She wrapped her arm around Ellis’s waist and allowed him to lead her toward Deke’s table. A triumphant smile covered his face, and he licked his lips in anticipation. She knew he was already picturing her on her knees getting him off.
They were about three steps from the table when all hell broke loose. A crash sounded from the doorway. “DEA,” a man shouted. “Hands in the air.”
Predictably, people tried to bolt, and shots were fired. Ellis hit her hard, taking her to the floor and rolling them under a nearby table. When the pandemonium died down, Deke was dead, a bullet to the chest. Bull was bleeding heavily, Killer wasn’t looking much better, and Slim was in cuffs.
A man in a windbreaker with DEA on the back and arms motioned to them. “Get up.” He slapped cuffs on her, tightening them until she winced. Then he dragged her from the room.
She tried to look over her shoulder, to see what was happening with Ellis, but was outside before she could see.
There were several armored vans filled with club patrons. The agent holding her took her to an empty one and put her in the back. She sat there until she was about to go stir-crazy. She knew it was for her own protection, but that didn’t make the waiting any easier.
Where was Ellis? Would he hate her for what she’d done? Would he think she was a rat? Something not tolerated in any biker gang.
Finally, the door opened. Harry Riggs, a fellow agent climbed inside and released the cuffs.
“Made them a little tight,” she complained as she rubbed her wrists.
He smirked. “Had to make it look good.”
“Sorry I made you move early.”
“Why did you do that? Everything was running like clockwork. We would have taken more alive if it had been later and the place had been emptier.”
“Couldn’t risk it.” Let him think what he wanted, she wasn’t about to tell him about Ellis. She’d check on him when she got back to the office.
“Where is it?” he asked.
She reached into her pocket and handed him the memory stick. He bagged it and tucked it away. “Good job. I’m turning you over to the west coast contact.”
“He’s here?” She hadn’t expected to be moved so quickly. She had to see about Ellis.
“Yup. Showed up unannounced. And you’re going now. He’s rather insistent. Says he’ll take you from here.”
“I’ve got this,” a familiar voice said.
Harry backed off and nodded. “Make sure you get her statement.”
“First thing,” he assured Harry.
Then Ellis climbed into the back of the van, shut the door in Harry’s face, and proceeded to kiss her senseless. When he finally eased away, all she could do was stare.
“You’re DEA?” She wasn’t sure why that shocked her so deeply. After all, he’d always been ambitious and had an insider’s knowledge of how gangs worked.
“So are you.” He combed his fingers through her hair. “You scared the shit out of me, babe. I left you because I thought it was the right thing to do, but no more. From here on in, I’m going to be so tight on your ass you won’t be able to take a step without me. You get into too much trouble when I’m not around.”
She laughed. “Likewise.” Then she pulled him down and kissed him.
Out of This World
By Kimberly Dean
Megan sat in the conference room, her knee bouncing up and down beneath the table. Three days. The day was almost here. After all the years of hard work, she could hardly believe she was about to achieve a life-long goal. She stared at the famous logo on the wall. In three days, she’d be blasting off into space. She was going to the International Space Station for the next three months as an astronaut.
The flight director walked into the room, and she forced her leg to stop its nervous motion. Excitement or not, there was still work to do.
“Heads up, everyone,” the director said. “I have news that affects our mission.”
Chatter in the room stilled. They’d been prepping for this for months. In some cases, years. Any change at this point would be significant.
“I’m sorry to inform you that Flight Engineer Zylstra had an emergency appendectomy early this morning. He’s expected to make a full recovery but won’t be medically cleared in time for launch.”
Megan inhaled sharply, the ball of air forming a sharp pain in her throat. What? But…no. Zylstra was key for the experiments she was scheduled to run.
“Science Officer Ramirez will be replacing Zylstra. As you’re aware, she’s been training with all of you as a contingency for a situation such as this.”
Ramirez. Fully qualified, but female. That wouldn’t work… at least not in Megan’s case. Her brain started racing. This change wasn’t just significant for her; it was catastrophic for her study.
“Zylstra’s responsibilities should be fully covered for those experiments in which he was the designated lead, but we need to discuss any additional work he was expected to perform.”
Heat crept up from the knot in Megan’s throat until her entire face was suffused. After all this time, she shouldn’t be embarrassed. She’d submitted the proposal for the mission, and she was a doctor for heaven’s sake. But Zylstra’s performance was precisely what she’d needed—and everyone knew it. As medically significant as the study was, she knew that under their breaths, everyone was calling this the “Sex Mission.”
“Chung? What are the implications of this change?”
Attention swung her way like a two-ton mallet.
Implications? She’d just lost the male part of the male-female equation. Not that female-female wouldn’t work, but she was straight. Her vital statistics readings wouldn’t be correct during the tests and, surely, neither would her partner’s. Feeling the attention on her grow, she reined in her panic. “I can switch to Plan B protocols.”
The flight director rubbed the back of her neck. “Remind everyone what that means, please.”
