It was that moment in the night when everything aboard the ship grew quiet and dim. The crew slept in their quarters, with only a skeleton crew manning the bridge and engine room. Tonight, the mood was even more subdued because their numbers had been cut down by Flack. Eight body bags had been carried out of that hallway and tossed unceremoniously out the airlock. Eight. That’s how many Flack had killed when, with impeccable timing, he’d raced to my defense.
Too bad Xathena hadn’t been one of them. I discovered she’d slipped away after Flack had struck her that first blow, and, badly wounded, she’d retreated to the safety of the med bay. That’s where she now slept a fitful, pain-filled sleep. I tried not to enjoy the thought of her pain but couldn’t stop. She deserved every bit of what Flack had done to her, and he’d clawed her up good. Really good. I was pretty sure they’d been forced to sacrifice one of her eyes, which made her look even more like a pirate, with a white bandage covering it.
With Xathena down and out, nobody was looking for me anymore, and I was once again able to move freely around the ship. In fact, nobody even seemed to care about my existence; it was like I’d been completely forgotten. That’s how I found myself tracking where they took Flack after they knocked him out: to his cell. Gathering supplies, not even caring if I got caught on camera stealing them. And scouting the ship to figure out what was going on and what the pirates were going to do next.
Now that everything had quieted down, I made my move. Ignoring Dimon drinking himself into a stupor in his quarters and Xathena moaning pitifully in the med bay, I slipped through the quiet ship with a bag full of food, bandages, the tissue regenerator, and more. I’d even stolen a gun some crew member had left lying around, as well as a very dangerous-looking knife in its sheath. Flack was going to be proud of my budding thieving skills.
They’d put guards on the brig now, but not inside it. Apparently, they still didn’t want to risk him talking to anyone and perhaps convincing someone he’d spare them if they opened his cage. Not a problem for me; I had another way to slip inside. It was a tight squeeze with a bag filled to overflowing, but pretty soon I was slipping out of the cell adjacent to his. The idiots had made this so easy for me, too; they hadn’t even bothered to lock me out of his cell. It opened with a creak that made me freeze, but it was Flack’s lack of response that worried me.
He hung in the shackles, his big, human-looking body limp and lifeless. A wound sat pink and red on his shoulder, and he was bleeding from at least a dozen spots. He wore the same pants and boots as always, and little else. His head hung limply toward his chest, his long silver hair obscuring his face. He was out cold, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen Flack anything but animated and awake. It was eerie to see him like this, and for a moment I feared the worst. Had he died from his injuries? No, I could see the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, but it looked dangerously shallow.
I stepped into his cell with a last glance over my shoulder, then carefully dropped my heavy bag on the bunk beside him. He didn’t respond, and I worried what that meant. Still deep underthe effects of whatever they’d used to knock him out, or seriously injured? Only one way to find out. I carefully placed my fingers against his throat and focused on finding his pulse. “Flack? Are you okay?” I asked at the same time, relieved when I felt a steady rhythm beneath my fingers. He didn’t respond, so I moved onto the next step: using my very limited understanding of alien first aid to check out his wounds.
The burn on his shoulder was probably from one of those high-tech rifles or pistols everyone carried around—much like the one that had just burned a hole in the bottom of my bag. The small dots of blood that had dried on his skin, I surmised, had to be from the tranquilizers they’d shot him with. Apparently, whatever these pirates used for that was still very similar to what I’d expect on Earth. They’d removed the darts, but each one had left a tiny puncture mark that had bled.
I wiped away the blood with a clean cloth, then focused on the nasty burn on his shoulder. Was it bad enough to keep him from shifting, like the stab wound had before? I checked the hidden pocket on his pants, but he didn’t have another injector in there. So no healing-aiding drugs. That meant I had only one real option to speed up the process, and I pulled out the regenerator with a little trepidation. What if I accidentally put it on the wrong setting and it did nothing? Or worse, harmed him? I had to try, though, so I flicked it on with shaking hands and held it over the burn.
At first, I thought it was pointless; nothing was happening except for a faint blue glow on the angry red, blistered skin. I kept going, though, because there was no indication that Flack was in any worse pain than before. That lightdidlook exactly like it had before, and that gave me hope. When somethingbegan to change, it was faint and started at the edges: deep red turning to a soft pink, and nasty blisters beginning to empty, then shrink. Slowly, the red wound changed entirely to pink, and then healthy skin began to come through in tiny dots and patches.
