Even though he was loath to admit it, she had seemed to enjoy having more than one man with her. He knew that when she was finally his, he would refuse to allow any other man to take her alone, but what if he were there too?
Drogan had watched at least five hours of the footage before he turned off the screen and let sleep consume him. He vowed to make a copy of the disc and give her back the original the next day. He refused to completely relinquish something that showed her in such a different light.
Besides, he thought to himself, this was as close as he would ever get to having sex with her.
* * *
Panic raced through Rena’s body as she tore her quarters apart. She sank down, panting, sweat pouring down her brow. She’d been searching for the disc for the last two hours and there was still no sign of it. She swore, regretting not having labeled it properly.
As soon as she’d returned to the ship and unpacked, she’d been called back to her duties. Her life had become a hectic jumble of meetings, conferences, scheduling, and chores. She had almost forgotten about the disc, always swearing before she went to sleep to label and hide the disc in the morning, only to forget about it when the time came.
Her date with Jason had been a bust. Not only had it been boring, but her mind kept wandering back to Drogan. She found herself wishing that he were eating dinner with her, regaling her with stories of his crazy antics. Instead, she’d had to settle for the usual spiel that she’d heard a hundred times before.
Eventually, she gave up all pretense of listening to Jason and told him she was tired and needed to go back to her quarters. He seemed to take that as some sort of signal that he was getting sex, but she dismissed him as soon as they got to the door, bidding him good night instead of inviting him in for a nightcap. She didn’t give it much thought. She was more concerned with going through her evening routine and getting a good night’s sleep.
She wasn’t sure what triggered her urge to look for the disc, but then she remembered the disappearance of the large pile of papers on her desk and the sudden panic that she had put the disc with them. Drogan might, at that very moment, be watching it, watching her. She felt like crying. Hanging her head, she sniffled. She prayed that he didn’t have the disc, or if he did that he hadn’t had a chance to look at it.
Rena felt raw, vulnerable, and exposed, and she hated that feeling. She felt dirty and ashamed. She’d allowed herself to finally indulge in her secret desires and needs—things she had never been able to admit to another person—and now Drogan could see everything she had been keeping inside.
“Oh God,” she gasped. She remembered the very last fantasy. Large tears rolled down her cheeks as she slumped forward. If he’d seen it, he would fire her for sure.
Large wet spots formed on the papers bunched in her hand as she cried, wanting to scream at how cruel fate could be. Drogan now had both her heart and career in his hands, and he could crush both with just a few words.
Rena sat on the floor a few more minutes before wiping her nose with the back of her hand and rising. She cleaned up as best she could before undressing and crawling into bed. All she wanted to do was sleep, but her mind kept playing out thousands of humiliating, horrifying possibilities.
When her alarm sounded, she reached out from under the covers to turn it off. Burying herself farther under her duvet, she closed her eyes and decided to call in sick that day, and then drifted back into a fitful sleep.
When next she woke the door was buzzing and Drogan’s voice was on the intercom. Rena squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore him, but Drogan wasn’t the sort of man you could ignore for long. Much to her annoyance, he used his security clearance to bypass her system and stroll into her quarters.
“Get up. I've been patient long enough. We have work to do today, and I come here to find you lazing around in bed? Get. Up!” he commanded.
Rena grumbled and snuggled deeper under the covers, attempting to wish it all away.
“Rena? Answer me,” Drogan demanded.
She squeezed her eyes shut and willed him to go away, far away. She just couldn’t face him, not after losing the disc. Someone, somewhere on the ship could be watching her every torrid fantasy she had had about him. Maybe he had even seen those fantasies himself.
“Rena, get up and look at me,” Drogan growled.
She felt him feeling around on the bed. Finding her leg, he took hold of her calf and shook her. She wanted to kick him. She lay still instead and he let go, but then she felt the covers slide off her body. She made a mad grab for the blanket and sheets, only to get air instead.
Rena didn't want him to see her like this, hair mussed, nipples tight and outlined by her shirt, and yet something about the situation made her pussy throb with desire. She was exposed before him, and he was ordering her around, just like in her fantasies.
“Unless your ass is at death's door, get up,” he ordered.
She opened her mouth to give him an acerbic retort, anything to distract him from the state of arousal he had put her in.
Anger flashed in the dark blue depths of his eyes. “Do you like your job? Because if you do, you’d better start doing it. We have work to do and daylight to burn.”
Rena opened her mouth to speak but was too confused to put into words what she was thinking. Her emotions were a roiling tide within her, crashing against one another. She was furious, embarrassed, confused, and extremely aroused. She liked seeing him this way. There was something sexy about his anger.
“Do I have to fire you?” He raised a thick black brow in question.
“No,” she finally croaked, wincing inwardly at how raw her voice sounded.
“Good. Get dressed and I'll meet you out in the hall. Don't make me have to replace you with Redford.” His voice was a low growl, edged with anger.
When his words finally penetrated her mind, she scrambled out of bed. Dashing to the bathroom, she skidded to a stop in front of the mirror. She looked like she'd been crying. Her eyes were puffy and still red, her hair beyond mussed and sticking up in all directions, her lips so thick they could've doubled as old-fashioned flotation devices.
