“Deeper…pirate…” Her knees jerked and closed, trying to pull him closer.
With her arms stretched overhead, her view was limited now to the sight of the top of his head bent over her sex. She felt the rasp of his tongue, and then the hardness of his fingers dipping inside her, stretching her inner walls. In and out, he pressed deeper inside each time, until her hips caught the rhythm of his motions.
She pumped upward, a shallow rise and fall, not wanting to appear too eager, and fearful he’d stop if he knew how close she was.
His tongue flickered over her clitoris while his fingers tunneled. Then he paused, and she was stretched tighter, another finger joining the play.
Her breath came faster, harsher. She was filled with his hot, hard hand—so full her channel gripped and pulsed, squeezing around his fingers to draw him into her core.
Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers and pulled his face away. Alarmed he might leave her now, when her body hummed with her oncoming orgasm, she held her breath.
Declan sat on his haunches, his hands clutching his thighs. She knew what he waited for. She no longer had the will to resist. “Please fuck me, pirate.”
He leaned over her, and she moaned, certain that now he’d drive his cock deep into her body. Instead, he reached above her head and untied the pillowcase, releasing her hands. She let them fall to the pillow, afraid to touch him uninvited lest he should decide she’d broken a “rule”. Her acquiescence angered her, but her need was too strong.
“Turn over.” His voice was raspy, harsh, but he moved to her side and helped her turn with his hands gripping her hips.
When she’d settled, her rear was high, and she was leaning on her elbows—once again vulnerable to his gaze, her body open to his sensual assault. Her buttocks quivered as his hands glided over her skin.
“I promised violence. I’m afraid that’s what you’re going to get.”
She kept silent, hoping he meant what he said. Her hands fisted in the bedding as his weight shifted on the mattress. And then he was behind her, his hands pressing her buttocks apart. She trembled with anticipation.
Finally, the blunt, thick head of his cock probed her pussy. Unable to control herself, she shoved her hips back, trying to force him inside.
His hands tightened, and he pushed her forward.
“I gave you the words,” she said, complaint and defiance in her voice.
“I’m not refusing, sweetheart,” he ground out. “I don’t want to hurt you. I waited too long.”
Relief made her sob. “You can’t hurt me. I’m so ready, I’ll explode of you don’t take me now.”
A deep, harsh breath sounded, then he thundered inside, storming easily into slick pussy. “Sweet Jesus!” He pulled out slowly, the crown of his cock rubbing her inner walls, then thrust back inside. His hands tightened on her buttocks. He stroked faster.
Priscilla felt the coil wind tightly in her belly and widened her stance, tilting her hips higher to give him free rein to pummel. Over and over she suffered the sweet pounding. His cock drove the air from her lungs. His belly slapped her ass, loud and sharp. His balls banged against her clitoris. Faster, harder, until her breath gasped with each stroke.
Her orgasm burst over her in a wave. A cry ripped from her throat as her arms collapsed beneath her. If not for Declan’s fierce grip, she would have fallen to the bed.
Still he hammered into her, harder now, the strokes shorter—so fast the friction along the walls of her vagina bred a heat that fired another orgasm.
Priscilla screamed this time, unprepared for the flash of sensation that swept over her.
“Sweet, sweet, Priss!” Declan groaned and liquid heat spurted into her, bathing her inner walls with fire.
When at last the movement of his hips and thighs halted, Priscilla rested her head on the mattress, dragging air into her lungs. Her hips were still suspended on Declan’s cock.
He folded over her back with a groan and kissed her neck and shoulder. His arms wrapped around her middle and squeezed. “Think you’ll be ready for a riding lesson after we’ve had a nap?”
Who’s we, Kimosabe? she thought, taking a page from Agnes’s book. “My saddle’s feeling a little bruised at the moment.”
Declan eased them both to the bed without breaking the connection between their bodies.
For some reason, his action pleased Priscilla very much. “Perhaps I’ll introduce you to Jake,” she said, smothering a laugh.
