Lust Plague (Steamwork Chronicles)

by Silverwood, Cari

  Without him doing anything more than this, merely making her wait, her pussy seeped. Moisture gathered, her folds swelled, and the liquid meandered downward to the crease of bottom and thigh. More waiting, and more of her moisture leaked, trailed farther across the back of her thigh.

  Where is he?

  With only blackness before her eyes, she listened to the noises of him stripping. To the quiet sounds of cloth on skin, of feet on dirt.

  She smelled him and inhaled, swayed on her knees, straining to follow the scent.

  “I’m here.” He ran his splayed fingers into her hair and clamped his mouth on her gagged lips, claiming her, making sure she had to respond. By the time he finished, she was panting and dizzy. Then he spoke near her mouth. “I can kiss you…”

  Tentatively she curled out her tongue, licking him, feeling his lips shape words.

  “…anywhere.” He licked her tongue with his. “Do anything.” A warm, commanding voice, and his warm, large hand on her pubic mound. He slid his hand farther, discovering her slippery dampness. Then he casually entered her pussy with his thumb and wormed his finger up, up, into her second hole.

  She closed her eyes behind the blindfold and held her breath, knowing every small curl of digit or bump of his knuckles as he stroked inside her. Knowing every clench of her muscles down there. Desire mounted…until he pulled away. Then she whimpered.

  “Your turn to do some work.” She heard him stand. The gag was pulled from between her lips. His cock pressed at her mouth.

  At the back of her head, he twisted her hair, winding it around and around until he could use it like the reins of a horse. He urged her forward, deeper onto his cock. Her lips slipped wetly over his soft head, and two inches of him slid inside past her teeth.

  “Yes. Take it in. Suck me.”

  Her bruised lips stretched over him, wider, sucking as he told her to, and she cruised her tongue along his cock as if measuring his length. She moaned past him. With her hands behind her, she had no say, and that heightened her own arousal. She loved it.

  “Keep your throat open. Take it all. Try.”

  She went to shake her head, couldn’t, not with his cock occupying her mouth and his hand in her hair. She’d never done this—been able to take a man down into her throat. Whores did that. Not her. She’d never wanted to. But with her breath huffing in and out through her nose, some strange need flowered. To please Sten, she’d try.

  As he moved back and forth, his soft tip going out to her lips, then slow and surely back into her, she accommodated him, opening wider or closing smaller, shaping her mouth. She shut her eyes beneath the cloth, kept her hands clasped and relaxed. His head went past some limit at the back of her throat and kept going. His balls touched her, withdrew.

  “That’s it.” He made small, harsh sounds in time to his rhythm. His cock swelled, and she hummed in pleasure.

  STEN LOOKED DOWN at Kaysana with her lips around him, feeling the vibration in her throat and the pulse of his cock. With the rope of her hair twining around his fist and with her kneeling and sucking him off…hell, it was almost enough to make him come all by itself. She’d sunk way down into submitting to him. Much farther than he’d thought she’d ever go. A very determined woman, but right now she was his, through and through.

  This couldn’t be only once. She was wrong. By the end of this night, she would see that.

  He pulled himself from her mouth and replaced the gag, then half knelt and said in her ear, “There’s so many ways I’d like to take you.”

  He got the thick blanket, folded it, and threw it over the wide, rounded edge of the parapet behind her—for comfort’s sake. He put his hands under her armpits and hoisted her up so she balanced there.

  With her head hanging back over the drop beyond and her arms pinned beneath her, with her bound hands at her ass and her feet just reaching the rooftop, she couldn’t do anything except show him the smooth curves of her body. She strained to lift her head, searching blindly for him.

  “I’m here, darlin’.”

  To reassure her, he rested his palm on her tummy, then leisurely swept his gaze up her body. The moon had risen high and shone down, turning her into a silver statue with her mound angled up to him and the split of her sex delightfully visible. He continued upward, taking in the cute dip of belly button, her breasts and their peaked nipples, and the backward arch of her neck.

  Her hair spilled into the night like a black river, flicking in the light breeze. The wolf pendant slewed across her neck, slid over her collarbone and fell—to swing and dangle in a spin of silver. Each breath she took made her breasts move in that fascinating way. He smiled. Looking at tits always made him happy.