Eventually, though his skin was still pink and very new-looking, the burn had receded almost entirely. I lowered the healing device and stared at it, then at Flack’s face. He was still asleep, and I hated that. I wanted him to open his sapphire-blue eyes and give me that warm, tender look—the one that reassured me he had it all under control and that he’d take care of me. That wasn’t happening, so it was up to me to keep going. I just didn’t know what was next…
Curling onto the cot next to him, I tucked away the supplies I’d used and tried to nudge his body into a slightly more comfortable position against the wall. I curled beneath his awkwardly hanging arm and ran my fingers over his chest. Curiosity got the better of me then, and perhaps the need to touch and be touched rose to the forefront, too. There, warm against his side, I felt at least a little safe for the moment.
The stripes of white that marked his ribs and chest felt slightly different from the rest of his skin when I ran my fingers over them. The one that ran over his pectorals was broken up, as if the paint had begun flaking. It wasn’t paint, though, though there was texture. Kind of like a callus, maybe: the skin was slightly raised and just a tiny bit rougher. Much more intriguing were the nearly arrow-like shapes below his belly button. Like nature itself wanted to guide my eyes down to his cock, which I now knew was definitely the most impressive specimen I’dever laid eyes on. My fingers tingled when I stroked those lines, remembering what it had felt like to stroke his cock instead.
“Keep going like that, and I’ll have you mounting me just like this, Irena. Is that what you want? Take me while I’m all chained up?” His voice, and the sinful words he spoke, made me jerk back guiltily. Even shackled, he managed to prevent me from going far. His elbow, beneath which I’d curled, came down to pin my neck to his chest. He’d never done that before—actually restrained me—and a startled yelp escaped me. A burst of fear followed, then an ever-sharper lance of arousal. He pinned me with his heated stare as much as he did with the pressure of his elbow against my neck.
His nostrils flared, and I saw the knowledge burn in his eyes, heating the connection between us. He knew I’d gotten turned on, just like last time. Heknew. Then his eyes dropped from my face to skirt over my body, and my skin prickled with awareness. “Are you hurt anywhere? What happened?” His voice had been husky with arousal—perhaps sleepiness—before, but it grew sharp and urgent now. I liked very much how he could go from flirting to concern, and how much my well-being mattered to him. It was the real deal, that worry, and that genuineness still blew my mind a little.
“I’m okay,” I whispered. “I was scared. I’m a little bruised, but otherwise fine. They forgot I was here, I think. Xathena is pretty hurt, so she’s confined to the med bay right now.” My eyes flicked to the pink patch of skin on his shoulder. “What about you? How is your shoulder? Are you hurt anywhere else?” He didn’t stop scanning the parts of my body that were visible until I’d finished talking. His arm slowly let up from around me, giving me the chance to move away; I didn’t. I kept myselftucked against his side, with one hand on his belly, relishing the contact.
“I’m fine,” he said, his mouth twisting into a pleased smile that shifted to seductive the longer I let my hand linger. “Just feel like my head is about to explode,” he added. “A hangover from the drugs, no doubt. My shift is out of reach, so they must have dosed me with the inhibitor again, too.” That was bad, because it meant he couldn’t slip out of these shackles. I still hadn’t found a key for them, so there was no way to open them the normal way. Lockpicking—my only other option—was probably well within Flack’s skill range, but I’d missed that class.
Reaching up, I shifted my hands along his shoulders beneath his hair, feeling the back of his head. His hair was so soft and silky, somehow tangle-free after all he’d been up to. He held still as I touched him, his mouth tilted into a sinful little smirk. He was so damn pleased about this, about me touching him. It was very tempting to wipe that smirk right off his face. Pay him back a little for all the flirting and touching he’d done to me… Wouldn’t that stun him if I actually did the naughty thing he’d suggested when he woke, mount his lap?
I’d thrown my leg across his thighs before I could curb the impulse, and then I was actually sitting astride him. He groaned, his whole body jerking beneath me, pelvis canting up. “Ah, blazing stars, Irena! Yes, sit in my lap, beautiful.” Like he couldn’t stop himself, he rubbed against me, his hips undulating beneath my thighs. His cock was growing firm inside his pants, as massive as I remembered. A moan slipped out, and briefly, I didn’t know if it was me making that sound.
I dislodged a dart with my fingers then, which had been tangled in his long hair and gone unnoticed. It slid down his chest and landed in my lap between us. We both looked down, but I was pretty sure his eyes snagged on my boobs instead and stuck there. His eyes blazed blue, and his cock kicked in his pants, twitching against my bare thighs through the firm armor. “Oh, fuck…” I muttered. Then I actually thought it: fuck it, why not? Why not do exactly what he’d suggested? This might be our last day together. We were plotting an escape from nasty, murderous pirates… This could be my last day alive. Why not do something incredible while I still had the chance? I had hold of the hem of my dress and yanked it over my head, the forgotten dart flying into a corner with a clatter.
