I almost lost my load right then and there.
And then Camille stood, stealing all the warmth and light from the room with her distance.
I groped for her blindly, like a desperate, lovesick horndog, and she chuckled. Deep. Throaty. Sexy. And then she straddled my thighs, pressed her groin up against my arousal, and wrapped her arms around my neck, hands trying to fist hair at the back of my head. Her luscious lips descended onto my mouth.
I lifted my chin and met her greedily. Kissing her back as fiercely as she kissed me. She rocked on top of me, making my body burn. Little shots of electricity branched out in all directions. My balls tightened, threatening to end this all too soon.
With more finesse than I thought I had at that moment, I reached up and grasped the zip at the front of her uniform, and then slowly lowered it until her breasts popped out. She was wearing a lacy bra. So damn French and sexy. She rolled her shoulders, allowing me to pull the sleeves of her uniform down. I stopped when the sleeves reached her elbows, leaving her trussed up before me. Ready to be devoured.
“Look at that,” I whispered, my voice husky. “Be a shame to ignore them right now, wouldn’t it?”
“Let me go,” she growled.
“In a minute, Chief,” I muttered, lowering my head to her right breast. “These sorts of things require immediate attention. A good captain always does what is necessary,” I muttered. “And it’s necessary I free your tits right now.”
She wriggled on my lap, attempting to dislodge me and climb off. I wrapped one arm around her waist, securing her to my lap; holding her down. My free hand came up and pulled her bra cup down, exposing her nipple to my tongue and lips. I licked the puckered point, then sucked her aureola into my mouth.
Camille threw her head back, her trapped arms forgotten, and rubbed herself wantonly against my shaft.
The bra came undone. My attention divided between both beauties. I licked and sucked and nibbled until Camille was a writhing, panting, desperate mess on top of my lap.
“Noah,” she begged. Yep, that was definitely Camille Rey begging. “Please,” she said.
And then she freed an arm somehow, and reached down between us and unclasped the buttons of my trousers. Her delicate hand slipped into the opening and wrapped around my length, squeezing just with the right amount of pressure to make me want to explode like a rocket.
I sucked in a startled breath, tried to think of something entirely non-sexy, but couldn’t with the woman of my fantasies stroking me off while she sat on my lap, her breasts exposed, moisture from my tongue making them shine in the low lights of my ready room.
I pulled her close, kissed up the side of her neck, and then devoured her mouth. It made it harder for her to stroke me, but it gave me back a much-needed measure of control. Once I’d established who was in charge, I worked on the rest of her uniform.
The all-in-one suit slipped down her perfectly proportioned frame and pooled on the gel floor at my feet. I made a move to stand and reciprocate the striptease, but Camille pushed me back into my chair with a firm hand on my shoulder and moved herself back into place to straddle me.
“Um, Chief…” I began, but immediately lost my train of thought when her hand wrapped around my erection again and she ran the tip of my cock between her hot, wet folds. “Oh, fuck,” I muttered, throwing my head back.
I was still dressed, albeit sloppily. My uniform was gaping, my chest was bared, and my trousers were open. But I wasn’t naked. I wanted to be naked. Skin on skin with this woman. But Camille was in charge; the moment her hand wrapped around my cock again, she’d been in charge. And Camille wanted to fuck me while I was dressed.
Far be it for me to argue with my chief of engineering in matters of structural design.
Camille smirked as she lowered herself onto my hard length. And then she opened her mouth in a perfect round O and let out the most sensual moan. I joined her not long after as her tight walls squeezed my cock and sucked me in deeper and deeper.
Once I was fully seated, we both paused.
Camille opened her eyes and looked down at me. I stared up at the goddess on my lap, wrapped around me. She licked her lips. My cock spasmed. She moaned.
My turn to smirk.
And then she reached out and ran a finger over my captain’s bars; heat and desire and satisfaction shining in her eyes as she touched each and every one.
And I was lost. My chief had clearly dreamt about this moment. About fucking me in my ready room while I was still wearing my rank insignia. About sitting on my lap, impaled by my cock, while she fingered my captain’s bars.
Fuck, that sounded dirty.
I surged up and swept my hand over my desk, clearing it. And then laid Camille gently on top.
Her eyes met mine. Her chest rose and fell, making her breasts bob up and down.
Had there ever been a more erotic view than this? Looking down at this woman on my ready room desk. Bared to me. Spread before me. Squeezing my cock with her tight little pussy.
Fuck.
I lowered my forehead to hers and started to rock. There were no words to describe the sensation of sliding my length into her body, of claiming her finally. Of losing myself in the wonders of this woman.
Of discovering she was both a moaner and a screamer.
No. Fucking. Words.
Twenty-Seven
Teach Away
Camille
The spray from the shower fell over my sensitive body, making it feel like there were several hands touching me at once. The only hands that truly mattered were Noah’s. One hand up in my hair, scrunching it. The other under my butt cheek, a finger pressed into my arse. His eyelids drooped as he lazily - or tiredly- rocked into me. The gel wall of the shower stall moved with us, offering resistance when needed and much-needed comfort when my back started to hurt.
