Stolen

by Presley Hall

  And that we don’t die before that happens.

  That idea, the thought that we might only have so much time left together, sends a rush of urgency through me. I roll onto my back, pulling her atop me, and she gasps softly, her eyes lighting up and sparkling as she lightly rests her hands on my chest and looks down at me.

  “Already?” She lifts her eyebrows, wiggling her hips gently against me so that the softness between her legs brushes against my cock. I’m half-hard just from cuddling against her naked body, that sort of pleasant arousal devoid of desperation or aching need, from just the pleasure of touching another being.

  I don’t say anything, only rock my hips upward so she can feel the pressure of my swelling length against her. She grins, grinding herself against me, her smile broadening when I gasp from the sensation of her core, slick with arousal, rubbing against me.

  “I heard you in the shower.” Her voice is low, and she runs her tongue over her lower lip as she gazes down at me. “I heard you come, and then you were hard as soon as you walked out. Do you really recover that quickly?”

  “Only for my mate,” I tell her, grasping her hips to pull her down more tightly against me. The tip of my cock rubs against her clit as she shifts, and she gasps, her eyes momentarily fluttering closed as she repeats the motion. “You were listening to me, hmm?”

  “Yes,” she whispers, her eyes still closed as she begins to rock her hips, her teeth set into her lip as she rubs her clit over the slick tip of my cock again and again, and I can feel the tensing in her thighs. I watch her with amazement, realizing that I’m going to bring her to orgasm this way.

  My cock is hard as steel now, solid between her legs, and it would be simple to lift her up and thrust into her. The pleasant arousal has turned back into a needy ache, my body pulsing with the desire to feel her envelop me, but I want to see her come first.

  The possibilities of ways to bring her pleasure suddenly seem endless, and I want to explore them all.

  “Did you like it?” I murmur, gently moving my hips in tandem with her rhythmic rocking against me. The sensation of my cock slipping back and forth between her legs is torturous, pleasurable enough to make me as hard as I’ve ever been in my life, throbbing between her thighs as she grinds herself down on me, but not enough to come. It’s the sweetest torture I’ve ever experienced, her clit rubbing over the sensitive tip with each thrust of her hips, and I swallow hard.

  “Yes,” she whispers again, her voice ragged. “Oh, fuck, yes…”

  “Did you touch yourself, listening to me?” My voice is hoarse now too, and I reach down between her thighs, holding her open so that I can see her as she moves faster, now desperately rubbing herself against me in the quest for her release. The sight of her using me to chase her pleasure like this is one of the most arousing things I’ve ever seen, enough to make me breathless with need.

  “No,” she pants, her fingers digging into the muscles of my chest as her hips move erratically.

  “Did you want to?” My voice is a low growl. “Be honest, or I’ll stop.”

  “Oh god, don’t stop,” she begs. “Yes! I wanted to. I wanted to…”

  “You wanted to make yourself come while you listened to me pleasure myself? What were you thinking about?”

  “I was thinking of you… fucking me… oh my god!”

  She almost screams the last word, her back arching suddenly, her head falling back as her body convulses against me, her soft, wet sex grinding down on my suddenly throbbing cock as she rocks madly against me, the orgasm crashing over her.

  I’ve never seen anything so incredible in my life. This gorgeous woman is shuddering atop me as she comes, pleasure overtaking her, just from my cock. With a growl, I grasp her waist as she slowly stops moving, intending to flip her onto her back and thrust myself into her, but she shakes her head.

  I stare at her for a second, uncomprehending.

  Is something wrong? Have I hurt her somehow?

  My fingers loosen their hold on her waist, but before true panic can set in, she leans forward to kiss me. Her lips are hungry and soft, and when she pulls back, her eyes sparkle mischievously. I can feel her fluttering softly against me, the aftershocks of her orgasm still making her twitch and shudder. Her lips curve up in a smile, and then she begins to make her way down my body.

