by Kit Rocha
Both of Noah's eyebrows swept up. "Orgy, huh?"
"That's Dallas's version of the hard sell." She kissed Noah on the cheek. "His recruitment speech."
His expression finally cracked into a smile. "I bet it's effective."
The smile kindled the first glimmer of hope, and Emma slid her hand into his. "You can let me know in a few hours."
Chapter Two
O'Kane had called it an orgy.
He hadn't been exaggerating.
Only iron will kept Noah from shifting to relieve the uncomfortably tight fit of his jeans as he watched a couple fuck their way into the midst of a threesome that broke apart and reformed around them without losing momentum. No one seemed to care who the hands and mouths and tongues belonged to, as long as they kept touching in all the right places--and judging by the frequent squeals of pleasure, everyone knew which places were right.
It wasn't the first time he'd seen unchecked carnal indulgence play out before him, but it was the first time it had been accompanied by so much female enthusiasm. And so much laughter.
O'Kane's right-hand man sat beside Noah, squinting at him. "You gonna make it?"
"I think I'll pull through somehow," he replied blandly.
The man only nodded. Jasper McCray was a bastard with a dangerous reputation, and his looks fit it. He was decked out in leather, denim, and tattoos, complete with shaggy hair, a full beard, and a stern frown.
In Sector Five, the woman seated between his legs would have been another accessory. She was dressed like one, in ruffled lingerie and expensive jewelry. She rested her cheek on Jasper's leg, and her eyelids drooped with sleepy pleasure when he teased his fingers through her hair. Absent-minded affection--something that just didn't happen in Five.
The girl--Noelle, he thought her name was--smiled suddenly, and Noah followed her gaze back to the open floor beyond the dais and nearly swallowed his tongue.
Emma had taken to dancing in one brightly lit spot. She was wearing the same shirt, a black scrap of nothing with tiny sleeves that left her shoulders bare, but she'd shed her jeans. Her panties had two ties on each side, one high on her hip and one low.
The ribbons hung down her thighs, silk brushing silk, as she tipped her head back and spun in a slow circle. Her tattoos cut bright, colorful paths across her skin, wrapping around her thighs and arms, climbing up her sides, the beautiful designs fitting the contours of her body to perfection.
She was a work of art, and he couldn't tear his gaze away.
Noelle sighed from her spot on the floor. "She's so beautiful."
Emma dropped to her knees and slipped her hands into her hair, gathering it high at her crown. She rolled her head forward this time, a slow tilt from one shoulder to the other, and when her gaze lifted, her eyes clashed with Noah's.
Then one hand crept out of her hair, down the side of her neck, and over her collarbone to toy with the top edge of her shirt.
Everything he'd told her in that damn conference room was still true. He didn't deserve her. He never had. And now he'd forgotten how to be human, how to deal with people instead of data, how to give a shit about anything except his revenge.
The need to protect her had exploded into his numb heart, the memory of a feeling that had once dominated his life so completely that even the echo hurt. Another echo was stirring, one he'd never wanted to acknowledge as real, one laced with guilt and loathing and shattered trust--
I see the way you look at her.
No, he'd never deserved her. But he'd wanted her--and now that feeling was smashing its way into the frozen wasteland inside him, so much more intense than a mere memory. Even at his lowest he'd never wanted this badly, his cock rock hard and his mind already imagining how her mouth would feel around it.
Innocence had never gotten him going. Not like this.
The black fabric dipped down, barely clinging to the hard peaks of Emma's nipples, then slid free to nestle beneath her breasts. His breath caught in his chest as he let his gaze linger on her curves, on the tight little buds he could almost taste.
Then she reached lower.
"Fuck me." The husky curse came from Lex, the brunette curled up in Dallas O'Kane's lap. "Are we gonna get a show tonight?"
Jesus Christ, Noah had forgotten the rest of them were even there. And he still couldn't look away, not with Emma's fingers headed toward the bit of fabric masquerading as underwear.
"Maybe I should help her," Noelle murmured, uncurling from her spot between Jasper's knees.