It was disconcerting, in a detached kind of way, to know even now that Vela was with us. I had to make a concerted effort to push those thoughts from my mind and allow Noah to take me away. I needed to separate myself from our troubles. And if Noah’s hunger and insatiable appetite for my body was any indication, he needed this break from reality also.
Which begged the question, was this real?
“Stay with me, Chief,” he said, rocking steadily. “I promise this is the last time. I seriously doubt I could get anything up after this round.”
I snorted. He’d said that two rounds ago. Once on the floor of his ready room. And then again as he took me from behind on top of his bunk. The man was a demon in bed. Typical. I wondered if every staid Englishman I’d ever met had an alter ego behind closed doors.
And then he pushed a second finger into my arse, and I forgot about what I was thinking.
“You dirty girl, you like that, don’t you?” he murmured, kissing his way up my neck.
I gripped his shoulders and tried to come up with a reply that would wipe the smirk off his lips.
“Do you want something bigger in there, Chief?” he asked.
I shook my head. I liked him exactly where he was, thank you very much.
“We’ll save that for later, then,” he whispered, surging forward with his cock.
“You won’t be able to get it up,” I rasped.
“Probably not,” he agreed, panting for breath. “I have a vision of my depleted body flaked out on my bed looking rather like a wet noodle because you used me all up.”
I huffed out a laugh just as he swirled his hips, the sound getting swallowed by a moan instead.
“That’s it, Chief,” he urged. “Let me hear what I do to you.”
He hadn’t stopped calling me ‘Chief.’ I thought it might be payback for my fondling his captain’s bars. For insisting he fuck me that first time while still dressed in his uniform. It had been my every fantasy brought to life. To have the man who’d at first appeared so very proper when I’d met him, come undone while buried deep inside my body, still wearing his rank insignia.
I arched my b
ack. The gel wall softened, accommodating me. Noah grunted as he picked up the pace. His fingers working my body as surely as his cock did.
A thumb swept over my clit, his arm between us, working me over, making me whimper, stretching the rubber band until I was certain it would snap.
“Come on, Chief, give it to me,” he growled.
I knew what he wanted. It was kinky and dirty and so very wrong. And yet I couldn’t deny this man a thing. Would never be able to again. He ruled my body. He controlled my release. And he made me want to break the rules right along with him.
“You have to work for it,” I gasped as he rocked into me.
“This is me working,” he said, a little desperately. And then he pinched my clit and sucked on my nipple and worked his fingers farther into me.
I felt invaded. Conquered. Completely surrounded by him. I felt safe. Nothing else existed but his touch, his body, his demands. The way he made me feel.
I tried to deny him for as long as I could, but the orgasm was so close to the surface, and my body felt stretched to its limit, and I knew at any second I’d shatter, and I wanted - no needed - him to catch me.
“Give it to me, Camille,” he said.
I let out a low moan and then whispered, “Captain.”
“That’s it, Chief.” A rock of his hips. A thrust of his fingers. “That’s it. Now dirty it up for me.”
Ah, merde! “Captain,” I said, licking my lips. He growled. Rocked into me. Stretched me. “Captain.”
“What do you need?” he gasped against my neck, his body steadily rocking.
I had no idea how he had such stamina, but I felt myself tipping precariously over that edge, and if I let go without saying the words, I knew I’d regret it.
Part of me wanted to please him. He was my captain; I’d sought his approval right from the beginning. But part of me knew it would make him crazy; he’d been pushing for the words right from the beginning.
It wasn’t so much giving up control as taking it. And he let me.
“Captain,” I said, looking deep into his lust-filled eyes, “make me come.”
“Fuck, Chief,” he murmured, holding me steady, stilling his movements, denying me that which I wanted the most.
And then he lifted me up off the wall; away from Vela, I thought distractedly. Just him, holding me aloft, somehow finding the strength to keep me for himself and no other. And then he let himself go. Let his body consume me. Took me to the edge and followed me over.
I screamed my release, the shower water splashing down on my upturned face; Noah’s hoarse cry as he came muffled against my breasts. His cock throbbed inside me as his fingers withdrew from my rear, sending me into another spiral all over again.
When I came back to my senses, we were wrapped up in wet sheets on his bed, and I was wrapped up in his body. My entire frame felt sated, but also wrung out and limp. As if he’d used me hard and put me away wet, which he had. I smiled. Even that hurt a little.
Noah groaned, pulling me closer, resting his chin on my shoulder, his chest to my back.
“You are such a demanding woman,” he muttered against my damp skin.
“I’m demanding?” I whispered hoarsely back. All that screaming had made my throat sore. Even that made me want to grin like the Cheshire Cat.
“You’re the one who tempts me with your too sexy curves,” he muttered. “I am but a simple man who lacks the fortitude to fight your allure.”
“What a load of…”
His hand wrapped around my breast and his - how the hell did that happen? - hard length pressed into my back.
“You were saying?” he said.
I snorted. “You had better put that thing away if you know what’s good for you,” I playfully snapped.
He laughed. The sound more carefree than I had ever heard Captain Noah Vaughan be.
