Her answer didn’t tell him much. “The fever must have burned out the behavioral conditioning that controls your cognitive processor,” he said. “That’s how it was with us. Maybe not all of it, but from the looks of you, a lot.”
“Everything seems so clear,” she said in a wondering voice. “No pain. No noise. I don’t feel damaged.”
“You’re not. Your mind is working fine,” he reassured her, while thinking that this was a fucking weird conversation to be having with a stark naked woman.
“Good to know,” she murmured. “What’s burned out, then?”
“The inhibitors,” he said. “The panic reactions, phobias, blocks, trigger controls. If your stepdad’s ringtone sounded now, it wouldn’t get to you like it did.”
“So what caused the fever?”
Zade’s body went tense. He’d expected this question, but he sure as hell didn’t want to answer it. Had to, though. No more bullshit.
“I think I did,” he admitted. “By accident. I said something stupid.”
“Yeah? What?”
“No fucking way.” He shook his head. “I’m not repeating it, for any reason. You think I’d risk going through that again?”
“Just say it,” she said. “Let’s see if I’m still a slave. Let’s test this hypothesis. Because I truly do not give a fuck right now if it kills me or not.”
“I do,” he said. “Please, Simone. Don’t.”
She ignored his words and closed her eyes to concentrate. “Shhh. Don’t distract me. I’m trying to remember what you said just before I got sick.”
“Goddamnit. Don’t do this,” he begged. “It’s not fair.”
“That never stops anyone else, so why should it stop me? You said, ‘Once you start to fight, Obsidian won’t … ’ Oh! Yes. I felt it.”
“You did?” Like he hadn’t noticed her heart-rate spiking.
“Yes. When I said fight and Obsidian. Those two words gave me an electrical buzz. So that’s an aversion trigger?”
He nodded. “You okay?”
“I think so,” she said lightly. “Fight Obsidian, fight Obsidian, fight Obsidian! Rah rah rah. Nothing. It’s deactivated.”
“Could be,” he said. “That’s good.”
She’d moved on. “No inhibitors. Mmm. I like the sound of that. Freedom.”
“Yeah. So … what does that mean for us?” he asked hopefully.
“There is no us,” she said sternly. “You lied to me, used me, and fucked me over. I’m not excusing you for one second. You’re still in the doghouse.”
“Damn, sorry. Guess I got confused, what with you strutting around with no clothes on.”
“Deal with it.”
He whistled under his breath. “Don’t be cruel.” But he secretly liked her high-and-mighty attitude. Lots of hot, strong vital energy behind it.
“I will if I want to be. Do you go for that?” Her eyes flicked with curiosity to the bulge at his crotch. It strained painfully at the seams of his jeans.
“I’ll go for anything that involves you,” he told her.
They just stood there in the dim room, the fire crackling. The strangeness of the night had torn away all the veils between them. What remained felt naked and raw.
He didn’t exactly know how to handle that. Had to learn it on the fly.
“Just so you know,” he said. “If your Divine Highness is in the mood for sex, I don’t have condoms here.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t bring women up here. Ever.”
She waved her hand. “I have a contraceptive implant. And I don’t have any diseases. You?”
“Totally clean.”
“Good, then.” She took a step closer. “It’s a non-issue. Speaking of implants. Tell me more about mine.”
“I can only tell you the obvious stuff,” he said. “Like this scar, here.” He lifted the hair on her scalp above her ear. “They told you this was from the accident, right? But it’s not. This is your main processing unit. We all have this one.”
She pushed him down onto the couch, and put her foot up next to his knee on the cushion. “There’s a scar right here,” she said, stroking a silvery mark high on her upper thigh. “I assumed it was from the accident. Thoughts?”
“Ah … um … ” He didn’t have any, not with the pink lips of her pussy pouting out like a sexy tropical flower. He sniffed the hot scent of her arousal.
“Zade?” she murmured sweetly. “Hello?”
“Quit fucking with my head,” he growled.
