by Mel Teshco
She’d had reservations from the very start. She should have heeded them. From the moment she’d seen him she’d been aware he was no ordinary man, but then lust had overtaken all logic.
If the prisoner was offended he didn’t show it, though he did ask, “You’ve had enough of me now?”
Jasmine arched a brow, but said nothing, seeming as interested in the answer as 322.
Cloey strove for calm. “I’m saying we all knew the rules, and you’re more than happy to break them.”
He shrugged. “Then what is it you think I should do?”
Cloey glared, imagining how a trapped animal must feel. "I think you should leave, now!”
Jasmine sighed. “Cloey, stop. Please.” Her brown eyes, which turned molten gold when angry, were presently liquid soft, and Cloey thought she saw a glint of understanding, or perhaps sympathy, in their depths.
She stiffened. The latter just wouldn’t do.
Jasmine stood, glorious in her nudity. “We need to think things through, and not rush into something that could endanger us.”
Cloey bit her bottom lip. Jasmine was right. Opening the door to let the prisoner fend for himself would be suicidal for them all. The alarms hadn’t been activated for something minor.
She’d allowed her emotions to take over from common sense.
Even Jasmine, who was by far the most daring of the two of them, had known better.
Jasmine lifted a hand and tilted Cloey’s chin. Her eyes sparked heat and mischief. “You know I’m right.”
Cloey nodded, and then licked her lips. Despite the danger outside their cabin, it was Jasmine’s pussy she really wanted to lick, along with her lush breasts with their blush-colored nipples, and her full, delectable lips.
Jasmine smiled. “I knew you’d understand. We stay here until we’re given the all clear. Until then, I’m taking a shower.” She glanced pointedly at the prisoner, whose attention hadn’t left them once during their exchange. “Care to join me?”
Cloey gasped, though the stab in her body wasn’t to the heart—it was centered in the juncture between her thighs.
Jasmine’s smile became wolfish, as though she perceived Cloey’s secret yearning. “Cloey, why don’t you lie on the bed and watch … and play?”
Cloey’s pulse picked up speed as her lover sashayed toward the humidifier shower—a pulse that began to stutter when she realized the prisoner hadn’t moved, and was instead looking at her, as though waiting for her consent.
Why did he care what she wanted? Wasn’t fucking a sexy, wanton woman in the shower all that mattered? Jasmine was anyone’s wet dream come true.
She blinked at 322, and then croaked, “What are you waiting for?”
There was a part of her that desperately wanted to watch Jasmine get fucked hard and fast, her beautiful breasts bouncing and her whole body convulsing with pleasure.
His stare stayed on her for another handful of seconds, before he nodded and stepped toward the shower and its occupant.
Cloey shut her eyes for a moment, desperate for some kind of return of sanity. She didn’t want to share Jasmine, of course she didn’t, not even for a second longer than the overnight fuck-fest she’d agreed to. And yet … a part of her was entranced by their being a threesome. It almost felt … right. As though all the pieces had come together.
As 322 stepped into the shower, Jasmine began to lather his big, lean body with a bar of their prized Earth soap. The scent of vanilla hit the air at about the same time as Cloey dragged off her panties and hit the bed.
By the time she drew her knees up and spread her legs, then pushed her fingers inside her slick cunt, the prisoner and Jasmine were already fucking.
Cloey was unable to tear her eyes away, unable to breathe. Jasmine was held against the wall as the prisoner drilled into her, their flesh slapping and the steam abating, giving her a clear view of the erotic coupling.
Oh, god.
She massaged her nub without mercy, craving instant gratification. And as Jasmine’s cry of release echoed in the room, the prisoner driving into her one last time before he groaned his own satisfaction, Cloey came hard.
*
Silo glanced at the door. Though the strident alarm had long since been silenced, the decompression light still flashed.
They wouldn’t be going anywhere in a hurry.
