by Cara Bristol
She pushed at his chest to free herself.
“Stay here.” He tightened his embrace, and she needed no more encouragement to wind her arms around his waist and press her face into his neck. To be where she’d longed to be.
She’d never hated him. She’d loved him from the deep churning well of her adolescent heart and had done everything she could to catch his attention, to force him to see her as something other than his protectee. But he never had. Hurt and rejected, she’d struck out in anger. Driven him away. Almost ruined his life.
Older and more mature now, she was still his protectee, his responsibility, his burden.
So why kiss me?
Was he acting like he liked her as part of his cover as her husband? Or did he think she would cause trouble if he didn’t show her a little attention? It wasn’t unheard of for bodyguards and their charges to become sexually involved. The nature of the business forced closeness, intimacy. Brock was a virile, sexual being. Now that she was an adult—
Brock cupped her chin and raised her face. In the pitch blackness, she couldn’t see, but she sensed his gaze. Moments later, his mouth covered hers.
BROCK HATED TO see Pia so upset. Circumstances had forced him to undermine her confidence, make her doubt herself, question her senses. He kissed her to comfort her, to quell his guilt, but, once his lips touched hers, he recognized his reasons for the lies they were.
He needed her. She filled the void, allowed him to pretend he was a whole man and not part machine, an artificially enhanced grunt, one level above a baggage droid. To feel her against him, to know that a woman wanted him, that this woman desired him, allowed him to forget what he was and to dream of what might be. He stroked her mouth with his tongue. She filled his senses, warmed his blood, invaded his head, his marrow, his cells. Temperature spiked; his computer brain signaled his nanocytes to cool his reaction, but he countermanded the directive, ordered his microcomputer into sleep mode so the man could awaken.
Pia moaned, a sexy sound that shot straight to his cock. He pulled her closer, and she wound her arms around his neck. Pillowy soft breasts pressed against the hard wall of his chest.
Take it slow. Don’t rush it.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, letting silken strands flow over his hand. As soft as her hair was, it wasn’t as smooth as her skin, the perfect line of her jaw, her throat, her delicate collarbone. The trail led to her breasts, and it was perfectly natural to cup one generous mound. Her nipple hardened against his palm.
Pia nibbled his lower lip, sending electrical currents up his spine. He hadn’t touched a human woman in this way since before his transformation. And this wasn’t any woman, but Pia. Former teenage termagant, bane of his existence, maddening, stubborn, persistent, indomitable, beautiful, sexy Pia. The ambassador. His protectee.
And he was a cyborg, not lover material, not a man who could be there for her long-term. It wasn’t right to mislead her, to use her to soothe his loneliness, to try to ease an ache that never subsided. What he would take from her could not be given back.
Brock released her breast and wrenched his mouth away from her lips. Unhooked her arms from around his neck. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He dragged air into his lungs.
“I think it’s a great idea.”
She walked her fingers up his chest to trace his jaw, lighting fires along the way. Her self-confidence had rebounded. Good for her; bad for him.
He went rigid, steeled himself to her touch. “There are things you don’t know about me.” He could admit that much.
“There are things you don’t know about me.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m not easily deterred.”
Despite his emotional upheaval, he laughed. “Pia, that was the first thing I learned about you.”
“Then you know resistance is futile.” She kissed him, and his willpower collapsed. Repercussions and recriminations could hold until morning. He took control of the kiss, plundering as if a siege could calm his torment.
Her neck beckoned, and he nipped and nuzzled her soft skin then pushed aside her collar to get at her shoulders. He pulled it off and then dispensed with her tunic, and, for the first time since they’d initiated this crazy, ill-fated venture, was thankful for his cyborg enhancements.
He could see her, the iridescence of her skin, full, hard-tipped breasts, eyes sultry with desire. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
Her lips quirked. “How do you know? It’s dark.”
“I just do.”
The tangle of limbs and smaller branches formed a natural cradle. He tore off several large fronds and laid them out then spread his ruined shirt over the leaves.
“What are you doing?”
“Making us a bed.”
“Use my tunic, too, and the blanket in my bag.”
Brock’s gaze never shifted from Pia as they finished undressing. He drank in her small waist, her curvy hips, her shapely thighs, the vee of her mound. He shucked out of his pants and then laid their clothing over the branches for extra padding and covered it with the blanket.
He drew her into the cradle of the boughs, and they stretched out nose to nose, limb to limb, chest to breasts.
Brock sucked on a berry-tipped nipple, rolling the bud in his mouth, his tongue recording the pebbled texture, the salty-sweet taste. Pia closed her hand around his shaft and swirled her thumb over the head. White heat rocketed through his body, lighting a fire hotter than the flames that had erupted from the shuttle explosion.
He sucked in a shuddering breath and ran his hand over her abdomen to cup her mound, curling his fingers between her legs to find her folds slick with dew. He dipped into her pussy, scooping out more of her wetness, and then brought his fingers to his lips.
Her scent filled his head, her taste imprinted on his brain. He scooted down her body.
“Careful, don’t fall,” she said.
Too late. He’d fallen the moment she’d disembarked the shuttle from Terra.
