Trapped: A SciFi Convict Romance (The Condemned Book 1)

by Alison Aimes

  He leaned in close. “You smell…good.”

  She started. Then seemed to force herself to relax. “That’s hard to imagine, but thanks.” Her voice had a high-pitched forced nonchalance he didn’t like as much as the one she used when bossing that bastard soldier around. “I’m covered in soot and dirt and dust. Even my hair must stink.”

  His gaze shifted to her hair. He hadn’t really paid attention beyond noting it was long and wavy and feminine enough to check off each of his boxes. But now he was curious. Finding a layer of control he hadn’t even known he possessed, he shoved back at the lust riding him hard. “Go under.”

  There was a momentary hesitation and then, on a deep breath, she sank under. Instantly, her hair fanned out in all directions, tangled silk. Fumbling—his hands seeming too big and awkward for the first time—he grabbed for the strands as gently as possible, letting the soap skim through them and over her pink scalp. Inky grey clouds slid from her hair, revealing a golden brown he was pretty sure would turn to yellow gold when dry. His fighter girl was a blonde.

  For some reason, it brought relief. His wife had been a brunette.

  He gave the woman’s hair a gentle tug. Understanding, she emerged from the water, wiping her eyes.

  Done with waiting, he kept his fist wrapped around her hair, walking backwards until they were standing only up to her thighs in the shallow water, guiding her closer and closer, ignoring her little gasp of dismay and the stiffness of her posture, until her perfect backside pressed against his front.

  A groan strangled in his throat. The warm press of her soft, wet skin, and the feel of his throbbing cock nestling in the crease of her ass was better than anything he could have imagined.

  Except for that first touch….the heat of her small palm pressed against his, her fingers voluntarily lacing with his….God, that had almost brought him to his knees.

  After the first few years on Dragath25, pain hadn’t been as big a part of his day. Life had settled into one numb, bleak cycle after another. But pleasure…he’d thought that sensation gone for good.

  Until she offered him anything.

  Her body trembled as he slid his hands across the silk of her creamy shoulders, down her arms, the foam from the soap leaving streaks of white. Tracing the softness of her warm flesh ecstasy and hell.

  He sucked down a shuddering breath, scrambling for an anchor, drowning in sensation. After eight years of a bleak void, the awakening of every nerve ending was almost painful. The shocking riot of another’s scent and touch and sound almost too acute to bear. And still he couldn’t make himself stop.

  She was so tiny his palms easily spanned her back. Yet she’d taken on soldier bastard and him. And done whatever was necessary to save her friends. Maybe she had the kind of strength necessary to survive Dragath25. At least longer than most females.

  “Do you want to know my name?”

  His hands stilled. He should have known his fighter girl wouldn’t go down quietly.

  Her voice was part whisper, part reproach. “It’s Cadet Annabella West. Bella, for short.”

  “It suits.” But I prefer fighter girl.

  His hands glided to her full tits, rolling her sweet pink nipples between thumb and forefinger. So smooth. So stiff. Her sharp gasp only made his dick throb harder.

  “I came here on a mission.” Her voice was growing less steady, more breathy with every second he played with her breasts. “I came to find a way to save Earth. To—”

  He splayed his hand down her flat belly and cupped her mound. “Fighter girl?”

  “Yes?” Her word was an unsteady hiss.

  “Shut up.” He nipped at her throat, his fingers ghosting over the soft folds of her pussy. Getting her used to his touch. Reminding her what was to come. She wasn’t wet. He hadn’t expected her to be. There were things that needed to be established first. Things her mind needed to accept before her body followed.

  “What was doesn’t matter. The past is over.” Another inmate had told him the same thing early in his arrival. When he’d still been clinging to the man he was. To the life and the rules and the norms he’d known on Earth. The lesson had saved his life. “Life on Dragath25 is short. Ugly. Brutal. Every day you survive is a miracle.”

