by Ivy Barrett
“There are advantages to our location. First and foremost, we’re in international space, which is the equivalent of neutral ground. We also deal with many potentially lethal organisms. If something were to get loose, Earth’s population is protected by our isolation.”
“But you are not protected by the isolation.” He paused, waiting for her gaze to return to his face. “I see it in your eyes. You’re lonely.”
* * *
Lonely? He had no idea. She’d applied to Medicort while she was still in college and been accepted in the last semester of her senior year. It was an academic coup. In one fell swoop she’d joined the ranks of the scientific elite and she’d never been so excited. Then she arrived on the space station and found her colleagues were twice her age, most of them with families in residence.
Every other weekend, she shuttled back to Earth and spent time with her family and friends. Unfortunately, the visits didn’t last long enough for her to connect with a potential lover, much less develop an intimate relationship. Her opportunities for socializing weren’t minimal, they were practically nonexistent.
“There are worse things than being lonely.” She tried her best to sound convincing. “My work is important. RENA is allowing us to improve the health and save the lives of countless individuals.”
An odd intensity flashed through his eyes before he controlled his expression. The transport had stabilized and Mal Ton’s penetrating stare made her feel vulnerable. She unfastened her safety straps and moved to the wide aisle behind her seat.
“Tell me about this off-world project. Why are you opposed to helping General Bryson?” Mal Ton stalked her. Moving with savage grace, he stood at the end of the aisle and effectively caged her with his body.
“That’s a rather odd question for a hired gun.”
“We’ve got time to kill.” He raised both hands and offered a lazy smile. “Unless there’s something you’d rather be doing.”
She’d spent all night dancing with other men while erotic images of Mal Ton teased her imagination. He’d done nothing to encourage her interest. Just being near him aroused her desire. He was strength and agility, intensity and control. She wanted to peel off his tuxedo and explore his muscular body. They could spend the next few hours indulging their sexual hunger—then she would never see him again.
A shiver curled down her spine and lodged between her thighs. The idea had her body’s full support but her heart wasn’t convinced. Recreational sex had never tempted her before. If physical release were all she needed to drive away the loneliness, her trusty simulator would have done the trick long ago.
She cleared her throat and crossed her arms over her breasts. “Part of me wants to help him. How could I not? But this is Pandora’s Box. If I give in to the Protarians, where will it end? This wasn’t a spontaneous mutation. They’re battling the fallout from a biological weapon released during an ongoing war. They’ve used biological weapons before. What’s to keep them from twisting RENA into their next attempt at wiping out the enemy? I can’t allow that to happen.”
“So the women and children affected by the mutations aren’t worth the risk?”
“I’m not going to debate this with you.” She turned toward the seatbacks and looked out over the cabin. “I made my decision, now change the subject. Or better yet, leave me alone.”
Mal Ton moved up behind her and her heartbeat raced. She’d been staring at him like a ravenous fool. He had to realize what she wanted. His chest warmed her exposed back and his breath stirred her hair. He grabbed the seatback on either side of her body, surrounding without touching her.
“Is that what you really want? Your eyes tell a different story.”
She didn’t deny it. What was the point?
“I’m not a gentle lover, Andrea. All of the men on my planet are dominant. Do you understand what that means?”
Her throat was too tight to allow a verbal response, so she nodded.
“I’ll fuck you fast and hard, and I wouldn’t stop until we’re satisfied. You’ll get hot and sweaty and anyone who sees you will know what we’ve been doing.”
She clutched the seat in front of her, thankful for the support as her knees weakened and her legs trembled. Could she actually allow a perfect stranger to…?
“I won’t play games and I won’t let you change your mind once we’ve begun,” he went on. “You will obey me, or I won’t touch you.”
Say it. You need this. You need him.
“All contracts on my planet are verbal. If terms are agreed upon, they are binding. So make damn sure this is what you want. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“If you want me to fuck you, you have to speak the words.”
“I… want you to fuck me.”
He spun her around and pulled her against his chest, his mouth capturing hers with brutal intensity. As promised, there was nothing gentle in the way he kissed or the strength of his embrace. His fingers splayed across the back of her head, holding her at just the right angle so his tongue could plunder her mouth.
She opened for him, accepting the bold thrust of his tongue with a muffled groan. Slipping her hands inside his jacket, she squeezed his shoulders and explored his chest. Each hard, sculpted contour was more exciting than the last.
His mouth moved over and against hers, his tongue luring hers. She followed where he led and reality narrowed to just this moment and this man. Pushing up onto her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck, wanting to be closer, needing more.
Clean and undeniably masculine, his scent filled her nose, increasing the spinning sensation in her head. Intoxicating. He tasted faintly of champagne. She pushed deeper, tracing the even line of his teeth.
He kept one arm wrapped around her as he loosened her gown with the other. His warm palm cupped her breast and she reached for the buttons on the front of his shirt.