  He traced around one nipple as he considered, watched how she held her breath and the subtle increase in the arch of her spine, but then…her clit tempted him. The little button stuck out like a fruit waiting to be plucked, or eaten.

  He let both his hands shape her and coast down her sides, from her chest to the inward curve of her waist to rest on her hips, then on her buttocks. He knelt before her and leaned in, breathing her smell…before he sucked her clit into his mouth.

  The little squeak from Kaysana made him grin around his tiny prize. Then he applied himself properly, stretched her lips out to either side with his thumbs as he laid his tongue over her, toggling her clit to and fro. The scent of her pussy, her female musk, hardened his cock. By listening to her breathing, by seeing and feeling the motion of her hips, he gauged her arousal. When her toes dug scrunching circles in the dirt and small urgent noises came from her gagged mouth, he knew she was close.

  “Care to tell me what you want done to you?” He stuck his tongue out stiffly and tapped her clit. She moaned, and her groin bumped at him. “Hmmm? Cat got your tongue? If you can’t say it clearly, maybe I should just walk away?”

  Her indignant series of squeaks made him grin again.

  He plastered his mouth over her, sucked at her clit, hard, then even harder. Nibbling and sucking made it stand out from the hood more than he’d ever seen it do before.

  “Ahhh. Now that has you horny.” He moved one hand inward. In the bright moonlight, he saw her clit twitch and felt her pussy do the same. More of her juices ran onto his knuckles. He massaged up and down her slit, then extended two fingers and pushed them inside, slow as slow could be. Every inch of her quivered. He wriggled and got all five of his fingers in. Kaysana raked in a harsh breath and stopped breathing.

  “Like that?” His voice was husky. He pumped in and out, noticing, as he moved his hand, when she clenched harder onto him. “Ahh. This spot?”

  There he stayed, nudging his fingertips back and forth.

  He reapplied his tongue to her clit, licking and licking, and when she panted and thrust in tempo at his mouth, he kept at her. Her legs stiffened. Her thighs pushed, as did her mound. Her back bowed. His dick jerked at the sight of her reaction.

  “Mmm. Mm!” The strangled whimpers came from deep in her throat, and her entire body undulated. He didn’t cease using his tongue and instead waited for the shuddering and the whimpers to run their course before he stopped and removed his hand from the pleasingly slick mess her slit had become.

  He wiped his hand down her leg, tickled the back of her knee, smiling when she squealed and tried to get away.

  “Oh, that’s cute. Damn, s’pose I shouldn’t torture you, though?” Her indignant huff made him grin.

  He kissed her thigh, rose, and pulled her upright. The shaking of her legs slowly settled. He turned her around and bent her over the parapet again—this time on her front with her ass delectably presented to him.

  “How’s that?” Her breasts hung on the other side of the parapet, and he curved his hands over them to pinch and pull at her nipples.

  “Mmm!” She flinched and swung her head toward him. Blindfolded and gagged and her sound had not been a happy one.

  “Don’t wriggle!” He smacked her ass. The bouncy feel of it reminded hi
m of the time at the shop. She stiffened, let out a minuscule moan; then her head lowered and her stance softened.

  Giving in. Now that was nice to see.

  “Much better,” he murmured before putting his mouth to her nape, then his teeth around the side muscle. He bit hard and then soft, and again and again, until she gave another moan. He moved so his cock was against her bottom, let it slip between her legs so the moisture of her pussy wet his whole length.

  He kneed apart her thighs, dipped down to get the right angle, and pushed. The first tight clutch of her pussy on the head of his cock made her lift her head and inhale sharply.

  So he bit her again and muttered sweet, dirty words, ramming into her harder, lifting her up on her toes at the peak of each thrust, making her squeak and gasp.

  How had he ever thought this woman would reject him? This was her at her most primitive and him taking it all in, glorying in her surrender. Fucking adorable, and the way she quivered and gave herself, her body arching farther into him, head back, making the small noises no woman ever made except in the throes of sex…hell, she was his.