Forced to go braless, the bodice of the dress offered only a little support; now my breasts spilled free. I was clad only in a pair of ragged panties I’d handwashed. The way Flack responded, I might as well have been wearing the finest silk. There was no doubt that the heat scorching my skin, just from the way he looked at me, was real. Every line of his handsome face was etched with desire. He even mindlessly yanked on the chains that shackled his wrists, as if he were desperate to touch me.
I was no virgin, but in any past sexual encounters, I’d never been the one in charge. With him chained up, it was my task to move this along if I wanted to, and that sent a thrill down my spine. It definitely thrilled him too, because his groan was so deep it came out almost as a growl. “Please,” he said. “I’m at your mercy.” Yes, he was. This morning he’d been the one in charge, and I’d left that encounter stunned, satisfied, and with the lingering taste of his seed engraved on my brain. The only thing this boiled down to was: did I trust him? Trust him enough to take him into my body?
I slipped away, and he fought the chains. It was power, my power. He could not reach me, which meant that if I wanted to, I could leave at any moment. My hands dropped to my panties, and I shimmied out of them. Flack’s eyes glowed so bright a blue that the light reflected against the wide white band that bisected much of his face. When I began moving toward him again, he widened his legs, making space for me between them. As much of a mystery as his pants were when it came to pockets, I quickly discovered that freeing his cock was not nearly as difficult.
He had not touched me; we hadn’t even kissed yet, but already my folds were soaked with my own excitement. He was beyond gorgeous, spread out on the cot, waiting for me. Though he’d calmed, the growl quieting, the tension in his body hadn’t lessened. It felt like he’d slipped into predator mode, staring at me like he really was a fox about to jump on a little mouse. He even licked his lip, and the cock I’d carefully freed from his pants kicked and slapped, leaving a wet smear against his ridged abdomen.
“Beautiful mate… Your scent is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted,” he said, his voice dropping back into the seductive tones I knew so well with him. Trailing my hand along his thigh, I stepped closer, and I wondered if it would hurt when he stretched me, or if I’d like it. My belly twisted with desire at the thought, so I braced myself with one hand on his shoulder and climbed back into his lap.
“Yessss,” he hissed, his body shifting to accommodate me. It was still a shock when his cock lifted and twitched, touching sensitive folds I’d only recently been reminded of. The pleasure was intense from just that touch of the silk-covered steel of his erection. He was not the only one who hissed, and this time Ijerked, my legs slipping against his. A foot landed on the cot, and I scrambled to hold on, my arms sliding entirely around his neck.
“Sit,” he growled. I didn’t listen, raising my face to kiss him instead. That, he gladly gave into, and I let the moment drag on, secure in the embrace. Then he rubbed against me with his hips, and pleasure went from languid and budding to wild and powerful. Oh, this was just like before. He wasn’t even able to properly touch me, and he still knew how to entice me, seduce my body until any reservations fled. His hips nudged his cock against my sensitive clit in gentle, undulating motions that rapidly saw me fly apart.
“Ssssh, quiet, or the guards will hear you, little Tikai,” he warned, slanting his mouth over mine to drown out the sound of my surprised moan. It didn’t feel like I was quite in control any longer, but I hardly cared. With the last remnants of my orgasm still flooding my body, I finally found purchase with my knees on the cot, on either side of his legs. I rose, and when I saw the dare in his eyes, accepted that challenge with a little growl of my own.
I folded one hand around his erection before I could change my mind, and lifted it to press the tip against my slick opening. I had grown tight from the orgasm, but the silky, smooth heat of his cockhead felt so good I rapidly softened. He’d seemed massive, but to my surprise it was not as difficult as I expected to sink down on him, inch by slow inch. My thighs trembled with the strain, my hands clawed at the back of his neck, and I’d forgotten about kissing him. My only focus was on how it looked, and felt, to take his thick cock into me.
Flack had seemed like a sweet talker, given his penchant for flirting, but he was as lost for words as I was. Body tight with tension, eyes like mine locked on the place where our bodies were sliding together. I rose, eased back down, and that made me take him deeper than I expected—still, more than half of him remained. The bumps of white that lined the top of his shaft were a texture I could actually feel sliding against my folds. They were a way to measure, too. Seven bumps to go, then six, five. With three remaining, I felt so full I couldn’t possibly go on, and the pleasure began to edge into pain.
