by Mima
Becca’s eyebrows flew up her forehead. “Excuse me?”
“I know you’re attracted to me. I can smell it.”
Now her eyes about popped out of her head.
“And I like you too. But when you touch my tail, my instincts will either be to rip it away from you, or to purr. And if I know for sure, I feel like this nice time of getting to know you will be over.”
So he liked standing on the cliff’s edge. She liked the freefall. “I want to know, Gage. This is feeling so sweet. Why continue if your cat-self doesn’t like me?” She lifted her chin.
He blinked, slow and thoughtful and sexy. Nodded. “Yes. Do it.”
Taking a quick breath, Becca stepped forward against his lean muscular length and reached past him. In a quick grab, she closed her hands over his tail. It writhed in her grip. He hissed. Unwilling to give up, her other hand reached around his slender waist and closed over his base. Then she stroked up, delighting in the warm silky fur. Beneath the soft covering, he was both bony and muscular.
His lids lowered to half closed. “Becca . . .”
“So what do your instincts say?”
“They say, Hells, yes.”
He grabbed her face and kissed her. It was a sexy kiss, not as wild as during the planetswing, but still hot. Her lips clung to his and she used the tip of her tongue to tease against his softness. She held onto his back and sagged against him.
In a whirl, he staggered away from her hold. Bracing his arm against the wall, he shivered.
“What?” Becca asked.
He turned on her, his face folded into a snarl. His lips were back from his teeth, his eyebrows one straight slash, his nose in a deep wrinkle. “What is this? You hunting up some exotic sheet time on your first trip out?”
She stepped away from him. “No!” She glared back at him. “I like you!”
“Oh, right. You like me.”
She gestured wildly, frustrated. “Of course I do!” His reversal was confusing, making her defensive.
He stalked up to her and she was angry when she stepped back and was brought up short by his tiny table.
“You little seedling. You have no idea what kissing me means, do you?”
She leaned forward into him, refusing to be intimidated. “I may be new to space, but I wasn’t aware kissing you in your room was out of line.”
He shoved his hands into his hair. “You really can't be this innocent. I’m a rumpy.”
“So?”
“So what? You like me enough to be seen touching me in the mess hall? You like me enough to be called pervert by the other bones? How about when the women in your pod won’t talk to you but the men all try to grab a feel? After all, any bone who wants a rumpy must be a whore.”
She shook her head. “Don’t think the worst of people. And I can stand up for myself.”
He pounded the wall next to her head. “I’ve seen this before! Keep your hands off my tail, pretty Becca! I know better. Our kinds don’t mix.”
“Did someone get scared of some loudmouths and leave you, Gage?”
He laughed, but it wasn’t kind. “No, this isn’t some old hurt of mine. It’s generations of fact.” He tugged his pants up and closed them. “I’m so stupid. Some innocent blue eyes and a little tail hanky-panky and I have visions of taking a bone as a lover.”
Becca rocked her head back to keep from crying. She’d cried enough. Staring at the ceiling, she imagined she could see a faint smear on the metal, where he’d held her hand, trying to distract her, trying to teach her how not to be afraid and appreciate the swing. “You’re being so unfair. We barely know each other, but we’re good together.”
Gage smoothed his hand down his braid and folded his arms. “You tell me, Becca. Are you willing to set yourself up as an outcast for the chance at a relationship with me? This kind of reputation will follow you. You’ve already got one black mark on your career, going against the senior chief. So think about where you are, who you are, and what you’re planning on when we dock in a few days. With a quick tumble, you can really end up closing some doors.”
Becca stared at his tight, unique face. His tail lashed the air behind him. She wanted him so bad she was wet with it. She’d never planned on taking a rumpy lover, but he was so beautiful, how could she not take this opportunity? Did she care what bigots thought, no matter where they were placed?
On the other hand, she planned on leaving the Cider Pot in a week. Would she stay, belittled and ignored by Walters, for the opportunity to be with Gage? Probably not. But if she and Gage had something sweet, they could potentially keep it going after she left.
