Science Fiction Romance: Biomechanical Hearts (Space Sci-Fi Love Triangle) (New Adult Paranormal Fantasy)

by Olivia Myers

  The ding surprised us apart.

  I smoothed my sundress over my hips. He led me out of the elevator and through his apartment door.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  He rumbled out a laugh, deep in his throat, and my whole body went hot. I pulled his face to mine. I needed his hands and lips on me. I needed him.

  We stumbled a few steps, unwilling to disentangle ourselves.

  “I have a better idea,” he said. He stooped and whisked me off my feet and carried me across the living room with all its windows. I wrapped my arms around his neck but his face was too close to ignore. I kissed him again. He banged my feet into the doorway.

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry. I couldn’t see. I’ll kiss them and make them all better as soon as I get you to my bed.”

  Excitement and anticipation flared in my belly and down between my legs.

  In the bedroom he placed me on a king size bed. This room also had a wall of windows overlooking the East River and Brooklyn. At my place, I had to draw my curtains as soon as the sun went down, but here we were high enough up that no one could see us without a telescope.

  I reached to pull him on top of me, but he turned and removed my sandals. His strong hands caressed my ankles. His warm breath tickled my toes and he rained kisses all over both feet.

  I writhed with the sensations. It felt good – so good – but I wanted more. Needed more. “Come here.”

  He turned and grinned. “Not yet.” He flicked his tongue over my ankles and slowly made his way up my legs.

  Too slowly. I reached for his arms but he resisted. My fingers brushed his hair. He continued his slow progress up one thigh, pushing my dress out of his way.

  Finally he reached my panties. His hot breath dampened the outside while my body reacted and dampened the inside.

  My back arched and I tried grabbing him again. He pushed my hands away then inserted fingers under the elastic of my panties. He slid them over my hips, down my thighs and across my toes.

  I could barely breathe because his touch was so intense.

  Our gazes met and a slow smile spread across his handsome face.

  He unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and let them drop to the floor. His shirt soon followed. His cock jutted upward proudly, making a tent of his boxers. He was ready to go.

  My fingers curled in the sheets in impatience. Why wouldn’t he bring that handsome face close enough for me to kiss? Why wouldn’t he bring that handsome cock close enough for me to ride?

  As if reading my mind, he quirked an eyebrow and slid his body up the length of mine. His skin moved against my stomach and nipples and drove me wild. I moaned.

  Finally, his face was level with mine. I grabbed him and kissed him and wrapped my legs around his waist. I pushed my slick center against his cock and he moaned this time. Low and guttural, and I wanted to hear it again. We ground against each other and I felt him heavy between my legs through his underwear.

  I moved my legs and scrabbled at his boxers with hurried fingers.

  “Not yet,” he breathed against my mouth.

  I groaned in impatience. “Please.”

  A deep kiss stole my breath, then his warmth left me. But only for a moment. He kissed down my jawline, down my neck and throat, to my breasts. I gasped.

  One huge, warm hand covered each breast and his mouth went to work on one nipple. My breath panted out of me.

  A part of me never wanted it to end and another part wanted him to get on with it, use a different part of his body.

  My fingers played in his hair and he continued to lick, bite, and suck.

  One hand caressed down my belly, between my legs, and I gasped again. His hand rubbed and teased my clit, playing in my wetness. So much sensation at once. I didn’t think I could stand much more.

  Then his mouth left my breast and he licked and kissed his way down my belly. I writhed in anticipation.

  Soon his mouth took the place of his hand, his tongue flicking inside me. My gasps became louder and my fingers curled in the sheets again.

  His tongue moved faster, his hands holding my hips, and I wasn’t going to last any longer.

  Again he read my mind. He lifted his head, gave me a searing look, and stretched out on top of me.

  His weight, the solidity of him, was heaven.

  I bit his lower lip until he kissed me. We kissed deeply and breathlessly.

  My hips rose and pushed against him.