“Nah. I don’t think I will.” A slow smile curved her mouth, which was now a hot, rosy pink. “You keep staring at my pussy like you want to lick it again.”
He broke out in a sweat, ASP surging, data flickering and scrolling wildly. “Of course I want that,” he said.
“You did it well,” she said. “So you get to do it again.”
“But … you’re pissed at me,” he said warily.
“Yes, very. So?”
“If I take advantage of your weird mood, you’ll hate me for it later.”
She thought about that. “I just might, Zade. But what’s worse? Fuck me and I hate you for it later … or refuse me and I kill you right now?”
He would have laughed, but his mouth was already busy.
* * * *
She gasped at his hot, hungry kissing against her mound. He caressed her with his hot breath, a tantalizing promise of pleasure to come, and then licked her pussy lips open with seductive slowness, lapping and nuzzling. Tongue thrusting, sliding, circling, and plunging with ravenous abandon. Finding her clit. Teasing it tenderly.
Her whole body hummed with that awakening to mindless pleasure. She could almost forget what had happened to her, with these erotic sensations filling her and obliterating all else.
She wound her fingers into his damp hair. Wave after warm, delicious, caressing wave pulsed through her.
She found herself curled up in his lap afterwards. Cradled in his arms with no idea how they had gotten down into that position. He was cross-legged on the floor, cuddling her, raw yearning in his dark eyes. He had no right to look at her like that. To reach inside and grab her heart. That was way too much power to give up to him.
She struggled until she was sitting up straight and clambered off his lap. “You’re all cold and clammy,” she told him.
“I know,” he said. “And you should get some rest anyway.”
She gave him an assessing look. “Rest? Rest is what you’re thinking about right now?”
His eyes widened. “Get real. You just had stim sickness. You almost died. You must be exhausted.”
“I’m not.” Their eyes locked. It was strange to feel so free. So fearless.
It looked like Zade was beginning to realize there was no use in arguing with her.
“Are you scared of me?” She tugged him toward her, but she couldn’t pull him off balance, as if his legs were steel pillars sunk in bedrock.
“Kinda,” he said cautiously.
As if. She knew better, but what the hell. She reached down to stroke the prominent erection that pressed against his sodden jeans. “Get your clothes off.”
He stripped off his sweatshirt. His complicated swirl of scars and tattoos told such a different story now that she saw the larger picture.
She reached for his belt and found herself locked in his hot embrace. He tilted her head back, cupping her head—
“No!” She jerked it away in a sudden panic, shoving him away.
“What? What the hell is wrong?”
“Don’t kiss me,” she blurted. “Just … don’t.”
He gazed at her, dismayed. “You don’t want me to be gentle?”
“I just want sex. That’s all. Not romantic bullshit,” she said. “So skip the dreamy lover boy act.”
“But that’s the crazy thing,” he said. “It’s not an act. It never was.”
“I still don’t want it. Don’t get sappy on me.”
He sighed a
nd lifted her hair away from her face. The gesture was tender, in defiance of her orders. “Pure gold,” he murmured. “You are so fucking beautiful. It wipes me out.”
They stared at each other. A long, tense silence.
He lifted both hands. “I don’t want to screw this up.”
“Too late. You screwed it up before we met. Salvage what you can.”
“You make this so hard,” he growled.
“How?” she demanded. “Why? It’s sex, not rocket sci—”
Her words were cut off by his furious kiss. His arms locked around her, but she twisted away. “I said don’t kiss me!” She slapped him. Hard.
He barely reacted, just rubbed his jaw. “Is that what you need?”
She took a step away. Back straight. Chin up. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Hit me again. Fight me. You can’t hurt me. I won’t let you. And I would never, ever hurt you. So you’re safe. Go crazy. If that helps.”
She was too angry to do anything but hit him again, but her hand hurt. “Safe, my ass,” she muttered.
He beckoned her forward. “Come on,” he urged. “Show me what you’ve got. I like this game.”