There was no way in hell she'd let Deyanna Redford become Drogan's assistant. She'd earned this job and no cockpit junkie on sick leave would be taking her place. But there was no way she could go to work like this. She was a professional, and, well, she wanted to look good for Drogan, damn it. No amount of cosmetic tech could make this right. She'd tried that in college and had looked like a walking science experiment for a week and a half.
Tears welled up in her eyes again. Groaning, she returned to her bedroom, trudged past Drogan, and crawled back onto the bed, pulling the covering over her body and closing her eyes. She didn't care that he'd be pissed at her. How could he possibly want her if she looked like the thing they'd dragged out of the lake of Santurian 5?
“It’s my time of the month, I’m emotional,” she lied. Rena prayed that he would be like most men and get freaked out and back away slowly.
“You're going to use that as an excuse? Fine. I'll call Redford up from the deck crew. You can start packing your things. We'll drop you off at Earth when we get there. You'll be confined to quarters for the remainder of the trip.” Drogan turned and started to walk away.
Fuck no! Rena got up, hating every second of it. She loved her job, damn it, loved working with Drogan. There was no way she could let anyone else work for him, disc or no disc. She marched off to the bathroom and locked the door. After the quickest shower she could manage, she donned her uniform in record time and found Drogan still in the living room. The fact that he'd waited for her brought a small smile to her face.
“Let's go,” he said, his face betraying no emotion at all. “You have work to do. I expect you to do overtime for what you've missed.” Drogan turned on his heel and left the room with Rena trailing after him.
Overtime? Rena couldn't stop her brain from diving headlong into the dark, dirty place in her mind.
&
nbsp; * * *
Drogan felt like an ass for not just returning the disc right then and there. He’d had every intention of copying it and just giving her the original, telling her he hadn’t played it, that he had thought it was blank. But the wicked, horny voice inside of him convinced him to keep it, watch it, and use it. He had a nagging feeling that she had been crying because of the lost disc, that she had discovered its absence and panicked. It was either that or his stupid-ass cousin had done something to make her cry.
Just seeing her so vulnerable in bed, so sad, had broken his heart and caused something to snap inside of him. His more dominant side had come out. He hadn't meant for it to happen but it had, and now he couldn't put that genie back in the bottle. It had turned him on, dominating her like that, giving her orders while she lay helpless in bed. Now his erection pressed uncomfortably against the crotch of his uniform.
He could feel her eyes on his back as they walked down the corridor. All he wanted to do was stop and give her another set of orders, ones that could get them both fired.
With every step he fought to keep himself from turning around, dragging her back to her quarters, stripping her naked, climbing up on that bed, and ordering her to ride him.
He gave himself a mental shake before his daydreams could populate his brain. No. He would return the disc to her the next day and they would keep it professional.
Chapter Four
One day turned into two weeks. Drogan had watched the disc so many times he knew every minute of it by heart. Now the smallest things she did brought on sexual thoughts. He was slowly being driven mad. Rena’s every fantasy, desire, and need were playing on a loop in Drogan’s head and kept popping up at the most inopportune moments.
The good intentions he’d had about returning the disc had evaporated. Now he didn’t want to let it out of his sight for fear that she would destroy it. He no longer just wanted the disc; he wanted the woman on it as well. He needed the carefree, wanton, sexual being who had submitted to her desires and the men in her fantasies.
Drogan wanted to dominate her, show her he could give her what she needed in ways she never thought possible. The more he thought about it, the more firing her began to appeal to him. But Redford would suck as an assistant; she was a pilot first and foremost. Her brash, bold style was better suited to a cockpit. She took orders, but only so she could fly.
Rena, on the other hand, loved her job. She was excellent at everything, from running his office to setting up his vid conferences, to organizing his schedule. Professionally, Rena was perfect.
A plan formed in Drogan’s mind. It would require dishonesty. He felt it would be cruel, but that it was the only way. She wanted him. He had watched the disc to the end, and that last fantasy left no doubt in his mind that she returned his attraction. The droid had interrogated her with every sexual technique programmed into it, and she had cried out Drogan’s name over and over again as she’d come.
He had to tell her the truth, that he wanted her too, and that he had for a long time, but he couldn’t leave his post as captain of the Hades’ Helmet. As long as he was her captain and she was his assistant, he would never be able to seduce her, to make her his. But if he fired her, she would never agree to be with him. The only way to have both was to fire her and bind her to him at the same time. He was going to need to be a heartless bastard, and to win her over he was going to have to force her to submit to him in the only way he could.
* * *
Leaving his office, Drogan rode the elevator down to level two. Striding down the hallway he made his way over to suite number five, his own private fantasy suite. Punching in his code, he placed his hand over the scanner and waited for the light to turn green. Cool air wafted over him as the doors parted with a soft whoosh. Anticipation hummed through his body. His skin felt tight and his cock was rock hard. It throbbed painfully with each beat of his heart.