His calves and feet hung out in open air. After pressing her knees to her chest, he began with tiny licks, whetting his appetite, teasing them both. But the merest sample exploded in his mouth like the finest Aurealian ambrosia. With his fingers, he opened her to his mouth, swept his tongue over her clit. She clutched his hair.
He eased a finger into her channel, groaned at the snugness, how her muscles gripped him. Brock added a second digit and fucked her slowly while licking her clit. Pia arched and dug her fingernails into his scalp.
Her cry split the night as she came, her hips thrusting against his face. He didn’t stop then, not even when she tried to push him away, but continued to lick and suck, bringing her to the edge of orgasm a second time. Then, he guided his cock to her entrance. Rubbed the head in her wetness. Tested. Prepared. Go slow. He gritted his teeth.
She locked her heels around his buttocks. “Hurry,” she gasped.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” She was so tight. When she’d grasped his erection, had his size registered with her? With androids, it didn’t matter. They were built to take anything.
“You won’t. Fuck me already!” She thumped her heels against his buttocks.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. Gathering his self-control into a tight grip, he eased into her. Slick muscled walls closed around him. Hot need burned through his blood. He groaned.
She rocked her hips and squeezed, tightening more around his cock.
Brock shuddered. “Penelope,” he gritted out.
She raised her head and licked his nipple, sucked on it. A torrent of sensation shot from his chest to his groin, and he lost it. His hips drove forward hard. Pulled back. Plunged deep. Again. Again. Liquid fire consumed him.
Hadn’t he feared it would be like this with her? Exquisite. Devastating.
Pia’s neck arched. He fastened his mouth on her throat, tasting and nipping, trying not to mark her. She moaned. He shifted his pelvis to catch her clit on the forward thrust.
Like the machine he was, his body pistoned into hers. A streamlined, driving force.
Pressure and tension built in his balls, his cock, his chest, his heart and soul.
Pia gasped, mouth wide open, eyes squeezed shut in climax. Her pussy rippled and clenched around him, wresting the control from his grasp. His body answered only to her. Not to his mind, not to his computer brain. Not to his nanocytes, but to her. He came, his cum like lava fire erupting from a deep well. As he emptied himself, the edges of the void closed in, and the ache receded.
Perspiration stung his eyes. His body threatened to collapse, but he shifted and fell beside her so he wouldn’t crush her against the hard, rough branches, inadequately padded by leaves, clothing, and the blanket. Chest heaving, he flung a forearm over his eyes and hand, laced the fingers of his other hand through hers, clinging to the pretense he could have what normal men took for granted. That he could have her.
“You called me Penelope,” she said.
He had no recollection of anything he might have uttered. “That’s your name.”
“I’m surprised you know my name.” Her voice shimmered with amusement. “You always call me Pia.”
She’d gone from being a pain in the ass to an ache in his chest. His life would have been a lot simpler if she’d remained the former. He’d been stupid to kiss her, to start something that led only to a dead end. And sleeping with her?
Fuck.
All it had done was taunt him with what he could never have: a life with her. There could be no waking up next to her each morning or coming home to her every night.
The dream would evaporate as soon as he confessed he was a cyborg. If he didn’t tell her, she’d figure it out soon enough on her own. Hell, maybe as soon as morning, when she got a look at his back.
“Brock?”
“Hm?”
“I’m so sorry for the accusations, for ruining your life.”
“You didn’t ruin my life.” Altered the course quite a bit, and, for that, he had held a grudge for a while, but after seeing the woman she’d become, the past had ceased to matter. “Don’t worry about it. It’s over.”
He removed his hand from his eyes and turned his head. “I don’t suppose in your dash to collect supplies like rocks,” he forced a joke, “you happened to grab a change of clothes for me?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. There’s a shirt and a pair of pants in the bag.” She grinned. “But you’ve been demoted to flight steward.”
“Figures.” He sat up, dug out the uniform, and donned it to cover his good-as-new back. Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully.
“Why are you getting dressed?”
“Precaution,” he lied. “Given the exigent events of the past twenty-four hours, I figured it’s best to be dressed.”
“You’re right. Good idea.” She sat up to unearth her clothing from beneath the thermal blanket. He watched, recording to memory every last glimpse of her nakedness.
Settling in the cradle of the boughs, he ordered his microcomputer to reawaken, placed his senses on full alert, and energized his nanocytes in hopes the combined effect would erect a barrier between him and temptation. Pia scooted against him and rested her head on his shoulder.
Heat overpowered his nanos. Tell her you need to stand guard below. But he slipped his arm around her shoulders. He threaded his fingers in her hair. Despair and peace entwined.
“Go to sleep,” he said, anticipating a wide-awake night for himself. “I foresee a…long day tomorrow.”
She sighed and cuddled closer, pressing her palm against his thumping heart. He listened to her breathe as she slipped into slumber. Surprisingly, he followed her into sleep soon thereafter.