  He leaned on one arm and used his other hand to guide himself into me. A long gasp escaped my lips. We rocked together and I clung to him and never wanted to let go.

  He dipped his head to my face and kissed me again.

  I caressed his back and reached down to his ass, scraping my fingernails against it. He groaned and thrust inside me. Deeper. He thrust several more times until I let go completely and rode the wave of pleasure he’d created.

  I lay, still wrapped around him, unable to do more than pant while the very heart of me pulsed.

  He collapsed on top of me and we panted together. Rolling to the side, he rested his head in the crook between my shoulder and my head. “Wow.”

  Wow, indeed.

  I’d only been with a couple of guys before Trey. Those experiences had been fun, even good. But this…this defied words.

  ***

  The sunrise flooded the bedroom with weak light, growing stronger by the minute. Trey stretched and yawned. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

  “You’re still here.”

  My smile grew. “Yes. No weddings today. But I do have to go to work. It’s the last day for teachers.”

  His face grew sad.

  My hand touched his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

  He held my hand to his face and turned to kiss my palm. “I’m falling in love with you and it scares me.”

  My breath caught in my throat. No one had ever said those words to me. I’d waited my whole life for someone to fall in love with me. I’d just expected the guy would be a little less related to me. I swallowed the thought and tried not to let it show on my face.

  “Me, too.”

  We kissed until arousal stirred in my belly and below. I climbed on top of him, enjoying the cool sheets on my bare skin and his warm body beneath me.

  He grinned. “Good morning to you, too.”

  I laughed and ground against his hardening cock until he groaned. “If I had time, I’d give you a taste of your own medicine and draw out the anticipation until you beg me.”

  He reared up, grabbed my arms, and rolled me onto my back. “Then we’ll make this quick.” He thrust into me and we thrashed and rocked until we both came.

  After, he fell asleep again and I snuck away to shower. His bathroom was lined in slate, a very manly choice. I washed with his soap, closing my eyes to savor the scent of him.

  Hopefully no one at school would notice I was wearing the same brightly-colored sundress. Thank goodness I didn’t have students today.

  Stumbling through the day, I got my classroom packed.

  At home, I poured myself some lemonade and collapsed on the couch. A nap would set me right. But behind my closed lids, pictures of my night with Trey haunted me, fueled by the smell of him all around me. Had I done the right thing by going home with him last night? Sure, it was the best sex of my life, but at what cost?

  He was my stepbrother and nothing would change that.

  The phone rang, startling me out of my steamy memories and uncomfortable thoughts. “Hi, Mom. How’s Tahiti?” I forced cheeriness into my voice.

  “You wouldn’t believe how beautiful it is here. Are you okay?”

  “Of course. I finished school today and have a few days off before I start my summer job. Why?”

  “You just don’t sound like yourself. Has something happened?”

  I started to cry then. Exhaustion from a night spent making love to my stepbrother had made me emotional.

  It all ca
me spilling out of me. From the first time I’d met Trey through realizing who he was at the wedding to last night. Mom let me talk and cry and talk some more.

  “Sweetie, when I first met Mark, I thought it was wrong of me to fall for someone new when I’d loved your father so much. But your father was gone and life went on. You have to follow your heart. Trevor isn’t your brother, he’s an adult stepbrother. And he’s a great guy. I’m so happy for you.”

  I cried a bit more then we said goodbye. Wiping my face, I made a decision. A decision to be happy.

  After getting cleaned up, I took the subway back into Manhattan.

  Masha opened the door and gave me a big smile. “Hello, Miss Justine. I’m happy to see you.”

  “You are?”

  “Of course. Mr. Trevor has been a little down this evening and I’m sure seeing you will cheer him up.”

  It struck me then that Masha actually liked her employer. She seemed to care about him.

  I cared, too.

  I found him in the living room, staring out the wall of windows, a glass of something dark in his hand. “Like the view?” I asked.

  He whirled around. “Justine.” The sadness melted out of his eyes, as I’d seen before when he’d looked at me. “What are you doing here?”

