Lucky 7

by Rae D. Magdon

  “That’s hot.”

  A train called reality slams into me head-on. I jerk away from Sasha to see Cherry staring at us. There’s a grin on her face the size of the moon, and it shows every one of her teeth. Doc looks disgusted. Rami is bewildered. Val seems intrigued. Rock just takes it all in with wide eyes.

  While they gawk, Sasha rolls from the room like a stormcloud, taking the thunder with her. Once she’s gone, all the fire bleeds out of me. I stare after her, lips still tingling. Fuck. That really just happened. I can feel the ghost of grasping fingers on the front of my shirt.

  “That was repulsive,” Doc drawls, and I can tell she’s rolling her eyes.

  “That was hot,” Cherry argues, but Rami grabs her elbow and marches her to the bunks.

  “Come on,” they mutter, clicking their tongue is disapproval. “You too, Doc. Elena needs to figure this out without commentary from the peanut gallery.”

  Cherry continues complaining, and Doc wanders after them, giving me a superior smirk over her shoulder, like she’ll never be dumb enough to kiss someone she hates in the heat of the moment.

  “I believe situations like this call for privacy,” Val murmurs. “Perhaps you will provide me with more insightful data concerning the incident at a later time.” Before I can tell her there’s no way in hell, she disappears into thin air. That leaves me and Rock. He sits there, staring at me with a calm, almost pleased expression on his face.

  “What,” I snap, glaring over at him. “You got something to say for once?”

  Rock blinks, somehow speaking through the silence.

  “No, I’m not going after her. I hate her. She can choke on that fucking brainbox she’s so obsessed with for all the fucks I give.”

  Rock tilts his head at me. Dios, it’s like the guy can read minds.

  “It was a mistake,” I insist. “A stupid, one-time disaster.” But the thought of not kissing Sasha again makes my chest ache. One kiss, only a couple seconds long, and I was humping her like a horny tabby. My words sound weak even to me. Rock looks expectantly over at the door, then back at me.

  “I’m not going,” I mumble, but I’m staring over a cliff, telling myself I won’t jump even as I put one foot forward. “Ay, no mames.” I turn away from Rock and stomp toward the hallway, fuming with frustration. I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, but I already know it’s stupid.

  Saturday, 06-12-65 09:69:96

  MY WALK DOWN THE hallway is a blur. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing and my heart’s trying to burst out of my chest with each beat. My hands are shaking, and my head is spinning and I can’t tell if I’m pissed or horny or terrified. But I guess I haven’t made enough bad decisions today, because when I hear the hiss of the shower running, I head for the bathroom.

  It’s Sasha. Has to be. She wouldn’t have gone to her bunk, where Rami or Cherry or someone else might come looking for her. Where I might come looking for her. No. She’s gone to one of the only places in the Hole that offers some privacy. Privacy I’m about to interrupt because…I don’t know why. Maybe to yell some more. Maybe to do something else I don’t want to even admit I’m considering.

  The scent of spicy soap hits my nose when I step inside the bathroom. Sasha’s. How fucked up is it that I’ve memorized her smell? One of the shower stalls is closed. Steam leaks around and over the frosted door, and I can make out a blurry silhouette. Her outline is enough to make me shudder with want. The heat from before rushes back, burrowing into my belly, crawling over my skin, throbbing between my legs. If my underwear wasn’t already drenched, it wouldn’t stand a chance.

  This is it. I can’t deny what I’m here for anymore. Seeing her in front of me, even behind fogged-up glass, shatters all my stupid excuses. I’m here because, at least to me, this feels inevitable. Unless Sasha tells me to fuck off, it’s going to happen.

  I head over to the shower. Sasha turns in the stall, facing me through the door. I don’t know what to do, so I just stand there. My presence pretty much speaks for itself. Nothing happens at first. The pit of my stomach drops. Maybe I’m wrong and this ‘thing’ is all me. Maybe I kissed her instead of us both kissing each other. Maybe she regretted it the instant her mouth touched mine. Maybe my being here while she’s naked makes me a creep.

  The door opens. Sasha’s standing there, naked and wet and gleaming. She’s the fucking night sky, and the droplets clinging to her skin are glittering stars. Water sluices off her shoulders, her elbows, her hips. It runs over the carved landscape of her body, and I have to choke back a gasp when I realize most of it is muscle. I wouldn’t call her bulky, but she’s definitely buff. Fuck. I don’t know if I’m prepared for this.

