Lucky 7

by Rae D. Magdon

  Saturday, 06-12-65 10:01:69

  THERE’S NO ONE IN the hallway, thank fucking God, because Sasha leaves the bathroom without even checking first. She doesn’t knock before shouldering the door to the bunkroom open either. Cherry, Rami, Rock, and Doc must have fled for safer pastures. Maybe my screams were louder than I thought.

  But I’m too busy to worry about that, or what I’ll tell them later, because Sasha hauls me over to her bunk and dumps me on it like a sack of potatoes. I glare up at her. So much for bridal style. Definitely none of that romantic shit here, but she didn’t have to drop me.

  “What the fuck?” I ask her, but Sasha ignores me. She opens one of the dresser drawers and pulls something out.

  When she turns around, I’m so distracted by her body that I don’t notice what she’s holding at first. She’s all tensed up, a ticking time bomb about to explode, thrumming with a visible, potent energy that I can sense all the way from here. The distant look of frustration from earlier is gone, and her eyes fix on me like a rifle’s crosshairs—dark, glinting, dangerous.

  Sasha doesn’t speak. She looks at me expectantly, as if to say, ‘Well?’ It’s the closest I’ve ever seen her to impatient. That’s when I notice what’s in her hand. It’s a dick. A very long, very thick dick that’s the same color as her skin. The shaft looks normal, but the other end curves upward, culminating in a rounded bulb.

  I look at her and shrug. I’ve used strap-ons before, and it’s not hard to understand how the thing works. Pony end in her, horse end presumably in me. “Electro-transmitters?” I ask, trying to ignore how hoarse my voice sounds. Sasha's probably got more than enough money to pay for the good stuff, the kind of toy that lets you feel everything like it's the real deal.

  Sasha growls something that sounds kind of like yes, but I’m not really listening. My eyes keep darting between the shaft and her face. The hunger there is scorching, even hotter than it was in the shower. The part of my brain that isn’t screaming ‘fuck me’ tosses that around for a second. Maybe this is something she needs. She’s already got the whole stud thing going—some flavor of genderfuckery isn’t a big stretch. Might explain why she has the crew she does, too.

  It doesn’t really matter. I’ve got my second wind, and the way Sasha’s staring raises goosebumps all over my skin. There’s no other word for it: she looks like she wants to devour me. I shoot the same look right back at her.

  “You gonna fuck me with that thing or just wave it around?”

  With a flash of teeth, Sasha’s on me. She prowls over to the bed in two long strides, shoving me flat against the mattress. I barely have time to suck in a breath before her lips catch mine. They’re forceful, demanding, and I almost forget it’s supposed to be my turn. I grasp her shoulders, preparing to flip her over, but I end up clinging to them as her hand finds my breast. The way she squeezes isn’t gentle, and neither is the way she tugs my nipple, but it’s so expertly done that the pain turns to pleasure. I may hate her, but Sasha knows her shit.

  She also knows it’s not the time to drag things out. Her hand moves to the middle of my chest, keeping me pinned as she straddles my midsection. My mouth tingles when I look between her legs. She’s still slick, still swollen, still open and inviting. I swallow around my tongue. If I get half a chance, I definitely want her to sit on my face.

  But Sasha has other ideas. She grips the strap-on with her free hand, running the rounded end between her lips. The dark surface of the toy gleams after only a few passes. She’s wet, maybe even wetter than before. I might not have made her come yet, but I did that, I realize with a surge of pride and renewed lust. I reach for her legs, running my fingers along the stiff muscles of her thighs, soaking her in through my palms.

  Sasha grunts softly, and my eyes widen as the short end slides home. Watching it disappear into her is sexy, but the new sight is even sexier. A smooth shaft juts from between her thighs, pointing proudly at the ceiling. Sasha and her new cock both twitch at the same time—probably the transmitters lining up. The extra wetness in my mouth rushes straight down, and the steady ache in my core surges into a powerful throb.

  I can’t resist the urge to touch. I slide my hand up her leg before wrapping it around the shaft. It’s warm, as warm as her skin, and just as soft too. If I squeeze a little, pressure pounds in my palm. Her clit must be pulsing like crazy under the transmitter. My muscles ripple in response. Fuck, I want her in me, but I don’t want to let go of her long enough to get her between my thighs. Plus she looks so damn incredible kneeling over me, staring down with those blazing eyes of hers.

  When I start stroking, Sasha tenses up. Her abs stand out beneath her skin and her thighs give a jolt, like I’ve completed some kind of circuit. She’s so much more responsive like this, and I’m gonna milk it as long as she lets me. I pump slow at first, fingers loose and relaxed, only choking up when I reach the head. Clear wetness wells from the tip, gathering in a glinting pool.

