No Rules (3 page)

Her blue eyes, the same color as his, had clouded over. “Brother, I have no choice. There is no one else I trust. Promise me.”

“I promise,” he'd whispered, though he had no idea how to keep such an oath.

Looking back at the pod, he realized exactly how far he had to come to keep his word. How much he'd sacrificed for the love of his dead sister, whom he had ultimately failed.

He couldn't fail her again, no matter what his body demanded or how much he wished he was free to lose himself in Alison's sweet, supple body for a few hours.

After checking the readings on the pod's control panel, he exited the room. With his resolve firmly in place, he headed toward the kitchen to prepare sustenance. His food storage unit was empty of everything but a protein-rich paste he'd confiscated from a gambler who'd snuck it on world. The stuff was addictive and practical, and he'd be sorry when he ran out.

“Whatcha got there?”

He hadn't heard her approach. Some protector. His mental chastising cut off when he turned and saw she'd donned one of his thin shirts and it hit her just above the knee. She'd braided her long hair loosely until it looked like a thick length of rope hanging down her back. His palms itched to grab hold of it and yank her to him.

The corner of her mouth kicked up when she saw him staring. “Sorry to help myself like that, but I couldn't bear the thought of wearing that skirt again.” Her tone implied she wasn't sorry at all.

Dragging his gaze away from the expanse of creamy skin, he offered her the jar. “Are you hungry?”

She moved closer until he scented her unique fragrance. “On Earth we have a saying: Please don't feed the whores because they won't want to eat out later.”

“But you need to eat, correct?”

Alison waited expectantly. “Of course I eat. It was a joke.”

“Oh.” And he didn't catch on quickly enough. She must think he was a humorless drone.

She wouldn't be the first.

Moving even closer, she examined the container in his hands. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and moaned. His cock stiffened and he had to brace himself against the onslaught of lust at the sensual sound. When her eyes opened, they brimmed with emotion as they locked on him.

“Where did you get this?”

“It came in illegally and I confiscated it. I've never tasted anything like it. Do you know what it is?”

“It's from Earth. We call it peanut butter. Just smelling it makes me homesick.”

Though it was his last jar, Fenton extended it to her. “Then you can have it all.”

He expected some sort of protest but she took it, murmuring a simple “thank you.”

Of course he was left with nothing to do but watch her eat it. Fenton only had one sharp knife, which he used for everything from shaving, to opening cans, to gutting enemies. He debated offering it to her, but he didn't trust her enough to hand her a weapon while he was unarmed. Women could be more deadly than their male counterparts.

It was a moot point. Alison had already inserted her finger into the jar and slowly scraped a glob of the sweet, gooey paste onto two of her fingers, which she sucked between her lips. His throat went dry as he watched her pink tongue trace between the digits, chasing the flavor across her own skin.

He imagined her doing the same, not for sustenance but for hedonistic delight, tasting her own juices while keeping her gaze locked on his.

“This is so good, you have no idea. It reminds me of summer picnics at my Aunt Lola's house. She had this lake in back, with a dock. My mom would take me and my sister, Sally, to her house. The four of us would picnic there with peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches. When we were all hot and sticky, we'd jump in the water to cool off.”

He didn't know what to say in response, her memory too pure and innocent to be tainted by anything he could possibly utter. Luckily, she didn't seem to mind.

“Aren't you going to have any?”

“I'm not hungry.” His stomach growled, belying his words.

Dipping her fingers in the jar again, she scooped it up and held her fingers to his lips. Her eyes were heavy lidded as she whispered, “Share with me. I promise you won't regret it.”

3

D
id he want her or didn't he? Alison felt like an idiot trying to entice him with peanut butter, but he was so damn difficult to read. Her hand was poised at his lips, and she half-expected him to rebuff her. Her heart pounded as she waited for him to make a decision. When his lips parted, she smiled and fed him from her own fingers.

Those glacial blue eyes flared with heat. She remembered reading that stars that appeared blue were actually much hotter than red or yellow ones. That was what his eyes reminded her of: hot blue stars glittering in the dark of space. Fire and ice, hot and cold, all packaged into one intriguing man.

His tongue twirled over her digits for an achingly long time, cleaning her fingers in the most sensuous way. Her sex grew damp, craving that sort of thorough attention between her legs. She had him on the hook; it was time to reel him in.

Setting the jar aside, she moved even closer to him, pressing her body toward his heat. He stiffened and released her fingers from his mouth. “I don't think—”

Gripping his hair, she stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his in a greedy kiss. He tasted of peanut butter and male spice, a potent and heady combination. She wanted this so badly, wanted him with a compulsion she didn't understand. He was just a man, no different from any other. And men were her specialty.

Nipping his lips playfully, she pulled back, trailing her fingers lightly over his scar and whispered, “Don't think.”

Those intense blue eyes went heavy lidded when she brought his hands up to the curves of her breasts. Even as he fondled her through the material, he whispered, “You don't have to do this. You don't owe me anything.”

“I know.” His willpower impressed the hell out of her. Most men would have had her naked by then, cock poised at one orifice or another. “Maybe I want you. Did you ever think of that?”