Megan sat up straighter. While the subject matter might be uncomfortable, she was doing important work. Her study was key for long-term missions, such as the manned mission to Mars or the establishment of any space colonies. People couldn’t be expected to turn off their sex drive for eighteen months. Thirty-six, actually, including the trip back. They were going to have sex, whether they were allowed to or not. Missions had to be designed to account for that eventuality. “I’ll conduct the work independently.”
A payloads officer made a sound in the back of his throat.
“None of your other crewmates could…step in?” the flight director asked.
People shifted in their seats. Unwillingly, Megan’s gaze flicked up. It collided with Commander Bridges’ dark gaze, and the heat that had set up house-keeping in her cheeks flashed throughout her body. She pressed her thighs together to stop herself from squirming, too.
No. Just… No.
“I don’t think it would be wise to make that kind of a change this late in the game,” she said, her words raspy.
“All right, Plan B protocols will be established. Let’s move on. Akhil, wasn’t there an educational component Zylstra was going to perform for your fungi experiment?”
Megan’s heart was racing nearly as fast as her thoughts. It wasn’t as if she and Zylstra had been an item. They weren’t even dating. She’d asked him if he’d like to collaborate merely because of his expertise in astronautical hygiene. Astronauts operated in a confined microgravity space. Waste had to be handled properly, whatever it was. Everything down to dust particles could affect the health of the people onboard and the performance of equipment.
And he was kind of cute in a bookish sort of way…
With him, she could have kept her studies on track and under control. With Aaron “Flyboy” Bridges? Her knee began bouncing again. The guy was a jock—a Naval aviator on his third space mission. He was brilliant, but he had a cocky attitude to match. The guy had been a thorn in her side ever since she’d begun training, constantly challenging her, egging
her on beyond her limits.
Replace Zylstra with Bridges? Not viable. He was way beyond her type. Too masculine, with rope-like muscles and dark hair that always tended to be mussed. Not to mention those dangerous, teasing eyes.
No… Just no.
Megan looked around the storage module she’d commandeered for her project. It was stark and utilitarian but, most importantly, private. The station wasn’t that big, but this module was farthest away from most of the onboard activity. She floated weightlessly as she checked her equipment.
After that momentary blip in plans with Zylstra, everything had gone smoothly. They’d had a textbook launch and rendezvous with the ISS. The old crew members had gone, leaving her team behind. Everyone was adjusting to life in microgravity. All in all, things were going well.
Except for her research. So far, her results had been… subpar.
It was time to try again.
Blowing out a long breath, she slid her hand into her shorts and touched herself. The monitor measuring her pulse remained steady. She relaxed her thigh muscles and let them float open to give her more room to…play…
God, she was so bad at this. She hadn’t expected masturbation to be a skill she’d need, but now she was regretting her lack of preparation. Wriggling her finger between her dry folds, she searched for her clit. Her hips rolled when she found it. She was sensitive there. She prodded it again and let out a whimper of frustration.
“Hey, Chung.”
Her eyes flew open at the sound of a low voice nearby.
“I wanted to talk to you about— Oh.”
She ripped her hand out of her shorts and spun around.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d…ahem…started.” Bridges’ brow knitted as his gaze swept over her. “Had you started?”
Her face burned with heat. She was so bad at this that even a jock like him couldn’t tell when she was playing with herself.
“What are you doing here?” she snapped. “This module is off-limits while I’m conducting my experiments. You know that.”
He lifted his hands. “Whoa. It’s off limits when the hatch is closed.”
Her gaze flew to the module entryway, and her embarrassment deepened. She’d been so obsessed with the way her research was going, she’d missed the most important first step. She was supposed to close the hatch with a bungee cord when she was working.
“My apologies.” She smoothed back a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail. It almost immediately floated back into her range of vision. “What do you need, commander?”
“Actually, I’m here to talk to you about what you might need.” He shrugged. “I’ve been notified that things aren’t going well with your research.”
Megan froze. How? Who? Oh, damn. Mission Control must have contacted him. The invasion of privacy was mortifying, but physical and medical information was being carefully tracked for all the astronauts. The space agency had funded her trip, her training, and her equipment; they deserved better than what she’d given them.
“Conditions up here are different in ways I didn’t expect,” she said. “I’ll work harder.”
“Maybe you’re working too hard as it is.”
“Excuse me?”
He looked at all her electrodes and monitors before pushing off the side of the module and floating closer. “You need to relax.”
Megan pressed her lips together. With him around? “What would you suggest?”
It wasn’t like they had bubble baths or feather beds up here.
He pointed at the body-hugging black undershirt she wore. It was a high-tech wearable, outfitted with electrodes that monitored her respiration, temperature, pulse, and body moisture. “Get rid of this, for starters. Unless being all bound up in neoprene does it for you?”
She let that pass. “I can’t get rid of it. It collects all the data.”
“There won’t be any data if you can’t touch yourself—or if nobody else can touch you.”
