by H. E. Trent
For a few minutes, she listened to the sounds of Owen and Luke’s dueling breaths. She listened to the central air turning on and off. She listened to her unnamed puppy snuffling in sleep, likely on the floor in Owen’s laundry pile.
And then she shifted and tried to stretch out her body.
She could have tried to go back to sleep. She almost always did when she woke prematurely, and usually successfully, but she was beside a warm, nude Owen. He’d offered her more restraint than she’d been expecting, and she wanted more of him. She’d invited his touch, and he’d withheld what she’d assumed he would give her.
She sat up, carefully extricating Luke’s arm from around her waist.
Owen slept flat on his back, his head lolled toward the room. There was just enough of a ledge at the far side of him to support her knee if she should straddle him, and she wanted to do that. She wanted to lay her entire nude body against his, and let his warmth chase away the residual chill in her bones. She didn’t think the chill would ever go away. Space stations were so cold, or perhaps the Tyneali just kept theirs that way.
She moved slowly, inching her dress past her hips and down her thighs so carefully that neither man stirred. She left the garment bunched beneath the covers, and rolled toward Owen. She wished she could see him more clearly, but she would soon enough. She’d have her eyes fixed and she’d be able to see the all the parts of him and feel his textures as well.
She liked touching the hair on his jaw and on his chest. She wanted to rub her chin against his scruff as he held her, but some other time. Her mission was elsewhere.
Pulling her lower lip between her teeth, she concentrated on snaking her hand beneath the covers, tenting, not touching. She didn’t want to touch until she was there, and she thought she was.
Slowly, she let her hand fall onto the warm, uniquely male part of him, and his head popped up.
“Let,” she whispered in a rush. “Want.”
“What are you doing?”
She didn’t answer. He’d see for himself soon enough.
She wanted to play, wanted to feel him growing in her hand, but not if he were going to ask so many questions. Exploration could wait.
She crawled onto him, chest to chest, pressing her index finger against his lips. “Let.”
Because his body was so much bigger than hers, her downward scoot seemed to take forever, too much time he could have been refusing her in, but he didn’t.
When her sex settled over his soft cock, he whispered, “You don’t have to.”
“Want,” she repeated.
She didn’t know what to do next, though. Reg had always been erect, no stimulation needed.
Kiss? Massage? Lick?
She could do all those things, but Owen felt so good and warm beneath her. She didn’t want to move much.
Sighing, he draped his hands over her backside and then swallowed. “Ais—”
“Want.”
“Why?”
She canted her head, and racked her brain for words, but there were none. In her opinion, there weren’t supposed to be because what she wanted and why she wanted was so elementary.
She didn’t need the words, anyway. What was soft beneath her became firm, and he swore.
“You’re…wet,” he whispered.
“Is good.”
“If that’s what you want. Is that what you want?”
“Yes. Let.”
Resting his large hands on her hips, he swallowed again.
She held her breath, waiting for the refusal—waiting for him to deny her one more thing.
“Okay,” he said.
Oh!
His fingertips grazed up her spine and then back down to her ass as she wriggled in search of the end of him. She wanted him inside her without aid of hands, but his cock didn’t jut straight up. Gravity, and its girth, kept the organ flat against his belly.
“Shit.” Luke breathed out a long, ragged exhalation and rolled over. “Here.” His hand found her ass beneath the covers, and then Owen’s hard shaft was at her entrance. “Go ahead, Ais.”
She wriggled down before Owen could object, cringing as the girth of the tip invaded her opening, and then just held him there.
Luke withdrew his hand and rolled onto his side. He remained near the wall, saying nothing, not moving.
Owen rubbed slow, gentle circles over the small of her back, his breaths short and ragged.
He didn’t thrust up into her, though his belly quivered under hers. He was waiting.
What for?
She reared back slowly, accepting more of him inside, spreading her knees wider at the stretch, flattening her torso even more to accommodate the angle of him.
Slow. Steady.
The sex was so different when she was the one in charge. She kept expecting thrusts she’d never be ready for or rough submission, but Owen didn’t move anything but his hands. He’d reached down low to massage her open, but she couldn’t take any more of him within.
She pressed her cheek to his chest and pressed her knees firmly against his sides. The experience was almost wholly new. Never before had she wanted to initiate such an act, and she’d certainly never been the one on top.
Simultaneously, she felt powerful and frightened.
Can I do this wrong?
The answer to that was obviously yes. She ought to have known better than anyone that bad sex was the norm, but she wanted to do better for Owen. She wanted to gentle him—she wanted him to let down the walls that kept him from talking, from sharing, when he had so much to give that was so interesting. She was in awe of him, and wanted him to have proof.
While she may not have had skill, she had enthusiasm.
She clamped around him inadvertently as she shifted, and that made his fingers dig into her flesh.
He likes that?
She repeated that and, with her tongue, lazily traced the soft protrusion that was almost certainly his left nipple.
He made that noise again. He liked what she was doing, but she wanted to move a little. She’d felt a little spark in her clit when she’d shifted, and with his fullness inside her, that’d been quite nice.
