The Pleasure Bot (Planet Desire Book 4)

by Delilah Devlin

  “No. As in, they’re computers,” she said with a grin.

  “Computers?” Relief that he hadn’t badly botched his search was quickly followed by anger. “Bloody hell! Aaa—gnes?”

  She grinned. “Now you’re starting to sound like me.”

  “Bloody, goddamned hell! You mean to tell me that witch of a personal assistant is a goddamn computer?”

  “I’m an AI computer, buddy,” Agnes interrupted, her voice filled with laughter. “State of the art. More real brain cells than you have in your Cro-Magnon cranium.”

  Declan felt his face heat. “And the cowboy?” he shouted to the ceiling.

  “What cowboy?” Priscilla asked.

  “The one who greeted me when I arrived,” he growled. The one who threatened to drop me where I stood then inspected me ballocks! “You conniving little—”

  “I have a facility for accents and voices,” Agnes replied in a smug tone.

  “So that wasn’t Tonio?” he replied through clenched teeth.

  “Nope. Just little ole me, pardner.”

  Declan bit back a curse. The mother of all motherboards had bested him.

  Chapter Five

  ‡

  “What was with the cowboy routine, anyway?” Declan asked, feeling anger rise with bile at the back of his throat.

  “Agnes is fascinated with old movies,” Priscilla said.

  “What the hell are movies?”

  “Plays that were recorded in two dimensional formats. She has a thing for John Wayne.”

  Declan shook his head. It was too much to take in. He’d been arguing with a computer like it was a person—as if it had the true intelligence and emotions to really matter.

  Agnes was simply acting on her programming—however, questionable that program was. “She’s nothing more than a bloody computer!” Declan roared.

  “I’m not just any computer, boyo,” Agnes said, her words clipped and angry. “I’ll have you know, I’m an AlphaMax II. I can run a city with a tenth of my capacity.”

  “If you’re so high-tech, what the hell are you doing running a house for a spoiled princess?”

  Declan knew he’d gone too far when a small bony fist plowed into his belly. He caught the next blow, wrapping his hand around Priscilla’s balled fist. Stepping between her legs, he pressed her back against the bathroom door. Her glower was so hot she could have welded steel.

  He hadn’t meant to say that last bit aloud, and he wasn’t usually so quick to speak in anger. But this had been a confusing, aggravating sort of day. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Priscilla’s frown reminded him “Princess Priss” hadn’t been an innocent victim. Her assistant had dished out that plate of venom for her boss’s benefit.

  He stared down at Priscilla, wondering how long he could keep her pinned to the door. The damp towel separating their skin wasn’t enough to hide the evidence of his awakening desire for long.

  Her eyes widened, and her legs trembled along his thighs. “She was a gift to me from my parents. They wanted me looked after.” Her face was pale and pinched. She lifted her chin, her lips pressed into a straight line.

  “And she’s succeeded beyond their dreams, hasn’t she?” Declan wished he’d bitten his tongue. He didn’t know why one vulnerable yet defiant look from her spurred a need to deal an emotional blow.

  Her gaze held a world of hurt. “Why did Playthings send me a bastard, Agnes?”

  Declan felt lower than snail spit. He sighed and stood back. The time was now to come clean with the lass. “You gave her me, didn’t you, Agnes? I was your choice. Tell her.”

  “What?” Priscilla’s hand clutched the top of her towel in a white-knuckle grip. “You weren’t generated by some personality-matching program?”

  Declan shook his head. The woman had the oddest way of putting things.

  “To my shame,” Agnes said, her voice sounding tired, “it’s true.”

  Declan waited, sure the doors would burst open any moment now with Customs agents ready to haul him away. He’d broken the agreement. He felt lighter—he hadn’t realized the game had started to weigh on his conscience.

  “Agnes, he’s not a result of my profile?” Priscilla’s tone sharpened.

  “No boss. I thought you needed a little shaking up.”

  “Thank God!” Priss gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. “I thought I had some deep-seated psychosis that Playthings was trying to entertain.” She glared at Declan. “I knew you couldn’t be meant for me.”