Noah had two seconds to imagine what that might mean--two filthy seconds his brain all too readily filled with an image of Emma astride Noelle's face, writhing her hips as Noelle licked and moaned--before Jasper twisted a hand in the girl's hair and tugged her back against the couch.
"Not this time," he told her, and he said it like his woman's tongue in Emma's pussy wasn't just possible, but a common fucking occurrence.
Dallas laughed and stroked a hand up Lex's thigh. "Look at the big eyes on him, love. One of you better warn Lennox about tangling with O'Kane women, or our little Emma's gonna eat him alive."
"No." Lex leaned closer, close enough for Noah to feel her breath on his skin as she stared into his eyes. "No, I think this one knows exactly what he wants."
Anyone with sense in their head could probably tell he wanted Emma, but there was something unsettling about Lex's gaze. It slid deeper, beneath his armor, beneath his skin. He'd read the file on her, too. It claimed she'd grown up in one of Sector Two's elite brothels, trained to read a man with a look and control him with a touch.
Both seemed chillingly possible, so he deflected. "Does any man ever know what he wants?"
"Know? Yes." She sat back and threaded her fingers through Dallas's hair. "Whether he admits it is a whole different question, honey."
Emma's voice twisting into a moan dragged his gaze back. She held her hand still and rocked her hips, gliding into her own touch.
Sweet fuck.
He pressed his fists to his thighs and watched her, trying to memorize the rhythm of her body, the sound of her voice. He wasn't the only one watching, but her eyes were on him, and when her mouth moved again, her lips silently formed his name.
He was going to spend the next twenty years dreaming about this.
Then she stopped, a sudden, wicked smile curving her lips. She rose, stripped off her tangled shirt, and toyed with one beribboned tie at her hip as she walked toward the dais.
She stepped up onto it--and stopped right in front of him. The faint music playing in the room melted into something lower, heavier, and Emma eased onto his lap, her knees on either side of his legs.
He caught her hips, pinning them in place just above his. If she lowered them, they'd be fucking on this couch, probably while Dallas and Jas and their girlfriends stared on in fascination. "Emma."
"Noah." She cupped his face, her fingers stroking his cheeks, his jaw, his mouth.
Her tits were almost in his face. One tug and he could be licking them, sucking her nipples between his lips and finding out just how many noises she could make. He could barely remember why he wasn't already doing it.
"Yes," she whispered, circling her hips. When he loosened his grip a little, she did it again, dipping and swaying above him before dropping low enough to grind against his dick through his pants.
He jerked his gaze from her chest, but there was nowhere safe to look. Dallas had his hand under Lex's skirt while he murmured something against her ear, and Noelle was tugging at Jasper's zipper and giving him big, entreating eyes. "Please let me, please."
"Will you be good?" Jasper rumbled.
"Yes. You were right." Noelle nuzzled his knee with a husky laugh. "I don't think Emma needs any help tonight."
"Mmm." He released her hand and her head with a nod. "Behave, and maybe you can help her, after all."
Emma barely seemed to hear--or she just didn't care. She was staring at his mouth, her body trembling so close, so damn close--
<
br /> Letting go had never been so literal. He eased his grip, and she settled against him, her hips straddling his aching cock, her bare breasts crushed against his shirt, her mouth finding his as if kissing her had always been inevitable.
Maybe it had been.
Her lips were sweet, soft, at odds with her nails digging in to his arm, sharp and rough. That was Emma now, he realized--as sweet as always, but with a filthy edge, one that had her riding him like he was already inside her.
He could be inside her.
The thought had barely formed when Dallas snorted. "So much for that. Get a room, Cibulski."
She tossed her head back and pinned her leader with a challenging look. "You're the one who told me to bring him."
"My miscalculation." Dallas swatted Emma's hip. "Don't get me wrong, girl. I'm sure it'd entertain the hell out of us to watch you two fuck, but Lex'll pout if you don't even notice she's here. You just remember what I said."