Whatever the emergency was outside the door, it didn’t equate to one inside the cabin. Half the night fucking two beautiful women, a bed softer and more comfortable than any he’d slept in for a long time, a hot steam shower in the morning along with some more hardcore loving … and now breakfast with real coffee and half-decent food.
Damn, a man should be trapped in an emergency situation more often!
He wondered whether either woman remembered stroking his hair and his skin as they’d drifted asleep. Their caress had been made that much more intimate and personal by the knowledge that it wasn’t conscious. And then when Cloey’s hand had curled around his arm, and Jasmine had captured his hand, something within him had melted.
He’d never expected to feel anything but contempt toward these women. Hell, he’d never meant to feel anything for them, period. Great sex didn’t require a deep, emotional connection. Did it?
Cloey was silent at the table as she pulled apart a small loaf of bread with its dusting of herbs, selecting a piece for herself before offering the remaining two pieces to Jasmine and then to him.
He accepted with a nod. He wasn’t about to decline the best food he’d had—even better than when he’d been a free man on Earth. He couldn’t care less that the bread was slightly stale. He sighed as he bit into the crunchy outer crust and discovered the soft, doughy inside … about the same time as a feminine foot slid up the inside of his leg.
He raised a brow at Jasmine, who sent him a sly wink before moving her foot further up his leg, past the hem of the towel he’d knotted at his waist.
If Cloey was aware of the foreplay between them, she didn’t let on. Instead, she turned her attention his way and asked, “So what crime did you commit to be locked up on the Siren?”
He shrugged, though he was a little bemused by her sudden curiosity. “The same crime ninety percent of the prisoners here committed.”
Jasmine sunk lower in her seat, then pushed her deft little foot even higher up his thigh. “Oh?” she asked breathlessly. “Do tell?”
If he’d thought all the sex of the last twelve or so hours had diminished his carnal appetite, his cock had yet to realize. His shaft stretched and hardened and his balls tightened uncomfortably.
Guess he could only be grateful both the women were now fully dressed, or he might be reduced to begging for even more attention. Cloey was in a pair of faded jeans and a crop top that showed off her navel piercing, and Jasmine in a long, slinky dress with splits up both sides. With Jasmine’s foot so close to his assets, he was even more grateful she wasn’t wearing high-heeled sandals like Cloey.
He frowned. Just how many shoes and clothes had they’d brought with them? Of course they could easily have paid for any surplus luggage, but he’d bet every single one of the elite onboard were given bonus weight limits anyway.
With the women’s attention on him, he dragged his mind back to the topic at hand and managed an idle shrug. “I stole produce from the elite.”
Cloey stared. “Did you have a family to feed?”
Jasmine’s foot stopped its journey about the same time his mind processed Cloey’s genuine interest. Idle curiosity was one thing, but this …?
He stared right back. “Do you really want to do this now?”
Her face flushed a delicate pink. “Do what?”
“Do the ‘getting to know you after sex’ scenario.”
Jasmine’s foot dropped. “He’s right, Cloey. What we have right now is all about the sex. You never wanted anything beyond that.”
So the gorgeous Cloey had reservations from the start?
He took another sip of his steami
ng hot coffee, vaguely appreciating the subtle, smooth blend. He put his cup back onto the table, all too aware of the women.
He glanced at Jasmine. Not only was she beautiful, she possessed a mind like a steel trap. If Cloey was a kitten, Jasmine was a lioness, headstrong and loyal, though perhaps a little unpredictable.
But if she’d talked Cloey into having a threesome, he wouldn’t protest. Despite them being elite, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so alive.
He only hoped whichever man they chose next would value them both.
His gut clenched along with his hands as a searing flash of jealousy rendered him impotent for a moment. No. No, no, no! These women weren’t his concern. They had each other. They didn’t need him. And he was seriously screwed in the head if he thought for even one second that he wanted something more from them.
Cloey sighed, her eyes connecting with his. “I don’t see how wanting to know a little about the man we … fucked can possibly hurt?”
He winced inside. But there was no point in phrasing it any other way. They’d hardly “made love”. They’d used each other for physical release and pleasure.
