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

he plastered his mouth over hers and totally annihilated brain function altogether, another memory popped into her mind—the last time he’d looked at her that way was when Gabriel and Jerico had pulled him off of her, telling him he couldn’t touch her when he was still caught up in the grips of battle lust.

Fear didn’t have time to emerge above her own desires or dampen it. The thought had barely lit in her mind when she felt the pressure and infinitely welcome adhesion of his mouth over hers, felt his heat and desire invade her senses with the force of a neutron bomb as his tongue raked over hers possessively, filling her with the heady taste and scent that was uniquely his and more intoxicating that a fifth of one hundred proof alcohol. Full-fledged arousal inundated her at the same instant fear driven adrenaline shot through her heart like a spear. Her entire body instantly lost all muscle tone. If he hadn’t been holding her, pinning her to the wall with his body, she would have dissolved into a puddle of boneless flesh at his feet.

He hadn’t touched her in far too long, she realized dimly, held at bay by her determination to keep a safe distance from him, but it hadn’t been nearly long enough for her body to forget his effect on her. Without a murmur of protest or any coyness, everything inside of her opened fully to him, blossomed into readiness.

The tearing sound and pull against her uniform as the front closure parted penetrated her mind a split second before she felt Gideon’s hand close over one breast, squeezing it. She opened her eyes with an effort as he broke the kiss, lifting his head to look down at her breasts as he fondled them, plucking at her nipples until both were standing erect and hard and pulsing with acute sensation.

That was when she discovered it wasn’t just Gideon crowding her. Jerico stood just to the side of the two them, his expression as filled with hungry intent as Gideon’s.

Either Gideon had known all along that Jerico had followed him from the hold and made no move to leave—which seemed likely—or he simply hadn’t allowed that fact to deter him from his prey.

He slid a narrow eyed, almost challenging look at Jerico.

Jerico didn’t seem to notice. His gaze was riveted to her breasts. He swallowed audibly as he watched, reaching for her wrist almost like a sleep walker.

A frisson of dread pierced Bronte’s heated arousal as his hand closed around her wrist. The image of the two of them fighting over her and ripping her limb from limb leapt into her disordered mind.

For a painful handful of moments, the two men’s gazes met. Almost as if there’d been some silent agreement that passed between them, they returned their attention to her. Gideon slipped his hands upward from her breasts to push the uniform from her shoulders and then slipped his hands downward to her waist. Pulling her from against the wall, he turned her so that her back was to Jerico.

She thought at first that that was his way of claiming her attention fully and at the same time making it clear that he had seized her first and wasn’t about to yield her until he was ready to do so. Jerico’s hands closed over her shoulders, however, gliding downward over her arms to push the sleeves from them. As the top portion fell free, Gideon pushed it from her hips so that the suit continued its downward trek until it settled around her ankles.

A hand settled on one of her buttocks, squeezed the cheek in a massaging motion.

Bronte’s eyes widened as Gideon’s hands slipped upward to cup her breasts again. She didn’t have time to complete the cycle of acknowledgment and then panic. Jerico grabbed her arms, lifting them above her head and then curling them around his neck. She arched her back instinctively at the pull of pressure along her arms and shoulders, but even as she tried to twist her head to look behind her, Gideon caught her jaw, tipped her head back against Jerico’s shoulder and bent his head to align his mouth with hers again.

Chaos erupted inside of her as they shifted closer, pinning her between their bodies.

Chapter Ten

Even as Gideon’s mouth assaulted Bronte’s senses, centering her mind on the forceful persuasion of his lips and tongue as he lay siege to her mouth, the nibbling assault of Jerico’s mouth along one arm to the sensitive crook shifted her focus in that direction. And when Gideon moved against her, molding his hard chest and belly along hers and rocking his hips to nudge her mound with the hard ridge of his cock, she felt the heat and brush of Jerico’s body along her back, felt his erection digging into the cleft of her buttocks and lifting her harder against Gideon’s erection.

The bombardment of her senses from seemingly every direction at once sent her into sensory overload. Within moments, she began to feel as if she was on fire from the inside out. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t keep track of the hands or mouths moving over her with feverish, shaking need beyond the location that exploded with fiery sensation at each caress. She moaned, shook, buffeted by their bodies, burning up with both her own heat and theirs.

Jerico dipped his head to nibble along the side and back of her neck as his hands glided along her arms and around to cup and mold her breasts, his fingers plucking and teasing her nipples. As he released her breasts and skated his palms downward over her belly Gideon abandoned his assault on her mouth and leaned lower, catching her along either side of her breasts with his hands and pressing them together so that he could torment first one and then the other with the hungry pull of his mouth and tongue.

She had no clue of when they’d discarded their