Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite) (4 page)

She moved closer. “We might as well get you some sex points.”

“Some what?” He paused. “Wait. You get points for—?”

“Sex? They count for Social Interaction Points.” She ran a finger down his chest as she talked. “There are other activities. You can host a blog or guide
EverLife
players, or whatnot—anything with at least two people involved is social, but sex is the most popular.”

“How does that, uh, work?”
Sex for points?
Too weird, though his equipment didn’t seem to mind. His zipper was about to undo itself.

“The points, you mean?” She arched a brow. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t know how sex works.”

“Never had a complaint.”

“Good to hear.” She tugged him closer by his waistband. “A same-level hookup gets you four K, but if you’re with a higher-level partner—”

“Like you, for instance?”

“Like me. Then it’s ten K.”

“What’s in it for the higher-level person?”

“Just two K and that feeling. You know, for doing a good deed?” She smiled wickedly. “So, are you up for it?”

“Oh, I’m definitely up.” He liked the spark in her eye, the challenge in her half smile, not to mention that body of hers—tight and strong, with everything in the right place and then some. He was pretty sure it was her hair that smelled of coconut.

“Get comfortable, then, and I’ll be right back.” She turned for the door to the left of the bed—the bathroom, he assumed—moving her tightly muscled ass back and forth with a tantalizing hip roll. God, she was killing him. Before she disappeared into the john, she plugged her phone into a charger on her desk.

Taking advantage of her absence, Gage went to Rena’s computer to see what he could access. A mouse click erased her flying galaxy screensaver and gave him a sign-in box. Shit. He’d need to watch her type her password, then hope for alone time at the keyboard later on.

Her desk held programming manuals, tech and gamer zines, and a stack of brochures that said “Girl Power Project.” He skimmed one. She was after equal rights for girl Lifers—recruiting more girls, getting them higher in the Life, making the carding job gender-neutral. So she was a reformer… He might be able to use that. He put back the brochure and snooped some more. Her cell phone was locked, he found, surprised by how beat-up it looked.

In a drawer, among office supplies, he found a stuffed rabbit with dingy yellow fur and a tattered pink ribbon. Here was another story.

A corkboard beyond her desk held various NiGo flyers, a printed receipt, and a photo of the Blackstones, hands up in formal greeting. Both wore tunics and had long hair, Nigel’s white, Naomi’s auburn and shiny as a doll’s. A medallion on Naomi’s chest caught a star of light, suggesting holiness.

Was this like a shrine? The
News Day News
story made the Blackstones out to be gurus the Lifers worshipped, though the piece was meant to titillate. On the other hand, they controlled the housing, jobs, belongings, entertainment, and, evidently, the sex lives of Lifers in twelve Lounges across the country. If that wasn’t worship, what was?

Pretty impressive for a company that had come out of nowhere just ten years before. NiGo Interactive’s lead game,
EverLife
, had been light years ahead of other online role-playing games and swiftly topped the charts. Gage himself had gotten hooked early on, whiling away far too many hours of free time in the absorbing fantasy world.

Within two years, NiGo opened the first arcade in an old factory in Seattle, launched the second in Phoenix the following year, and had steady growth after that. Twelve more arcades were to open after the much-heralded release of
EverLife
II
in less than a month.

He returned to the bed, pulling off his shirt as he went. His foot struck something sticking out from under the bed. It was a book. Jean-Paul Sartre’s
Being and Nothingness
. Crouching to investigate, he found dozens more—all nonfiction—on martial arts, meditation, the Napoleonic Wars, handguns, and more philosophy. Rena hid her heavy reading like pornography.

The slap of bare feet told him she’d returned. “What’s up?” She stood in a clingy red robe, her black hair out of its braid, all wavy over her shoulders. She’d caught him flat-footed with
The Portable Nietzsche
in one hand.

“My foot bumped something, so I was curious. You hide your books?”

“I don’t have room anywhere else,” she lied, pink spots flaring on her cheeks when she saw him notice her nearly bare shelves. “It’s convenient, okay?” She grabbed the book and kicked it out of sight.

He wished he hadn’t discovered her secret. When people felt vulnerable, they closed up on you.