“Not yet.” His voice sounded gruff and impatient. She didn’t care. She felt more alive in that moment than she had in years. Her heart pounded and fire rushed through her bloodstream. She lifted her arms free of the straps and he guided her hands to the seatbacks on either side of her. Her bottom pressed against the seat, preventing the gown from slipping beyond her waist. The position arched her back and brazenly displayed her breasts. “Gods, you’re beautiful.”
He bent to her breasts, sucking one nipple deep into his mouth while his fingers rolled the other. Tingles curled through her chest and increased the pulsing between her thighs. She had never thought her nipples were particularly sensitive. He was proving her wrong.
She moved her hands and he growled in warning. He actually growled! The sound shouldn’t have been arousing, but her pussy rippled in response. He sucked and stroked until she couldn’t stand still. Each firm pull of his mouth sent heat straight to her clit. She pressed her thighs together and the throbbing increased. She needed him there, between her thighs, touching her, filling her, thrusting so fast and hard she couldn’t breathe.
Suddenly he turned her to face the seat and tugged her dress over her hips and along her thighs. “How disappointing.” He whispered the phrase into her ear. “All night I pictured you naked beneath the gown.”
As if to illustrate his displeasure, he tore one side of her silk panties and then the other, allowing the damp material to caress her folds as he drew the ruined garment out from between her thighs. She moved her legs apart without having to be told. No games, no demurs, she’d already asked him to fuck her.
He trailed his fingers down her spine and into the crease of her ass. She arched and lifted, bracing herself against the seatback. His throaty chuckle drifted to her and his mouth fastened onto her shoulder. She gasped. He wasn’t biting exactly, more like controlling her with his teeth. She shivered and the throbbing in her core grew stronger.
His fingers delved between her thighs, circling her opening, teasing her folds. She panted and wiggled, unable to suppress a breathless, “Please.” He pushed two fingers into h
er pussy and she whimpered. This substitute penetration would never be enough.
He speared her with his fingers again and again, each motion rocking her against the seats. She spread her legs wider, taking his fingers deeper. Her inner muscles gripped him, thankful for the fullness.
“Come for me,” he commanded. “I want to feel your cunt grip my fingers.”
“I can’t,” she cried. “I need you inside me.” He slapped her ass and she yelped, shocked more by the sudden increase in heat than by the unexpected sting.
“You need what I give you.” Another swat landed firmly on her other ass cheek. “And you come when I tell you to come.”
“But I can’t—”
After pulling his fingers out, he spanked her again, harder this time, first one side and then the other. “Do not argue.”
She froze, torn between anger and shame. Who the hell did he think he was? The sting quickly subsided, leaving a slow spreading heat. No one had ever hit her before, certainly not a lover. But he’d warned her that he would dominate her, that all the men on his planet were aggressive.
“Do you understand now?” The question was reinforced by two more smacks.
If she wanted his cock—and she did, desperately—she would accept his discipline. “Yes.”
“Yes, Sir.” Spank. Spank. “Say it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
His palm connected with her ass again and again, driving the heat deeper and the tension higher. She clutched the seat back, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Pain gradually gave way to the strangest glow. And it wasn’t just her bottom. Her breasts and face felt flushed, and her core ached as never before. What was wrong with her? She groaned in frustration, panting harshly as her mind struggled to interpret the new sensations.
Then he stopped and just stood there, not touching her at all.
She whimpered, needing his fingers, needing anything he chose to give her. “Please,” she whispered, unsure if she was allowed to speak.
He touched her hip then pushed his fingers back inside her. “You’re so fucking wet, I’m tempted to…”
His mouth returned to her shoulder and his fingers resumed their steady rhythm. He was tempted to what? He was still fully dressed, for Christ’s sake, and her ass had to be bright red. What was he waiting for? She leaned against the seats and concentrated on the slide of his fingers, and the throbbing heat in her ass cheeks. She couldn’t have an orgasm without clitoral stimulation. Should she tell him or simply reach down and take care of it herself?
“I need—”
“I know what you need,” he snapped. “And you come when I say you come. Stop thinking and feel!”
He eased his other hand between her body and the seat, stroking her breasts and belly, her thighs and hips while his fingers thrust in and out. His mouth caressed and nipped by turns, soothing and then launching spikes of sensation. She pushed back against his hand. Tension mounted. Heat built. She panted and cried out. He worked her body with ruthless skill, pushing her higher than she’d ever gone before. Her pussy ached and her clit throbbed, desperate for attention. And her ass cheeks. She’d never even considered her ass an erogenous zone.
Driving his fingers in as far as he could reach, he found her clit with his other hand and pressed it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Come. Come now.” His deep voice invaded her sexual haze and pleasure burst inside her, shocking in its intensity. She cried out and clutched the seatback, shaking violently. Her vision blurred and her body pulsed with wave after wave of release.
“Nicely done,” he said.
He shifted his clothing and she whimpered. He would fuck her now. He’d fill her with something more substantial than his fingers. She licked her lips, still tingling from her powerful orgasm. He raised a slender canister toward her face and released a cloud of mist.
What the hell? Her panting breaths drew the mist into her lungs and everything went black.
