In all his nighttime fantasies of Xenia’s face against his cock, he hadn’t imagined it might happen while caught in a Rahl booby trap.
She paused again. “Axton?”
Yeah, she could hardly miss his cock swelling to rigid hardness, like the damn thing was reaching for her. “Just ignore it.”
She made a choking noise. Her voice was a near-soundless whisper. “I don’t think I can.” She moved again and her cheek brushed against the front of his trousers.
He groaned.
“Does it hurt?”
“Yes.” His voice was hoarse. “In a good way.” He paused. “You’ve had sex, right?” Many cyborgs, those who no longer felt, had given up sex and used scientific means to procreate.
“Once. As part of my CenSec training. They pair us with another CenSec so we can catalogue the experience.”
He knew it was part of the CenSec training. He didn’t agree with it, but Security had deemed it necessary.
“Did you…enjoy it?” Damn, he hated the thought of her with another man.
“It hurt until I blocked the pain.”
She hadn’t enjoyed it. Sex with another virgin cyborg as a training exercise didn’t really inspire pleasure.
“It…it’s not supposed to hurt.” His voice cracked. “Well, maybe a bit the first time. It’s supposed to be pleasurable.”
He felt another movement. Oh Creator, her hand. She stroked down the fastening of his trousers and his cock leaped against the movement.
“It feels so big.”
She was going to kill him. He cleared his throat. “You’d fit me. I’d touch you, lick you, and get you so excited that I’d slide right in. You’d feel me, though, and you’d love it.”
Her breath hitched. “Lick me…between my legs?”
“Yes.” His voice sounded like rust.
She was quiet a beat. “If things were different…”
“Xenia, stop thinking that feeling makes you weak or bad at your job. It’s a part of you. I have no doubt it’s helped make you the brilliant CenSec you are.”
She stiffened, turning her face away from him. “I need to get us out of here.”
And the moment was gone.
She reminded him of the coya bird that had lived outside his window as a boy. Whenever he’d tried too hard to convince it to land on his hand, it had flown away. He’d spent the best part of six months wooing it with bits of food before it had finally let him touch it. It had been worth the wait.
Xenia wriggled around a bit more and finally reached her knife. With quick, efficient slices, she cut through the metal rope.
As Axton stood, she handed him something. The ion light. It must have been caught in the net. “Thanks.” Then he caught sight of her knife. “What isthat?”
She held up the wicked blade that was glowing blue-white. “A Tashian scorch blade. I…collect knives.”
Of course she did. He shook his head and swung the light around. Bare, silver walls greeted them.
She tucked her knife away and started running her hands over every inch of their prison. “I’ve run a scan and carbondioxide isn’t building up to unsafe levels, so fresh air must be getting in somewhere.”
He watched her for a second, caught by the way the light glinted off the red in her hair. It was probably wrong of him to enjoy listening to her spout information at him in that cool, crisp tone.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare?” she snapped.