She shoved at him. “It isn’t a game!”
“Call it whatever you want.” He walked backwards slowly, toward the niche where the bed waited, effectively forcing her to follow him there. “But don’t think you can control me once we get going. You know how it is with us.”
His nonchalance infuriated her. This was going to be the last goddamn time she gave into temptation. And every single fucking second of it was going to be on her terms. “Shut up and get those jeans off,” she ordered him.
He laughed under his breath. Wrenched his belt open and shucked his jeans. They hit the floor with a thud, and his thick erection bobbed up, high and proud.
She stared at him, drinking him in with her eyes. His lean, powerful body, his gorgeous face, his big beautiful cock.
He reached for her, but she stepped quickly back. “No! I’ll do the touching,” she said. “You just stand there and be good.”
He gripped his hugely erect cock, stroking it. “One condition,” he said. “Don’t try to tie me. I don’t do that. I’ve had enough restraints to last ten lifetimes.”
“No restraints,” she assured him.
“Fine.” He waited. “Okay. You have exactly three seconds to tell me what you want me to do next. One. Two—”
“Lie down on the bed,” she said.
He jerked on his reddened cock, massaging pre-come over his cockhead until it shone with eagerness. Then he turned and strode over to the bed.
She followed behind, studying every detail of him. His ass was breathtaking.
The bed was a four-poster with a wrought iron headboard, all scrolls and loops. She was already thinking of how to use those as he lay down, slowly, stretching out on the white sheet and looking up at her. “Now?”
“Put your hands up behind your head. Grab the bedframe and don’t let go.”
He jerked up onto his elbows, frowning. “Why? I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”
“Just do it, Zade.”
Still, he hesitated.
“What?” she asked. “Does it go against your instincts? Does it make you feel exposed and vulnerable?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Do it anyway,” she said. “Price of admission. It’s not like I could actually fucking hurt you. I’m not that crazy.”
He reached up and clamped his fists around the wrought iron bar. His arms were a marvel of male anatomy. Those taut, defined shoulders flexing and bulging.
She climbed onto the bed and swung her leg over him, straddling his thighs. She splayed her hands over his chest, leaning over him.
“Don’t you dare let go,” she whispered.
Chapter 21
Sweet . . . torture.
Zade gasped and shuddered, his body bucking convulsively beneath her warm, silken weight. Those slow, teasing strokes drove him mad.
She started with just her hair. She poised herself over him, rocking on her hands and knees, soft tits dangling just out of reach, and swept the satiny mass of her hair over his chest, ribs, belly. Swirling it over his stiff cock, which jerked and bobbed at the feathery caress. Balls, thighs, all petted by the long velvety brushstrokes of her hair.
Finally she wiggled up and sat on him. The slick heat of her vulva was pressed right over the shaft of his cock. She undulated there, head thrown back, rocking so that she brushed the length of his rod with the wet kiss of her pussy lips. Her hair tumbled over his throat, his mouth as she stroked … until he could scream.
“Sit on my face,” he pleaded. “Let me lick you again.”
“No. When I want that, I’ll ask for it. Shhh.”
He clenched his jaw. He shook with the urge to seize her and get the fuck on with it.
Not yet. He had to earn that, slowly, carefully. Patiently.
He squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to hyperventilate. His ASP freaked, flickering and scrolling, throwing up random calculations about her electrostatic field and temperature, but who gave a fuck about the data while she was painting him with pussy juice. Her pulsing, seductive strokes left a glowing streak of heat down the length of his dick with every swaying undulation.
He was going to explode. No. No. He had to stay in control of the raw lust she unleashed in him. But it was just … so … hard.
Breathe. Just … breathe. Heart … slower. Everything … slower.
Bit by bit, he synched with her, his body aching with hunger. Giving in to the erotic pleasure of holding back and allowing her to take control. He shuddered with each new wave of arousal. Always on the brink of coming explosively.