  I groan as I realize what she’s planning, heat flooding my veins.

  I’ve had exactly one woman do this to me in my life, an escort I paid at a spaceport, and she did it with only as much enthusiasm as I had money—which wasn’t a great deal. Harper, on the other hand, is looking at me with a smile on her face as she kisses my chest, her tongue dragging over my nipple and making me shiver, and her mouth moves down my stomach, over the rippling expanse of my abdomen, until she reaches my cock.

  I’m trembling by the time she touches my hard length. She wraps her hand around my shaft, her thumb brushing over the slick, swollen tip, and I moan helplessly, desperate for more—for what I know she’s about to do.

  “You said you wanted my mouth,” she murmurs, her lips so close to my cock that I can feel her warm breath against it. “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes,” I plead, my hips jerking upward of their own accord to thrust into her hand, the tip brushing against her lips. My hands fist in the covers. “Gods, yes, I want it.”

  “Good.” Her smile is sultry and satisfied. Then, as I watch in rapt fascination, her tongue flicks out to circle my oversensitive tip. She licks her lips and smiles at me. “I like how you taste,” she whispers.

  “I feel the same way. I’ve never tasted anything better than you,” I groan. Then I forget how to speak, because her lips slide over my cock, engulfing me inch by inch as she draws me into her mouth. Her hand slides downward as she takes as much of my cock as she can. I feel the sensitive head hit the back of her throat until she chokes a little, the muscles squeezing me momentarily as she twists her hand.

  I see stars.

  This is what it’s supposed to feel like?

  I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t do anything except lie here, my body writhing helplessly under her touch as she slides up and down, her hand twisting around my shaft as her lips press tightly around me, her tongue swirling around the tip and licking all the way down, all of it working in tandem to drive me mad with pleasure.

  And then her free hand slides between my legs, gently cupping my balls, her fingers stroking as she moves faster, and I have a split second to decide if I want to come in her mouth or inside of her.

  I want to claim her again, to mate with her—but I can’t tell her to stop.

  It’s too good, the need to come is too great, and I’m on the verge of what feels like an earth-shattering orgasm. I suddenly, desperately want to know what it feels like to come from this, and I throw my head back as I feel her take me all the way down into her throat again, her lips and hand and tongue moving faster. Fighting against the blinding pleasure that makes my eyelids droop, I look down again.

  Krax, she’s beautiful. It’s almost more than I can bear. The sight of this breathtaking woman sucking my cock sends me hurtling toward the edge.

  And then it hits me. Wave upon wave of pleasure cascades through me as my legs spread, and I fight the urge to thrust up into her mouth as she keeps going. I expect her to stop, to pull away, but she doesn’t. She keeps going as I come in waves, one hand on my hip to steady herself as her lips tighten around me, and I feel her swallow convulsively.

  She’s taking my seed. Drinking it up.

  That realization is enough to send one more hard shudder of pleasure through me, my cock throbbing in her mouth.

  She comes up for air, her lips red from the effort, and smiles at me as she strokes my thigh softly.

  “Was that good?” she asks, her voice husky.

  Good?

  I blink down at her, unsure of exactly what phrasing to use to convey to her just how “good” it felt. That word doesn’t seem even close to adequate

.

  And then, just as I think of something to say, the entire room is plunged into darkness.

  14

  Harper

  Malav’s exhausted, drained, satisfied face is the last thing I see before the lights go off, and we begin to float in mid-air again. Only this time my reaction isn’t fear, but hope. This is just the same as what happened right after the ship took off from Wauru. If Malav’s guess about the AI is right, that means it’s glitching, or resetting, again. And that means we have a chance.

  It’s a small one, but I’ll take any sliver of hope I can get. Especially now.

  “Malav?” I whisper, blinking into the darkness.

  “I’m here.” His voice is low and quiet, and I feel his hand brush against mine. This time I take it, linking my fingers with his as we wait for the lights to come back on.

