by Kit Rocha
Her body surrounded his, warm and inviting. He released her, letting his hands fall to his sides as she squirmed harder. "Push me."
It took forever for her to lift her head and meet his gaze, and even longer before she began to move. Just a slow, experimental rock at first, her eyes unfocused. "I figured something out."
His voice came out hoarse. "What's that?"
"I don't give a shit what I'm supposed to want." She rose up on her toes only to drop down hard enough to drive moans from them both. "I've never let anyone tell me what to do before. Why should sex be different?"
"Good girl." He tilted her hips with one hand at the small of her back, and she sucked in a breath and clutched at his upper arms until her nails broke skin.
"I was going to come up with fantasies," she continued unsteadily, "but I kinda just have the same one over and over."
He couldn't really slam into her without lifting her and taking over her movements entirely, but he thrust up once, sending the chair skidding a few inches across the floor.
This time she whimpered, scratching down to his elbows before gripping his arms as if to hold them both still. Her gaze found his, eyes already hazy with pleasure and so trusting, so open.
She held nothing back, not with her eyes or her words. "In my fantasy, I ask you to make me feel good. That's all. Because I trust you, and whatever you do with me, you'll make it feel good."
The words jolted through him in a shiver. "How far will you go, Six?"
"What does far even mean?" Her hands framed his face, and she smoothed her thumb over his lower lip. "Nothing you could do would take more trust than me bringing you here. This was my safe place, and I'm giving it up. I don't need it anymore."
"Are you sure?"
She bit his lower lip with a laughing growl. "About this place, or what you can do to me?"
"I'm serious." He stilled her head with one hand wrapped in her hair. "Keep it if you need to."
After a torturous moment, she nodded as much as his grip allowed. "Okay, but not because I need to. Because we'll be here, working, and it'll be nice to have a private place for just us."
Us. She'd talked so much about all the parts of his life he was letting her into, and this was hers, the only thing she had to share with him.
Bren kissed her again, his mouth crashing into hers as he dragged her down for another hard thrust. The chair cracked, and he staggered to his feet as it gave way under them.
He backed her up to the wall instead, hitching her high against the paneling with her legs around his waist. She slammed her head back with a choked noise, digging her heels into his thighs. "Make me--make me feel--" Another groan. "Oh God, Bren--"
"Shh. Your safe place," he panted, closing one hand loosely around her throat. "Right here, with me."
"Safe." Six stopped trying to move, stopped trying to force him to move. She twisted her arms around his neck and shuddered in his grasp. "Show me."
He tightened his hand, just enough to cut off part of her air as he sped his thrusts, pounding her pussy until he was gritting his teeth against slick pleasure.
And through it all her gaze never left his. Trust, naked trust, so much of it she let him take her to the edge, to where her body clenched tight and her lips parted on a silent scream, and then she was coming, hard, the orgasm abrupt and intense.
He jerked his hand away from her throat to slam against the wall. One ragged breath and she was screaming, screaming, loud enough to cut through the roar of blood pounding in his ears. He followed her over the edge, thrusting until he was spent, and the desperate grip of her pussy eased into gentle flutters.
She slumped forward, limp, and mumbled something against his throat. He combed her hair from her face and tilted her head back. "You with me?"
"I don't know," she whispered, blinking at him a couple times before her eyes drifted shut. "Are you somewhere tingly?"
Not dizzy from lack of oxygen, then, but drunk on pleasure. "We broke your chair."
"Buy me a better one." She let her head fall forward again and nuzzled his cheek with a laugh. "Buy me one sturdy enough for you, you hulking lug. I'm gonna ride you on it all the time."
"Home away from home?"
"Will you buy me a real bed?"
"I'll build it with my own two hands, if you want."
Her head popped up, and she smiled as if he'd offered her the world, gilded and wrapped in a bow. "You can build things?"
"Maybe." And for the first time in years, he felt like it might be true.