  Declan waited for Agnes to tell the rest of the story, but Priscilla had only gotten her first wind.

  “Looks like you screwed up, Agnes,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t recall you ever making a mistake. You’ve annoyed the hell out of me at times, but you’ve never erred.”

  “Boss, I was just so doggone desperate.”

  Doggone desperate? Declan rolled his eyes. He wondered which movie she’d purloined those words from. Agnes was still playing the game—she’d just changed the script.

  “I haven’t had an adventure in five years. I thought if I could get you out of your routine, you might decide to step outside this house and take me along.”

  Priscilla’s jaw dropped. “Are you telling me you needed a vacation?”

  “I’m not just wire and plastic, you know. I’m living cells, too,” she replied.

  Drama queen that she was, he could almost see her lifting the back of her hand to her forehead.

  “I need a change in scenery every once in a while to keep my sensors stimulated.”

  “What’s the matter?” Declan asked, a sneer in his voice. “Is Priss here not enough of a challenge?”

  “Priss, hon,” Agnes said, “you’re a good egg, but face it—your life’s boring. Apart from the occasional appliance malfunction, I’m sitting on my thumbs for entertainment.”

  “I never realized,” Priscilla said, dismay in her voice. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  Declan watched Priss’s expressions, fascinated. Agnes had turned the blame for this farce on Priscilla. And her boss was eating it up.

  “It’s not my place,” Agnes said, her tone long-suffering.

  Priss’s chin lowered, and her shoulders dropped.

  He’d had enough of Agnes’s machinations. “You stretched the limitations of your employment a bit feeding me to her, didn’t you, Agnes?”

  “It was a calculated risk.”

  “But your ones and zeroes aren’t adding up now, are they?”

  “The program hasn’t compiled yet.” Agnes sniffed. “I’m waiting to see the result of the run before I cry uncle.”

  Computer or not—she was a worthy opponent. He narrowed his eyes. “A little touchy for a computer, aren’t you?”

  “A little dense for a Plaything, aren’t you?”

  “Bite me!” He smirked when she failed to respond. “Ha!”

  “I managed to fool you, didn’t I?”

  “Witch!”

  “Well, this is interesting,” Priscilla murmured.

  He caught himself before he uttered another moronic word. Agnes and her demented circuitry had managed to bluff him—Declan O’Hanlon! He was just glad none of his crew was around to witness his humiliation. It was bad enough Priss’s mouth was twisted in a grin.

  Declan reached for the top of Priscilla’s towel and whipped it from her body. Ignoring her gasp, he rubbed the towel over his chest and down his stomach to his groin.

  Her gaze followed, and then her lips tightened. She turned to grab the other towel from the countertop, giving him a delicious view of her naked ass, and then wrapped it around her body.

  He turned his back and quickly blotted his hair with the towel. “The sooner I’m out of this loony bin, the better,” he muttered, dropping the towel to the floor.

  “What do you say, boss? You want to send him back?” Agnes asked.

  “You’re not sending me anywhere,” Declan growled. “I’m going.”

  “Not so fast, smuggl
er. Remember your crew and ship?”

  Declan raised his head. Was Agnes coming clean? He glanced at Priscilla.

  She shrugged, her expression indifferent. “If he wants to go, let him.”

  Declan pretended her indifference didn’t bother him a bit. And it didn’t! He leaned toward the mirror and examined his newly beardless face. He was a very handsome fellow. Plenty of women would be happy to have a man like him at their disposal for a weekend.

  “And what do you think will happen to him then?” Agnes asked.

  Priscilla’s brows drew together. “He’ll go on to the next customer. Just a few hours early.”

  “As he is?”

  “Oh. No, I suppose not.” She chewed the edge of her lip. “Do you think he knows?” she whispered.

  Declan’s instincts told him that once again there was an undercurrent of conversation he didn’t understand. “Knows what?”

  Priscilla shrugged, but this time worry marred her forehead. “What happens after…you go back.”

  Declan stared. Something told him she suspected his fate wouldn’t be pleasant. Was she in on the blackmail scheme, too? “Agnes? We had a deal.”

