is mine.”
Her gaze dropped below his waist and then flew back to his face. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be rude. After what you said at the bar the other night…I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
The glance was enough to raise his blood pressure another notch, and his cock stirred in response to the lust in her eyes. The connection he felt now was the same compulsion he’d had last night, before the conversation had fallen apart. He was still attracted to her, regardless of what had transpired. They’d both already said they were willing to take their lives off the table in a favor of fling, which sounded like an amazing idea just now.
He leaned closer and raised a hand. It hovered just a few inches from her face, before he dropped it to his side again. “I might have overreacted. After all, I spent a lot of that time thinking about how good you looked in that wet, silk shirt.”
Her brow furrowed. Was she going to slap him?
She relaxed again, and traced a finger over the back of his knuckles. “So we’re even?”
That soft touch short-circuited every bit of organic matter. He wanted her now. The thought startled him, but he liked it. “Depends.” He dipped his head, inhaling as he glided his nose up the side of her face. “Are you still using me for my implants?”
She hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Depends. Are you just using me because I’ve got nice tits?”
Touché. He chuckled. “That’s not the only reason.”
She pursed her lips. He couldn’t resist that look. He leaned in and caught her earlobe between his teeth, tugging before releasing it. His voice was low. “There are advantages to the organic bits, too, you know.”
Her voice was soft, but the words were distinct. “There is one thing a synth can’t do.” She was turned sideways on the couch, one knee propped up between them, the other foot resting on the floor.
He pressed closer, pushing her legs apart. The heat of her thighs caressed his skin through his jeans, and his cock pulsed in response. His voice was low and commanding. “Do tell.”
Chapter Six
“It’s just that the synthetic bits can’t…” Heat flooded her face, and she ducked her head, unable to look him in the eye. Fantastic. She could ask some of the wealthiest and powerful people in the world some intensely personal questions on camera, but she couldn’t spit out that sometimes
she didn’t like being handled so…delicately.
Camden drew his finger up her throat to her chin, and raised her head, piercing blue eyes searching her soul. “Can’t what?”
It was one of the features of the implants. A synth limb had fail-safes built in, to keep the owner from hurting other people. Which was great in theory, but… “Sometimes they’re too gentle.”
Camden’s eyebrows rose, before his surprise melted into a wicked smile. He rested his organic hand on the back of her neck, snaked his fingers into her hair, and yanked her head back with a hard tug. A moan tore from her throat, without her permission.
He crushed his lips to hers, his hungry growl rolling through her, and searing her veins.
She shifted in her seat, tossed one leg over his, and straddled him. Her entire body rubbed and molded against his. All natural between the neck and the thighs? The warm form grinding against her was hard and demanding, his erection tempting the ache pulsing through her mound. She wanted more of him.
A whisper in the back of her head reminded her of his words the other night. He wasn’t looking for anything emotional. Which was perfect, because if she shoved the nagging thoughts aside, neither was she. This wasn’t about the story anymore, she wanted him. As long as she kept the two separate, she could live in the moment and set the outside world aside until tomorrow.
His synth hand on her hip, he kissed her until she thought it might bruise her lips. Even then she didn’t pull back.
He broke away with a throaty gasp, hungry gaze making her panties damp. “Are you sure?”
No. The tiny voice in her head warned this was a bad idea. But her apprehension mingled with nervousness and arousal, and she wanted to lose herself in the adrenaline it all brought with it. “Absolutely. I’m yours to do what you want with.”
She winced at the awkward words, but they only seemed to spur him on. He glided his palms down her arms, pushed her hands behind her back, and grabbed both her wrists in one hand. His grip dug into her flesh, and the spark of pain made her squirm with want. He held her tight. That’s going to leave a mark. Please let him do it a little longer.
His teeth scraped the soft skin of her throat, voice rumbling through her skin. “You wanted to know what my synth fingers could do.”
“I’m more interested in the whole package, right now.” She slid against him to prove her point. His cock dug into her, hard and insistent.
His smirk turned wicked. “Fair enough.” He tugged her back enough to put a few inches between them, pushed her shirt out of the way, and rested his palm on her stomach. The silicone skin was warm against hers, sending a new wave of tingles through her.
His fingertips danced along her waist, just under her jeans, teasing the sensitive flesh. The sensations drove her wild. He pushed his hand up, and brushed the bottom of her breast.
She moaned at the feather-light touch and ground against him, unable to do much more with her hands trapped behind her back.
His voice was low and commanding, full of lust, and lined with velvet. “You look incredible today. Casual, but still brilliantly sexy.”
The compliment warmed her further, and her slick panties moved against her skin, begging to be torn off. She wasn’t sure how to respond.
He kissed along her shoulder, still talking. “I had no idea, when I saw you on the security cameras outside my door, I might get to strip you out of these clothes at some point. I’m glad I have the chance.”
She arched her back to draw closer to the sensations. This was such a bad idea. Even if she was living in the moment and ignoring how unprofessional it was to screw a documentary subject. Word could never get out, it could damage her career and destroy the credibility of her story. On top of that, this man was hurt, lost in the delusion of conspiracy, and lived halfway across the country from her.