“He’s big, isn’t he?” Luke said. His fingers danced down her spine, up and down, stopping right at the base.
“Yes. Big. I like.”
“Jesus,” Owen whispered.
She ground her nub against him the best she could from such a flat angle, riding a short length of his cock at the same time.
Every time the head of him raked past some deep part of her, she drew in an involuntary breath. There seemed to be a bundle of nerves back near her womb, and each renewed tap made her quietly yelp, but she couldn’t back away from the sensation. She wanted more of that bright pleasure-pain and the tightening that followed.
And stunningly, Owen’s lips were there on her temple, leaving a trail of slow, soft kisses, and his attention made her want to stop and claim that surprising mouth of his with her lips, but she didn’t want to back off of the fullness down below.
She wanted everything at once, wanted all of him, at once, and then it was too much and she couldn’t breathe.
Her body was a vibrating band, her lungs useless, heart thundering, and the bit of vision she had was just gone.
There were two hands on her, then another rubbing her back, and she heard Luke’s voice almost as if from down a tunnel. “Guess you don’t need much, huh, sweetheart?”
“If true…why never?” she asked between pants.
“Maybe no one let you before, and that’s so sad. We’ll make sure you get more if only to see that look on your face when you come. You’re so fucking beautiful. Isn’t she beautiful, Owen?”
“Yes.” Owen’s fingers kneaded into her ass, and his breaths were stabbing pants. “Almost too pretty to look at.”
Luke chuckled and notched his fingers beneath Ais’s chin. “He must mean it. He’s got his eyes closed. Can you let him come now so he can look at you again?”
&n
bsp; “Oh! Yes.” She’d forgotten that’d she’d straddled him intending to give him pleasure, but she’d found hers first. She started push up onto her palms, but Owen shook his head.
“You don’t have to move,” he said, pinning her beneath his forearm. “I don’t need much right now.”
He rocked his hips and lengthened his thrusts, and she closed her eyes.
Ais wasn’t simply enduring a man’s touch, but wanting it.
Luke nudged back her hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “He’s not so bad, is he?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Behave, Luke,” Owen murmured, and his hips stopped, and there was pulsing and warmth inside her. “Fuck.” Tightening his grip on her and shuddering, he repeated the vulgar word.
She opened her eyes and furrowed her brow.
“What?” Luke asked.
“Forgot something.”
“Such as?”
“What do you think?”
“Ah, shit. Between the two of us, one of us should have remembered. Maybe we’ve both gone too long.”
Ais sat up carefully, not quite ready to eject him. “Is okay?”
Owen sighed. “Depends on what your idea of okay is. I wasn’t wearing anything and I doubt you’re on birth control.”
“Oh.”
Is that all?
They were sounding like they’d accidentally shot her or something unforgivable. She lay back down on his chest and closed her eyes.
“Statistics say you’re probably fine,” Luke said. “I wouldn’t worry.”
“Okay.” Ais hadn’t planned on worrying anyway.
Reg had been with her unprotected dozens, maybe hundreds of times.
She was reasonably certain she was infertile.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Reg jerked upright at the sound of heavy, echoing thumps against his cell’s door. Cringing at the pain of his shackles digging into his ankle, he yelled, “Go the fuck away!”
Whoever was there kept knocking, kept asking him questions they had to know damn well he wasn’t going to answer, and it wasn’t like they were going to do anything to him. They’d just keep knocking, keep talking, keep wasting their time. They didn’t have the balls to get any real information out of him. For the past six hours, in fact, he’d been brainstorming ways to tie them up in knots. Plant a little bad information here, a little more there, and presto! Wild goose chase.
They wouldn’t find shit.
The jackass on the other side of the door banged again.
“The fuck do you want?” Reg asked.
He should have heard the jangling of keys. They always pounded before they entered as if they expected him to be indecent, or something, and like he needed to put his dick away.
He laughed at the picture in his head.
Wouldn’t that be a fucking scream? Me idling away my time in here with my cock in my hand.
The thin, narrow slot in the metal door flicked up, and a body passed in front of it, blocking the light.
Seconds later, a small parcel hit the floor with a soft thud and the slot closed.
Reg counted to thirty in his head and, certain he’d heard footsteps retreating, trudged to the item left behind.
“The fuck is this?”
He turned the packet over in his palm, and scoffed.
“This supposed to be dinner?”
If so, they were obviously downgrading his rations. He hadn’t eaten the last meal they’d brought, just on principle, but at least that meal had been hot. Just pasta with some kind of meatless sauce, but probably edible.
Probably a hell of a lot more filling than a granola bar.
He was about to fling the packet as hard as he could against the door, but then he had a moment’s clarity and stopped.
He was fucking hungry, and if they were going to give him less and less food, he needed to eat what he had. Him being weak and pathetic was probably what they wanted, and he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.
He ripped open the foil wrapper and took a bite of the dry, flavorless thing.
“Chew and swallow,” he muttered, staring across the room without really seeing anything.
He was like an automaton, biting and swallowing without tasting, until he got near the end of the bar.
The nerves in his front teeth gave painful complaints as they struck something hard.
