“Scream and I’ll snap your pretty little neck. Understood?”
Gone was the light, teasing note his voice had held a moment before. Now it was hard and uncompromising as he held her tight, his breath fanning over her neck. Fear and a sick sense of excitement rolled through her in equal amounts.
Fear because she was in the clutches of a well-built, extremely strong cyborg. One who could easily carry out his threat and snap her neck like a twig. Excitement because that cyborg was possibly the hottest man she’d ever seen.
“Understood?”
A note of impatience threaded through his voice. Samara hastily nodded. Her heart pounded in her ears, a fine trembling rolling through her as her womb clenched tight and heat dampened her panties. Sheesh, what was wrong with her? Here she was, in mortal danger, and all she could think about was jumping his bones.
Silence reigned for several seconds. Finally he seemed satisfied that she wasn’t going to do anything to draw attention to their situation in the cell. She stayed motionless, looking at the metal wall in front of her. What was he going to do? There was no way he could get off the ship, even if he could get out of the detention bay.
Almost on cue, the ship rocked and the red alert klaxons started their raucous wailing. She started in surprise. “The ship’s under attack…I have to go.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
His hold tightened almost to the point of pain, but she pressed her lips tight together. She was determined not to show any weakness. Not to him. From the reports she’d read, cyborgs hated weakness of any sort. Particularly human weakness. They hated anything that reminded them that a physically inferior race had created them and even now sought to control them.
Despite her best efforts, the merest hint of sound escaped. It was more a mouse’s fart than a whimper, but he heard it. She froze, expecting dire retribution to fall on her head any second. Instead, his hold relaxed a fraction.
Seeing her opportunity, Samara stomped on his foot, aiming for the arch, and twisted out of his hold. Launching herself across the small space, she reached out to punch the code into the pad by the door.
Adrenaline raced through her veins, galvanizing every cell in her body. Her heart thundered. All the time, in the back of her mind, was the knowledge that she couldn’t outrun a cyborg. Not without a good head start and a minor miracle.
But the universe was out of minor miracles. Sensing movement behind her, she squealed in fear and surged forward. Her escape was short lived. The next moment a hard body slammed into her from behind. She was stopped, spun around and pinned up against the wall of the cell.
Not even breathing heavily, he glared down at her.
“Never run from me. ”
His eyes glittered with anger and something else. Heat, fury, hunger. Whatever it was, it made her heart hop, skip and jump. Never one to be weak-willed, and perhaps suicidal to boot, her courage and backbone decided at that moment to reemerge. What was the point in holding her tongue if he was going to kill her anyway?
“Oh, come on, Einstein. What do you expect? You’re a dangerous prisoner and the ship is under attack. What do you think I’m going to do? Hang around for a cup of tea and a cozy chat?” She arched one delicate brow and gave him a haughty expression.
The combination had always worked on men who’d overstepped their bounds before. He was a man. Sure, he was also a cyborg, but without all the implants and things designed to turn him into a highly skilled, extremely fast killer he was still a man.
His eyes darkened for a moment, then his lips crashed down on hers. He claimed them with a hard kiss that didn’t ask, it demanded. He swept his tongue along the seam between her lips, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Unable to stop it, she opened up for him. Crowding closer, Lyon’s body heat beat against her, surrounding her until her world was reduced to the two of them and the place their lips joined. She whimpered, pressing against him as the fire in her veins went supernova.
He rumbled approval at her surrender, the sound from deep in his chest. His kiss softened, no longer hard and demanding, but gentle. A whisper of temptation as he slid past her lips to entangle his tongue with hers. Far from the testosterone-laden sweat she’d expected, his scent was fresh and clean with an underlying note that was uniquely his.
His hand drove into her hair, scattering pins to hold her in place as he ravaged her mouth with the finesse of a master conductor leading his orchestra. He played her body with ease. She trembled as he lifted his head and looked down into her flushed face.
The heat in his expression scorched her. Hot enough to make her blood boil and flay the flesh from her bones. A dark, erotic heat that she wanted to bask in, wrap around herself, and stretch out and absorb like a cat in the sun.
Her back arched, and she pressed against him. Biting back a whimper, she pressed her aching br**sts against the hard planes of his chest in a movement that was invitation and demand all rolled into one. His eyes darkened another notch.
“You like to live dangerously, don’t you?” he growled as he bent his head again.
His hands cupped her ass. The rounded globes in his large hands, he pulled her up flush against his arousal.
A thick ridge, like an iron bar, pressed into her soft belly. Heat shifted and swirled through her body like a flock of birds that had been resting, but were now on the wing again. Her womb clenched hard and her p**sy followed suit, clenching around its own emptiness. She needed that thick c*ck inside her, thrusting in and out of her aching cunt. She needed him to fill her again and again until she screamed his name and came in torrents around him. Needed him buried so deep inside her it was difficult to tell where she ended and he began.