“Who’s Jake?” Declan growled drowsily in her ear.
“Never mind,” she murmured.
Declan didn’t reply. Within moments, he snored gently in her ear—a natural, soothing sound that nearly lulled her to sleep.
His cock slid from her body, and she turned around to stare at him. He really was perfect, from the dimple in the center of his chin, to the tips of his long toes. And now that the whiskey stench was off him, the scent they’d given his skin drove her crazy. She closed her eyes and inhaled. He smelled of some exotic spice, slightly cinnamony, and of sex.
Pinnacle really had thought of everything. She’d have to buy stock—they were going to make millions.
Every woman in the galaxy would want a Pleasure Bot for her very own. She wondered how long the waiting list would be for the first models coming off the assembly line. A day would be interminable now that she knew how intensely pleasurable having one around could be.
She felt a pang in her chest at the thought that her new bot wouldn’t be the same as Declan. If Pinnacle used personality-matching, she might actually have a bot she didn’t feel like screaming at. One who wouldn’t go out of his way to get her to the point she wanted to scream. And he wouldn’t be as dark, or hairy, or brawny—and he might just let her be in charge for once.
But then, she probably wouldn’t feel as alive as she did now. Her body ached, but her mind was engaged, humming with the memories of his touch and his sarcasm.
Besides, his face had grown on her. She traced the edge of his wide, strong jaw and dipped her finger into the cleft on his chin. What a pleasant surprise that little flaw had been. Somehow, all the hard, dark edges of him were softened by this one boyish feature.
They wouldn’t be able to reproduce Declan, even if she documented every feature he possessed. The bot couldn’t be the same because of Declan’s unique AI experience. Together, they’d learned and changed each other.
Priscilla waited several minutes before sliding quietly from the bed.
Alone in the bathroom, she started the shower then stood on the commode. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she whispered to the receiver in the ceiling, “Agnes, get your cellular ass here this minute!”
Chapter Seven
‡
“Agnes!” she hissed into the receiver.
“Yo, boss! You don’t have to whisper—this bathroom’s well insulated. But hey, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
Priscilla wrapped her arms around her abdomen, suddenly chilled. “We need to talk.”
“I thought Decky baby would keep you occupied longer than this. I’ll have to have a talk with the boy.”
“Knock it off, Agnes. I have something I need to ask you.” Priscilla lowered her face to keep Agnes from seeing her expression. Her assistant was far too intuitive.
“Sounds serious. What’s the matter?” Agnes’s voice rose sharply. “Did lover boy get too rough?”
“No, nothing like that.” Her face heated. His roughness had been an unexpected bonus. “He was fine. I was wondering about something you said earlier.”
“You actually listened to something I said?”
“Quit the sarcasm already. I’m serious.”
“All right.” Agnes’s voice grew softer. “What did I say that has you so worked up?”
Priscilla took a deep breath. “You were talking before about how you’re not all plastic and wire—you’re living cells, too.”
“That’s right. Grade-A stem cells straight from some of the world�
�s greatest minds.”
Priscilla shook her head. “I never gave it much thought before—but you’re part human.” Guilt for her self-absorption ate at her conscience. All these years she’d never once given Agnes’s existence a second thought. She’d just been an aggravating convenience.
“I was created, not born, sweetie. A few cells reproducing in a Petrie dish do not a human make.”
“But you get bored like a human and need stimulation like a human, don’t you?”
Agnes was quiet for a moment. “What’s all this leading to?”
Priscilla persisted. “Can you experience emotions like a human, too?”
“I respond to stimuli in my environment,” Agnes said slowly. Was there hesitation in her voice? “My reactions to those stimuli are a result of my programming.”
“Personality programming—that’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it?”
“That’s what it’s called. But the operative word, hon, is Artificial Intelligence. I don’t breathe, I don’t procreate—”
“But you do dream, don’t you, Agnes?”
“Well, it’s just an intellectual exercise to keep my circuits—”
“What do you dream about, Agnes?” Her heart squeezed at how hard Agnes worked to give such a human function an intellectual explanation.