* * * *
Penelope blinked. Night or morning, she couldn’t tell which because it was still dark, but she awakened to full consciousness and awareness: the attempts on her life, the crash landing, making love with Brock. In sleep, he held her, his heart drumming a soothing rhythm. The impossible had occurred. He’d desired her, and he’d forgiven her for what she’d done to him. If anything positive had come out of crashing on the planet and being stranded, it was that.
She’d waited so long, she’d abandoned hope that he would show her any personal attention. Deluded herself into believing her love had died.
Never give up.
Her body ached from a night sleeping on the boughs, but she felt light and carefree. His absolution had allowed her to forgive herself.
Lesson learned: life followed its own course. She’d experienced many twists and turns over the years: adolescent infatuation, attraction, anger and jealousy, bitter remorse and recrimination, unrequited love. She’d entered into public service, in part, to right a wrong she’d committed against one man. To make the universe better for all because she couldn’t undo transgressions against the one.
The air had grown cool, but Brock’s body radiated enough heat to warm them both, as if he’d cranked up his internal thermostat. She marveled at his muscle definition. He’d always been built, but the years had added bulk and hardness. She smoothed her hand over his washboard abs and lower. Definite hardness. An impressive woody. How could she resist such temptation? She pressed her palm against him. Solid.
One by one, she undid the fasteners of his trousers. His erection sprang out, and Penelope drew a line along its considerable length. She closed her fingers around his girth.
A vise clamped around her wrist. “What are you doing?”
“Exploring the terrain,” she said. His hard-on pulsed in her hand.
“Penelope…” His voice sounded strangled. He tightened his grip on her wrist but didn’t pull her away. She scooted downward, wincing as a branch poked her through the thin thermal blanket, but focused on her goal. She bent over him and lowered her head until her breath caressed his cock. With the tip of her tongue, she teased the weeping crown of his manhood, before swirling around the glans.
“This is not a good idea,” he groaned, but released her wrist to grab a handful of her hair.
Victory. She smiled and then closed her mouth around his erection. When he nudged her throat, she pulled back slowly, dragging her lips along his shaft. Plunged forward then withdrew again, savoring the salty muskiness of his taste and scent. All man. Total man.
The vibrations of his rumbled groans traveled clear down to her clit.
She teased him, kissing the length until she reached his balls, drawn tight to his body. She flicked her tongue over his wrinkled sac. He jerked. “You’re killing me.”
But what a way to go. She loved having him at her mercy. She worked her way to his cockhead, engulfed it again, and went to work, sucking hard.
He seized control then, grabbing her head between his large palms and fucking her mouth like there was no tomorrow. She shielded her teeth, but he pistoned so fast, twice she scraped him. She winced, but he didn’t.
With a groan that sounded torn from his belly, he came, pumping a stream of cum down her throat. She clamped her mouth tighter around his girth and waited for his shudders to stop. When he relaxed, and his cock ceased pulsing, she withdrew, swiping her tongue across the head to catch the pearly remnants.
She tucked him into his pants then curled up next to him. He stretched an arm under her shoulders. His heart banged against her ribs.
“It will be daylight soon,” he said.
“You think?” She couldn’t tell.
“Yes,” he said. “When it gets light, I’ll climb one of these trees and scout for clearings and for water.”
“I still have water left.” They’d been careful to ration their sips.
“We might need more than that.” Meaning they could be stranded for a while. “Later in the day, I’ll construct a shelter,” he said.
“We’ll be here that long?”
“We could be. We don’t want to be caught in the open if a weather system rolls in.”
The prospect might have terrified her once, but, so far, the planet h
adn’t been that bad, and when would she get another opportunity to spend this kind of time with Brock?
“Good idea,” she said. She stared into the blackness. “I imagine if not for the trees, we’d be able to see the stars.” The way it used to be on Terra, eons ago. Her home planet had cleaned up its air, land, and oceans, but the light pollution had worsened, blanking out the stars. Night didn’t exist anymore. Only dusk.
Nor could one find darkness indoors. Lights from computers, devices, monitoring screens kept buildings illuminated all the time. Nearly everyone wore a sleep mask.
“For sure,” he said.
“I hope I get a chance to see them before we leave this planet.” She’d seen the stars through the shuttle and space-port viewing windows, but it wasn’t the same as observing them from the ground.
“You can look now. We can see them from the gouge.”
“Climbing down in pitch blackness might be dicey,” she said.
“I can guide you.” He paused. “I have better than average night vision.”
“What about, um, predators?”
“I didn’t hear a single bird, animal, or insect all night long. I don’t think there’s any animal life on this planet, only vegetation.”
“So, if we have to spend another night, it won’t have to be in a tree.”
“We’ll know for sure by the end of the day after we’ve seen more of the planet.”
“Show me the stars then.”
He started down first then she descended into the cradle of his body, his form protecting her. He took her hand when they touched solid ground. “This way,” he said.
She’d already lost her sense of direction and had no idea which way to turn. She trusted that he knew, even as it amazed her that he did.
“You must be part cat or something,” she joked as she shuffled atop the thick leaf bed. “Able to see in the dark like this.”
He didn’t reply, and then they emerged from the woods onto the rocky gully.
“I still smell smoke,” she noted. “No flames, though.” In this kind of darkness, the fire would be visible.