"Trust me, Dallas." She slid off Noah's lap and tugged him to his feet. "You're the last thing I'm thinking about right now."
O'Kane laughed. "Fuck you too, love."
Emma dragged Noah behind her. She hopped off the stage and plowed toward the door without bothering to haul her clothes back into place, as if it couldn't possibly matter. And since most of the people in the room were varying degrees of naked, maybe it didn't.
She pulled him through the door, into the dark hallway. "If they didn't give you a room yet, we can go to mine."
Guilt tried to wiggle through his body's throbbing need. He'd never said he was staying beyond the night, and she hadn't asked. She still wasn't asking, just making assumptions that he should correct. But if he did...
He could taste her mouth on his tongue. He wanted to taste other parts of her. He wanted to fall into her and not worry about tomorrow.
He wanted her to keep talking like she wanted him to stay, instead of assuring him it didn't matter either way.
Emmaline Cibulski had needed his protection. This confident, dangerous O'Kane woman could take care of herself--and the ink around her wrists would keep her safer than Noah ever could. That was what he told himself, anyway, as he slid a hand around her waist and pressed his lips to her ear. "Take me to your bed."
Ushering Noah into the darkness of her room fulfilled a fantasy Emma thought had died. She'd been sheltered for the longest time, unable to fantasize about anything but the vaguest of details--soft kisses, gentle words, his hand sliding down her body. And none of those things fit with an O'Kane woman, tough and self-assured. They were the desires of an innocent.
They came back to life here, now, as her hand trembled in his. "Hang on. I'll get the light." Any excuse to pull free so he couldn't feel her shaking.
She flicked on the lamp closest to the door, and it flooded the room with a low, gentle glow. She watched as Noah looked around, his gaze jumping from one object to another as if building a mental catalog before sweeping upward.
He smiled. "Your ceiling's blue."
The first thing she always did was paint her ceiling. "I like it that way."
"I remember," he murmured, still staring. "One year Cib and I damn near took the sector apart before your birthday, trying to find enough blue paint to get the job done, but my contact fell through. Good thing I found those pencils at the last minute."
He'd also found someone to make her a pad of sketch paper, the thick kind with the fibers she could still feel under her fingertips. But the charcoal pencils--that had been the prize. Not the bits of burned wood she normally used, but real pencils of varying hardness, wrapped in slick paper with a thread on the side she could pull when she needed to peel more away.
Her eighteenth birthday. It had been a time of jubilant celebration, the three of them so happy, completely oblivious to the fact that, within a single short year, her brother would be dead.
She swallowed hard. "I still have them, you know. The pencils. They're just nubs now." And she could never bring herself to use up that last bit of charcoal.
His gaze dropped back to her body, tracing the edges of one of her tattoos. "I guess you found a new way to make art."
"I didn't do any of these." Emma reached down to trace the vine of roses climbing the outside of her right thigh. "I designed this one, though."
Noah crouched in front of her, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath as his fingertip followed after hers. "It's beautiful."
So close. She sank her fingers into his hair and pulled. He smiled and kept touching her, curling his hand around the back of her thigh to slide down to her knee and up again.
Emma let go of him and untied another ribbon on her panties as she backed slowly toward the bed. "Is this a little more your speed? All alone instead of surrounded by people?"
He shrugged. "I'm sure it's more fun when you're one of them and you know the rules. But even if I wanted to, I'm not stupid enough to get too friendly with a woman who belongs to Dallas O'Kane or Jasper McCray."
"Lex doesn't belong to Dallas--they belong to each other. Same with Jas and Noelle."
He paused and tilted his head to one side. "That's always been the talk, but when you've lived in a place like Five, you wonder how much is just that--talk."
"Mmm." All the more reason for him to stick around and see for himself. But Emma held her tongue and forgot all about it when the backs of her legs hit her bed. She dropped her panties and sank to the mattress.
Holding her gaze, Noah rose and gripped the hem of his shirt, teasing her with the possibility of bare skin. "Does your room have rules?"