Her gaze flew up to meet his even as, beneath the thick garment, her nipples tightened. “What are you saying?
“Mission Control sent up word, Chung. It’s time to drop Plan B.”
Drop it? But this was the reason why she was here. If they scrapped her research— Oh, wait. Plan B.
“My job as commander is to ensure the success of this mission,” he said. “All of it.”
Oh, no. No way. “You think my research is a joke. Something to laugh at.” It hurt more than just a little that he didn’t take her work seriously.
“I’ve never laughed.” The line of his jaw turned hard. “If there’s anyone who’s more interested in your project succeeding, I dare you to find them. I have plans to be on that manned Mars mission. The last thing I want is for my balls to shrivel up and fall off during the journey.”
The tips of Megan’s ears flared hot. But… But… Suddenly, she couldn’t think so well.
He moved closer until their bodies brushed. “I’m offering my services, Doc, so to speak…” His gaze dropped to her lips. “Let’s at least run an experiment to see if it’s an option.”
Heat radiated from him, and tension drew out within Megan as he dipped his head. When he slowly brushed his lips across hers, the monitors on the racks started beeping and lighting up.
Watching her closely, he pulled her against him. His kiss was deeper this time, more intimate. He prodded at the seam of her lips with his tongue, and Megan opened her mouth to let him in. Just as a test…
But, oh damn, the results were positive.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. He was as big and warm and solid as she’d fantasized. Only better.
The kiss kept going and going, months of hunger finally being fed. He cupped the back of her head as he turned them both around. She hadn’t realized they’d floated across the room until he bumped up against the convex wall of the module.
Because her brain had been floating too…
She braced her hands flat against his chest. The monitors around them beeped loud and fast.
“What do you think?” he asked.
She thought this was a dangerous idea, but what other option did she have? Plan B hadn’t been working, and Mission Control had called her on it. Worse, they’d contacted her commander. Her sexy, virile commander… She was stranded up here without many other males to choose from.
Like any guy on Earth would have stood a chance next to him.
“We’re attracted to one another,” he said, stating the obvious.
The pulse monitor bleeping in her ear dared her to lie. She had to get results. For her career. For the future of space exploration. “I’m the lead scientist on this,” she said, needing to establish her authority.
His eyebrows lifted. “So, I’ve got the job?”
Heat pooled in her belly. This was either the worst idea ever or the best. Maybe both. “There are research protocols,” she warned.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” he promised.
Oh, don’t tell me that.
“Mission Control…”
He caught her by the waist and reeled her back in. “I’ll deal with Mission Control. Just tell me where to start.”
His thumbs felt hot on her skin just under the constrictive undershirt, and suddenly, she wanted the stupid thing off, too. But her data…
He followed her gaze up to the readout of her blood pressure.
“Can’t you get what you need from these?” He lifted his wrist.
Of course! The fitness trackers they all wore. The data might not be as detailed, but she’d be able to collect his readings, too. She hadn’t brought the neoprene shirt she’d planned for Zylstra to wear.
Thank God.
Megan hesitated, but, for once, her brain and her body were in sync. If she was going to do this with him, she wanted to do it right. Sliding her feet under a foothold, she lifted her arms overhead. Not giving her a moment to change her mind, he pulled the high-cost garment over her head and let it go on a slow-motion flight.
>
Without anything to measure, the monitors in the module suddenly went silent. In the small space, their breaths became louder. The pulse in Megan’s ears rose to a dull roar when he took off his shirt, too, and her gaze locked helplessly on his chiseled chest.
“Not that it wasn’t a turn-on to hear what did it for you, but this is better,” he said in a low voice. “Much better.”
He cupped her naked breast, and her nipple went hard. It went to another level when he rolled the achy nub under his thumb.
“Bridges,” she gasped.
“It’s Aaron,” he said. “We might as well be on a first name basis.”
He gathered her in, and his mouth took the place of his hand. Megan arched as sensation speared through her. Her cry was sharp when he dragged his tongue across her nipple, and she vaguely remembered that the hatch was still open.
When he began to suck hard on her, she forgot why that mattered.
She cried out when he slid his hand into her panties.
“Relax,” he said.
Relax? Her pussy clamped onto his finger when he pushed it into her. And when his thumb found her clit? One flick, and she was wet. Pleasure rocked her body, and she bore down, riding his hand.
He pushed away the sensor-filled undershirt when it floated by and caught on her ponytail. “Please tell me you still brought the condoms,” he said hoarsely.
Their bodies were locked so tightly together, she could feel his chest rising and falling…see flecks of black in his brown eyes…
He groaned when she didn’t answer. “Damn, okay. I have some in my sleeping pod.”
“Condoms! Yes.” She pointed over his shoulder. “In my lab supplies box.”
He pushed them in that direction and caught onto a handhold to steady them as she searched for protection. She tore open the package but took the time to tuck away the trash and close the box. Feeling flushed and aroused, she turned inside the circle of his arms.
Stranded (Boys Behaving Badly Book 4) Page 21