No Rules

by McCormick, Jenna

  “Beautiful,” Fenton whispered in her ear, his breath stirring her hair. “Time for the next stage?”

  “Hmm?” Alison was a little dizzy, and very sticky. The question made no sense in her post-orgasmic blissed-out state.

  Squeezing her tightly, Fenton rolled her off him and to the side. “That was for lubrication purposes, though I’ve never enjoyed the preparation quite so much.”

  She blinked as he shifted his attention from her to himself. A blush crept up her face when she saw how wet she’d made him, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  Her breath hitched when the Fenton on the bed lowered his mouth to the other’s cock and swallowed him whole. Her clit actually twitched as she watched him suck himself deeply.

  The one on the receiving end of the blow job watched her, his whiskers glistening with her essence as his cock disappeared into his own mouth.

  “How does that feel?” she whispered. “Do you feel both at once?”

  “You mean, can I taste my cock even as I feel it being sucked?” He grinned at her, his hips lunged forward, fucking deeply into his own face. “Yeah. It’s perfectly choreographed too, because I know instinctively what I need, can be as rough or as gentle as I want with a second’s thought.”

  “Have you ever come like that? In your own mouth?” She wondered how that worked, if they both came at the same time from one version sucking 2.0 off.

  “Lots of times. But that’s not what you wanted to see, was it?” Gripping his own hair, Fenton withdrew his now-glistening cock and ordered his other self to lie back.

  Alison couldn’t have torn her gaze away if her life depended on it as one Fenton lay flat on his back on the mattress, holding his legs behind the knee. The other bent low, following the trail of her lube with his tongue. He licked and sucked his balls into his mouth and up under the sack before continuing down to his perineum. From her angle, she could see every intimate detail of a man pleasuring himself. Even her most erotic training had never prepared her for this moment. Almost absently her hand slipped into her drenched pussy as she watched Fenton rim his own ass.

  “Let me see you,” the version on his back murmured. She shifted so he had a view of her fingers massaging her greedy flesh.

  “This turns you on?” he asked as he accepted a finger into his body.

  “God, yes,” she groaned, stuffing her wet channel with her own digits. Feminine walls clamped down on the hardness, just as she imagined his channel squeezed the invading extremity.

  She had more questions, so many more questions, but her gaze locked on his as they each pleasured themselves, him in preparation, her in response.

  He took his time, stretching the opening, licking and wetting it for easier penetration. She pinched her clit, the bite of pain pushing her higher, but not quite over the edge. The scent of sex permeated the air as Fenton rose and dragged his wet shaft up the cleft of his ass, positioning himself at his own opening. Her lube trickled from her clenching core.

  They gasped together as the thick head pressed against the puckered ring, pushing instantly until the aperture relented, expanding around the invading flesh. He pressed relentlessly onward, sweat beading his brow, teeth digging into his lower lip in both incarnations.

  They paused, both gasping for breath, then turned to face her. “Alison.” Her name was like a benediction, or perhaps a summons because she moved closer to grip the unattended cock, needing to be part of this.

  Alison didn’t recognize herself anymore, but she still knew how to enjoy herself.

  Fenton threw his head back and grit his teeth as her soft palm wrapped around his neglected shaft. The pressure in his ass, the feel of his own channel being stretched, his own cock being hugged so tightly and then her touch . . . it was too much.

  The ridge of his staff pressed against his prostate and his balls ached with the need to come. The entire experience had been incredible, from having his staff nestled between her luscious cheeks, to seeing her pleasure herself, drugged with lust from watching him.

  Color rode high in her cheeks as she stroked over his engorged rod. Her breasts swayed with her gentle rhythm. Fenton held perfectly still, feeling worshiped and fortunate to behold her.

  “Does it hurt?” She paused, right when he was about to pass the point of no return. “Why did you stop?”

  “Feels great.” He bucked a little, wedging his shaft in deeper at both junctures. “Keep going.”

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She pulled her hand away.

  Closing his hand over hers he kept her in place. “You didn’t. You feel better.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “A hand job feels better than sex?”

  His eyes burned into hers. “I’d rather feel your touch than my own.”

  Something flickered over her face, an emotion so poignant and beautiful it stole his breath. It was gone so fast he wondered if he’d imagined it. Lust for her muddied his thinking.

  “Alison, make me come.”

  “Together.” Her other hand slipped back between her legs and he was gone.

  Thrusting hard and fast, his cock penetrated deep, scraping over the hot spot inside him. His channel squeezed his prick in thankful return, a maneuver he’d done more times than he could count. Combined with her soft palm engulfing him, still wet from her juices and his tonguing, squeezing tightly, and one look into those hazel eyes, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

  Sweat coated his body as he worked himself hard, slamming his hips home roughly, burying his dick as deep as possible. A little pain made the pleasure sharper, sweeter, but Alison’s touch made him immune to any discomfort.

  A final lunge sent him into orgasm. Semen jetted hotly from both shafts, sizzling where it made contact with her shield. Her cry of ecstasy added to his own as she came with him, for him.