“No point in anything else, is there? Otherwise, how do you feel alive?” She rose on her toes to kiss him again. He was addictive, like a drug. She wanted more. She wanted more than more. She never wanted the kiss to end.
This time she didn’t let him take the lead. Instead she evaded and teased, letting him see what she was offering, but never quite letting him claim the prize. He growled in warning as he pressed her back against the wall. Grinding his c*ck against her soft belly, he ripped open the front of her ship-suit.
The zipper gave. She gasped. Cool air washed over her br**sts as they all but spilled out of the black satin bra she wore under her ship-suit. Her n**ples beaded into tight pebbles as he claimed one breast in a large, rough hand.
“Oh God. Yes.”
His clever fingers slid under the satin, freeing the turgid nipple for his attention.
Heat slipped from her cunt, her panties not damp anymore, but soaked. She whimpered, knowing she was slick and wet. All the better to take the thick length she could feel pressed against her.
“That feel good, sweetling? You feel good. So good I want to f**k you all night.”
He abandoned her lips, trailing quick, hot kisses down her neck as he headed for her br**sts. His lips latched on to her nipple and Samara was in heaven. His mouth was a heated cavern of pleasure and sensuous torture. He suckled, nipped and licked until she was almost out of her mind.
Her hands free, she drove them into what little hair he had, delighting in the feeling of his shorn locks, like coarse velvet, against her hands. She held him to her br**sts, moaning as he freed the other from its satin cage and alternated his attention between the two.
She didn’t care that they were in an open-fronted cell with guards just down the corridor. In fact, being so close to other people, knowing that they could walk by at any moment, just made the moment all the hotter. All she cared about was the man in front of her with his lips on her br**sts and large hands smoothing over her generous curves.
He pushed the suit from her shoulders with rough gestures, as though he was impatient to get his hands on the rest of her. She didn’t care. She just needed him to keep touching her.
He slid to his knees to kiss along her stomach. His hands busied themselves sliding around her h*ps to push her suit farther down. He licked her navel, his tongue playing in the small indentation. Hot and cold shivers chased over her skin.
“Shoes off for me, sweetling.”
His voice was muffled against her skin, but the order was unmistakable. Not wanting him to stop, she toed one shoe off, then the other. Thank God nurses wore surgical clogs rather than full boots like the rest of the crew. High-leg lace-ups were so not made for quickie sex against the wall.
“Good girl.”
She couldn’t answer. All her attention was diverted to the feel of fabric sliding over her h*ps as he pushed her ship-suit down. It slid down her thighs and farther until she could kick it away.
“Gorgeous,” he breathed. His hands smoothed up the length of her legs, reveling in her satiny skin. Samara thanked any deity who was listening that she’d been vain enough to shave her legs in the shower that morning.
“Thong. Kinky. That right, sweetling? You like a little kink? How about being cuffed to the bed and f**ked until you scream?”
The words, whispered over her skin as he kissed along the edge of her underwear, weakened her knees. Whimpering, she clutched at his shoulders. Her p**sy clenched in time with his words, her cl*t an aching ball of sheer fuck-me-now need. Parting her legs, he lifted one over a broad shoulder. She suppressed a moan as he kissed her satin-covered mound.
“You’re wet. This getting you going, sweetheart? Do I make you hot?”
Leaning back against the wall and doing her best not to pant, she nodded. She couldn’t speak as his hands moved higher and closer to where she wanted him to touch the most.
His fingers flirted with the edge of her thong, bypassing her hypersensitive cl*t by a fraction of an inch. She bit her lip in frustration, about to complain, then his fingers slid under the satin and right along her slickened cunt lips beneath.
“Ohhhh! Oh God…yes.”
Unerringly he stroked along her labia, parting them and finding her cl*t in one sweep. Using the broad, rough pad of his fingertip, he stroked and circled, alternating the softest pressure with hard sweeps until she canted her h*ps against his hand, riding his clever fingers and desperate to come.
“Oh, you like that, huh? I know what you’ll like better.”
She was close, so close his words didn’t register at first. Not until he leaned forward, scooping the satin of her thong out of the way and uncovering her p**sy. As his lips latched on to her clit, suckling it hard, he thrust two thick fingers deep into her p**sy.
She screamed in pleasure, the sound buried under the sound of the red alert klaxon.
Her cunt clenched hard, and then fluttered around his fingers. A sure sign she was near to orgasm. He didn’t give her any letup, didn’t let her savor the buildup as her previous lovers had.
Instead he drove her higher with relentless licks and sucks on her cl*t as he pumped in and out of her p**sy in a hard and fast rhythm. Her hands were on his head again as she held him against her cunt, desperate for every sensation he was offering.
“God, you taste wonderful. That’s it, babe, give me everything,” he whispered against her. “I want to taste your cream on my tongue.”
That did it. Throwing her head back, she abandoned herself to the maelstrom of pleasure within. Her body shook as she shattered, coming harder than she’d ever come before.