“Hey,” he said softly, catching her arm. “I had to do something to keep from following you in there and jumping you.” He leaned in and kissed her, hoping she wouldn’t clock him one.

…

Gage was working her, but at the moment Rena didn’t care. He knew his way around a kiss. His lips had the right give; his tongue was knowing and not too pushy. He smelled great, too—a dark, spicy musk that was him mixed with cologne—and he looked good half-naked, plenty of muscle and a nice shape to his chest.

She liked sex on her terms—where, when, and in what position—so she walked him against the wall, deciding here, now, and upright.

His hands slid under her robe and his hot palms took charge of her backside. A burst of heat shot to her sex like a sudden flare streaking the sky.

He had a very good touch—strong but gentle. Her knees gave way and he caught her off guard, swinging her into his arms. “Put me down.” She did not like being manhandled.

“You spent a lot of points on that bed. How about we use it?”

“There are condoms in my drawer, so okay.” She ignored the fact he’d taken charge. She could be flexible.

He deposited her on top of her bedspread and she leaned on her elbows to watch him take down his jeans and boxers, revealing one gorgeous and ready cock. A wave of expected pleasure washed through her. She’d really like to feel that inside her, barrier-free. “I’m on the Pill. We get checked at the clinic.”

“I’m good,” he said.

“Great. Better without the latex.” She wrapped her fingers around him for a slow, teasing rub, enjoying the firm length, the velvet skin, the sweet lip of flesh at his cap.

He groaned at her touch and closed his eyes, falling back on the bed beside her. She rose to her knees over him, her robe open, her bare bottom feeling the delicious friction of the hair on his thighs. She pinned his wrists to the bed, taking charge again.

“Uncle,” he said, but his eyes did not give an inch.

She let go and sat tall, ready to ease him inside, but he stopped her hips with his broad palms, fingers pressing her flesh.

“I want to see you first.” His eyes crackled with lust. She shivered as he shoved her robe off her shoulders and tugged it away from her body so it floated to the bed, a puddle of red silk. He looked her over hungrily, as if he wanted to lick her to the nub and then some. Mmm. The power of his desire sent tingles and twitches all along her nerves.

“You’re perfect, Rena,” he breathed, running his thumbs slow and easy over her nipples until they were hot knots. Arrow after arrow of need flew to her aching clit. She wanted to move, to slide, to rub out the flames right now, so she shifted her position and pushed down, forcing him high into her body, easing the burn a little, but not enough, not nearly enough. For that she had to move fast and hard…

…

“Where’s the fire?” Gage said to slow Rena down. He’d offered up the weakness of his lust in trade for her book secret, and he intended to get the most of it. He wanted to take his time with her nipples, taut beads against his palms, and the lush handfuls that were her breasts. He wanted to stroke her silky belly and squeeze her sweet ass in both hands.

But Rena wasn’t having any slowdown. “The fire’s right here.” She lifted herself off him and slammed back down, rising to do it again, then again.

So good
. He couldn’t stop the groan he let out. He preferred the pleasurable agony of a slow build, the ache of holding back, the punch of final release, but if she wanted a fast pump, he was happy to ride that ride.

She rocked quicker, sure of herself, and good at it. He kept his thrusts deep, pivoting his hips to catch her button, wanting to bring her to climax first. She made little gasping sounds, working at it, her gaze miles away, not with him at all. This, he didn’t like. Sex with someone was a two-way deal.

She quickened her pace, then slid her fingers down to rub herself, head back, eyes closed.

He pressed his fingers over hers. “Can I play, too?”

Her eyes flew open and she froze, completely thrown. Her other lovers hadn’t cared? That was a hell of a thing.

“You feel good,” he said to reassure her. “So wet…so ready.” He ran his thumb the length of her swollen pearl and she began to shake. In a few seconds, she caught her breath, surprised again, gave a sharp cry, and began to tremble violently. She was coming, but it was the most held-in climax he’d ever been party to.

He let go, too, groaning in the rush of release.

Rena collapsed against his chest and he wrapped his arms around her and smiled into her neck, smelling the coconut of her hair and her skin, a different kind of sweet, tasting her sweat, clean and lightly salty. His brain slowed, his push to find Beth eased for a bit. A break was good. A break refreshed him for the hunt.

