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

off and retreat as he had before. She was tempted to ignore the glasses and grab him by his cock since it was within reach, but she didn’t think that was going to do the trick either.

She would have to lull him into a false sense of security, she decided. Lifting her head again, she smiled at him. “This is so sweet! I’m …. Overwhelmed! I hardly know what to say!”

He looked surprised but pleased. “It was nothing.”

She smiled up at him again. “It is to me. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed having them!”

Reaching for the glasses finally without looking at them, she grabbed his hand instead of the glasses, coming up on her knees at the same time. Unfortunately, she discovered that didn’t bring her within reach of his face. Shrugging inwardly, she leaned toward him and placed a kiss in the center of his chest instead. He flinched all over as if she’d stuck fire to him instead of her lips. He didn’t retreat, however. Heartened, Bronte moved both of her hands to his waist, and tipped her head to smile up at him again.

He caught her wrists as she allowed her hands to drift downward in the direction of her goal. She’d barely managed to brush the bulge against his loincloth.

He ground his teeth. Tiny beads of sweat popped from his forehead.

She could see his eyes had glazed with desire, though, and that he was struggling mightily against the urge to throw her down on the bed.

Balked of going straight for her goal but certain he was teetering on the edge of reason, Bronte dropped her head and began to nibble a trail of kisses along his chest.

It was all the encouragement he needed. Her head swam as he shoved her down on the bed and fell on top of her. Excitement threaded her veins as he kissed her throat and tore at the opening of her suit, squeezing her breasts almost painfully when he finally managed to bare them to his touch. Bronte gritted her teeth against the intensity of the fire that burned through her as his mouth closed over one achingly sensitive bud, tugging at it greedily.

Fighting the weakness and disorientation that engulfed her instantly, she stroked her hands over his head and back and shoulders as he pulled at her breast with his mouth, undulating her hips and pressing her mound against him rhythmically in a desperate attempt to tear his control from him. As if he couldn’t stop himself, he hunched against her in response, thrusting his erection almost painfully against her thigh. She dug her fingers into his arms, trying to shift downward to align her body with his.

“Can’t,” he muttered hoarsely as he lifted his head and stared at her other breast hungrily.

She arched her back, lifting it toward him in offering. He succumbed to the lure, covering it voraciously, sucking at her nipple until she felt like her chest would cave in from the lack oxygen … or she would pass out from lack of air. Tangling her fingers in his silky black hair, she held him to her, fighting for breath.

When he came up for air, she tried to pull him to her, or shift lower, wanting his mouth on hers, wanting to feel his cock digging into her belly, or her mound, or better yet thrusting inside of her instead of digging into her thigh. He caught her wrists, parting company with several hairs on either side as he shackled her wrists to the bed. He barely even flinched, didn’t seem to notice. “I can not,” he ground out, his gaze moving over her face as if he could devour her with his gaze alone.

That pierced her high when his last comment hadn’t.

“Why not?” she asked huskily, writhing against him enticingly, managing to lift her head high enough despite his hold to nip at his cheek with her lips.

“Orders,” he managed to gasp out, twisting his head to brush his parted lips against hers, sucking at them as if he was struggling with the urge to complete the circuit and explore her mouth thoroughly.

“Orders?” Bronte murmured, returning the favor by sucking at his full lower lip.

“Not to pleasure you,” he said in a rasping voice as he dipped his head to suck at her chin and then nuzzled the side of her face, nipping at her with his lips.

The flames leaping inside of Bronte were instantaneously transformed into pure rage. They had been doing to this to her on purpose? Deliberately arousing her and leaving her to swelter in it? Why? To get even with her because she hadn’t just given it immediately and spread her legs for them? Because she’d touched their precious controls?

She didn’t care why, not at the moment anyway. The need for revenge burned as hot as her desire had a moment before, so hot she could barely bring order to her thoughts. Gabriel’s desperation provided the answer without a great need for thought, though. She turned her head to nuzzle his face as he had hers. “But I could pleasure you, couldn’t I?” she murmured in a breathy whisper near his ear. “They wouldn’t be angry about that would they?” she added when he shuddered all over, tracing his ear with her tongue for good measure.

He lifted his head to stare at her doubtfully. “I do not think I could control myself, Bronte. I am on fire for you,” he said hoarsely. “It hurts like hell.”

Bronte’s anger vanished at that, most of it anyway. She could see in his eyes that he wasn’t exaggerating or trying to play on her sympathies. She stroked his cheek. “Shhh. I’ll make it better,” she murmured, pushing at his shoulders.

When he rolled away from her, she followed him. He caught her waist in his hands as she climbed on top of him, straddling him, as if he meant to toss her back onto the bed. She stroked his chest and belly soothingly and