Cyborg Nation by Kaitlyn O'Connor (english readers TXT) 📗

She didn’t feel shameless, even though she thought she should.

She felt … desperate with need, feverish with it, burning up with it as he traced a path from her breasts downward across her belly. Her flesh quivered beneath his open mouthed kisses. The muscles along her channel contracted, as well. Moist heat flooded her nether regions. Pushing her legs apart as he knelt before her, he parted her nether lips with his thumb and forefinger and sucked her clit into his mouth as he had her nipples.

“Jerico!” she gasped, catching his head, trying to thrust him away. He caught her wrists, holding them while he continued to lap and suck at her until she felt as if her knees would give out and she was gasping hoarsely with every breath as if she was dying.

She was going to come if he didn’t stop. She wanted to. It beckoned her seductively, tempting her to yield to the quivers radiating through her sex. She resisted, fought it with every ounce of willpower she could muster.

Clamping her hands on his shoulders, she pulled at him. “Now!” she demanded breathlessly. “Jerico!”

He straightened abruptly, covering her mouth again as he caught her buttocks and shifted her up the wall. She looped her legs around his waist as he lifted her, locking her ankles together. Guiding his cock into the mouth of her sex, he allowed her to slip downward, engulfing him. She groaned with a mixture of frustration and pleasure as her body fought his girth. He pressed her more tightly against the wall and thrust again, sheathing his member more deeply, driving her wild with the need to feel him fully inside of her. With his third thrust, he sank home, burying himself so deeply inside of her she cried out, biting down on his shoulder as she fought to keep from coming instantly.

It was a losing battle. As soon as he shifted her and began driving into her, she came with screaming intensity, gasping and shuddering at the hard quakes that went through her. He uttered a long, low growl as her body fisted around his sex, milking him.

Gasping, still shuddering with his own release, he leaned heavily against her for several moments and finally pulled his cock from her, allowing her to slide down the wall until her feet touched the floor. They sagged weakly against one another while they struggled to catch their breath.

He settled a hand along her cheek. Hooking his thumb beneath her chin and tipping her face up to his, he searched her eyes worriedly. “I did not hurt you?” he asked gruffly.

Bronte felt her throat close. His emerald gaze was earnest. She didn’t know why it seemed to matter to him, if he was more concerned that he might have hurt her because he had been ordered not to, or if he was genuinely concerned about her. It didn’t matter at the moment. The only thing that did matter was he seemed to care.

She shook head, unable to find her voice, drowning in guilt.

He’d defended her before, tried to knock Gabriel’s head off because he thought Gabriel had made her cry.

Why hadn’t she thought about that when she had been so busy working herself up to hate them back because she knew they hated what she was?

She averted her gaze. “How could you want me when you hate humans so much?”

He said nothing for several moments. “We do not hate humans. They hate us. They have hunted and killed us for years,” he said finally. “From the moment they realized that we were no longer theirs to control, puppets, they began to fear and, when they began to fear, they began to hate.”

She glanced up at him in disbelief. “You gave a good impression of it.”

He smiled faintly, stroking his fingers along her cheek. “Not just now.”

She shivered at the memory. Frowning, he reached to turn the water off and then drew her from the bathing cubicle and handed her a cloth to dry off with. She frowned thoughtfully as she patted the water from her skin and rubbed as much as she could from her hair.

“It was not much of a bath,” he commented wryly. “No soap.”

Bronte bit her lip, feeling another twinge of guilt. She couldn’t think of any way to ask him if he thought Gideon would be angry with him about having sex with her, though. He didn’t seem concerned at all, and he knew Gideon far better than she did. She had to wonder if she had been suffering delusions to have thought Gideon would feel the least bit possessive about her.

It occurred to her, with a touch of relief, that she probably had been. Obviously, Gideon’s only concern was being cut off from the only supply of pussy available. If there were no actual feelings involved beyond that, he wouldn’t have any reason to be angry about it.

That left her in the position of being the supplier, though, to keep the peace. She didn’t particular care for that. On the other hand, if satisfying their needs would make her own life less fraught with danger, maybe even make them more inclined to feel kindly toward her on a personal level rather than merely because they were under orders to protect her, it seemed a small price to pay for a little security, particularly when it was no great hardship. They were all very handsome, very desirable, and certainly gifted when it came to pleasuring her.

Maybe, she thought, she had looked at the picture all wrong? She was afraid because she was a captive, and her feelings had been hurt, and she hadn’t been thinking clearly. If it was possible to be on friendly terms with her captors, wasn’t that a lot wiser than being on unfriendly terms with them?

It wasn’t as if it was going to be any real trial to have sex with them … as long as she had the option of saying