  He went limp on the mattress as his essence recombined and he was made whole again. She collapsed next to him, her skin flushed from excitement, body practically boneless. He dragged her on top of him, arranging her soft form to blanket his once more. They were both a mess and he’d never felt happier.

  On the run for his life from an unstoppable assassin with an alien woman in his arms. Life was just funny sometimes.

  The server twitched in final death spasms on the deck as the assassin took her previously occupied chair. He hadn’t needed to kill her, but after being bested by a whore and her lover he wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

  Another person’s finger would drum impatiently on the desk or shift while waiting for information on the shuttle suite’s location. His prey was resourceful and his blood actually quickened as the thrill of the hunt sang in his veins, resounded in his mind. The fact that Alison’s lover had a few tricks of his own had taken him by surprise once. The assassin couldn’t wait for his next encounter with Del Fenton.

  His mind skim of the soldier had been his downfall. He’d focused exclusively on the man’s thoughts of Alison and hadn’t come across the knowledge that Fenton could divide himself, manifest into two beings. Perhaps even more. His handheld computer was busy compiling information on the man, which he would peruse later, once his course had been set.

  The tracker on their shuttle suite blinked steadily. It was a safety measure installed by the cruise line to ensure that any richer-than-fuck star troller who rented the thing, wouldn’t get hopelessly lost, costing the cruise line both the price of the expensive suite and the bad press associated with such an incident.

  The screen blinked several times in rapid succession. The shuttle was well away from the parent ship’s current course, heading deeper into the Taylith Sector. Did Alison or her beau have a plan in mind? Dozens of worlds were populated in this system, possibly hundreds of moons. It wasn’t exactly a tourist hot spot, though, and regardless of her personal changes, Alison would undoubtedly fall back into the same patterns as always. He simply had to wait for news of the whore with the health guard to reach him and he’d peg her location.

  Unless she was
exclusive with her man. The assassin dismissed it almost as soon as the thought came to him. Alison was predictable, even if she’d proved herself to be elusive. Sooner or later she’d want something her man couldn’t provide, and then the next man with a full wallet would appear in her sights. Not many things were truly universal, but he’d learned to trust people to be who they were.

  It was always their downfall.

  After downloading the coordinates and the code for the shuttle’s beacon, he headed to the aft of the ship, striding purposefully forward. His comm unit beeped, signaling someone was trying to get in touch with him. Only four beings had his personal comm code, three of whom had mysteriously vanished.

  Ducking into an unoccupied alcove, he opened the device. “Yes?”

  “Status.” The woman on the other end sat with her fingers folded neatly, the picture of innocence.

  Pictures could be deceiving.

  “I found her, but she wasn’t alone.”

  “She escaped?” Full lips thinned.

  “A minor setback.”

  “Alison knows too much. What’s in her head could destroy our entire operation. She has the power to expose Illustra, the empaths, everything.”

  The assassin thought the woman overstated Alison’s importance, but he wasn’t paid to correct her foolish notions. “I have her signal and am in pursuit.”

  “You’re sure she knows what you are?”

  He nodded once, unwilling to repeat himself, regardless of her high rank or position.

  “Still no contact from the board?”

  Shortly before he’d been dispatched after Alison, the assassin had been recalled from a mission by the Illustra board members. He’d been irritated to be pulled off that assignment when he’d been so close. Just a few crossed wires on their transport and the stinger pilot and her space pirate would have been nothing more than cosmic dust. “No, ma’am.”

  “Then proceed with fulfilling your objective. And contact me the moment you hear from them.”

  The screen went blank and the assassin stowed his device. He had the sneaking suspicion that the Illustra board members were gone for good. Without the reigning figureheads, the company would begin to crumble. Killing Alison would only delay the inevitable.

  But he’d do as ordered, because it was who he was.

  He moved with purpose until he stood outside the suite the ships schematics indicated and chimed the door.

  A middle-aged woman with orange skin holding some sort of small, fluffy creature answered. “Yes?”

  The assassin stared down into her eyes until her jaw went slack and she sagged under his influence. “You and I are going to take a little trip together.”

  10

  “Del?” Alison reclined against him on the bed. They’d each showered, separately, to listen for any alarms, but now they snuggled together under the shimmering bed coverings. Her head rested on his chest and she listened to the steady beating of his heart.

  “No one has called me that since my sister died.” He stroked her hair, pausing to work some strands between his thumb and forefinger. She’d noticed that he liked touching her hair even if it wasn’t captivating or attention grabbing.

  “I’m sorry. If you want, I can just call you Fenton.”

  He squeezed her to him. “No, I like hearing you use my given name.”

  She turned her head and smiled up at him. “Good, because I like using it.”

  Those luminescent blue eyes seemed to glow in the dim light. The cabin was dark, as he’d transferred all power other than emergency systems to navigation. The man might have no background with space travel, but he was an electrical genius. He shifted beneath her, and she felt his hardness against her leg. He didn’t make a move for her, though, seemingly content to simply hold her close and talk.

  One dark eyebrow went up. “You were going to ask me something?”