He spit out the bits of oatmeal that clung to his teeth and ripped the rest of the wrapper off the bar. There was a strip of paper wrapped around the bottom, and glint of silver shone from within.
Chuckling, he wriggled the small piece of metal out of the paper and fisted it in his left hand. Smoothing the paper against his thigh with his right hand, he squinted at the tiny, nearly illegible print.
CACHE AT USUAL PLACE. FIND HER OR ELSE.
“Whatever, Hauge. How the hell did you know I was in here, anyway?” He scoffed. “Probably paying people to watch me, the asshole.” Reg stuffed the paper into his jumpsuit pocket, finished the dry granola, and flicked the wrapper onto the floor. If he were lucky, he’d get a bit of an energy boost before the next time one of those Jekhan freaks returned.
All he needed to do was take them by surprise, and run. They wouldn’t have expected him to be able to pick the locks on his shackles and, normally, he wouldn’t have been able to even with the most sophisticated lock picking skills. The Jekhans were good at keeping Terrans from figuring out their technology, but thanks to Hauge, Reg had a key.
He didn’t know how Hauge had gotten it, and didn’t really care. Hauge would want Reg to make him whole again after all was said and done. After all, the guy’s old man was giving him a lot of shit about a certain missing lab rat. Hauge was supposed to have taken her to Daddy, but Reg had gotten distracted before he could hand the little bitch over, and plus, there’d been the Tyneali demanding her, too. If Reg had been smart, he would have pitted them against each other and ran while they were distracted.
Too late for that. He suspected that Hauge’s patience would run out soon enough and that if Reg didn’t deliver what he’d promised, Hauge would rain down hell on him and let his father finish the bulldozing work behind them.
Reg scoffed as he twisted his ankles free of the shackles. “Fucking rich people think they can buy whatever they want.”
They’d tried to buy Reg, after all. He’d come highly recommended, they said, for doing certain kinds of work.
“Stupid fucks shouldn’t have paid so much upfront. They should have flown to Jekh and did the shit themselves.”
He rubbed his sore ankles, finished swallowing the sawdust, and watched the door.
As soon as they opened it, he’d run and get to that cache. Hauge would probably have a ship for him and maybe someone to help navigate. He wouldn’t give Reg a ship that would get him very far, though. The flyer probably wouldn’t even be able to get into orbit. Hauge wasn’t going to give him an easy way off the planet. He was waiting for Reg to do the job he’d been paid to do. And Reg would do it.
His way.
He’d find the little bitch, hand her over, and then wipe his hands clean of the whole ordeal.
“Let the Tyneali nag them for a while instead of me.”
He rubbed his ankles some more and pondered where he could go once he delivered what he’d promised. If that little bitch ran her mouth—if she managed to put together enough sensible words to tell them Reg had fucked her—he was dead.
Big Daddy Hauge had wanted his little girl home whole.
And Reg…
Well. He hadn’t seen the point of letting a perfectly good virgin go to waste.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The cottage was far too bright when a knock on the cottage door jarred Owen from sleep.
He tried to reach for the clock, but was pinned on his right side by a body he’d forgotten was there. Ais didn’t weigh very much. Moving her would have been simple enough, but for a moment, he’d forgotten how she’d gotten there.
<
br /> She sat up on her own, though, rubbing her eyes as another knock sounded.
Owen cleared his throat and called out, “Yeah?”
“Oh! Owen?” came Amy’s voice.
“Go! Go!” Luke whispered, already shooing Ais out of the bed.
Owen staggered to his feet, scanning the bedside for his discarded clothes as Luke hurried Ais into the bathroom. “Give me a sec. Got a bit of a mess in here. We were working on a project late into the night.”
“Is Ais in there? The doctor’s here.”
“Yeah. Just give me a sec.” Owen hopped into his pants backwards in his hurry, fixed them, and then grabbed his shirt from the floor.
He nudged the dog, who was dancing around his feet, pleading for either breakfast or a piss, away from his boots and found his socks in the tangle of clothes on the floor.
Luke jogged out of the bathroom with his face washed, grabbed Ais’s dress from the bed, and returned to the lavatory.
Owen glanced at his reflection in the mirror near the bed, rubbed his eyes again, and shrugged before hastily making the bed. He tossed a couple of pillows on the floor, made a pair of hasty pallets that looked slept-on, and then headed to the door. He had his hand at the ready on the handle, waiting for Ais to emerge from the bathroom.
She came out on Luke’s arm, a bit pink-cheeked, but looking admirably put-together. Luke grabbed Owen’s tablet, plopped onto one of the pallets, and made himself look busy.
Owen cleared his throat once more and opened the door.
He didn’t say anything, and wouldn’t until a toothbrush met his mouth. He nodded at Amy and Dorro and gestured for them to enter.
“Jeez, what a mess.” Amy crossed the threshold, pausing to pick up the dog.
“Yeah,” Luke said. “Trust me, the place looked worse before we went to sleep.”
“What in the world were you doing?”
“Looking for parts. Owen thought we could make some modifications on the ship I borrowed.”