Then again, he was also sexy, incredible to talk to, and not asking her to help him expose her company for some imagined slight. The reminder of her last boyfriend dug deep, summoning a pang she usually successfully repressed. She pushed the memories aside. This was now, and she was going to dive into it. Discreetly, off the record, and as completely as possible.
The rest of her dwelling rushed away, when he drew a thumb over her bra, causing the fabric to graze her nipple. She inhaled sharply, and shifted her weight to get closer to the touch. He held her tight, not letting her move far. He lowered his head to her breasts, and his teeth scraped skin through lace. She strained against his grip on her wrists, but he held her tight.
He flicked out his tongue, and wrapped his lips around her still-covered nipple. He sucked until it was as almost as damp as the spot between her legs. She gasped in surprise and arousal, when he shoved the last barrier between him and her breasts out of the way. She wanted to wrap her fingers in his hair, and hold his head captive. Her inability to move made each new touch of his that much more electric.
He cupped her breast with his synth hand, thumb flicking back and forth over the hard nub again, and moved his mouth back to hers. His kiss was hungry and demanding, tongue diving in and probing, and lips crushing against hers.
Her hips gyrated against his legs, as he caressed her skin. She gasped, needing to be closer, when he broke away from her. “I want you inside me.”
He smirked and held up a synth finger. He traced her bottom lip with the lightest whisper of pressure. His mouth moved to her ear. “Like this?” The question was warm against her skin.
She flicked the pad of his finger with her tongue. His low groan increased her anticipation.
“No.” It was breathier than she’d intended. “You.” She ground against his lap to make her point. “I want you inside me.” His cock reacted, hard and insistent against her need.
He kissed along her neck, and then bit into the skin, a chuckle rumbling through her. He dropped her hands, and immediately tangled his fingers in her hair again. “Yeah. I like the way that sounds.”
She reached behind her and unclasped her bra. In a single motion, she discarded it, along with her T-shirt. His hooded gaze raked over her body, drawing more heat to the surface. His voice was low and heavy with lust. “My imagination didn’t do you justice.”
She slid off his lap, cursing her anxious fingers when she fumbled with the button on her own jeans. She had barely managed to undo it, when he hooked his thumbs in the waistband.
“Too slow.” A teasing smirk danced on his face. He yanked the rest of her clothes to the ground, denim scraping her skin on the way down and leaving a delicious burn in its wake.
He stood, sliding behind her as he moved. His synth hand glided over her stomach, pulling her bare back to him. The textures against her skin amped her arousal further. He ran his lips over the back of her neck. He slid his fingers down, to caress her mound and then move over her slit.
“You’re so wet.” He parted her folds. She thrust her hips forward involuntarily at the sensation. “Kneel on the cushions.”
She did as ordered. Apprehension mingled with lust, at the vulnerable position. His silicone fingers continued to slide over her slick labia, teasing and caressing. Behind her, the sound of his zipper sliding down was unnaturally loud.
When he brushed her clit, she whimpered and struggled to get closer to his touch. “Please?”
He slid his other hand over her ass and between her thighs. “Please what?”
“Either fuck me, or move and watch me take care of it myself.”
His deep laugh stroked her inside. He pulled his real hand away, the prosthetic one still teasing her. Something nudged her aching opening from behind, and then an exquisite pain soared through her, as he pushed deep inside. He tangled his fingers in her hair again, and yanked back her head. He drew his cock out almost all the way, and then thrust back inside her.
Her moans blended together, becoming gasps when he found her clit and began a light but steady series of strokes along the swollen bud. She rocked against him. His voice was low and commanding. “I want you to make yo
u come, hard and loud.”
She gripped the back of the couch, unable to bury her face in the cushions with the pressure still tugging on her scalp. She slammed back against him, but he kept the pace even. A slow pressure built inside her, as the rhythm of his fingers against her clit remained steady. “Harder.”
He didn’t oblige her begging, still keeping his touch even and controlled. The wave of climax grew inside Morgana, dragging her right to the edge, making her gasp with each new touch.
“I’m so close.” She couldn’t keep the pleading out of her voice.
He abruptly let go of her hair, and every muscle in her neck relaxed at once. Seconds later, a loud cry tore from her throat when he pinched the sensitive flesh of her nipple hard, rolling it between his fingers and tugging.
Orgasm washed through her, and she screamed as she came, pounding back against him, clenching around his hard length buried deep inside her. This time, he let her set the pace. His attentions didn’t let up, as he drove against her with each new thrust. His grunts mingled with her voice, each time he pounded her. She recognized the sounds of his own climax, as he peaked and then slowed.
He pulled away from the now hyper-sensitive regions of her body, hands moving to her hips. He slowly slid out of her and helped her stand. She wobbled on her feet. He dropped back onto the couch and pulled her into his lap.
She didn’t resist. The moment felt too right. Too natural. She curled up against his still-covered chest, and rested her cheek on his shoulder.
He drew his fingers down her spine, not speaking, just wrapping her up in the comfort of the moment.
Chapter Seven
Camden listened to the last of the coffee sputter from the coffee maker, and inhaled the rich smell filling the kitchen. His thoughts still tingled with a different scent. With images of being buried inside Ana, the soft floral of her hair, the sound of her gasps, and the feeling of her wrapped around him. And it had been incredible waking up with her in his arms. It was tempting to dive into those memories a little longer.
His Conspiracy Girl (Emerald City #4) Page 4