  “Yes, we did. But you’ve broken it.”

  “What about my crew?”

  “After you leave here, all bets are off. Best make a quick getaway, or you’ll be joining them.”

  “Agnes, I’m confused,” Priscilla said. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

  “Of course not. He’s in his role.” Agnes whispered the last.

  “Oh!” Her eyes widened. “So what is this about his crew and ship?”

  “If you must know, if he pleases you this weekend, they’ll be free—they’re in the hoosegow.”

  Agnes was diabolical. Declan had no doubt she’d somehow fed Priscilla an alternate tall tale. She was masterfully manipulating them both.

  “So, he’s being blackmailed to…entertain me?”

  “Yup.”

  “I don’t know whether to be flattered or horrified.” Priscilla’s expression grew crafty. “Does that mean he has to do what I say?”

  Declan grunted.

  “Not at all, sweetcakes. He has to do what I say.”

  Priscilla wrinkled her nose. “How’s that any different? You serve me.”

  “I look after your interests, hon. I know what you need. Remember, I’m intimately aware of your profile.”

  Priscilla gave a frustrated sigh. “I’m getting a headache.”

  “Now you know how I feel,” Declan muttered under his breath.

  “Bet he knows a cure,” Agnes said slyly.

  “Aaa—gnes! I’m an adult. I think my wishes should be obeyed. I pay the power bills around here.”

  “But I know what’s best for you.”

  Priscilla waved a hand in his direction. “You thought he was what was best for me.”

  “I didn’t hear more than a whimper out of you when he was doing my bidding in the shower. Actually, I did hear more than a whimper. There were quite a few sighs and one outright scream, too.”

  Declan nodded, his cock twitching at the memory.

  “And lover boy wasn’t exactly quiet, either.”

  “That’s low.” Priscilla scowled and tucked the end of her towel between her breasts, securing it.

  Declan followed the action. He much preferred her without the shield. Although the tops of her breasts were plumped up deliciously. “Let me get this straight, Agnes. Are you saying, if I stay, we still have a deal?”

  “We do.”

  “Yoo-hoo,” Priscilla interrupted. “What about me? I say he goes.”

  “That’s not what you really want, sweetie.”

  Declan made up his mind the moment Priss’s eyes narrowed with determination. “You’re on, Agnes. Now, butt out!”

  “You’re not getting all macho on me, are you, smuggler?” Agnes asked.

  “I’m just following the script.” He advanced on Priscilla. “Lose the towel, sweetheart.”

  “Agnes?” A touch of trepidation made her voice sound small, but her eyes betrayed a widening excitement.

  “It’s for your own good. Go with it, babe.”

  Priscilla backed up toward the door, her gaze never leaving Declan. “I wasn’t kidding about pulling your power grid, Agnes.”

  “Agnes,” Declan said, his voice mild. “I don’t perform well with an audience.”

  “You got it. Tonio’s calling me. We still have to review the compression utilities of his hard drive. I may be a while.”

  “Agnes? Don’t you dare leave me,” Priscilla said, alarm rounding her eyes.

  The ensuing silence was deeply gratifying. Now, he had Priscilla to himself—and every pink and creamy inch of hers to do with as he pleased. Blood surged from all points straight to his cock. It surged upward, pointing in Priscilla’s direction. For once, he was more than happy to be led. Declan gave her a rapacious grin and stepped toward her.

  “Ack!” Priscilla lunged for the door and swung it open, letting it crash against the wall. “You stay away from me,” she shouted over her shoulder as she ran into the bedroom.

  He followed her through the door. Grabbing the edge of her towel, he jerked his arm back, stripping her. Then he darted toward the door to the hallway to head off her only escape route.

  Wild-eyed, like a doe trapped in a pen, Priscilla backed away from him, deeper into her bedroom—closer to the bed.

  Once he was sure she didn’t have an exit, he calmly folded his arms across his chest. “You heard Agnes. I haven’t any choice in the matter. I’m to have me wicked way with you—however I please.”