  He thrust and held her there, up in the air, her toes striving for a hold but finding nothing and sliding futilely down his legs, because he…was…her…master. Her pussy clamped hard onto him, lava hot. “Come for me, girl. Come! Let me feel your pussy tighten.” Then he thrust again.

  Her body spasmed at the same time his balls seemed to crunch up into him. The convulsive tremor inside her and her little whine transformed into panting groans. With one last push, he came, the force building up from his toes and thighs to pump into her until he wondered if he’d delivered his own damn soul into her body.

  He listened to his thudding heartbeat and smiled into her hair, inhaled her scent of sweat and woman, wrapped his arms around her until there was nothing between her skin and his.

  Something within him solidified—some connection with Kaysana was in his grasp. Not just love or trust. He felt toward it, like a man with a part of him missing who’d seen it reappear. He could almost see and touch it inside his head. Terribly beautiful, as if she were a part of his body. As if every atom of Kaysana was under his thrall.

  The two of them stood curved against each other, recovering and breathing together. The night air played lightly over them. Sten watched Kaysana’s fine neck hairs stir. When her breathing calmed, he stroked his hand down her side, found the leather bonds. He freed her hands and massaged her wrists, then removed the blindfold and the gag.

  “You good?” he asked. She nodded, cuddling into his chest. “Want to get dressed?” Again a nod.

  Dressing, picking up the gear, and returning to the other roof so they could clean up were done quietly. All he wanted to do was get her to sit with him, and then with a little more time, he’d get her talking before they slept. His exhilaration became a satisfied certainty. She was his. Yet they had to settle this. He needed her to say it, out loud. Whatever happened tomorrow, this was important.

  Their sleeping blankets were over where the others slept, but he drew her to their spot beside the dying fire and made her settle against him with a glass of water in her hand. He straddled the cloth-covered crate with a leg to either side. She was pliable, willing to listen to him…yet something was wrong in the way she examined the moon and plucked at his fingers where he’d laid his hand in her lap.

  “You ready to talk, Kaysana?”

  “Yes.” She inhaled deeply, exhaled.

  He rested his chin on top of her head and snuggled one arm across her waist. “I want to make sure you know that you’re mine. I won’t have it any other way. Can’t.”

  No answer.

  “You liked what we did together? What I did to you?”

  “Yes.” The word was as quiet as the click of a gently shut door, yet the next was stronger. “Yes. I did. It’s so odd the way I feel about you and what I wanted you to do, and how I wanted you to just make me do things…but I’m glad. And grateful.” She wriggled, got comfortable, then picked up the pendant and let the moonlight fall on it. “For this among everything else. But whatever happens tomorrow, we should go our own ways afterward.”

  What? “What! No.” He gripped her ear, gave it a shake. “No. We’re right for each other. I can help you. You complete me, and the other way around. We’re right together.”

  Her sigh shook her, and he pictured it sinking like a gray cloud to the very bottom of her toes. Heaviness weighed down his stomach.

  “Maybe, in some ways, but we are also wrong for each other. I can’t give up what I do. My grandfather honors what I do. I must go back to what I have trained for and striven for my entire life.” She doodled circles on the back of his arm. “We may die tomorrow. But if we come out of this okay, what we did tonight was…fun, but it’s gone. We must go back to our true lives.”

  He knew her well enough now to recognize utter determination when he saw it. Could he make her follow him? No. Besides, he needed her head in the right place, wanting him, wanting what the two of them created by being together.

  Strange how much he longed to both pick her up and care for her, and yet also to frigging shake her until her brains rattled and she agreed with him.

  “Don’t you feel the bond between us? Something just…” He fumbled for the way to say something so slippery.

  “I feel something. Yes. I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of it completely.” She shrugged. “Maybe we can somehow get together, in secret. In small towns, when I get breaks?”

  In secret? Hell. His thighs clenched into hers. He resisted that urge to shake her, again. “You still hate frankenstructs that much?”

  “No. I don’t.” She shifted. “I just know what others think. I’m sorry.”

  “So what I am is nothing. I’m a frankenstruct, and you aren’t wanting to be seen in public with me?”