Chapter Thirteen
If Six had possessed a little less pride, it would have been tempting to let Bren tackle her to the floor just for the pleasure of feeling him stretched out over her, warm and hard and as turned on as she was.
Evading a feint and riding him to the floor was almost as good.
They hit the mats with a thud, her body astride his. His grin was quick, but not as quick as his movements as he flipped her over using sheer strength.
He was still grinning when she smacked her forehead into his nose.
Bren rolled away, rubbing his nose. "You might want to save that move as a last resort."
"Sorry." Wincing, she scrambled to her knees and reached for his face. "It's a bad habit. I know you've taught me new ones, but sometimes instinct gets me."
He let her poke and prod at his nose for a moment before waving her away. "I'm all right. Nothing's broken."
She dropped her hands to rest on her lap. "I've got to get new instincts. Right now, I'm fine until you startle me, and then it's like I'm fifteen again, breaking noses and trying to ram a guy's balls into his rib cage."
"That won't fly if you're working the door at the Broken Circle."
It wouldn't, and she knew it. She'd expected Bren's acknowledgment to be disheartening, but there was a thrilling sort of focus in having a goal. It gave her the energy to shake off the discomfort and rock to her feet. "So I do it again."
He stretched his neck and squared his shoulders. "First lesson--don't let things get to the point where you have to headbutt someone. Try to stop the trouble before it starts."
Zan was good at that, but he was huge and had a face that made his scowls extra intimidating. She'd have to be better. Quicker, more efficient. "Show me?"
Bren shook his head. "It's about control. You're the bouncer, so you have it, and you can't ever forget that. You have to breathe it."
Like him. "Have you always been able to do it, or did you learn?"
He took his time answering. "I didn't come from a place where many people had control over anything. I guess I learned it once I joined up."
The story of how he'd gone from a street orphan to the ranks of the most terrifying elite soldiers in their world was one she desperately wanted to know, but the way he mentioned it made her think it had to be as laced with pain as her own history.
She knew what it was like to not want to talk, but just as familiar was the certainty that no one cared enough to listen. So she settled on a middle route, inviting him to talk without pushing. "The MP, you mean?"
"It was Coop's idea," Bren murmured. "Said it was the best way to make something out of my life. So he fronted me the cash for a bar code and a brand-new identity."
"How old were you?"
"On paper? Eighteen. But I don't really know."
All those times she'd joked about him being old, and he didn't even know how old he was. Her chest ached as she shifted closer, until they were knee-to-knee. "What was it like, being in the military police?"
"Structured," he said thoughtfully. "There's comfort in that, I suppose, especially for a kid from the streets. I always knew where to go, what to do. What was expected of me, and what I'd get in return."
"You got to learn things." She couldn't quite keep the hunger out of her voice. The hacked tablet Noelle had given her made it easier to work her way through books, but now the struggle was to focus on learning the words at all when listening to the tablet's soothing female voi
ce was so much easier.
"Yeah," he said wryly. "I learned the art of assassination. The most effective silent kills. How to line up a two-mile sniper shot, accounting for wind shift. Your basic Special Tasks education."
"How to be strong," she countered. "How to hurt evil bastards, so they can't hurt anyone else. How to be a protector."
"No." Bren's smile held a tinge of sadness as he reached out and ran his fingers over an escaped lock of her hair. "All those things, I learned right here in Sector Four."
She wanted to turn her face into his hand and kiss his palm, but she couldn't look away from his eyes. "So teach them to me. I don't have to fight for survival anymore, but I can protect people."
His smile widened, and he brushed his thumb over her cheek. "You'll be better at it than I've ever been. Just wait."
Biting back her smile, she gave him her sternest look. "So stop being mushy, Donnelly, and throw me around this room."
"Yes, ma'am." He climbed to his feet and stretched again. "Want to come at me? Want me to come at you?"