  I ran into his arms and breathed him in. “Choosing happiness. Choosing us.”

  “Us?” The word tickled my head with his warm breath. His hands ran up and down my back. “Me, too.”

  My heart soared and I squeezed him to me. Rich doctor, stepbrother, whatever. He was mine.

  THE END

  Here’s a FREE BONUS Book Called Trouble

  Duke knew the girl was trouble the second she walked through the door. Not that Shotguns Bar was any stranger to trouble. Most of the men that came in to belly-up to the scarred walnut bar or play a borderline unfriendly game of pool were rough and tumble types, bikers and bad-asses, and Duke had to put his military training to use busting heads and rousting surly drunks pretty often.

  But she was a whole different kind of trouble.

  The late afternoon sunlight streaming through the dusty windows gleamed off her long, wavy blonde hair as she tossed it over her shoulder. She scanned the bar, slender, long-fingered hands propped on her hips, and her haughty little snub nose in the air.

  She’d made an attempt to dress down, but if her faded denim mini-skirt with its frayed hem wasn’t ‘designer distressed’ or whatever they called that shit, Duke would eat his own jeans — which were ragged and worn nearly white in places because he’d had them for over a decade, not because some he’d bought them that way.

  He didn’t smile as he took in the pink, glittery words on her tight black t-shirt — YOU SAY ‘BITCH’ LIKE IT’S A BAD THING — but his lips did twitch. He continued slicing limes, but kept half an eye on the new arrival as she sized up the few patrons scattered at the mismatched tables.

  Once she’d taken the lay of the land, her gaze zeroed in on him. Her eyes narrowed a little and her pointed chin went up another notch. Duke dumped the limes into a plastic bucket and stuck it in the chiller, wiped his hands, and tossed the bar rag over his shoulder. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and waited for her to come to him.

  Not many women came into Shotguns, and the ones who did were nothing like her. They were either as rough and hard as the men they were drinking with, or the kind of easy girls that hadn’t been pretty enough in high school and were used to getting attention on their back or their knees.

  Blondie looked like she’d probably been head cheerleader and Homecoming Queen. Duke doubted she’d ever spent a minute on her knees in her whole life. Which was a shame, because the thought of her looking up at him with those pouty pink lips made Duke’s blood hot. Hot enough that he had to reach down and make a bit of an adjustment as she sashayed across the bare wooden floor, the heels of her cowboy boots (Jesus, they were pink) clocking loudly over the faint strains of Waylon Jennings drifting from the ancient jukebox in the corner.

  When she reached the bar, she placed her hands on the edge and leaned in, one corner of her mouth curled up in a little smirk. The move drew his eyes immediately to the ample cleavage visible above the scooped neckline of her little black tee, which was no doubt exactly the response she was looking for. His suspicion was confirmed when he glanced back up and saw the triumphant glint in her blue eyes.

  She knew the effect she had on men and she enjoyed toying with them. Duke put on his best ‘Don’t fuck with me’ look, furrowing his heavy brows, mouth in a straight line, hard eyes and flexing biceps. It was an expression he’d seen on more than one CO’s face, and even used a time or two himself on some grunt fresh off the plane.

  Unlike them, Blondie didn’t even flinch. She cocked her head a little, sending all that blonde hair sliding down her arm, and her gaze crawled all over him. Sizing him up. When she got back to his face her little smile grew wider. Duke felt the skin on his forehead tighten as his scowl deepened.

  Christ, trouble was right! They hadn’t even spoken a word to each other and yet he could feel the heat crackle between them. The warm, leather- and alcohol-scented air of the bar seemed heavy and oppressive, like the atmosphere just before a hell of a storm.

  When his fierce expression didn’t relax, she rocked back on her heels, her smile fading a little. The challenge in her eyes didn’t, though.

  “Sign out front says you’re hiring.”

