Last Call (Stranded in the Stars Book 1) (12 page)

He was settled on his knees now, his head bent forward just enough to let his loose strands fall before his eyes. She couldn’t tell if they were open or closed.

His chest was hairless. In fact, his arms had been hairless too she just realized. It was a heavy reminder that this man wasn’t an ordinary man but a half man– a Cyborg– and comparing him to the men she had known before had been wrong. There was no basis for comparison.

Allie took her time with every dip and groove, wanting this to be a pleasurable, relaxing experience for him. A way to thank him for going out of his way for her comfort.

Jack had a tough life if his scars were any indication. She didn’t bother to keep count of them, knowing she wouldn’t be able to do so.

I wonder if he has anyone? He was on that ship of his alone.

When she was done with his chest, she quietly moved to work on his back. Upon first inspection, it was similar to the front except for the tattooed numbers over his right shoulder blade. It was his identifying information. She couldn’t understand what the numbers and symbols meant, it was in a foreign language but she inherently knew that they had something to do with him being a Cyborg.

Once she finished with the initial wipe down, she dropped the cloth onto the pile of blankets at her side, taking up her exploration with her hands. He shifted as if he were about to get up.

“No. Don’t move, yet.
Please
.” She said quickly.

He turned to look at her briefly before settling back down. He busied his hands by unhooking his weapons that were strapped to his legs.

She took the opportunity to stroke her hands over his skin. It felt like human skin but without the minor imperfections and it felt strong, lacking the softness of body fat. His body was molded into the tightened confines of genetic perfection. It felt velvety smooth to her touch and very human goosebumps formed below her fingers as she continued.

Allie could feel the heady need of want begin to grip her stomach, the yawning, aching emptiness grow between her legs. She pressed her thighs closed, knowing he could scent her based on their previous encounters; she was embarrassed. It was a lack of self control, an insult to how she was raised.

They would touch but she wouldn’t ask for more. Men chose their women, not the other way around– and she couldn’t help the sad stray thought that she wasn’t worth being chosen. A man, Cyborg like him had a universe of options and she was only one woman of a countless many.

But she wouldn’t ruin this moment with her thoughts.

She reached to the side where she had placed the small comb from earlier and sat up on her knees. With one hand placed on his shoulder for support she could feel him tense beneath her, she began running the comb through his dark, silky hair.

He groaned as she ran it through, knowing how good it felt. The bristles tugging and untangling small knots. Scraping his scalp just hard enough to send those electrifying sensations down his body. She felt those same sensations whenever he played with her long hair.

After several minutes of combing, he abruptly reached up and stayed her hand.

“Stop.” He said sternly.

She dislodged her hand and sat back on the blanket as he kneeled and stood up. She watched as he turned to face her, her will to breathe rapidly fading. He looked like a demonic god, the shadows and fire haloing his form.

“Take off your top.” His eyes were violent now. She hesitated, noticing the large erection tenting his pants. She was exhilarated and afraid. “I won't ask you again.” His voice laced with authority.

She slipped the knot that kept her top in place and pulled it off her body. Her breasts exposed again for him in the fire light.

He reached down, grabbed the strip and tossed it in the fire.

She shot up, upset. “No!” She rushed to the flames but it was already too late. The cloth had disintegrated into ash.

“How could you?” She cried, “what am I supposed to wear now?” Allie turned to him, hurt, her mood ruined.
How dare he.
She was being nice and he had snubbed it.

“Not that piece of crap. I’ll fashion you new clothes before we leave the camp tomorrow.” He was being an asshole but he didn’t seem to care. Allie bristled, her clothes offered little protection but that wasn’t by choice. They were all she had after so long as everything else was destroyed by age and overuse.

She moved back to the blankets, skirting around his form, her arms crossed over her chest and picked up her cloak to cover herself, feeling sharp betrayal.

She flinched when he went over to her.

“You will have new, better coverings before we leave this cave, I promise. The rags you wear are old and provide little benefit to you.” She didn’t say anything but instead moved away from him.