  When they do, it’s a relief to fall back onto the soft bed instead of the hard floor of the ship. We both sit up quickly, and I look toward the ceiling.

  “Excuse me,” I call out hesitantly. It feels weird to speak to the air and hope that it will answer back. “Where is our destination?”

  There’s a pause, complete silence, and then I hear a new voice. This one is male, just like the last one—and it’s angry.

  “Intruder detected!” The strident voice blares through the ship. “Intruder detected!”

  Malav looks at me, our eyes going wide at the same time.

  “Initiating trespasser protocol!”

  “Oh, krax,” Malav spits out. “Get dressed, Harper! Hurry!”

  I hear the click of the door unlocking as I leap off of the bed and grab my clothes, cursing the convoluted top I picked as I wind it around myself and tie the knot with shaking fingers. Malav has less to do—he ties on his loincloth in record time, and I can’t help but glare at him as he snatches up a pack of supplies he gathered during our standoff and throws it over his shoulder.

  “Let’s go!” He jerks his chin sharply, and we both make a break for the door, my heart pounding every step of the way. I’m afraid that it will lock again before we can make it out, but we both manage to slip through, tumbling into the corridor—

  Only to narrowly miss a laser beam that shoots past us.

  “Intruders detected,” the AI drones out again, the voice louder now. “Initiating attack sequence.”

  Malav curses loudly, and the AI doesn’t scold him for it the way the last one did. This one doesn’t seem concerned with regulating foul language.

  It’s only interested in killing us.

  A loud whirring noise to my left draws my attention, and I turn my head sharply to see a small robot with spinning wheels dart toward us, lasers erupting from its chest.

  Malav leaps in front of me, deflecting the beams with his short sword. He glances over at me, his green eyes darkening until they’re nearly black. “Run!” he shouts. “I’ll be right behind you!”

  “I’m not leaving you!” I tell him sharply, although it doesn’t seem to matter much, considering how little help I am. I back down the hallway, glancing around nervously for more laser fire, and see a locker toward the end of the hall.

  As Malav advances on the robot, I rush down toward it, praying it will be unlocked. It opens easily, to my relief—the one thing on this ship that has gone right—and I snatch a blaster out of it.

  I don’t have the slightest freaking idea how to use this. I’ve never shot a gun, and I’ve definitely never shot a space gun.

  I’ve never even seen Star Wars.

  But there are two more robots coming down the corridor as Malav backs away, red lights flashing as the AI repeats his angry alert about intruders and protocol. What appear to be some form of blasters extrude from the robots’ torsos, and I take a deep breath.

  Then I point the blaster and fire.

  One of the robots explodes. The other freezes for a moment, and then small red beams fly toward me, just as I squeeze the trigger again and dart to the side. The beams barely miss me, but the robot explodes like his companion did.

  Malav looks at me with astonishment. “How did you…?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “Let’s go!”

  We run down the corridor, through the airlock. Malav stops the minute we’re inside of it, grabbing an iron bar and shoving it into the opening to hold it that way, so that it won’t close behind us. We do that with every one that we go through, finding something to prop it open. In each corridor, new robots spring out to attack us.

  As impressed as Malav was that I could shoot, I’m more impressed to see him fight them off with a sword and knife. Nevertheless, at the next weapons locker we find, I yank it open and throw him a blaster, tossing my used one aside and getting a new one. I don’t know if these things run out of juice or have a limited number of shots in them like a handgun would, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

  “That’ll work better,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. “This isn’t gladiator fighting,” I point out breathlessly as we escape into the next corridor.

  “Really?” He somehow manages to give me a deadpan look while sprinting down the corridor. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  It’s clear that he wants me to get behind him and let him lead the charge, but I insist on fighting right beside him, only ducking behind him when we go through an airlock. I see grudging admiration on his face, warring with his instinct to protect, and for the first time since this debacle began, I feel a sense of camaraderie with him. Of teamwork.