  He paused, letting the words sink in. “Do you understand what I’m saying, female?” She nodded, but he pushed himself to continue anyway. He’d been out of the habit of talking for a while, but this was important. He needed her to understand. “This is about pleasure. Not pain. I don’t get off on pain.”

  She stilled, and he thought he heard a small sob. It caused an odd tightness in his chest. He should have mentioned no pain before. He was definitely out of practice.

  “I won’t hurt you.” His thumb skimmed over her clit, gently, barely there. “On Dragath25, you take your pleasure where you can, when you can. Because tomorrow you might not be alive to feel anything at all.”

  There was a moment of silence, the only sound the rasp of her too fast breaths, and then, to his immense satisfaction, she relaxed a fraction against him, her legs widening ever so slightly to accommodate his touch. “No pain is good. I…I can do that.”

  Her courage hit him like a sucker punch. Stealing his breath, sending his limbs twitching, his blood roaring in his veins, his body demanding its due, while his mind screamed at him to get the hell out of this cave before it was too late. To turn tail and run before her fearlessness turned this into something he’d never intended.

  For eight years, he hadn’t given a damn about another soul. It had kept him sane. It had kept him alive. Feeling something for this woman besides lust wasn’t a part of the plan.

  But before he could make good on his thoughts, her hand closed over his, anchoring him to her, her fingers lacing with his just as she had the first time he’d touched her. “It’s okay.”

  Fuck. She was comforting him. Soothing him like she might a wild animal, which proved just how insightful she was.

  He wanted to shake off her touch. To tell her he didn’t need a damn thing from anyone, but there was no way. Not when his breath was shuddering in and out. Not when he couldn’t have moved his hand even if 225’s entire pack suddenly descended.

  No! This was about scratching an itch. Seizing the moment. Nothing else.

  Determined, he forced his body to stillness. Moved his palms down her legs, noting the way she shivered, noting the small catch in the back of her throat as he brushed behind her knees, the back of her thighs. The way her breath shuddered when he ran his fingertips along the crease of her ass. How her body quivered when his hand cupped her throat, his mouth sucking on the vulnerable tendon he’d exposed. His lust ramping higher with every touch.

  He got the distinct sense his fighter girl liked things on the edge.

  Just a little longer came the pained chant in his mind as his hands glided over her soft skin, learning her, relearning himself, sweat beading on his back and every muscle tightening to the point of pain as he forced himself to go slow.

  Then, finally, thankfully, her muscles lost the last of their tenseness, her thighs parting in surrender as his fingers worked her pussy—sliding through hot-as-hell wetness that only made him harder. She was wet. And hot. And a million times more erotic than any dream he’d had these last lonely years.

  He needed more. More sensation. More touch. More her.

  “Hold on.” Without warning, he turned her in his arms. Lifted her up so she had no choice but to lock her ankles behind his ass. And waded toward the bank.

  Hands no longer shaking, he laid her on the soft moss. Her legs slipped from his waist. He stepped between them, forcing them wide. The sight of her spread beneath him made him groan.

  Her eyes grew three sizes, trepidation and uncertainty—but no longer terror—flitting through their gorgeous green depths. Emerald green. Like the plants around him. He hadn’t noticed that before.

  “What are you planning to—”

  He swooped in and latched onto her p
retty pink pussy before she could finish her question. His action was answer enough. He’d forgotten the mouthwatering tangy taste, the exotic scent, the unbelievable feel. And his fighter girl….she tasted better than anything he remembered. Especially when she gave a little mewling cry and opened her legs wider, letting him in. Taking pleasure where she could. Proving herself a true survivor.

  The last of his control snapped.

  On a roar, he reared up, his hands wrapping around her thighs, lifting her lower body off the ground and lining her up with his dick. Their gazes locked as he rubbed against her once, twice, using her juice as lubrication. “I’m coming inside.” It was a declaration.