Another flash of heat crossed his face when she arched her back, grinding her barely covered mound against the bulge in his pants. He held her, touched her, but the tightness of his jaw belied his struggle to retain control. She needed to tip the scales in her favor.

With a final lick across his firm lips, Alison pulled away and turned her back on him. He sighed audibly, the relief he felt clear. She allowed herself a small smirk as she reached for the hem of the shirt she'd pilfered, drawing it up over her head in one fluid motion, letting the fabric fall to the floor.

He made a strangled sound and she glanced over her shoulder, gratified at his obvious appreciation. Her body might not be as stunning as it once was, but Fenton didn't know that. Though he made no grand gestures, the way he scrutinized her naked form gave her the confidence to saunter back to the bedroom. Feminine power spurred her to put an extra swish in her hips.

Climbing onto the bed, she reclined against the mountain of pillows, keeping her legs together and her hands at her sides. Nervously, she licked her lips. Every erogenous zone tingled with genuine arousal, her nipples formed stiff little points, and the lips of her sex were coated in wetness. She wanted to perform for him, but if he didn't follow her in here, the show would still go on.

He took so long that she almost caved in and started without him. She'd been on autopilot for so long she'd forgotten how sharply arousal could sink its teeth in, blotting out all other thought. Closing her eyes, she suppressed her need to be stroked and petted, instead imagining him watching her touch herself. Men were visual creatures, and Alison loved being watched. It would be worth it when she met his eyes and saw his body respond. His control might be formidable, but she wanted to prove it wasn't infinite.

Sensing she was no longer alone, she opened her eyes and smiled up at him. The thought of teasing him tempted her, but she sensed he wouldn't take it well, that he hadn't made the decision to follow her lightly. The stakes were high, and she wanted a bigger payday than a one-night seduction. She needed to stoke his banked fire, to make it burn hotter for her, to rage out of his tightly leashed control. Desire made even the most cautious lover impatient.

With that thought in mind, she activated her health guard, reached for her belt pouch to retrieve the small bottle of personal lubricant, and spread a small dollop on her hands. Fenton had no way of knowing what it meant for her to use part of her dwindling stash for him. Unlike the thickly scented oils from the brothels, the lube combined with her natural scent would enhance her pheromones as well as ease any penetration. She wouldn't use the precious liquid on any old john, or even for her own pleasure. Once it was gone, her last tie to her former life would be cut. It was her trump card, one it was finally time to play.

Setting the bottle aside, she rubbed her palms together slowly, spreading the slickness over her skin. Starting at her breasts, she massaged the swells, deliberately working her way in to the nipples, holding his gaze the entire time. Her breasts were heavy with arousal, and the reclined position displayed them to her best advantage.

By the time she scraped her thumbnails over her taut peaks, Fenton's eyes blazed, his passionate heat overtaking the cold restraint. Flicking the tips aggressively, she wondered how long it would take to break him down into a rutting beast.

She couldn't wait to find out.

Sliding her right hand down over her belly, she spread her knees to give him a glimpse of her sex. With two fingers, she drew a line down, grazing lightly over her clit and between the puffy lips of her vulva, allowing the lube to mingle and enhance her woman's scent.

His chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths, but still he didn't move. She was dying from a desire so strong the word need didn't begin to describe it. Every erogenous zone ached and throbbed and yearned for his body. Fingers, tongue, cock, she wasn't picky. Her hands were too soft, her fingers too slim where they dipped inside her. Her clit pulsed in time with her rapid heartbeats. Grinding the heel of her hand down on it, she gasped. His eyes glittered in the dim lighting as she started fucking two fingers into her opening, the slickness running down her crease. Her nipples grew tighter still, and she pinched them forcefully—and
still
he didn't break.

Her breathing was completely out of control, the desire to make herself come so strong she had to wrestle her hand out from between her legs. Some instinct told her he'd never bend if she gave in to temptation. This man respected strength, and she had to show him she was more than a needy female body, desperate for release.

He needed to want her more than she wanted him.

Though it pained her to break eye contact, she rolled over, turning her head so one cheek was pressed into the mattress. Raising her ass in the air, she presented him with an open and unobstructed view of her backside. A small groan issued from his position, closer than where he'd stood by the door moments before.

Her lube- and desire-soaked hands roved over her ass, caressing the expanse of skin in smooth, sensual movements. The cool air on her hot flesh made her shiver. Was it her imagination, or could she feel his body heat looming above her?

Deliberately parting her knees as wide as she could, she spread her cheeks apart. Starting from her slit, she trailed the middle finger of her right hand through her moisture and up to the tightly puckered ring. Pressing inward with the pad of her finger, she forced her body to relax and accept the invasion. Anal penetration had never been her favorite sexual activity, but she knew men went wild for it. If fingering her own ass was what it took to make Del Fenton break, she'd do it for hours.

It wasn't working. He hadn't fallen on her, raving with need. Desperation made her movements frantic, not with the need to come, but for him to come to her. His restraint was beyond anything she'd ever encountered. Maybe he'd picked up on her desperation. What more could she possibly do?