  She was, but looking at him, lying there so content, had blanked her mind. The sight of him alone erased all intentions, all thought between one heartbeat and the next, and she simply existed, basking in his glow. Shaking her head as though she could rattle her senses loose, she composed her wayward musings. “Do you know where we are going? I know you’ve never been there, but I was wondering if you had a plan?”

  “Not a plan, just a few things I set up in case my primary objective failed. Which it did.”

  Because of her. This sensation of wanting to apologize for her actions was still new, but she went with it anyway. “I’m sorry.”

  He pulled her closer, brushed a kiss on her lips, one designed to comfort, calm things down not rile them up. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

  “What were you going to do?” Perhaps she was a glutton for punishment for even asking but Alison wondered if he would come to regret her interference.

  He stared at the ceiling. “There’s an alchemist on the empath home world. He used to work for the overlord, before Xander banished him. I heard them talking once and he said he might be able to annul my phase split.”

  She frowned. “Annul?”

  “He would kill half of me.”

  “But why would you want to do that?” Sure, his ability had surprised her at first, but she’d accepted that it was just something he could do. And it was magnificent, especially when he used it to save her life. Or pleasure her. And the way he phrased it, killing half of himself . . . she shuddered.

  Tucking her into his side, he drew in a deep breath. “Imagine that anytime your equilibrium is upset for any reason, you have to fight not to react, to show no emotion at all, because if you did it would cause your body to split in two.”

  “Any strong feelings?” She hadn’t realized how affected he was.

  Del nodded. “Fear, lust, anger, anything that affects my adrenaline levels causes the split. I’ve learned to control it well, but during combat, sleep, or sex, it’s almost impossible. The only way the bounty hunters can track me is through the phase split. I thought ridding myself of it would help us hide.”

  She shivered again at the way he said us, as though it was a natural assumption that anything they’d take on would be a joint effort. “But your ability saved me from the assassin. Saved us both.”

  He nodded. “Right. And if he has access to the ship’s passenger manifest he’ll know exactly where I’m heading, which means we can’t go there anytime soon.”

  Relief coursed through her and shame nipped on its heels. “I’m sorry, but I like you exactly the way you are.”

  The kiss lasted longer, was slower, more sensual but still full of tenderness. Fenton rolled her to her back. She reached to activate her shield, but he stopped her.

  “Not now. We need to make a new plan. Tell me all you know about the man hunting you.”

  Her ardor cooled instantly as she recalled their pursuer. “He’s called the assassin. I don’t know his real name or anything about his background.” He’d cloaked himself in shadows, rarely speaking but always drawing notice. She shivered.

  Fenton rubbed her arm as though trying to warm her. “What about his abilities?”

  “He’s a mind warrior. One of the strongest my planet has ever produced. The Cerebral Advancement Institute, or CRA, was founded in the beginning of the last century by the United States government. It was a specialized program designed to encourage the development of underused portions of the human brain. Sometimes drug experiments were used to advance people’s natural abilities, but mostly it was training and conditioning. Some people were telepathic, able to read minds. Others were telekinetic, could move objects with only their thoughts. Mind warriors are both.”

  “So he read our minds earlier.” Fenton didn’t look pleased by this information. “I’ve never experienced anything like it, such an invasion of self.”

  “It doesn’t have to be painful. He delights in making it hurt. He can also command a mind, take over, like in a possession, or embed images that will drive his victim insane.”

  “What’s his range like?” Fent
on’s face looked grim, understandable after hearing news like that.

  “I’m not sure. Relatively close, a few meters or so.”

  “Do you know why he’s after you?”

  Alison nodded, but didn’t say anything else.

  He tilted her chin so she couldn’t avoid his gaze. “You say you trust me, but you don’t, do you?”

  She jerked her chin away. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, more that I don’t want to tell you about all the mistakes I’ve made.”

  “Alison”—he laid back and folded his hands behind his head—“we’re being hunted. The sooner you trust me with the truth, the better our chances of survival.”

  Anger welled up and she threw the covers back, needing to put some distance between them. “You think I don’t know that? Really, Del, I’m not some fluff-brained idiot. If you don’t want to help me, that’s fine. Just let me off at the next habitable world and I’ll make my own way.”

  His face closed down to the expressionless mask she was beginning to detest. “You know I can’t do that.”

  Stepping into her dress, she yanked the fabric up. It was wrinkled but she didn’t care, needing some sort of covering between them. “Now who’s the untrusting one? You expect me to bare myself to you completely, yet you’re still hiding things from me, aren’t you?”

  “We just met,” he protested, reaching for her. “It’ll take time to learn everything about each other. A lifetime perhaps.”

  The last three words, spoken almost hesitantly in his rough bass, chilled her to the bone. Through the darkness, she made her way to the bathroom door. “I’m going to take a bath.”

  “You just had one. Our resources are finite. We should conserve the water.”

  Pausing at the door she called over her shoulder, “Get a clue, Del. I need some space from you.” Without waiting for an answer, she locked herself in the pitch-black bathroom.