She bit her lip. She wanted to stay and see where this went, and discover Gage. But she knew the practical thing would be to focus on the kitchen systems and stick to business. She took a deep breath, and decided.
“Where’s the bed?” She lifted her chin. It might make her a horny slut, but she was going to grab life by the balls, literally, and have some fun. “We’ll see how we suit. So let’s see what you’ve got, Mr. Whiskey Walters.” Her mouth was dry as dust. She wouldn’t let this internship go without fighting for it. If he wanted to play sexual games, she could play them, too.
He raised his brows. “This isn’t a competition. I’m not a performing—”
“Bullshit. I’m the one with the power here,” she bluffed. Reaching up behind her head, she savagely ripped the hair band from her ponytail, then ran her hands through the loose strands. Energy ran over her skin. “I expect to be ‘happy,’ as you put it. I want some reward for my risk taking.”
Her fingers slid down the flexi-seal on the side of her dress. The heavy jersey loosened as she swiped from her armpit to the top of her thigh. The neckline sagged to the top of her bra, exposing the slopes of her full breasts. She stalked forward, heart thrumming at his bemused look. She stepped up against his body, straddling his crossed legs where he still leaned against the table. Reaching forward, she took up the whiskey. She wasn’t going to ruin the moment by choking on it, but she did take a healthy sip and swish it around in her mouth until the skin seemed to start peeling from her palate. She swallowed in stages, shuddering at the burn.
“Why so demanding?” His hand settled on the hip she’d bared, her underwear no barrier to his heat. He massaged her there, and tendrils of heat snaked down her thigh. “You’re not the senior chief here.”
“Oh no. If you choose to start this little game, I’ll play. But you’ll play to my tastes or you’ll be the lonely, horny guy.”
He scoffed and his other hand came around to take a handful of her ass. “You are space mash playing with planet-fed beef, Pipsqueak.” He could have squeezed cruelly, but his touch was sensual, fingers caressing and rasping over her muscles with just the right pressure.
She set her weight on his chest, draping one arm over his shoulder. She smiled, to keep it playful, but kept her blue eyes steady on his silver ones. She was used to directing inexperienced boys from class, but this was a very experienced man. “I want nice firm licks with just the right kind of torque on my clit. Don’t worry, I’ll help guide you.” In the months she’d spent researching this man, she’d learned he was a creative wizard. Now that she lay across him, she knew she needed to maintain some control in this suddenly personal education.
“The thing about being the senior chief engineer is that you get to be the boss—in bed and out.” Both of his hands circled over her ass, drawing her hem higher.
“The thing about fucking the senior chief is that he can’t fuck you unless you let him. If I’m not getting decent sex, I’d rather have none.” Her fingertips toyed with the top of his spine, nails rasping through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.
His eyes narrowed and she thought she heard his teeth grind within that heavy jaw. “I’m not sure why I shouldn’t just send you to the kitchen right now.”
&n
bsp; “Is going down on me really so objectionable that you’d rather go without?” She nibbled along his jaw. Lowering her voice, she whispered, “Are there so many other women waiting in the hall for their chance at you?”
His hands tightened for a moment. “Bitch.”
She lapped at his neck. “Bastard.”
“Lucky for you I like a wet cunt.” His mouth hovered over her ear, the words ever so slightly slurred.
“Lucky for you I’m goal oriented.”
He laughed, and again, it was honest. Blood humming, tummy flipping with excitement, she grinned back. His hands on her ass tightened as he lifted her up his body. Then he kissed her. She’d wondered if an arrogant lothario like him would be gross, drooly and demanding—but no. His touch was delicate, his lips floating over hers, teeth scoring lightly.
Her arms tightened around his neck, her spine melted, and she gave herself up to touching this stranger with the cold eyes, hot hands, and ridiculous flirtation. A little voice in the back of her head was screaming that she should have more pride. She kissed him harder to drown it out.