  Despite all the flesh she’s displaying, my eyes are drawn to hers. I can’t help it. I prepare for the frost I’m used to, but for the first time, I see flames. Her brown eyes burn hotter than the steam billowing around us.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Sasha already knows the answer, so I’m not sure why she’s asking the question. I hate being here, but I also have to be here. Hating her doesn’t stop the wanting, and the wanting’s too strong to fight.

  “Why did you open the door?” The rage quivering through me doesn’t come out in my voice. It breaks, almost pleading, and I loathe myself for it. Pathetic, like a dog begging for a treat.

  Sasha’s full lips press into a thin, slashing line. The scar on her throat twitches. “You don’t want this. You think you do, but you don’t.”

  It’s not a ‘get the hell out’. It’s not even a warning. It’s more of a ‘you wouldn’t dare’. A challenge. That’s fine. I can do challenges. I lean in, glaring up at her. “You know what, boss?” I say, as sarcastically as I can when I’m two seconds away from humping her leg. “Your speeches fucking suck.”

  Sasha doesn’t move at first. She’s a tense mass of anger, radiating rage and heat. But then, she takes the smallest possible step back. She’s not backing down—she’s letting me in.

  I step into the shower with her. It takes about two seconds to realize I forgot something. The spray soaks through my clothes, but I’m not going to step out again and strip like an idiot. Sasha doesn’t laugh at me, though. She doesn’t even seem to care. She just grabs my shoulders and pushes me up against the slick shower wall before leaning down to kiss me.

  It’s brutal. Rough. Selfish. Her teeth sting, and her tongue steals all of my air. But I want it this way. I want this sweet agony, this addictive ache. I want anything and everything as long as it’s more.

  I kiss Sasha back with everything I’ve got. She groans into my mouth, and the low sound shoots straight to my clit. I start squirming, but Sasha’s fingers dig deeper into my arms, wordlessly ordering me to hold still. All I can do is whine and suck her bottom lip. She’s got me wound up tight and shivering like guitar strings, and she’s playing me so well it hurts.

  But something in me wants to fight. To push back against her dominance, to show her I’m not just some warm body she can bruise because she hates me. I need her to fuck me, but she doesn’t get to unless I fuck her back.

  I wrap my arms around her, raking my nails down her back. She feels incredible, smooth skin over tense cords of muscle. The wings of her shoulder blades spread, and I gasp when I realize she’s about to lift me. Dios. I wasn’t even thinking about that. Which is weird, because I’ve definitely thought about it plenty during zone-out time in the Eagle.

  “Shorts,” I gasp, breaking away from her lips. My clothes are soaked through, sagging with water-weight and sticking to my skin. They don’t last much longer. Sasha tears my shirt up and over my head. While I try to wriggle out of my shorts and panties in the tight space, she reaches back to undo my bra. It takes a brief game of Twister for her to pull it off, but I don’t notice the awkwardness, because sharp pain pierces the side of my neck. Shit, she’s a biter.

  I bite back, sinking my teeth into Sasha’s shoulder. Her skin muffles my scream as she slides her hands under my bare le
gs. Once she finds purchase, she picks me up, pinning me to the wall. I wrap my arms behind her neck and hook both knees around her waist, but I don’t even need to hold on. She’s got me.

  My core twitches as her body presses closer to mine. I need contact, pressure, something. When I try to buck my hips, Sasha pulls back. I whimper into the side of her neck, but there’s no need. Her hands move down to cup my ass, giving me an even better angle.

  Soon I’m grinding frantically against her stomach, dripping all over myself, making a mess of us both. The moans Sasha doesn’t swallow echo from the ceiling, but I can’t help it. Her skin is wet and slippery, and I’m making it more wet and slippery, and even though her kisses hurt, her tongue is the sweetest thing I’ve ever had in my mouth…so far.

  Mierda. It isn’t supposed to be like this. I’m supposed to give as good as I’m getting, but all I can do is mewl and cling. I’m shaking so hard it’s embarrassing. My body’s a live wire—sparks shoot through me each time my clit bumps up against the defined ridges of Sasha’s abdomen. Every inch of me is screaming to give in, to let this wave of hate and lust take me where it wants.