Jasmine leaned toward Cloey and took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I know you, Cloey. I know how you think and feel. And you feel something … more. Don’t you?”
Cloey focused on Jasmine. “Do you?”
The tension rippling through Silo’s body was almost excruciating. He wanted to know. Yet it was the last thing he wanted to hear. Before either of the women could answer, he said gruffly, “I worked for the elite. I was a horticulturist in their greenhouses.”
He broke off at their sudden interest in that little tidbit of information. He’d always been an intensely private man, operating on the belief that the less people knew about him, the better off he’d be. He’d learned that the hard way.
The one woman on Earth who’d professed to want more than one night with him, had just as quickly turned on him the moment he’d admitted he didn’t share her long-term commitment. She’d wrongly assumed that her elite status was all the encouragement he’d need to stay with her. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Yet he wanted to share a piece of himself with these women, and damn the consequences. He wanted to give them something to remember that wasn’t based on sex alone.
He cleared his throat. “The elite had more than enough food and water to share around. After a while, when they didn’t share … I did.”
Jasmine’s mouth dropped open. “You stole for the poor?”
Silo shook his head, uncomfortable with the Robin Hood description. “Hardly. But I helped feed the few that I could.”
Jasmine tilted her head to the side, studying him a little too intently. “So what about your own family?”
Cloey sent her a bemused glance. “I thought it was all about the sex?”
Jasmine shrugged, looking entirely unapologetic when she answered, “You started it.”
Silo was hard pressed to ignore the sudden memories that clawed inside his head when he answered gruffly, “They died of starvation. Ironic really, given that my father had worked at the same greenhouses that kept the elite healthy and fat, and which took me on as an apprentice.”
Jasmine’s breath caught, while Cloey leaned forward and took hold of his hand. “I’m sorry for your loss, I truly am.”
His hatred for the elite swelled and, for a moment couldn’t be repressed, his bitterness unable to be hidden.
Cloey dropped his hand as though it was poison, and Jasmine tilted her chin, as if in challenge.
Jasmine flicked an imaginary piece of lint off her dress. “You can’t blame the elite for everything. We’re not all pieces of trash.”
“Can’t I?” he snarled. “While you sat in your towers, untouched by the hell outside, my friends … my family … were dying.”
Jasmine pressed her lips together. “My mother actually chose life outside the towers over staying with my controlling, asshole father.” Her chair scraped back and she stood, then began pacing back and forth. “She ran off with a man who claimed to love her.”
“Jasmine, you’re upset,” Cloey said quietly. “Maybe you should—”
“But what man would deliberately take a woman away from shelter, food?” Jasmine’s eyes glittered, her ears closed to Cloey’s reasoning. “From her own goddamned family?”
The last of Silo’s anger ebbed away, as if it had never been. Jasmine hadn’t had it as easy as he’d first imagined. “Did you ever see your mother again?”
Jasmine shook her head. “No. I don’t doubt for one minute that her lover was more important.”
Silo found himself caring, despite his anti-elite stance. “She might have had her reasons.”
Many people had done things—himself included—on the dying Earth that they would never have considered when things were more comfortable.
Jasmine didn’t appear convinced. Cloey looked away, her face tellingly pale, and Silo crossed his arms as he considered her. But whatever thoughts he might have had about her reaction faded as a voice blared through the Siren’s speakers, giving the all clear.
He released a harsh breath. “Looks like everything’s back under control.”
The women exchanged relieved grins, even as Silo’s heart sank a little. His unexpected respite from reality was over. It’d been fun while it’d lasted—more than fun, even if he would admit that only to himself.
At a sharp rap on the door not a minute later, he drained his cup of coffee and pushed to his feet. “I guess that’s my cue to get dressed.”
He pulled on his prison yellows as Jasmine walked to the door. Sliding aside the top shutter, which shielded the panel of diamond-flex glass, she peered out before thrusting the door open. “You’re late,” she snapped at the guard.