Her palms itched to explore, and she curled her hands into fists at her sides. "Just the same ones we have everywhere else. If everybody says yes, anything goes."
His arms flexed as he hauled his shirt over his head and let it fall. "Then touch me."
Touch him? He may as well have asked her to touch some priceless pre-Flare sculpture. The lines were the same, chiseled and perfect, but carved from muscle instead of stone. Alive and responsive.
Emma came to her knees. She traced the hard swell of one pectoral, grazed his nipple, and molded her hand to his shoulder. "You're beautiful." His skin was bare, unadorned, but she could already see the art beneath it, the places where she'd lay ink.
His head tilted back, and he swallowed. "I'm out of practice," he said roughly. "I haven't had a lot of time for...affection lately."
"No?" That was a shame. A body like his should be celebrated--tasted and stroked and licked and sketched, committed to memory in every sense that existed.
He choked on a laugh and lifted a hand to cover hers. "I live in an underground bunker. Not a lot of guests."
"Ah." Emma let her fingers roam, following the trail of hair that narrowed over his stomach and disappeared into his jeans. She unbuckled his belt slowly, giving him time to stop her.
His breathing sped, but he didn't move until she'd tugged open the button on his fly and was reaching for the zipper. He closed his hand around her wrist, fingers big and broad but careful. "I keep waiting for you to disappear. Nothing I want this much could be real."
As if she had to be some kind of dream. Emma's cheeks heated. "I'm not going anywhere, Noah." She tugged her hand free and pulled his zipper down, the soft rasp shivering up her spine. "I'm right where I want to be."
"I know." The words held an edge of sadness, but he covered it in the next moment by sliding his fingers deep into her hair. "I don't know if I have the willpower to let you put your mouth on me. I won't last, not tonight."
It was intoxicating, the thought that he could want her that hard, that much. "So? Come in my mouth, and then show me all the things you've wanted to do to me."
Noah groaned, his fingers tightening until her scalp tingled. "That is a filthy fucking suggestion."
"Delicate O'Kanes don't exist." Emma settled to the mattress, easing his pants down as she went. His cock sprang free, erect and eager, and she took a moment to explore its hard, satiny length.
/> Shuddering, he folded his hand over hers again, trapping it as he tugged at her hair. "I like filthy."
"Like?" She fisted her hand around him and leaned in until she could just barely touch her tongue to the crown of his cock.
He hissed as his hips jerked, shoving between her lips before he bit off a curse and pulled back. "Fucking hell, sunshine."
An old nickname, ancient. He was the only person who'd ever looked at her and seen that kind of warmth, and hearing the endearment on his lips left her hungry for so much more. "Don't stop." She laid her free hand on his hip and let her fingertips bite into the hard muscle. "Show me what you want."
"I want--" He bared his teeth and hauled her up by her hair, sparking tingles along her scalp.
Then his mouth crashed into hers.
No, those sheltered fantasies couldn't compare. Noah had always been so careful with her, so she wasn't prepared for this--rough kisses and desire edged with pain. Need, the kind you didn't have a hope in hell of containing, much less controlling.
Emma whimpered as a rush of heat flooded her, left her so wet and aroused that every shifting movement sparked more heat, a never-ending cycle with Noah's mouth at the center of it.
His tongue slicked over hers, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he hoisted her from the bed only to spill her to her back. He loomed over her, wedging his body between her legs so that the base of his cock rubbed against her pussy.
He could have slammed into her then. She was wet enough, hot enough, but he slid one hand to her hip and held her steady as he kissed her harder, rougher, deeper. His teeth grazed her lip and he growled, rolling his hips to slick his shaft against her clit as his tongue found hers again.
Please. She swallowed the word, along with the taste of him. She'd asked what he wanted, and this was it--she felt that in every trembling line of his body. He wanted to get her off, make her come, and then, then he'd fuck her.
"My pleasure," she whispered against his mouth, and arched her hips to meet his next slippery grind.
He bit her lip again, tugging at it with his teeth for a shivering heartbeat before his mouth shifted to her ear. "Is that a piercing I feel?"