  When one of Sasha’s hands leaves my ass to move between my legs, I know I’m screwed. I close my eyes and bite my lip, but it doesn’t change anything. Two of her fingers plunge into me, no preparation, and my whole world goes white.

  The loudest wail I’ve ever made fills the room as I flood her hand. My muscles have her in a death-grip, but somehow, she finds a way to move. Her strong fingers curl over and over again, thrusting past the tightness, pushing into a place that makes me throb even harder. I spill into her palm, across her wrist, down her stomach. Can’t stop. She’s fucking everything out of me.

  Everything dissolves into a shiny blur, like I’m trapped underwater. I can’t remember how to breathe. The calloused heel of her hand is rubbing my own come into me, catching my clit without trying. I squeeze around Sasha’s fingers, but the rest of me is relaxed The ripples remind me I’m full. Full and fucked raw, but even that rawness has a kind of peace.

  It all shatters when Sasha says, “We done now, Nevares?”

  Shame hits me like a bullet to the gut, rising up into my throat and choking me. Bitterness fills my mouth, and it tastes like her. I’ve never come so hard, never had it so good—which pisses me off royally. I don’t know who the hell Sasha thinks she is, but I’m not having it.

  “Done? Oh, we’re not done. I’m not some fucktoy you can satisfy by sticking a couple fingers in me.”

  Sasha’s lips are still swollen from my kisses when they curl in a sneer. “What makes you think I even want you?”

  I’m fuming. I can’t, I won’t let her win this. “Because I’ll eat your pussy so good you’ll love me as much as you hate me.”

  Sasha yanks her fingers out of me and sets me down, peeling her body away from mine. “You’re full of yourself.”

  I try not to let the loss of her show on my face. “You’re full of shit.”

  Her hand reaches toward me. For one tender moment, her fingertips caress my face. Then she fists my hair, shoving me onto my knees. It hurts when they hit the tile floor, but I don’t let Sasha keep control for long. I ignore her spread legs, running my flattened tongue up along her abdomen instead. The shower hasn’t washed away all the mess yet, and she tastes like me. A spike of need hits when I remember how it felt to paint her belly with wetness, but I ignore it. I have some shreds of pride left.

  Sasha doesn’t react at first. She stands there, frozen, a towering statue beneath the shower’s spray. Her fingers don’t even tighten on my head when I sink my teeth in next to her navel, but that only makes me more determined. I’m going to make her scream and I don’t care what it takes.

  I kiss a path down her stomach, trying to keep it slow. I’m not gentle, though. Not even a little. I bite, suck, scratch. I leave bruises on her belly and dark rings of raised flesh around her thighs in circles where my nails have been. When I reach the narrow strip of curls above her mound, I don’t touch her. I let my breath do the work.

  A fault finally appears within Sasha’s stony wall of silence. Her hips shift forward—not much, but enough for her lips to pout open a little, and enough for my pride. She’s all dark, slippery heat, with a few sticky strands clinging to her thighs. With my face so close, even her smell has a taste. I hate the fact that it’s delicious already. The temptation’s too much. Her scent is everywhere and my mouth is watering for her. I growl as I bury my face between her legs.

  Sasha’s breath hitches as I lash my tongue across her clit. It’s big, and that makes it perfect for sucking. When I wrap my lips around it, she digs her nails into my scalp, pulling my hair at the roots. I don’t mind the pain. If she thinks she’s in control of this, of me, she’s in for a surprise.

  I only tease the tip a little before putting pressure on the root. Sasha’s clit pulses beneath its hood, and her opening leaks wetness onto my chin. The wall’s getting weaker, and I can’t wait to see her crumble. I run my palms around her hips, groping her ass in both hands. It’s tight and firm and I love the way it tenses when I lick her.

  Sasha’s breathing gets faster. It’s not quite a moan, but I can sense one stuck in her throat. She’s swallowing it down, trying to fight the subtle jerking motion her hips want to make, but I’m not gonna let her. I wailed like la Llorona the second she shoved her fingers in me. At the very least, I need to make her cry out once—maybe even shout my name.

  Teasing her clit only gets me so far. She shudders every time I suck her, but she’s getting used to it. When I go harder, she grunts so softly I can barely hear, and then adjusts. Her hips make little twitches, shadows of thrusts she won’t let herself give. But I’m far from ready to give up. I let her clit go with a pop before moving down to her entrance.