“At ease, Commander,” he said softly. “I’m well and truly wrecked. You’ve wrecked me.”
“I think that was what we were arguing about, sir. The blame is entirely yours and yours alone.”
“I’ll gladly lay claim to it,” he offered. “As I have laid claim to you, Camille Rey.”
I tried not to react to that, but my body had already stilled, my heart missing several beats.
“You don’t like that idea?” he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
“I like it a little too much,” I admitted.
He stroked a hand down my arm and then laced his fingers with mine.
“That’s good,” he whispered. “Because I have no intention of giving you up. Is that clear?”
“Crystal clear, Captain.”
“Ah, hell, Camille. Now you’ve gone and done it. I have to have my dirty way with you all over again.”
“No!” I cried, just as he started tickling me.
“Now, where shall I dirty you up. Here?”
I giggled as he tickled me in one spot and then moved on to somewhere else.
“How about here?” he said as I tried to catch my breath but failed.
“Stop!” I managed to hiss out between laughter. “Please!” I begged.
“Oh, begging is it? You know how that turns me on.”
“Noah,” I said, laughing, my sides aching, his fingers relentlessly tickling me into submission.
“You know what you have to do, Chief,” he said, reasonably. Cheerfully.
“Never!”
“Where’s the respect?” he grumbled, starting to laugh too now. “That’s no way to speak to your superior officer.”
And then my hand found his erection, and he sucked in a breath of air.
“If this is your argument, Chief,” he said, sounding strained, “you should know it’s a bad one.”
“Is it?” I said, and ducked my head under the sheets, kissing my way towards the recalcitrant part of his anatomy. “I believe I need to teach you a lesson,” I offered, my words muffled against his skin as I said them.
He rolled onto his back, spread his legs, placed his hands behind his head, and said, “Teach away, Chief. Teach away.”
Twenty-Eight
This Is For Your Own Safety
Noah
Damn it! I couldn’t stop grinning. And considering the precarious situation the Chariot was in, it was telling. Thankfully, Camille had shut herself away in engineering. Well and truly outside my realm of influence or, more accurately, my perving. Which just left the flight deck confused at my upbeat behaviour.
We’d both slept a solid eight hours; caught up on some much-needed sleep. And if I’d had my way, we would have been even more relaxed and replete this morning, but Camille managed to talk some sense into me.
While I gave her an orgasm against the ready room door with my lips and fingers.
My smile broadened as Pavo and the Sector Two Fleet grew larger on the viewscreen.
“Any sign of our saboteur?” I asked Commander Brecht.
It was common knowledge on the flight deck now that we had a saboteur. I’d had to relax my stance on keeping that information close to the chest. With Vela’s appearance and the general populace’s knowledge of the AI’s infiltration of our computer systems, misconceptions and incorrect assumptions had been made.
It was either tell the flight crew about the possibility of a human saboteur or accept the potential for a clue to be overlooked or misinterpreted. We couldn’t afford that kind of mistake. So, I’d brought the flight deck and heads of all departments on board, with the clear instruction to not breathe a word of our suspicions to anyone else.
Camille had brought in both MacBride and García, as well, so we’d have eyes on all systems during each shift. She hadn’t been comfortable doing so, but Midshipman Russo was not enough of a safety net in engineering. We needed each shift aware of the potential for disaster and actively seeking it.
But the saboteur had gone silent.
“Nothing, sir,” Brecht said. “All systems operating within normal parameters.”
I was fairly certai
n he was giving a report on Vela as well as the saboteur.
“All right, then,” I said, pushing up from my chair. “You have the bridge, Commander. I’ll be in my ready room, hailing Pavo.”
Brecht grimaced; well aware of how that conversation would go.
I walked into my ready room and sat down at my desk. My eyes took in the mural on the gel wall. The wildflowers were blowing in a non-existent wind. Ever since Vela had arrived, the ship had seemed more and more alive. Until now, I was fairly certain, it had a heartbeat.
Fanciful stuff that had no right being in a captain’s head.
“Shall I hail, Pavo, Captain?” Vela said, sounding a little too excited at the prospect.
I couldn’t exclude the AI from the conversation. Like with so much now, we had to accept that the walls had eyes and ears and we were never truly alone. I suppressed a shudder.
“Yes, please, Vela. Hail Captain Jameson,” I said.
I sat up straight in my chair, and then considered slouching to make it look like I was relaxed and in command. And then thought, that might send the wrong impression. I was straightening again, half slouch-half upright in my chair when Captain John Jameson appeared on the viewscreen.
“Captain Vaughan,” he said in greeting. Formal. Stiff. Some might even say very English.
John Jameson was from the Antipodes.
“Jameson,” I said, nodding my head.
I’d practised this speech in the mirror. I’d even run it by Camille while we’d had breakfast. I knew what I wanted to say. The message I wished to convey. I’d been fairly certain Jameson would already have been aware of our predicament by now. There’s no way Pavo and Vela had not conversed once we’d come into hailing distance. So, I’d tailored what I was going to say to reflect our position on all of this.
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