  Though little bubbles of anger threatened to erupt, he easily quashed them. No matter the provocation, he would remain calm. He’d never let her see that awful part of him. Even if she stabbed him through the heart.

  “No! It’s not just that!” She twisted around, stared at him. “Even if I came to you, if we stayed together… You’re a mercenary. I worked all my life to become what I am—an air fleet captain!”

  He wouldn’t get angry—sad maybe, but not angry, not with Kaysana. But he put on his darkest look, then said his piece, quietly. “Here’s another fact—you are a lonely woman. And another—I am a lonely man.” Her face froze. “Stay as you are, then. I won’t push you farther. Come to me on your hands and knees and I might think again.”

  He shoved himself upright and strode away. Fuck. What a night.

  It wasn’t until he stood in front of the filing room door that he realized he’d gone down the stairs without seeing a thing. He kicked open the door, splintering the lock from the frame, and barely felt the pain.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Kaysana rolled forward on her knees, bowed her head, pressing it into the pillow on her rolled-out mattress. Why had she lied? Her attraction to Sten wasn’t a compulsion anymore…yet her feelings for him were far greater than she’d let him see. She yearned to go to him and beg forgiveness, to drop to her knees, hug his legs, and kiss him wherever she could reach. But the kernel of truth was there—she couldn’t stay with him. No woman in her situation with any sense, any brains would. Trash her entire career on a whim? No.

  Got to pull myself together. Business as usual. She sniffed. Either she could ignore Sten, get on with life without him, or she couldn’t. Chin up. Stop being weak.

  The nip in the air reminded her of where they planned to go on the morn. Near her mat the doctor’s pile of clothing, suitable for subzero temperature, sat in a neat, furry pile. She may as well sort out her size. Emily had already donned hers and was asleep with Cadrach at her feet.

  After tugging on a few sets and discarding some, she had found herself a pair of fur-lined pants, a hooded jacket, boots, and gloves. In daylight it would be the lovely bright wh
ite and orange the PME favored for Arctic gear. There was even a little knife sheathed in the boots.

  The air twitched in that familiar way—like warm jelly rolling across her. Zombies?

  A scuffle and a roar from Cadrach made her whip around. A few yards away, two figures wrestled under the moonlight, a pretty scenario wrought in silver and shadow, as if they merely danced to and fro. Until they swung around. Twin lights of flame churned in the eye sockets of one of them. The doctor was a raised man.

  No weapons at hand—they were stacked by the fire. No time for finesse, she ran full tilt.

  “No!” Emily wheezed, thumping at where the doctor gripped her throat.

  A blur of gray—Cadrach leaped at them. The doctor flung Emily down as a child tosses a toy. She rolled limply. He swept his arm in a vicious arc, cracking into Cadrach in midair. With a yelp, the wolf flew, twisting and skidding across the rooftop, smacking into the stone edge. He lay still. The doctor reached again for Emily.

  You forgot me. Kaysana launched into a leaping kick, leg straight as a spear, foot out and aimed at his back.

  At the last second he turned and batted her leg away. She landed and tumbled. Pain burned into her side. Bounce back up, woman. Emily’s down. The pain is a lie. She flipped to her feet. Could you punch a zombie into submission? She’d try. Keep out of range. Don’t grapple. He’s strong.

  Again the doctor bent to pick up Emily.

  Her kick caromed off the back of his skull and sent him flailing and tottering sideways. Had the furred boots softened the blow? Should’ve, would’ve flattened a normal man.

  The impossibility of this, of killing a raised man bare-handed, sank in.

  She growled. “Leave her! Try me. Try me, you bastard.” Why now…why had the doctor changed now? Why not before? She sucked in a lungful and screamed, “Sten!” Where is he?

  “Coming! I’m coming!” His distant reply punctuated the rasp of her breathing and Emily's whimpers. Oh God, he’s downstairs. Too far.

  The doctor pivoted, and the lava flare in his eyes made her misstep. She recovered and faked a kick. The little knife in my boot. It’d lengthen her reach. She’d wait for a chance, then grab it. Hands up and ready to strike, she cautiously circled him, waiting, waiting, backing toward the weapons at the fire. Waste enough time and Sten would…