***

He didn’t like her moving away from him but knew that she would forgive him soon enough. His body was alive with potent lust and he could still feel her fingers glide across his scarred chest. Jack had to stop her before he stopped himself and shut down his humanity.

I just need to let go, see where this takes me. It goes on and on and I want front row seats to the ride.

He picked up the comb and his armor plates off the ground and placed them back into the pack, pulling out food and water in its place.

He handed over the nourishment in apology and held it in front of her for a few moments before she begrudgingly took it from him. He sat back and watched her eat, picking up one of his daggers. He twirled it against the stone floor, stabilizing his emotions. After a moment she looked at him.

“Are you going to eat?” She asked.

“No, I don’t need food like you do.” He answered.

She looked at him a moment longer and took a sip of water.

“Why do you do that? With the dagger that is, you play with it often.” She watched as he ran his thumb along the sharp edge, tightening the cloak around her.

“Habit. It’s safe to have a weapon in hand.” He continued, “I like the feel of it.” He finished as he slid the edge over the pad of his thumb, drawing blood. “It reminds me that I’m human too.”

They both stared as the blood welled up and dripped down.

“You’ve been hurt a lot.” She moved back to his side and held his hand between hers, oystering it, the pearl of his blood at the center.

“Quite a bit. The pain is a comfort now more than anything else.”

“I think,” she hesitated, “I understand. I’ve been alone for so long that feeling anything is better than feeling nothing at all. When you’re alone for so long, it’s the only thing to keep you company.”

Jack wanted her more than anything at that moment. He didn’t care anymore. They understood each other. He pulled her onto his lap, leaving a smear of blood along her skin. He lifted his thumb up to swipe it across her lips.

She dabbed at it with her tongue, scrunching her face.

He laughed at her reaction. “What? Don’t like the taste of my blood?”

“No, not really.” She swatted his hand away as he tried to smear more on her.

“But it makes your lips suicide red. My favorite color.” He moved his hands up her thighs, reaching around to cup her butt and push her forward into him.

She looked at him then with the blood around her lips. A little bit had trickled down over her chin. She looked like a vampiric, vixen, succubi; her hair a tangled mess around her face and down her back. Wild and primal and yet her eyes held a longing, desperate innocence.

And she was relaxed in his arms. Her trust in him was suffocating and very naive.

He moved his hands up her back until they were tangled in her hair. When she licked her lips, he grabbed it and pulled her forward, grinding his mouth against hers and after a moment she was kissing him as hard as he was kissing her. Their tongues at war. She bit down on his bottom lip, holding it in place as she ran her tongue along it. The taste of his blood in their mouths.

“You’re getting better at kissing. I like the blood play.” He moaned.

He kept one hand tangled in her hair while he roamed his other over her body, touching every part of her. His erection strained uncomfortably in his pants, feeling deprived of her pussy with the thin strips of cloth in his way.

She was on fire in his arms. Maybe Allie wasn’t as innocent as he thought– her mind as messed up as his.

She was running her nails along his arms, leaving little red streaks in their wake. Her skin was inflamed, the heat between her legs like molten lava as the temperature in their little camp was rapidly becoming unbearable.

***

I need him.
The pain of emptiness she harbored at her core tormenting her.
To hell with just touching.
She would take him regardless of her convictions.

She yelped when he tugged her head back, his hand in her hair tight and unrelenting, stopping herself from sneering at him. Using the opportunity to graze her nails down his hard chest with the need to add scars of her own.

“Sweetheart, lift your legs up.” Jack was tugging at her covering. She moved onto her knees right when he let go of her hair and tore the last remaining clothing she had. She was now completely stripped and in his lap; for once feeling no shame in her wantonness.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” His eyes were shifting over her bare body, watching as he took her naked form into memory or whatever Cyborg perusal voodoo he was doing. The golden light of the fire playing over their forms.