She bounced to her feet, to her toes, watching him warily. He could lunge into sudden movement without the slightest tensing muscle to give warning, but sometimes she caught tiny hints in the crinkling around his eyes or the set of his mouth. "I wanna see that arm lock one more time."
"Oh yeah?"
If it had been anyone else, she would have asked if he was ready. But Bren was always ready, and when she came at him, driving hard for his ribs, he swatted her wrist, knocking it aside without apparent effort.
He must have slowed the progression down so she could see it, but it still happened so fast. His wrist slid up to slam against the inside of her elbow, forcing her arm to bend as he twisted behind her, somehow getting his other arm threaded through hers and his hands linked together.
A few seconds, that was all it took for her to end up against his chest, her arm bent out to her side at an awkward angle, her wrist trapped in the crook of his elbow and his other hand gripping her shoulder.
It would take very little force to drive her to the floor now, and even less to cause so much pain that she'd beg to end up there. But he hadn't thrown a single punch, hadn't smashed his nose into anyone's face. He'd simply moved to take control of the situation--and her--with minimum fuss.
Quick, efficient, deadly.
It turned her on.
She inhaled slowly and tested the limited range of motion she had within the lock. "I bet you could move a pretty big guy with this."
He increased the pressure, but only the tiniest bit. "He'll go where you point him, all right."
Easy to believe, since she was up on her toes, her fingers twitching, as if her body was ready to tap out whether she wanted to or not. "Do you think I can pull this off on someone a lot taller than me?"
"There are other locks that might work better for you." He released her and rubbed her shoulder. "We'll go over them."
"Okay," she murmured, distracted by the warmth of his fingers soothing away the lingering ache.
His eyes darkened, and his fingers slowed to a sensual caress. "Six--"
Someone rapped on the door, the hollow sound still echoing as it swung wide, and Emma poked her head in, dark and bleached-blonde locks swinging. "Amira's having her baby!"
Instead of taking a step back, Bren pulled Six into the circle of his arm. "How long?"
"What do I look like, a fucking psychic? It's a baby, Donnelly, not a shipment of booze." She slammed the door behind her.
Six laughed, and it didn't even feel awkward anymore. "Unless your Doc has some fancy city tricks, it's probably going to be a while."
"Christ help him if Flash starts getting pissed." He kissed the top of her head. "First O'Kane baby. Want to go wait with everyone else?"
Her wrists were still bare, but with Lex's offer on the table, Six didn't feel nearly as hesitant to take him up on it. She'd have her ink soon. She'd be one of them in a way outsiders would have to acknowledge, a way no one could take from her.
For now, the fact that they included her was enough. Hell, it was everything. "Yeah, let's go."
The first time Flash punched Doc, Jasper had to go in to run interference.
Bren would have volunteered, but his experience with pain and blood was far less helpful than Jas's years on the farm, where he'd assisted with numerous births. No, Bren was better off with the others, gathered around the makeshift bar in the warehouse, waiting for news.
"God, how long does this take?" Ace demanded as the fourth hour rolled around. He'd given up making jokes and was sprawled in a chair next to Six, staring broodingly at the door.
She patted him on the arm. "I'm sure everything's fine. I've seen it take all night."
Ace shuddered. "Flash'll pound us into the ground one after another if it takes much longer."
Lex shoved another beer into his hands. "Relax. Doc's under strict orders--nothing goes sideways. This kid's an O'Kane."
"Still, maybe I should go check on--"
"No." Noelle wrapped both arms around Ace's neck and rested her chin on his head. "Amira doesn't need everyone hovering, and Jas can handle Flash. But you're adorable when you're worried, Ace."
He scowled. "Oh, shut up, princess."
It drew a round of laughs, and Six grinned. Bren found himself matching her expression as he wove his fingers with hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
Lex caught his eye and winked, though her amusement faded as Dallas walked in from the back office, tablet in hand.
He shook his head slightly at Lex before pointing to Bren. "I need you for a minute."