  “I know.” She panted beneath him, her gaze clear. Steady. A clear sign she wasn’t as lost in her pleasure as she should be, but there was a flush on her cheeks and her pretty pink slit was swollen and wet. It would have to be enough.

  “Touch yourself. Make it good.” He shook his head, fighting for control.

  She was still for an instant and then understanding and determination settled in her gaze, outweighing shame or embarrassment or fear. Watching her fingers slide into her soft folds almost drove him back to his knees.

  Shaking with need, his gaze locked on her hand, he worked himself inside, one slow fucking inch at a time. Her tight hole making it impossible for him to do more than thrust slowly. Her growing moans of pleasure whipping his desire into a greater frenzy. Until he was buried completely. So deep, his balls smacked against her ass. And, oh holy fuck, the feel of her was unbelievable.

  He pumped harder. Faster. His hips moving at near desperate speed, chasing the kind of satisfaction he’d never thought to feel again. Driven to the brink by the hot as hell movement of her fingers circling her clit harder and faster, frantic now as her gaze grew heavy lidded and he rammed deep inside her.

  Connected. With another human being. As he’d never expected to be again.

  “Anything. You remember, female?” His words were a near growl. “You said anything and I want it. I want you to come for me.”

  As if waiting for his command, she broke apart, her body shuddering as her fingers went wild and her cunt clenched down on his dick, milking him so hard and deep it threw him into his own orgasm, his back bowing as wave after wave of pleasure slammed through him, making it damn near impossible to stand—and still he kept thrusting, never wanting it to end—until every last bit of satisfaction was wrung from him.

  Holy shit. He almost felt…at peace.

  Until he remembered this was Dragath25. And here, after the pleasure, there was always pain.

  *****

  The man’s sudden tensing nudged Bella from her breathless stupor. The aftershocks of her orgasm were still coursing through her body, his thick cock deep inside her, her legs spread wide, her bottom still lifted off the ground.

  Their gazes fused. He looked almost wary. Wasn’t that supposed to be her role?

  Maybe he couldn’t see it, but the strongest emotions pulsing through her right then were gratitude and pride…and the ache of a woman well pleasured.

  The way he’d looked at her…the way he’d handled her…as if she were something precious….as if simply touching her was something extraordinary…it wasn’t something she’d experienced before.

  She’d seen people look at faded pictures of the lost forests like that, but other people? In a world where people like her—people without parents or Council influence—were forced to sleep stacked atop one another and crammed shoulder to shoulder in crowded eating halls for a few synthetic, flavorless scraps of condensed food, touch was taken for granted, viewed more as a necessity to be suffered than a pleasure. But with him, it hadn’t felt like that at all. She hadn’t felt like just another burden. She’d felt…she’d felt like she mattered.

  This stranger—this criminal—could have hurt her. Instead, he’d demanded her pleasure and given her the tools to find her own. And she’d risen to the challenge. Taken something that could have been hell and made it heaven. Maybe it wouldn’t make sense to everyone, but she’d done what she’d had to do and ended up having the best sex of her life.

  “What’s your name?” She needed to know.

  He froze. It almost seemed like he flinched.

  The silence stretched.

  Her high vanished. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

  “673.”

  “That’s not a name.” She kept her tone light, unchallenging. She wasn’t a fool. She understood fucking her hadn’t suddenly made her special. But they’d made some sort of connection, damn it.

  His scowl deepened. “It is here on Dragath25.”

  “But you had a name back on Earth.”

  His hands landed on either side of her head with a thump. His fingers steady. No tremor, no trace of vulnerability to be seen. “This isn’t Earth, fighter girl. Trying to pretend otherwise won’t help either of us.”

  Her gaze searched his for any sign of the softness she was almost certain had been there before. Nothing.

  Had she imagined the connection to begin with? Attributed more humanity to him than was there to make the whole exchange more palatable? “This may not be Earth, but we’re still human beings. That doesn’t change.”