Chapter Two
“I can’t believe you fucked her! Do you have any idea how hard it will be to gain her cooperation now?” Roark Talbot had never been so angry in his life. Mal Ton had stridden into the infirmary a few minutes earlier with Andrea cradled in his arms. Her unconscious body was draped in his jacket and she was naked beneath.
“I didn’t fuck her,” Mal Ton snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Why is she naked?” Roark stepped into his private quarters, which were connected to the infirmary, and snatched a clean shirt off the shelf in his closet.
“Forget clothes.” Mal Ton crossed the small room and placed the woman on Roark’s bed.
“Put her back in the infirmary!”
“It serves our purposes better if she wakes up in bed.”
“Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Just listen.” Mal Ton snatched the shirt out of his hand and tossed it onto a chair by the door. “My research was in-depth and invasive. I’ve learned more about this woman in the past few days than you can possibly imagine. She wants to help us but she will not have any part in war. She’s afraid the Protarians will weaponize the process, so she refused to help them.”
“Imagine that.”
“If we can use the cure to negotiate a ceasefire with the Protarians, I think she’ll come around.”
“But we have to have the cure first.”
“Exactly.”
Roark hated it when Mal Ton agreed with him. It generally meant he had just been manipulated. “And how do we accomplish that?”
“By forcing her cooperation.”
“You can force someone to mop a floor. Something this complicated—”
“Requires a subtle form of coercion.” Mal Ton nodded his head and swept his gaze over Andrea’s body. The jacket covered her arms and torso, but her legs and the curve of her ass peeked out from under the hem. “She’s my pleasure servant and doesn’t even realize it.” He chuckled.
“What are you talking about?”
“On the transport, before I misted her, she came on to me.”
Roark snorted, glaring at his friend across the breadth of the bed. “Sure she did.”
“Her desire had been smoldering all evening so I stated my conditions and she agreed to them.”
“Did you explain that she was entering into a sexual contract? Humans don’t handle sexual relationships the same way we do.”
“I told her all contracts are verbal here on Stilox and once terms are agreed upon they are binding. I said all this right before I asked her if she wanted me to fuck her, and yes, I used that word.”
“And she agreed?”
“Why do you sound so amazed? She has been locked on a research station with no outlet for her sexual appetites.” Mal Ton pulled his jacket away and revealed her naked body. She was resting on her side, her legs slightly parted. Roark looked at her curvy hips and the pink folds peeking out between her legs. “She stood there and let me finger-fuck her until she came all over my hand. Touch her pussy. She’s probably still wet.”
Restless and hardening fast, Roark moved away from the bed. “So what’s your brilliant plan?”
“She’s been taught to feel sorry for Protarians and that all Stilox are ruthless barbarians.”
“I wonder where she got that idea.” He scrubbed his jaw with his hand and paced the width of the room. “How much time did Bryson have to poison her thinking? Does she know who you are?”
“According to her com-log, she’s had seven vidconferences with Bryson over the past couple of weeks, and from what I overheard on the transport, he didn’t get far. She has no idea who I am or where she’s been taken. My plan just sort of came together while she—came around my fingers.” He chuckled as he repeated the word. “She needs an outlet for her sexual frustration and we need her expertise. There’s no way her human morality will allow her to accept a simple barter, so we’ll be a little more creative.”
“What woman would want to barter for sex? Females prefer an emotio
nal connection with their partners.”
“You’re going to give me lessons on the needs of females?” Mal Ton laughed. “I’m good at two things.”
“Fucking and killing. Yes, I know.” Roark really wasn’t in the mood for one of Mal Ton’s diatribes. “I know you have no intention of killing her, but I’m still unclear how fucking her is going to gain her cooperation.”
“I’m not going to fuck her, at least not at first. I’m going to threaten to fuck her. I’ll tell her she can either assist you in the lab or submit to me in the bedroom. I’ll confess that I’m one of the barbarous Stilox who kill for pleasure and share their wives.”
“We don’t share our wives. We—”
“Then I’ll explain that you are my Protarian prisoner.” His gaze gleamed with amusement and anticipation. Mal Ton was obviously pleased by his plan. “That will give the two of you a common ground. She’ll trust you and assist you because you’re being forced and abused by your horrible Stilox captor.”
“We look enough alike to be brothers. There’s no way she’ll believe I’m Protarian.”
“She knows nothing about our world. She thought Bryson was human.”
Roark glanced at the bed and shook his head. “I hate dishonesty.”
“We need her. And she might not understand it yet, but she needs us.”
“Somehow I doubt she’ll see it that way.” Roark had studied her dossier while Mal Ton was gone. Andrea Raynier was ambitious and self-assured. She was used to others playing by rules she established, not the other way around. She would resist surrender regardless of how much Mal Ton believed she needed to submit.
Still she had willingly entered into a sexual contract with Mal Ton. There must have been some connection between the two. It would be damn interesting to watch them wear each other down.
“Bryson set her cover story in motion before he realized the wrong party took the prize,” Mal Ton said. “She’s entirely at our disposal.”
Roark couldn’t help but smile. “Why do I listen to you?”