  That earns me a sharp exhale. Sasha stiffens, muscles straining visibly beneath her skin. I lick again, and when I get the same reaction, I go to fucking town. I thrust and suck and swirl, like I’ll die if I don’t drink all of her in. Dios, she tastes like honey and salt. The flavor’s strong, but my mouth can’t get enough.

  Sasha finally starts thrusting. It’s slow, deliberate—like she’s working toward a goal. I puff up with pride as more of her runs into my mouth. I’ve made her admit she wants it. She can’t keep pretending to be above it all when she’s grinding on my face.

  I put everything I have into it, covering every bit of her I can reach. I fuck her with my tongue, swipe circles over her clit, even tug her inner lips with my teeth. I can feel how close she is to the edge, but no matter what I do, where I lick, how hard or soft I go, I can’t seem to push her over.. She’s locked up tight, like if her muscles loosen even a little, she’ll melt right down the drain. But that lock is jammed, because no matter what trick I try, it isn’t enough.

  Sasha lets out a low groan, jerking my head back. I cry out in protest, but when I look up at her face, she isn’t angry. She’s frustrated. Her nipples are puckered to stiff points. Her chest heaves rapidly. She’s still swollen and dripping. But she hasn't come. I roll my neck and shoulders, preparing to plunge back in. No way am I letting up until I win this. She stops me before I can touch her.

  “What the shit?” I ask, but her response is to turn off the water, then haul me to my feet by my hair. She walks me backwards as soon as I find my footing, throwing the door open with a bang. We stumble out together, wet feet slapping on the floor.

  When my ass hits the bathroom counter, Sasha spins me around and shoves the middle of my back, pushing me down onto it face-first between two of the sinks. I shiver to see myself in the mirror. My mouth is still sticky with Sasha’s wetness, and my lips look well-fucked. That reminds me: I’m supposed to be getting her off. I open my mouth to say so, but all that comes out is another scream as her fingers slam back inside me.

  Before I can even adjust to the fullness, Sasha’s buried as deep as she can go. This time, she doesn’t only curl—she thrusts, putting the whole weig
ht of her hips behind her hand. I don’t know how many fingers she’s using—two? Three?—but the stretch burns. The tighter I clench, the harder she goes. She wants something, but I can’t tell what it is or who it’s for.

  All thoughts of revenge bleed out of me. I can’t take this. Can’t hold up against the brutal force of her fingers. The edge of the counter cuts into my belly, but the pain’s worth it. I grab it with one hand and the side of the sink with the other, spreading my legs wider.

  The harsh slap of Sasha’s hips against my ass and my own ragged breathing fills the room. I’m more aware of the noise without the hiss of the shower to cover it. My ears burn with each wet shlick Sasha’s fingers make inside me. She’s taking me so hard it hurts, but I only want her more.

  I lose it when her thumb finds my clit. I throb against her, gaping at my own reflection. The girl in the mirror is slack-jawed, wild-eyed. Desperate. At first I shiver silently, but then a moan slips out, starting soft and growing louder. I clench down, but Sasha keeps thrusting through my contractions. Her rhythm never stops. She’s a woman with a goal, and I guess making me come isn’t it, because her pace is just as feverish as before I hit my peak.

  My orgasm is too strong to last. The pleasure hits all at once, and then disappears, leaving shuddering ripples behind. Sasha doesn’t quit until I’m slumped over, my cheek smushed against the counter. With my head tilted, I can only see some of her reflection as she withdraws and steps back.

  A fresh wave of anger washes over me, stronger than I’m expecting—or maybe it’s disappointment. The loss of her leaves me cold, and my heart sinks through my belly. Even bottoms have some pride, and mine is definitely as bruised as my body. I’d been so close to making her come, and she’d just…stopped me, for no reason, and turned me into a pitiful puddle of goo again. If this is her way of fucking with my head, I won’t let her get away with it.

  I start to ask Sasha where she’s going, to demand an explanation before she up and leaves, but the words die on my lips when she wraps her arms around my waist and scoops me up. My exhaustion evaporates, and I’m dripping all over myself again in seconds. Sasha definitely has musculoskeletal mods, because she’s carrying me like I’m nothing. She heads for the bathroom door, not bothering to go back for our clothes. Shit. I guess we’re going for round two. But this time, I’m definitely not letting her fly the shuttle the whole way.