He shed his clothes in record time as he walked to the large, cushioned silver chair that sat in the middle of the large room. Shiny black surfaces reflected everything back at him on every panel from floor to ceiling. His cock gently bounced with each step. Sinking down into the deep, velvet depths of the chair, he pushed a button and closed his eyes as the chair tilted back and extended so his whole body was resting on the cushioned surface.
A soft whirring sound filled the silent stillness of the room as a small mask rose on a bar from the armrest of the chair. He took the mask and placed it over his face, closing his eyes once again, quelling a sense of claustrophobia that had surfaced. Then he pushed a button on the side of the mask and waited.
The chair started to vibrate and images began to flit before his eyes, playing on the small black screens that coved the eye slots. It took him awhile to get pulled into what he was seeing. He barely felt the caress of the chair reforming around him, encasing him in silken fabric that wrapped around his body. He drew in a breath when he felt a gentle squeeze on his cock and light, silken touches circling his nipples, plucking the hardened peaks. His balls were being tugged and rolled gently as his fantasy played before his eyes.
Rena came to him wearing nothing but a red satin sheet. The smooth fabric slowly slipped down her body, uncovering her full, dark chocolate-tipped breasts. Her nipples were already tightened, thick nubs just begging for his mouth to suck them. The fabric slipped down over her slightly rounded belly, exposing her bare mound.
Drogan’s hips jerked forward. His cock wanted to sink into her hot, wet, tight depths. He yearned to feel the walls of her vagina clench around him as he thrust into her.
Her thick thighs were exposed to his hungry gaze. He felt soft ripples running up and down his shaft, from root to tip. Soft touches caressed his legs, back, neck, arms, and stomach. He was slowly burning up as he watched Rena turn, exposing her high, rounded ass to his gaze.
He wanted to see her on all fours, bottom high in the air, begging for him to spank her, to fuck her in her back entrance. Humid air passed his lips in a hiss when his nipples were pinched. Shards of electricity went straight to his groin. His cock twitched in response and he ached to come. He wanted the blessed relief of being drained after an orgasm. He longed for a dreamless sleep, in which Rena didn’t haunt him, in which his guilt for what he was about to do wouldn’t poke and prod him.
He watched as Rena placed one leg on a semicircular bed, her head turned to look over her shoulder at him. Her luminous, dark brown eyes sparkled with desire and need. Her other leg rose and she proceeded to crawl toward the center, keeping her eyes on him. She was like a sleek jungle cat on the prowl.
Drogan followed her, climbing onto the bed, eagerness dictating his every movement. Cool air caressed his body. Goose flesh rose on his skin as he made his way toward her. There was no finesse in his movements. His lust, his need for her, had stripped away all of his careful control.
In his fantasy, he reached out and grabbed her hips, and his fingers dug into the soft firm flesh. Letting go of one hip he took hold of his cock. Without even preparing her, he positioned the head of his shaft at her entrance.
He nearly came when he entered her, feeling the moist heat of her core. He didn’t stop pushing his hips until he was balls-deep inside of her wet, tight heat. He withdrew only to thrust into her again. He was fucking her, not making love to her as he had so many nights in his dreams, but fucking her hard and fast. Pumping his hips, he brought his hand up to take hold of her hair. He pulled it until her head bowed back. Her mouth hung open as soft moans passed between her lips. Her walls clenched around him as her hips moved back to meet his thrusts.
The sound of wet flesh filled his ears as the silken cocoon around him simulated Rena’s body, tightening around his shaft, stroking the hardened rod with soft, soothing pumps. He could almost believe that Rena’s pussy was wrapped around his heated flesh. The blanket rolled and plucked his nipples, delved between the cheeks of his ass to tease the puckered bud of his anus. Soft, silken hands rolled and tugged his balls gently as l
ight caresses traced the area between his scrotum and back entrance. He thrust upward, the fabric feeling as if it was melting around his cock, squeezing his shaft just under the thick mushroom head, staving off his orgasm.
He growled in frustration. His hips jerked faster and faster as if trying to punch a hole through the fabric. In the fantasy, he pounded her pussy, sweat sliding down his chest, stomach, arms, forehead. He moved in concert with his fantasy self. Flames licked their way up his spine. His body started to shake. His stomach tightened. He came, crying out Rena’s name.
His cum hit the cloth. Warm trails of liquid coated his shaft, sliding down his balls. He continued to pump his hips and the blanket continued to squeeze his shaft. The last dribbles of his release slipped down his cock. He closed his eyes, panting in harsh breaths. He swore and shoved the mask off of his face as he tried to sit up. His vision swam and he felt light-headed.
Anger engulfed him as he fought to regain his breath. He didn’t want fantasies or substitutes. He wanted her, needed her.
Once his body had calmed down and he had caught his breath, he sat up. The silken fabric slid down his chest, causing shivers to run through him. Bumps broke out on his skin and desire coiled within him. His need for her hadn’t slackened. He was still hungry for the feel of her body against his, her nipples scraping his chest, her nails digging into his shoulders, the scent of her desire surrounding him, mingling with the aroma of sex in the air. He could smell her perfume, feel the softness of her skin against his palms.
He gritted his teeth. Their arrival at Earth couldn’t come soon enough.
At Drogan’s Command (Hades Helmet Crew) Page 4