“Dream? That’s a frivolous activity.”
“But you do it—don’t you?”
Agnes remained silent.
“What do you dream?” Priscilla repeated.
“Okay. I dream about going places I’ve only seen on the boob tube—galaxies with names you can’t pronounce—hurtling through space in a cruiser as fast as I can get the engines cranked.”
How like a certain smuggler’s delusions of grand adventures. Dismayed she’d let her thoughts wander that path, Priscilla asked, “Do you dream of a companion to share those things with?”
“What for? I have you. I keep hoping you’ll get a life and decide to see some of these things for yourself. Maybe meet a nice—”
“Smuggler?” Priscilla pressed her point. “Is that why you gave me Declan? To give me a yearning for adventure?”
“Well, sort of.”
Priscilla was quiet for a few moments. There was so much to take in. Agnes was a sentient, feeling creature. She’d never guessed. “I’ll tell you what, Agnes. When this weekend’s over, I’ll have you plan us a vacation—a long one.”
“Really? Can I bring a hitchhiker?”
“You mean like a friend?”
“Tonio’s kind of bored, too. Too many years showing hard-up execs how to get their groove on. He’s ready for a little cyber-adventure of his own.”
Something else she’d never considered—cyber-sex? “Agnes, can you and Toni—”
“Don’t ask for details,” Agnes interrupted, her voice wry. “You’re too young—too human to understand. Did I ask for the messy particulars of your little bedroom gymnastics?”
Uncomfortable with the voyeuristic aspects of their relationship, Priscilla gladly conceded. “All right. I’ll respect your privacy there. But one more question.”
“Sure, hon.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Does Declan experience emotions, like you do?”
“Um, boss—”
“I mean,” Priscilla rushed to get it out before she lost her nerve, “I can’t help wondering what it will be like for him when he leaves. He’ll think he’s returning to his ship, and instead he gets zapped. Will he feel it? Will he understand what’s happening to him?”
“Don’t you think you’re getting too attached to your toy?” she asked, sounding worried. “Can’t you think of him like he’s your saddle tramp or one of your MODs? Once you’ve got your groove you turn them off, don’t you?”
Feeling close to tears, Priscilla wrung her hands. “But he’s different from any toy I’ve ever had. He has living cells in his CPU, like you do. But worse, he doesn’t even know he’s not human.”
“You’re getting yourself all worked up. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he’ll be treated humanely when he goes back for regeneration.”
Priscilla felt a little sick. Everything about Declan was so real, so vividly alive, she kept forgetting he wasn’t a man.
“Boss, you’d better get back in there. He’s stirring. You don’t want to miss round two. And for what it’s worth, I think he and Jake would make a handsome couple.”
“You were listening?”
“With just one ear—I really was spending time with Tonio. He has the best movies.”
Priscilla climbed down from the toilet and into the shower. For several minutes, she stood under the water, unmoving, trying to sort her jumbled emotions. It was just the intimacy of her situation making her vulnerable, making her yearn for things to be more than what they really were. This was only a wild weekend of sex, made to order for an over-worked and lonely woman.
And she was lonely. Declan’s forceful entrance into her life just emphasized how stark and empty her life really was. She’d look at these three days as a wake-up call. Come Monday morning, she’d be making a few changes. In the meantime…
She smeared the rose-scented depilatory over her arms, legs and belly, between her legs and across the tops of her toes. Declan was likely to use every erogenous zone she’d never known she had—a girl had to be prepared.
*
Declan woke by degrees—Celsius, that is.
The small warm hands that smoothed over his chest and plucked at his hair built a pleasurable heat. Not fully awake, he rolled onto his back, stretching his arms and legs wide.
Somewhere between his dreams and reality, he was sure he’d landed in a fantasy world where a dozen silken-skinned harem girls vied to provide him pleasure. One talented nymph slid her hands down his belly to cup his sex.