“A little busy helping to defend the ship,” the guard muttered. At Jasmine’s undoubtedly cutting glare, he asked dutifully, “No problems here?”
Jasmine exhaled, her voice sounding almost resigned. “No. No problems.”
Silo thrust a hand through his hair. Yeah, he’d been a model prisoner; a more-than-willing fuck.
Cloey pushed to her feet, lacking in her usual grace as she stepped woodenly toward him. Her smile was forced, and faded quickly. She bit her bottom lip, then said softly, “I’m glad we chose you.”
He clasped her hand, noting its delicate bone structure. He stifled a sudden urge to protect her from the hardships that awaited her … awaited both women on Solitaire. Instead, he tugged her close and sealed his mouth over hers in a sweet, lingering kiss. He pulled back and gazed into her dazed, upturned face. “The pleasure was all mine, kitten.”
He released her and stepped toward the door, toward Jasmine. He paused, then took her chin in his hand and pressed a quick, hard kiss on her lush mouth. “Take care of each other,” he murmured.
She nodded. “And you … take care of yourself.”
The guard snorted. “Get moving, 322. You’re teaching Ag class today, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Silo almost smiled. Yeah, he’d been a little preoccupied.
The guard straightened, as though trying to make himself taller. His lip curled. “Just ’cause Dr. Kwan doesn’t want to teach anymore doesn’t make you more important than the rest of the cons.”
Silo couldn’t agree more. It’d only been his extensive knowledge of horticulture that had seen him placed as Dr. Lily Kwan’s assistant in the first place. Of course, he’d never be a scientist like her. No, he was more of a hands-on kind of man. Despite what many people thought, he … nurtured.
“Move it, 322,” the guard snapped.
Silo nodded, but he couldn’t leave quite yet. Bending so that his mouth was close to Jasmine’s ear, he murmured, “My name is Silo.”
Chapter 5
Jasmine shut the door with a heavy heart. She refused to watch their lover walk away; didn’t want to imagine him going back to the prison and all its dangers. Which was absur
d, considering she’d chosen him so carefully, not only because of his physical assets, but because he’d been so distant to everyone around him.
How wrong she’d been. Oh, his attractiveness was indisputable, but the wall he’d had up hadn’t been the fortress she’d expected, and it scared her just how vulnerable that made things between them.
What the hell had the alarms and lockdown been about anyway? Had Silo been right? Had some of the prisoners rioted, and even taken hostages?
She squeezed her eyes shut. Jesus, with only three more weeks to put up with this sardine can, couldn’t the prisoners have kept it together just a little bit longer?
Cloey stepped toward her and moved into her arms, and Jasmine knew her girlfriend sought comfort. Their prisoner lover had slipped so easily into their lives, before only to slip right back out again.
Even when Cloey had protested against Silo staying with them after the alarms had sounded, Jasmine had sensed her girlfriend was fighting unexpected feelings for him.
Jasmine sighed. Cloey wasn’t alone in that regard.
She stroked a hand up and down Cloey’s spine, and murmured, “His name is Silo.”
Cloey pulled back, searching her stare even as she repeated softly, “Silo.”
Jasmine nodded, and then added, “And I guess you heard he teaches Ag class.”
Cloey’s eyes sparkled, alert and hopeful. “Yes. There’s so much more to him that what I ever imagined.”
Jasmine smiled in response, her mind already racing ahead. “I think it’s time to reassign our classes.”
Cloey’s delighted laugh filled the cabin.
*
The classroom door had been left open, so Jasmine and Cloey slipped inside, their portacomps clutched to their chests.
Jasmine couldn’t help but grin when Silo’s speech faltered and then stopped. She gave him points for keeping a poker face as they took their seats. She lifted a casual hand. “Don’t let us interrupt the lesson. Please, continue.”
Silo rubbed a hand over his chin, and Jasmine had the sudden urge to replace his hand with her own, to touch his face, his lips, before her mouth took over …