  We’re not on opposite sides of this anymore.

  We’re in it together.

  When we step into the next corridor, pausing briefly to catch our breath, the hallway grows silent for a moment. Hope flares in my chest.

  Have we run out of enemies to shoot?

  But then I look behind us and see more of the small robots advancing fast.

  I swivel my head to look in front of us and catch sight of two long weapons extending down from the ceiling—some kind of guns. Guns that look as if they could turn us into goo.

  Shit! I cast around desperately, but there are no doors, nowhere to go. My gaze darts upward again, and I see something that looks like a duct above me. It might just be more of those guns… but we have to try something, or we’ll be dead in seconds.

  I’m not going out like this. Not now.

  “Boost me up!” I yell to Malav, and he looks at me in confusion for a moment before following my gaze. His face lights up with understanding, and he reaches down, lifting me up to the ceiling. I scrabble with the grate, yanking it loose so that he can push me up through the hole.

  It is a duct system. But I realize as I crawl into it that there’s no way I can lift Malav up here.

  I’m about to jump back down when I hear him grunt loudly, and a second later his hands are on the edge. The muscles of his forearms and biceps bunch and tighten as he pulls himself up into the duct. I stare at him in amazement, unsure if his massive body is going to fit, but it does.

  “Good to see those muscles aren’t just for show,” I murmur as I begin to crawl down the duct with him behind me.

  “Once we get out of here, I’ll show you what they’re good for,” he says flatly, speeding up until he’s right behind me.

  “Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I snort, looking this way and that to try to figure out where we should follow the ducts.

  “What?” Malav comes up closer, his voice echoing through the duct.

  “It’s just something we say on Earth. A figure of speech.” I frown. “It’s darker that way. Maybe it’s a part of the ship where we might be able to hide?”

  “It’s worth a try.”

  We make our way as quickly as we can, quiet now so as not to alert the AI. When we reach the darker part of the ducts, we follow it until we find a different grate, and Malav yanks it free, pulling it up into the ductwork so that he can look down.

  “The ship is dark down here,” he says. “I don’t see any sensor lights either.���

  “That sounds like our best bet.”

  He drops down almost noiselessly, incredible for a man of his size, and he reaches up to help me down as well. We look around quickly, and I notice what looks like a small closet toward the end of the corridor.

  I glance at Malav, and he nods.

  When we open the door, we find that it’s exactly what I thought it was: a tiny space the size of a small broom closet. As we wedge ourselves inside, I find myself thanking the universe for small favors. With the danger mostly behind us—at least, the immediate danger—I feel my heart pounding in my chest, relief mixed with the awareness of how close we came to death just now.

  And then I become aware of Malav’s breathing. It’s short and shaky, catching in his throat.

  He staggers against me. I turn toward him in the small space, the dim light from the backup lights above us barely illuminating his face. “Are you all right?” I whisper, but I know the answer already. “Are you hurt?”

  “A laser skimmed my leg.” He grimaces. “It’s not much, just a burn. It’ll heal. But I don’t have the antidote here.”

  My eyes widen as I realize what he means. Of course. The fights on Wauru increased the effects of the poison—it makes sense that the fight we just went through would do the same. I can feel him sagging against me, weakening, and fear flares up inside of me.

  “What do we do?”

  Malav only shakes his head in answer. His jaw is set, and he won’t look me in the eye. He’s angry at himself for some reason, as unknown to me as anything else to do with the poison he’s fighting, but I try again. “Malav, how do I help you?”

  “The kit,” he grinds out, pain evident in his voice. “There’s a med kit in the pack. There might be something in there that will help.”

  I quickly dig out the med kit and open it, holding it so that he can see as I rifle through everything inside. Finally, he points to a small bottle and needle. “That,” he says with some difficulty. “It’s not the same thing, but it should help.”

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