  “That’s not what she said.” Her voice quavered, but her chin was raised high.

  “But it’s what I heard.” His gaze swept her from head to toe, lingering over the places he intended to pillage.

  Her chest rose and fell more swiftly now. “You can’t catch me,” she said, sounding breathless.

  “You think not?” He lowered his voice to a rumble. “Try me, sweetheart.”

  She blinked, then turned on her heel and fled to the far side of the room, her buttocks jiggling enticingly as she scurried away.

  Declan stalked toward her, keeping his expression menacing. “Prickly Priss” appeared to like a darker sort of game.

  She whimpered and stepped behind an odd apparatus, keeping it between them.

  He barely spared it a glance as he stomped toward her, but then his gaze returned to it. “What the hell is this?” His hand reached out to the leather saddle perched on the end of a waist-high pole. The two steps at the base and the stirrups that hung from the sides of the saddle indicated it was meant to be mounted. Gliding his hand along the polished leather, his fingers found a rounded protuberance at the center.

  “Tsk, tsk. Priscilla!” He gave her a wicked grin. “Is this what I think it is?”

  Priscilla’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “It’s an exercise machine. I work out on it.”

  “I bet you keep your pussy well-oiled with your workouts.” He laughed when her expression darkened with outrage. “I don’t think you’ll need this, love. Not this weekend, anyway. Although, I might like to watch you ride.”

  “Jerk!” She shoved the apparatus at him and darted away.

  He held out a hand to keep it from toppling, and then chased after her. She was nearly at the door before he caught her by the arm and swung her around.

  She gasped and pounded at his chest.

  Ignoring her puny blows, he hefted her high, his arms encircling her thighs, just below her buttocks.

  Her hands curved around his skull, and she tugged hard on his hair while kicking at his knees.

  His face was smashed against her belly, and his cock lodged between her knees. Her squirming was only heightening his arousal. Slowly, he let her slide down his body, pausing when her breasts were level with his mouth to give each a nip.

  “Oooh!” She smacked him on the shoulders, but her hips writhed, and she clasped her thighs arou
nd his shaft.

  If she really didn’t want this, she could do him harm. Instead, she let his cock slide along her inner thigh as he lowered her further, until he was wedged lengthwise between her labia. Hot, moist labia.

  Face to face, her mouth trembled. “Please, release me.”

  Declan lowered one hand to her backside and forced her hips harder into his. His sex slid along the groove of her sex. With his mouth an inch from hers, he said, “Is that what you really want, love?” He drew his hips back and ground them forward again. Please say no!

  Her eyelids fluttered, and she moaned. Her hands clutched and pushed as though she still fought her desire. “Please…”

  “I aim to do just that. But first, you have to tell me. Be specific.” He ground in and out, twisting his hips to increase the friction.

  Her hands gripped the tops of his shoulders, and she leaned back so that only the tips of her breasts touched his chest. “Please! I need…”

  But she wasn’t trying to escape.

  She slid side to side, raking the turgid points across his skin and tangling them in his chest hair. Her face tightened, and her lips lifted as she hissed, “Soooo good.”

  “Tell me,” he commanded, fighting the need to nudge her legs apart and sink inside her slick cunt. He glided his cock between her legs, nudging again, his legs shaking as he fought himself for control.

  Her face screwed into a look of intense pleasure. “Please Declan…fuck me.”

  With a growl, he captured her lips, sucking the lower between his teeth to nibble while he glided in and out between her legs, rubbing against her cunt. He wanted more. He needed her to beg, to acknowledge she needed this as much as he did.

  Then he closed his lips over hers and pushed his tongue between her teeth, rimming her mouth, gliding along her tongue. When at last he needed air, he raised his head.

  “Please, please, please!” she chanted, her hands gripping his hair, her mouth sliding along his jaw.

  He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I’ll have a bed beneath your back this time for the pounding I intend to give you.”

  Priscilla leaned back and licked her lips. “Sounds…violent.” She was breathless, and her heart hammered against his chest. She was ready.

  “It will be,” he purred. “Eventually.”