Ignore him.

Using her left hand, she played over her sex again, caressing her folds and fucking her channel in time to the penetration of her snug backside. Wet, slick sounds filled the room, and her pheromones practically crackled. She let her mind float, let her imagination take over. In her mind's eye, she saw Del climbing on the bed behind her, using his mouth on her inner thighs and licking slowly inward toward her juicy cunt. Initially she thought she wanted him to fall on her, take her in a vicious fucking that would leave her sore but sated. Now, though, she wanted his slow, methodical deliberation. Wanted to experience the growing anticipation of his tongue tracing her labia in long swipes, his lips surrounding her clit, sucking the bud into his mouth in deep, drawn-out pulls.

Would he use his fingers in her sheath, preparing her body for his massive cock? Or would he spear her with his tongue, over and over until she gushed on his face?

The thought alone had her teetering on the edge.

So lost was she in the fantasy that she hardly noticed when the bed dipped behind her. Hands clamped down on her wrists, drawing them away from the erogenous zones where she'd dabbled. Breath exploded from her lungs as his lips feathered over her spine even as a second set of lips pressed against her mouth. Her shield sizzled, erasing any traces of his DNA from her skin.

The slow, drugging kiss had her so off balance that she didn't notice the blindfold until it covered her eyes.

It was then she realized someone else was in the room, touching her.

 

“What's going on?”

Fenton knew the second Alison had fought her way free of the heavy fog of lust she'd been mired in. He couldn't fight his desire for her any longer. His body had undergone the phase split as she filled both her openings, so sensual in her abandon. It had started in his cells until he'd replicated into an exact copy of himself, down to the last hair follicle.

Neatly divided in half, he could feel everything, taste every bit of her. One tongue continued following the neat bumps of her spine, while the other flicked over the sweet spot just behind her ear.

“Who else is with you?” Alison shook her head, attempting to dislodge the blindfold.

“No one,” he answered honestly. Only a few people knew about the phase split, and he wanted to keep it that way. “Let's take you up on your generous offer.”

If she said no he'd stop and secure both versions of himself in the room with the pod until morning. But though she struggled, the scent of her arousal increased. “Have you ever taken more than one man at a time?”

She swallowed, nodded once. “I like to know who I'm fucking, though.”

He traced an index finger over her plump lips. “You're fucking me. That's all you need to know.” Though both versions of himself could operate independently of one another, he shucked both pairs of pants at the same time and reached for his cocks.

The first time the phase split had happened, he'd been masturbating. His father had warned him of the dangers of getting himself too worked up in any way. The division of self was a genetic anomaly, one only males of their line inherited. It was the reason they were enslaved by the overlord, who feared an ability he didn't possess.

Self-pleasuring took on new meaning with multiple hands and cocks at his disposal, but Fenton had never shifted with a lover before, never shared himself in quite this way. But Alison was different; he couldn't resist her, couldn't hold back any part of himself from her.

Stroking his erections, Fenton adjusted his grips on her arms and flipped her onto her back. Each head bent over a taut nipple, licking the pink peaks into his mouths.

She gasped and bucked up off the bed, trying to force her breasts deeper into his wet heat. The version holding her hands guided them between his legs, urging her to touch his sex. She complied eagerly, rolling his balls the way she might fondle dice in her hands, while the other explored the girth of his rod from base to crown and back again. Her palms were still slicked with the lube she'd used, and her skin glided over his as she tightened her grip.

The unattended cock aimed at her parted lips, seeking the divine pleasure of her mouth wrapped around him. Her tongue darted out, the tip swiping precum from the end. Her personal shield sizzled, protecting her body from him.

“I want to put my mouth on you, to lap at your juicy cunt while you suck that hard cock. Do you want that?”

She couldn't respond, not with her mouth full of him, but the eager way she squeezed his shaft encouraged him. Parting her legs, he ran his fingertips over the silky skin of her inner thighs. “I hope I'll be able to taste you through your shield. I want your flavor on my tongue.”

She moaned and his other cock slipped deeper. Dragging her to the edge of the mattress, he let her head hang off the end, making more room for himself between her spread legs. Her tongue swirled around the flange like she was savoring a particularly decadent treat. With the changed angle, he could force his shaft deeper into her throat, but he held back, focusing his attention on his first taste of her juicy sex.

Lying on the mattress, he hooked his arms under her bent-up knees so he could part her legs even wider. Dipping his head, he let his breaths fall directly between her spread thighs, admiring the delicate pink of her labia and the deeper rose hue of her inner folds.

With both sets of eyes fixed on her face, he brought his mouth down to place an open kiss on her sex. She moaned around her mouthful of cock, and he worked the rod in a little deeper even as his tongue penetrated her body.

“Mmmmm,” he hummed, enjoying the sweet flavor of her nectar. She creamed for him, more of the delicious syrup spilling into his mouth. He caught as much as he could, but some spilled down into her crease.

He thought about the way she had touched herself and mimicked that attention. Her mouth sucked harder on his length, and he withdrew before gliding it back in.