He murmured, “Fuckin’ hot piece of ass.” With a lurch he spun them, tossing her onto the table. “Let’s get any question of how good I am out of the way.”
Falling to his knees, he shoved up her dress and tugged at her underwear. She braced herself on her hands, lifting her ass. The sturdy fabric was down her legs and dangling from one ankle before she could blink.
He looked up at her. “I want to see your tits.”
She peeled open her loosened dress and pushed the cups of her bra down, leaving the supporting straps in place. Wanting to be practical, she hadn’t brought lingerie, and both bra and panties were plain cream fabric. He didn’t seem to mind. From her perspective, her bared nipples framed his face, taut and flushed. He licked his lips, picked up her unfinished whiskey and downed it. Then he hauled her knees forward and out. She gasped but he stopped her before she toppled off the edge.
His mouth burrowed into her scalding folds and his tongue struck deep into her hooded alcove. The cold sizzle of the whiskey mingled with his steamy breath. She could smell the alcohol and wondered if it was possible for a clit to get drunk. None of the delicacy he’d used on her lips appeared to be on his mind now. She twisted at the sting.
He looked up at her bobbing chest, his gray eyes silvering to an eerie shine, and sucked, probed. His jaw opened wide and his tongue wiggled wildly up her channel, then flattened in a hard, slow lick across her clit. It was raw and dominant.
He was everywhere, down, pulling her cheeks apart, bracing her legs wider, groaning and cursing. Her hips jerked up to his working mouth, her legs continually trying to close. Her head fell back and then forward. Her groans and curses soon began to fall as well.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. It was the most exciting sex of her life, because it was wrong, and dangerous, and simple. “Fucking suck me, dammit!” She angled her pelvis up, jabbing her fingers in next to his face to pull her lips wider. He licked them, too, and nibbled her knuckles.
“Can I fuck you yet?” his voice echoed up her torso, spoken into her spread core.
Her breasts, already swollen, went hot. Her nipples spiked, aching from lack of attention. She cried out, grabbed the back of his head, and mashed his face against her body. “Suck!” she commanded.
He hummed and finally focused on her clit, sucking, tongue working inside the tight ring of his lips. She came hard, the fast climb as much from the situation as any technique. Her body curled forward, tight lightning climbing up her ribs.
He stood in one rush and shoved his cock into her. He wasn’t as big as she’d have liked, but it still felt good. He ground their hips together. The rasp of his base against her raw clit made her spine arch backward. The platter of meat and silverware clattered into the booth, and her heels dug into his ass. Pumping his hips again, he moaned, triggering a groan of her own. One more time he pressed in, grinding against her swollen clit, then the zinging pleasure curled her toes and sent her eyes back in her head. She collapsed backward onto her elbows.
He must have come too, because he lay limp across her belly, panting uncomfortably damp heat into her armpit. It was crude, fast, dirty, and basic. She dropped onto her back and began to laugh. All those late nights studying, worrying about grades. All the hours of researching internships, with her pro and con lists of which to apply for. She’d never imagined working with a lecherous drunk who knew his way around the human body as well as a junction converter.
“I better,” she gasped, “still get good training.”
“I’m a mentor, not a sculptor. You’ll get what you put in.” He stood and pulled his pants up.
She lay sprawled before him. It felt like some carrots were crushed under one shoulder.
His gaze was slightly unfocused, and his scowl had softened to a faint grin. “I think we’ll do just fine.”
Maybe it was the glow from the fantastic orgasms, but she was still charmed.
The next week, she worked her ass off. At night, Leo would go down on her first and then the sex was fast and raw. They rarely made it through dinner. But after that was out of the way, he’d talk to her about energy theory, or they’d play chess, or he’d work alone on his plax-page and she’d watch a vid. During the day, he was surly and demanding. He challenged her with certain projects, tested her with errors he’d set up, and talked through real issues the ship was having. And the Cider Pot was always having issues, which was apparently why he loved working there.