Rena, on the other hand, acted as though she’d awakened to a stranger in the dark. She sat up fast, ready to bolt.

He caught her arm. “Stay a minute. Catch your breath.”

“It’s caught.” She nearly leaped off the bed to scoop up her robe and tie it tight—shop closed. “Let’s put your points in the database.”

In another life, he’d try to find out what freaked her so much, but he realized if he didn’t move fast, he’d miss her log-on. He beat her to the chair and pulled her onto his lap.

“What are you doing?” Rena tensed in his arms.

“Getting comfortable.” Which turned out to be impossible with Rena sitting stiff as a tree trunk, her butt bones digging into his thighs like roots.
Not much for cuddling, are you?
But he didn’t want to embarrass her.

Without moving his head downward, Gage stared at Rena’s fingers on the keyboard, prepared to memorize her strokes. She was fast, however, and the password was long. He caught three letters, an ampersand and a number, but there were eight more characters. Damn. A few keystrokes got her into a database and she typed “Gage Stone” into a search box. A blank screen appeared with his name and ID number. He buried his nose in her warm hair for a second to get more of that coconut scent and the underlay of her smell.

“This is your stats page,” she said, turning. “What are you doing back there?”

“Smelling your hair. It’s like coconut.”

“It’s just shampoo.” She gave him a funny look, as if she liked that but it embarrassed her, then dragged a chair beside him, where she sat, all business now. “You log your shifts here.” She typed in his start time. Next she clicked to a page labeled “Social Interactions.” Scrolling down to “Sex,” she put in his score.
His sex score. Ten K.
So surreal.

“No bonus points for technique?” he teased.

“We don’t do bonus points,” she said, completely serious. She clicked through a bunch more screens.

“Wait. Slow down. What was all that that flew by?”

“Files and databases you can’t access yet. You’ll be issued a pass-code with the proper clearance. We get new ones on a variable schedule.”

Without Rena’s advanced clearance, he’d have a hell of a time finding out what he needed to know. For that, he had to get into her system somehow.

The pass-codes were given out…changed regularly. How could she memorize something so long that was changed so frequently?
It came to him in a flash.
She didn’t memorize it. She was reading it off something
. His gaze shot to the receipt pinned to the corkboard. It was at eye level and, sure enough, the string of digits included the numbers, letters and symbol he’d watched her type. Luckily for him, Rena trusted her fellow Lifers not to snoop in her system. Either that or she just wasn’t used to visitors to her room.

Meanwhile, Rena had reached what looked like a roster and he stopped her hand. “Is that everyone who works here?”

“Not really. Some Higher Levels lock their files. Some have maxed out points, so they stop charting. Why?”

He took a breath, ready to give his cover story. “I heard a friend of mine worked here. She still might. Beth Mandell? She used different names—Lizzie…Betsy…Elizabeth sometimes?”

“What does she look like?”

“Average height, medium build, brown eyes. Her hair could be any color. She dyes it a lot. She’s an artist. You know how they are.”

The only photo he had was a sun-bleached snapshot from Big Surf, when they were kids, both of their faces slightly blurred. Beth’s distinguishing marks only showed close up—a dimple when she smiled big, a beauty mark beneath her left eye, and a tiny scar on her chin from when she slipped on the steps helping their mother in one rainy night.

Rena studied him. “What’s the deal?”

“We lost touch. I’d like to find her if I could.”

“Tons of Lifers get trained here. She could be anywhere.” Rena focused on the screen, moving on. “Here are the Quests I was telling you about.”

He read down the list, recognizing the ones she’d mentioned. “Volunteering at the NiGo Charter School is worth a lot of points,” he said.

“It’s a big commitment. Since it’s a tech school, you need experience working with kids or with programming, or if you’ve been a teacher.”

“I was a Big Brother for a while.” After a story on teen rehab he’d sold to the
Arizona Republic,
he’d signed up, taking Javier out once a week for pizza or paintball or to an arcade until the mom moved him to Fresno. Gage hoped he’d done some good, but Javier didn’t seem to want advice and Gage wasn’t much for soul sharing. They spent lots of time driving around listening to Mexican hip-hop, taking sideways glances at each other.