Her gaze no longer had that calculating gleam. Their eyes were locked as if by an unbreakable physical force. She was inside his head. She had him by the balls, by the heart.
And she reveled in her power.
She shimmied up his body and dangled her perfect tits in front of his mouth.
“Suck on me,” she whispered.
He was eager to obey, pulling her taut nipple hungrily into his mouth.
Pleasure jolted her body and ricocheted through his own. He wallowed in it. His data scroll was a white, frantic jittering stripe on his inner vision. His ASP processor was flooded with sensory info. The heat of her skin, the intoxicating smell of her arousal mixed with the trace of girl soap and perfume that still clung to her even after being dunked in a bathtub of ice water.
She was so soft, so hot. Those long legs, those erect nipples, puckered and tight against his tongue. Smooth, flawless skin, flushed pink, reacting to the stimulating rasp of his beard stubble. She melted, whimpering in response to his every lick, pull, and nip. He could literally see it, projected onto some screen inside his consciousness, her energy brightening toward the wild climax that was building.
But she pulled away just before it exploded, her breast now out of his reach. Damn. He missed it. Wanted it.
“What the fuck?” he asked. “You were almost there. Why stop?”
“No,” she said.
“Please. It was so sweet. I almost made you come just by sucking your tits. Give it to me again. So fucking hot.”
“No.” She braced her hands against his chest, nails digging. Kitten claws.
He stared at her, panting. That frantic ASP scroll was driving him over the edge.
“Let me use my hands and touch your clit,” he pleaded. “Let me make you come again.”
“No,” she said again, but her voice shook.
Damn. He breathed until he could see the actual data in the frenetic flickering blur and interpret it with his conscious mind.
A flash of insight pierced the fog of arousal. “You’re scared,” he said.
She bristled. “Hell no. Not anymore.”
Zade sighed. “So what’s the game? You’re a bitch goddess who doesn’t care? You can’t be hurt?”
“No,” s
he said coolly. “I have nothing left to lose. Totally different thing.”
“Maybe so. Just tell me what you want me to do now.”
Her eyes burned. She poked him in the chest, hard. “Man up. That’s what.”
“You’re on.” He wanted nothing more than to throw her down and go at her like a maniac. But he waited. Listened.
“Watch this,” she whispered. She rose up onto her knees, eyes locked on his again, and slid her fingertips down, parting her pussy, opening it to show him every detail of her inner lips, flushed and glowing with intense arousal. Stimulating her clit with playful feminine gentleness. Doing what she did when she was alone.
Not touching him at all. Which was driving him fucking insane.
“Keep going,” he growled.
Her other hand slid inside herself. She closed her eyes, flung her head back and touched herself, slowly, wantonly. Driving him nuts on purpose.
He was riveted. She slid her hand out of herself, fingers gleaming.
“Give me a taste,” he begged.
She considered it, and conceded, holding her fingers up to his mouth.
“Suck on them,” she whispered. “That’s all you get. For now.”
Yes, yes, yes. Whatever. Anything. He drew her fingers into his mouth.
She bit her lip, trembling while he sucked and kept on suckling, just because having her fingers in his mouth made him crazy-hot. But she pulled her hand away.
“More,” he begged finally. “Again. Please.”
She dragged her fingernails over his chest, swirling them around his scars and tattoos. “You’re getting greedy,” she said. “That was more than a taste. My turn.”
She wiggled back until she was poised on his thighs, then gripped his stiff cock, pointing it to the ceiling. A long, twisting pull had him arching right up off the bed with a gasp.
“Hands!” she said sharply.
“Oh God,” he muttered, sagging back down. “You’re killing me.” He reached back, gripped that cold iron bar again, white-knuckled.
And then she did it again, stroking his cock, teasing it mercilessly with her wet pink tongue, squeezing it between her warm, soft lips. She opened her mouth and raised her head, admiring the pulsing veins, the shining fluid gleaming on the tip, then licked his cockhead with a murmur of approval. “Mmm. Salty.”
My Next Breath Page 19