Trouble. He recognized the look on Dallas's face even before he released Six and followed his boss to a quieter corner. "What is it?"
"Word from Three." He tilted the tablet, showing the curt message. "Emma's suggestion worked. Noah surfaced. And reading between the lines, he's pissed."
"About us looking for him?"
"Could be." He glanced across the room, his gaze settling on the cluster of O'Kanes. "Could be he'd take any mention of Emma as a threat. Lex thinks there's some history there, and I don't want this whole thing blowing up in our face. I need you to meet him and explain the situation."
Which likely meant heading over into Sector Three, or at least to neutral ground. "What do you want me to offer him?"
"Money for services. And if he asks to see Emma instead..."
She would have made the offer to unearth this Noah character, even if he presented a personal danger to her. She was an O'Kane--she'd do whatever the gang needed, and trust them to keep her safe. "If he asks after her, I'll tell him he has to see her here, and only after he meets with you and Lex."
"If you think he's more trouble than he's worth?" Dallas met his gaze, eyes serious. Unyielding. "You take care of it."
The real reason Bren was the best choice to take the meeting. His involvement in Three aside, he was uniquely suited to tackling the potential danger this hacker represented. "Quick and clean," he promised. "If I have to."
"Good." His lips twisted into a grimace. "From what Doc tells me, you can leave now and still maybe show back up before this kid does. Which is good, because we'll all be taking turns sitting on Flash by then."
"Doc's got plenty of drugs. If he can't find anything in his case, make him front Flash some shit from his personal stash."
Dallas's laugh was far from amused. "Just as long as he's not dipping into it while he's taking care of our girl."
The man had seemed sober, the surest sign that his rampant death wish apparently didn't involve having Dallas dump him in a shallow grave for endangering Amira and her baby. "Don't worry, I think he's straight tonight."
"Damn well better be. I only got so much time for crazy motherfuckers--" A wail from beyond the room drifted through the walls, and Dallas started before breaking into a wide grin. "Well, thank fucking God."
Relieved murmurs gave way to cheers as people laughed and hugged, already toasting the newest O'Kan
e. Then the door at the far end of the room swung open, and the celebration halted as Jasper walked in.
He grinned, an expression at odds with the fresh shiner darkening one eye. "It's a girl."
"A girl." Dallas clapped Bren on the shoulder. "You got this? Lex and I have to check on Amira and Flash."
"Yes, sir."
Bren stopped beside Six to squeeze her shoulder and whisper in her ear. "Got to run an errand. I'll be back soon, though."
She tensed as she peered up at him. "Everything okay?"
No need to borrow trouble. Coop's voice rang in his ears, and for the first time Bren understood the warning. So he smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I'll see you soon."
Smiling, she grazed his jaw with a quick, shy kiss. No one was paying attention--there was too much excitement for that--but even if they had been watching, Six didn't seem to care. She only blushed softly, with no uncomfortable squirming, no hiding.
Damn, he hoped he didn't have to kill that motherfucker from Three. A life just had begun, and it seemed wrong to end another so soon, with the baby's first indignant cries still ringing in his ears.
Besides, nothing stood to upset the fragile balance he and Six had found like executing a hit on someone from her old sector. Especially someone she actually liked.
Scarlet's directions to the meeting site were something out of a pre-Flare spy movie--He'll meet you under the bridge. Come alone.
By itself, the location was enough to make Bren nervous. At one point, the bridge had served as an overpass, part of the system of shipping roads that ran in and out of the city. One end had disintegrated in the sector bombings, rendering it unserviceable, but Wilson Trent had found other uses for it--namely hanging people he felt had betrayed him, letting them swing from the girders as a reminder and a warning.
The place was quiet, and the bits of frayed rope still swinging above him only heightened its sinister air. A thin layer of fog clung to the ground, swirling around the plants that had burst up through the concrete in a ghostly dance.