  She hooked a manicured thumb toward the door she’d come through, as if Duke was too stupid to remember where it was he’d put the sign. It had only been three days since he’d had to fire Barb. He’d hated to do it, because she’d been a hell of a server. None of the customers gave her shit because she was just as hard as they were. But he’d caught her with her hand in the till, and there wasn’t much Duke hated more than a thief. Except maybe a coward.

  When he didn’t respond, Blondie gave an exasperated little huff. She crossed her arms in a mockery of his posture, but it didn’t quite work since she had to do it under the full swell of her breasts, pushing them up as if offering them on a platter.

  “Are you or aren’t you?”

  Duke had to give her points for the hard edge to her voice. It sounded all business, even if she looked all pleasure. He shrugged one shoulder.

  “What’s it to you, Blondie?”

  He pressed his lips together to keep from smiling as her nostrils flared and a muscle in her jaw jumped. He could practically hear her grinding her teeth.

  “I want the job.”

  Duke couldn’t help it, he snorted laughter. Her spine snapped straight and a faint pink flush stained her cheeks. He turned away to grab a longneck from the cooler, ignoring her as he popped the cap and slid from behind the long bar.

  He felt her watching him, her gaze a hot press between his shoulder blades as he strode across the room to Buz’s table and set down the fresh beer. The bearded old biker gave him a brief nod and pushed his empty out of the way.

  Blondie was still staring at him when he turned back, hands on her hips like they’d been when she first walked in. Her eyes were glittering with anger… and maybe a hint of hurt. She covered it well, but he could see it in the set of her slender shoulders. Duke sighed as he reached her, setting Buz’s empty on the bar beside her and leaning one elbow on the scratched surface.

  “Look, no offense Blondie, but the kind of clientele we get in here… well, they’d eat you alive.”

  She flashed him perfect, straight, white teeth in something halfway between a grin and a snarl. Her eyes snapped with blue electricity.

  “Perfect,” she purred. “I love getting eaten.”

  Lust hit Duke like a flash grenade, every drop of blood heading straight to his groin. He swallowed, shifting as his previously comfortable jeans suddenly constricted his half hard cock.

  Her gaze dropped to his waist, took in the outline of his erection. The flush on her cheeks grew deeper and the glistening tip of her tongue poked out to slide a
long her lips. Duke stepped into her personal space, resting his right hand on the back of the bar stool behind her, caging her in with his arms.

  She had to look up at him. She was tall for a woman, nearly 5’11 with the heels on her boots, but he had her beat by a good six inches still. He stared down into her wide eyes, taking in the dilated pupils. Her breath was a warm, mint scented puff against his chin.

  “If you’re looking for a little rough trade, you don’t have to work here for that. Have a seat. I’ll get you a drink. If you hang out, I’m sure you can find someone who’ll punch your ticket.” Duke gave her cleavage a lingering look and then shrugged. “Hell, if you’re still here at closing maybe I’ll give you a go.”

  He’d meant to piss her off, because in his experience princesses like her liked to play bad girl but they stormed off in a snit when things didn’t go their way. Once she did that, he could get back to doing inventory.

  But he’d underestimated Blondie badly. For one thing, she moved quicker than he would have thought. Her left hand came up between them to shove at his chest with surprising force. It didn’t shift him, but it rocked him back a bit and gave her a moment of advantage while he gaped in shock.

  The sound of breaking glass coincided almost exactly with the movement of her right arm. If he’d been another man, she might have managed to get the broken beer bottle to his throat before he could take action… But Duke wasn’t other men. His left hand shot out without him even having to think about it, the response smooth and automatic. He caught her slender wrist in his thick fingers.

  She panted lightly, but her arm didn’t tremble. Duke was impressed. And hard as a railroad spike. His heart hammered in his chest and he tasted bright metallic adrenaline on the back of his tongue.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy bitch?!”

  He squeezed her wrist hard enough to make her flinch but she didn’t let go of the bottle. Instead, she pushed against him, her breasts brushing against his own plain black tee.

  “What’s the matter, sweetheart? I thought you wanted to ‘give me a go’!” She fluttered her long lashes at him, her voice sickly sweet.