He clasped her hip and brought her back down on his lap. Feeling his hard-on beneath her, she slid her fingers into his hair and ground herself against it, covering his pants in her dripping essence.

“Jack… I need you.” She would beg him if she had to.

“I know, Allie, but if I don’t slow down a little, I’ll do things to you, to your cute little cunt that you wouldn’t like.” He said as he looked down to watch her press into him. She followed his lead, watching herself practically mate him through his pants, not minding his veiled threat.

He reached down and pulled her lips apart, revealing her sensitive pearl.

“You’re hairless.” He trailed off, rapt in examining her.

“I’ve been since my fertility testing.”

“Damn. I’m going to butcher those men, bathe in their screams for touching you.” His eyes shifted from intense to furious. “Fucking perverts.”

“You don’t like it?” She stopped moving against him long enough to focus on his statement.

“I love it. I just wasn’t expecting it.” He admitted.

She leaned forward and licked the scar on his lip.

Jack kissed her roughly back as he pulled her flushed into him, picking her up and laying her on the blankets. When she was spread out like a sacrifice, he kneeled up between her legs and unbuckled his pants, now moist with her core.

He dragged them down his hips, pulling his cock out with one hand while discarding them to the side. Her eyes went wide when she got her first view of it, casted in the dim light, staring at its size.

With a smirk he leaned over her, placing one hand next to her head to hold himself above her while his other stroked his deliciously large erection.

“Like what you see?” He asked, amused.

She felt like she was dying. He was so attractive, so masculine, her body cried for him to touch her as she watched him stroke himself above her. His once bloodied hand now constraining the head, massaging it with vigor as he stared down at her.

She moved her hand up over his shoulder and down his arm, around his fisted hand to grab the base of his cock, squeezing as he continued to play with himself. Jack groaned as she explored him, wondering if he was in as much pain to fill her as she was to be filled.

He let go of himself to place his hand beside her head, framing her face and holding himself above her form. The only place they touched was where her hand was rubbing his shaft.

What she thought might have been sweat dripped onto her face. “Ever been Cyborged, Allie?” His smirk widened into a full on grin.

“No?” She responded, confused and flushed.

“Didn’t think so. You’re about to be.”

He sat back between her legs and glided his hands upward. He started with her feet, smoothing over her calves, whispering his fingers behind her knees before snaking his hands up between her thighs. Her legs fell open, exposing everything to his gaze.

He leaned down and breathed her in and he continued to do it several times, his face entranced from her scent.

His fingers caressed upward until she nearly bolted off the floor when he pushed her feminine lips wide open. She felt his hot breath skate across the sensitive skin.

“These lips were made for kissing.” He whispered.

She should have been appalled but she wasn't, instead wanting to beg him to do it, feeling so far gone she wanted to melt into his touch.

Was he really going to kiss me down there?
She squirmed when his thumb slid along her taut skin. He spread her wetness from her core up to her clit, where he rubbed it slowly, ending with a tight pinch. Her hips jumped off the blanket, her knees bent up, her hand rose up to tangle in his hair. He didn’t kiss her or lick her but brutally pinched her and with each pinch her body spasmed. Her focus zeroed in on the tension building between her legs when he abruptly penetrated her core with a finger from his other hand.

“Your pussy is soaking, sweetheart. It’s so tight, I may rip you open.” He moaned but said in all seriousness, “We wouldn’t want that now.”

He let go of her clit and wrapped his arm under her writhing body, lifting her up and impaling her on his finger.

He slammed it deep inside her until his hand was coated with her pussy and when he thrust up a second finger, anchoring her body onto them, she lost it, falling against him as a ripple coursed through her system. She was so sensitive her body wanted to jerk away and regroup but he kept her in place. His fingers scissoring and probing her core.

His tempo only increased as he continued to penetrate her, her sensitivity levels uncomfortable, she heard her herself begging for him to stop but he didn’t listen. Instead he opened her up, coaxed her essence and spread it all over. Now and again feeling his rough thumb circle her opening.