She began to learn that his snippiness was the mark of a sharp mind and that he truly had no social skills to speak of. Bixy winked at her in the mess hall one day and she winked back. By the time they landed at London Moon, the first port on their course, she was totally comfortable with the situation. He didn’t try to take advantage of her in the bedroom with anything kinky, and she kept her mouth shut when people came fishing for gossip around her. Some nights he’d drink too much, talk himself to sleep, and snore. But he still got up the next morning and forced her to trace junction converters.
It was shortly before their second port that Leo told her they were having dinner with the captain that night. She’d been on the ship just over three weeks and had spoken to the hunky captain several times. Each time, she liked the way he looked a little bit better. He struck her as a very aware leader. As she put the same green dress on she’d worn to meet Leo that first fiery night, she wondered if Leo talked to the captain about her. It was women who were the true hounds when it came to sharing about sex, she’d found, but she wouldn’t put it past Leo to brag.
They entered the captain’s private suite late. Too late for a normal dinner, really. Leo had gone down on her and fucked her hours earlier, but her body was humming like she hadn’t had any action in a month. The men shook hands and the captain gave her a small bow when he let her palm go. The first thing Becca noticed was the low lighting. The second thing was that the captain was wearing lounge pants and a light robe. Unlike Leo’s room, with its vivid colors, the captain’s suite was entirely black and gray. It matched his hair.
They sat on low, glossy black couches around a free-form black glass table and talked of the business of the ship. The men discussed cargo shipments and only nominally included her. She nibbled on cheese and breads he had out. Good thing she’d already eaten.
Leo sprawled with typical obnoxious confidence. His arms were along the back of the black couch, legs splayed wide under the table. His fingers ventured under her loose hair and took a handful in a solid grip. Chewing on a grape, she considered his well-liquored, glinting eyes. He smirked at her. This wasn’t that unusual, but she picked up an edge. She lifted one brow. The captain stayed silent. Glancing over at him, she saw him watching her intently.
Leo tweaked her hair. She took her time picking out another grape before meeting his gaze.
He chuckled. “Pipsqueak, you’re so fucking hot.”
“Thanks,” she said dryly.
He nodded. “The captain has expressed interest in sharing you.”
She froze. Literally. Her mind raced to cover up the movement, to act casual, to send back a zinger, but truthfully, she was more shocked than she’d been after Leo’s first gruff demands. Keeping her gaze from the captain, she chose another grape blindly and took her time chewing it. They seemed content to wait for her.
“I thought we had an agreement.” Her voice sounded like it had been tossed over the cliffs she’d climbed back home.
“This is outside of that agreement,” the captain said smoothly.
“I’m not sure . . .” She had to stop and clear her throat. “. . . what makes you think you’re my negotiator.” She cut her eyes over to Leo the Bastard. “If the captain wanted my company, he could ask for it himself.”
“The captain is asking,” the captain said, leaning forward from the lazy pose he’d been holding.
“Not really,” Becca said sharply. Leo’s hand still held her hair in a firm grip, but she was strangely grateful for the anchoring pain. She looked at the captain from the corner of her eyes. “Why don’t you clarify the question?”
“Are you interested in joining me in bed?” The captain asked this like he would ask her to pass him a cracker.
Her gaze darted to Leo. “Are you serious?”
With a twist of his wrist, he pulled her down and kissed her, one of his strangely sweet, soft kisses. The captain watching them ignited that side of her body, flushing it with power.
“You’re not the usual sort of intern, Becca. Jake is lonely.” Leo sounded more sober suddenly. “He doesn’t fuck the crew. I told him you were hot and I told him you held your own against me.” Leo pulled her earlobe into his mouth and sucked on it. “I also told him you were a mover and looking to advance.”
She tried to wrench her head away, but he didn’t let go. “Ow!” She pushed at his hand but he ignored her, instead just chuckling. “This is obnoxious even by your standards, Leo.”