Blood fled from his brain and toes straight to his cock, raising his flagging sex to full staff. Warmth pooled in his loins as she caressed his balls, rolling, squeezing, gently tugging—Christ!—mouthing his orbs until his dream world melted away like molten rock, and he awoke.
Priscilla’s luscious bottom rose in the air as she labored over his flesh, a target too tempting not to explore.
He slid a finger between her cheeks and tickled her asshole.
Priscilla screeched—a sound that dealt his balls the most extraordinary sensation he’d ever experienced in his sexual career. He was just relieved she’d opened her mouth to scream rather than chomping down.
Priscilla peeked over her shoulder. “You’re awake.”
“A man would have to be dead not to wake up to such a delightful experience.”
Her tongue poked from between her lips, and her fingers picked at something on the tip. “A thoughtful lover would have let me use my depilatory to remove his hair.”
“This considerate lover was only thinking of your dental hygiene, love.”
At her quizzical expression, he added, “Floss.” He grinned and slapped her ass. “Why don’t you bring that delicious cunt of yours over here, and we’ll both partake of a sip of passion.”
She rolled her eyes.
“No appreciation for my eloquence?”
“Oh brother. Do you always talk this much when you first wake up?”
“Prefer action, do you?” He smoothed his hand over her rump. “Give me your clit, love.”
“Promise to shut up then?”
“Fill my mouth with cream, and I’ll be too busy licking to give you lip.”
Priscilla snickered. “Bet I’ll make you come first.”
“You’re on!”
She straddled his head—her enthusiasm making her clumsy. His nose suffered a glance from her knee, and he nearly smothered when her pussy flattened against his mouth, but soon the moist, slurpy sounds of their mutual enjoyment filled the room.
The woman had a glorious mouth. Her lips closed around the head of his cock, and she sank, taking him to the back of her throat, strafing his shaft with her teeth. He nearly forgot his
part of the wager until she wriggled her ass to get his attention back to her pussy.
His palms settled on a cheek each as he guided her flesh to his mouth. He suckled on the thin, inner folds, and then tunneled his tongue as deep as he could reach.
Her delight was evident in the quivering of her thighs. He didn’t forget the ultra-sensitive bud that hardened beneath his tongue. He plied her clitoris like it was rock candy, rubbing his tongue on it, sucking it hard to draw it into his mouth.
She mewled and moaned, her hands gripping the base of his cock like the gearshift of a hovercar as she bobbed her head up and down, faster and faster.
It wasn’t enough. “Climb onto my cock!” He shoved her hips down his body.
Quickly catching his meaning, she sat up, still facing away, and centered her pussy over his cock. With a little encouragement from his hands on either side of her hips, she sank all the way down his length.
“Now what?” she asked.
He liked how pliable and eager she was this morning. All she’d needed was a little sleep to lose her grumpiness. “Massage my balls.”
Her hands reached between to caress him. He let her slide forward and back on his cock, building a delectable friction between their bodies. Her hands stayed busy gently squeezing and tugging his balls until the familiar pressure built in his groin, and he had to move.
“Crouch over me,” he gritted out.
She got her feet beneath her, which raised her on his cock, giving him just enough room to maneuver. He bent his knees and planted his feet firmly in the mattress, then slammed his hips upward, spearing into her.
Her hands clamped around his ballocks, and he bellowed, “Easy now!”
“Sorry.” Her hands relaxed their grasp, and she aided his movements with short, countering slams of her hips. “Ah, ah, Declan!” She flung her head back and moaned.
Declan continued to pound into her, lifting her body with each upward stroke. His body strained against hers as her legs trembled and finally collapsed beneath her.
He pushed her off his body and rolled her over, ignoring her gasps to settle between her thighs and sink his cock inside her heat. His strokes weren’t gentle or tentative. He reamed her pussy, his thighs and buttocks straining to hammer his cock into her body. Their groins met in wet, savage slaps. His thrusts drove her down the bed until her head and shoulders draped over the edge, but he didn’t stop—not until she cried out.
The Pleasure Bot (Planet Desire Book 4) Page 7
