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

finally leaned down to follow the path of her hands with her lips. He tensed at the first touch of her lips. A tremor raked through him, but although his hands tightened on her waist, he didn’t push her away.

He sucked his breath in and held it as she explored his chest with her lips and tongue, nipping at him lightly with her teeth at times and at others sucking small patches of skin. He let his breath out in a ragged grunt as she teased his nipples as he had hers.

Slowly, she worked her way downward from his chest to his belly. When she’d scooted far enough down his belly to reach his cock, she covered it with her hand, stroked it through his clothing. He shifted beneath her restlessly, tensing, holding his breath and finally expelling it harshly and sucking in another.

When she worked a hand beneath his loincloth and curled her fingers around his shaft, he caught her wrist. She shifted her gaze from his hand to his taut face. “I know how to pleasure a man as well as you know how to pleasure a woman,” she murmured. “If I take you into my mouth, it will feel the same to you as it would if we had sex … except you won’t be going against orders.”

There was distrust in his eyes, but painful need, as well. Finally, he loosened his hold on her. Unable to figure out how to remove the loincloth, she merely pushed it aside, shifting down his thighs until she could caress him more easily. She could hear him grinding his teeth when she covered the head of his cock with her mouth and sucked on it experimentally. She lifted her head in surprise. “Did that hurt?”

“Yes … No,” he choked the words out. He reached down and unfastened the loincloth, however, throwing it out of the way.

She studied his genitals as she caressed him, deciding that as cocks went, his was as beautiful as the rest of him—long, sleek, and thick. She liked the taste of him, too—liked his taste a lot. She hadn’t expected to be aroused all over again just by giving him pleasure, but the desperate yearning for fulfillment that had burned in her so powerfully only moments before, arose again as she alternated between stroking and sucking him, using her hands and mouth to engulf his huge cock when she went down on him because she couldn’t take him fully into her mouth.

His fingers curled into claws on either side of him, digging into the sheets. After a few moments, he caught her shoulders, dug his fingers into them as if he was trying to decide whether to push her away or not and then returned his hands to the bed. His hips jerked, lifted and stilled. He caught her shoulders again and then speared his fingers through her hair, clutching tightly at her skull. His growing excitement fed hers until Bronte completely lost touch with her original intention. Instead of focusing on giving him pleasure, she became intent on her own. She wanted him to come, needed him to. The hunger in her belly to be filled drove her to suck at him more and more feverishly. She pulled at him with the suction of her mouth as if she could suck his come from him.

When his cock jerked in her mouth, he bolted upright, trying to pull her free. She planted a hand against his belly and shoved at him, sucking harder. Uttering a deep groan, he fell back, arched his hips upward to meet her mouth, and then a choked groan as his body reluctantly yielded up his seed. She hesitated as she felt the hot liquid shoot down her throat and then swallowed and sucked and stroked him faster as one hard shudder after another raked through him until they lessened to tremors and his cock at last went flaccid in her mouth.

Exhausted as she was, as painful as her own body was still clamoring for release, Bronte felt satisfaction of a different kind as she leaned her cheek wearily against his hip and his hand settled against her head. She could hear the thundering of his heart in his groin and that not only pleased her, it gave her a sense of triumph. He reached for her when he’d finally caught his breath. Dragging her up his length, he studied her face for a long moment and finally nudged her chin up and kissed her gustily.

After a moment, he rolled onto his side and burrowed his face against her throat. “I have never felt anything like that before,” he murmured lazily, shivering faintly as Bronte lightly stroked his back.

“But it felt good?” she asked.

“I do not think good is a strong enough word to describe it,” he muttered, chuckling huskily. “But it only made me want to....” He broke off, stiffening. “I should go.”

She didn’t try to stop him. She watched his face worriedly, though, as he pushed himself off of the bed with an effort, looked around vaguely for his loincloth and then stood up to put it on, swaying slightly.

“Gabriel?”

He glanced at her uneasily.

“Don’t tell them what I did. I don’t want … I’d hate it if you got into a fight, or … anything because of me.”

He reddened, looked uncomfortable, and finally merely nodded and headed for the door.

* * * *

If Gideon hadn’t been watching the door of the cabin, waiting for Gabriel to come out, he would’ve missed the lopsided grin of satisfaction that flickered across Gabriel’s face as he emerged. He’d been counting the minutes since Gabriel had disappeared into the room with Bronte, however, and he’d reached the boiling point. He’d already pushed himself up from his seat and turned to stride to the room and drag Gabriel out. When Gabriel left the room, therefore, Gideon had a clear view of his face and he knew instantly what that imbecilic expression of bliss denoted. Uttering