  “You’re wrong.” His hard body blanketed her as he drove deep, making her gasp. “On Dragath25, there are no names. No humanity.” He thrust deeper. “No selflessness.” Another thrust. “And definitely no happy ever-after.” His fingers tangled in her hair, restraining her so she couldn’t look away even if she wanted. “If you want to stay alive, you accept that now.”

  She nodded slowly, carefully. The small tug at her scalp combined with the friction of his thick cock made it hard to concentrate on his words. But the bleakness in his tone came through loud and clear. As did his message.

  Trying to gentle him with reminders of Earth wouldn’t work. Imagining he’d felt anything like what she had would only bring trouble. And whatever vulnerability, whatever humanity, she might have awakened with her touch had been erased as if it never existed.

  “I—I understand.”

  “You want me to keep you and those two safe?” he challenged. “The woman and that dying Council Officer?”

  “He’s not going to die, damn it.” The fiercely spoken words flew from her before she could think better of it.

  673 stilled, his eyes narrowing. “Is he your man?”

  The air was suddenly thick with danger.

  “Dr. Winthrop? No. He’s my superior. Nothing more.”

  The hold on her hair loosened. “Good. Because I don’t share.” He started moving inside her again, his hand slipping between them to rub her already sensitive clit. “As long as you understand what you and I have going on here and what it will take to keep them alive, we’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, God.” Pleasure surged through her, her eyelids sinking shut. Her arms stretching above her head as her back arched to better meet his thrust. It was so much easier to lose herself in the moment than think about what he was demanding—and deliberately holding back. Until a hard tug on her hair had her eyelids springing open, denying her oblivion.

  “Not yet, female.” His dark gaze bore into her, his fingers stilling against her clit in a deliberate bid for control. “I want this clear. You use me for protection. I use you for pleasure. That’s the deal you offered. That’s the deal I’m accepting. Simple as that.”

  She forced herself to concentrate. “Agreed.” There was no choice. No point either in acknowledging that small stab of disappointment. She didn’t need to feel special. Or exchange names. Or see wonder in his gaze. All she needed was for him to keep to their agreement.

  It wasn’t as if this deal was indefinite anyway. Rescuers would be coming. She needed only to appease him for the short-term.

  As if he sensed her underlying rebellion, he pushed further. “You do what I say, when I say it. Dragath25 is not an easy place to survive.”

  She swallowed hard. “And Cadet Davies? Will you lea
ve her alone?”

  “The injured female?” He frowned. “I’ve no interest in her as long as you’re around.”

  Not exactly sweet nothings, but it would have to do.

  “Th–then, yes, I understand. I agree. Anything. When you say it. As long as you keep us safe.”

  “Good girl.” His fingers worked her faster now, his thrusts harder. Tremors radiated from her pussy to her toes and up her spine. His hold on her hair tightening once again as he exposed her throat, his teeth grazing the line of her neck until his lips closed over her ear.

  The vulnerability of her position sent a different kind of tremor rushing through her.

  “And fighter girl? You want to call me something other than 673? Call me Convict. Because from here on out,” he whispered, his breath a warm rasp against her ear, “that’s who owns your ass.”

  Chapter Five

  Bella came awake a few deep breaths at a time. Had something made a sound? She stifled a moan, her body protesting even that subtle movement. Convict had taken her more times than she could count and made her come even more than that.

  She’d never seen that look of wonder again, but there’d been a desperate quality to his touch, as if he thought she might disappear any second. He’d been relentless, fierce, his hands and mouth on every part of her—except her mouth. He’d never once kissed her.

  Rolling onto her side, she scanned the room. She was alone. Not that she hadn’t already known it. After hours of having him above her, inside her, behind her—his scent and power seeping into her very pores, his hands and mouth marking every part of her—she was acutely attuned to the man.

  A tremor of panic settled in her gut. Had he deserted them already? Gotten what he wanted and taken off?

  She was scrambling to her knees when she saw a pile of neatly folded clothes near where her head had been. Her dirty uniform was nowhere in sight.