  Fuck. I bet it tastes like her. I bet that’s part of the design. My mouth remembers how fucking amazing her flavor is, and I need more. I’m not one for crunches—not all of us can be jacked—but I lift my upper body off the bed in less than a second. She smells the same up close, and when I wrap my lips around her, the same salty-sweetness spreads over my tongue. Shit, yes. All her.

  Sasha shudders—actually shudders as I run my tongue over the sensitive slit. I can tell she feels my tongue because she twitches softly in my mouth, and I get another trickle of flavor. I relax my mouth, preparing to sink down further, but her fingers fist my hair, pulling me away.

  “¿Es en serio?” I growl, but Sasha doesn’t seem to care. She shifts down along my body, and I forget why I’m pissed when her lips seal around the peak of my breast. Dios, her mouth. It can definitely do more than kiss. She’s rough with her sucking, and she isn’t afraid to use her teeth, but her tongue is gentle, slow. This time, I’m the one who grabs her by the hair.

  I’m so distracted I don’t realize what the rest of Sasha is doing until her pelvis settles against mine. The cock—her cock? Yeah, I’ll roll with that—strains against my stomach, and her nails dig into my skin as she hauls my legs around her waist.

  I should object. I should do what I came in here to do and show her she can’t always have it her way. But the floodgates open as her shaft slides through my wetness, and her rough nips and kisses leave me trembling. She moves her mouth up along my neck, biting hard enough to bruise.

  I don’t realize I’m begging her to go inside until the words spill out against her shoulder. “Chingada madre, te necesito dentro de mí.”

  Sasha jerks as soon as my breath hits her neck. Her hips snap once, sending sparks skittering up my spine, but she reins herself in almost immediately. She starts a slow, torturous grind that offers contact, but no relief.

  Mierda. I’m gonna come again. I can feel it building, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to lose it before she’s even in me. I grip her ass in both hands and tighten my legs around her, tilting to find the right angle.

  We both shiver when our bodies line up. Sasha freezes above me, but I don’t give her a chance to overthink it. I dig my heels into the backs of her thighs and pull her forward. A long sigh washes across my cheek as Sasha slides home. In two short thrusts, I manage to take the head. She’s thick, but the stretch lights my nerves on fire. I squeeze hard around her, trying to draw her deeper. The emptiness inside me isn’t satisfied.

  ”Quiero que me cojas,” I gasp into the damp skin behind her ear. “Quiero que me duela.” Just fucking pound me already. I want it to hurt.

  Sasha takes off like a racer at the starting gun. She shoves the rest of the way inside with one stroke, then withdraws almost as fast. I’m still reeling from full-then-empty when she slams in again, and again, and again. Jesus fucking Christ, the woman’s a machine. Her hips churn like a piston and her muscles are rolling waves. She’s just getting started, and she’s already giving it to me harder, faster, better tha
n I’ve ever had it.

  Even though I don’t want to look away from her face, my eyes roll back in my head. I don’t know how long I can take this pace, but I can’t bear to ask her to stop, either. “Ay, mierda,” I mumble, but as she hits my front wall, my voice becomes more of a whimper. “Por favor, ¡Jefecita, cogeme tan duro que no pueda caminar!” Please, Boss, fuck me ‘til I can’t walk.

  I don’t even realize what I’ve asked, or what I’ve called her, until Sasha goes harder. I go from barely hanging on to hurtling through space. I’m floating in a place where nothing exists but Sasha pumping between my legs. She doesn’t say a word. All I get is a few groans, so low I only hear them because they’re right beside my ear. The droplets clinging to her skin are leftover water, not sweat, and her breathing isn’t even labored. It feels like she could do this for the rest of the night without stopping.

  A familiar red fog creeps over me, but I do my best to fend it off. I hold my breath, chew on my cheek, hook my nails into Sasha’s back. When that doesn’t work, I squirm beneath her, trying to position myself so her thrusts aren’t so intense. There’s no escape. Part of me doesn’t want to escape. She’s filling me too well, and her tempo’s too perfect—so perfect I don’t even see the cliff coming before I stumble over the edge.

  My release hits, but it isn’t a relief. It’s a scorching, hungry thing that burns through my entire body. The contractions tear like teeth and floating specks of light sting my eyes. Sasha falters, burying herself back in halfway through a thrust, and I cling to the hope that maybe she’s finally going to come. But no. All I can do is clench helplessly around her as she resumes her relentless rhythm.

  She keeps surging against me, over me, into me. It’s like holding the ocean in my arms. By the time my third orgasm winds down, I’m climbing for a fourth already. The base of her shaft grinds into my clit on every stroke, and stars swirl inside my head whenever the tip hits my front wall.

  Christ, this is how I’m gonna die. Getting hatefucked by my handler until my body gives out. That sends a dizzying flash of heat through me. It’s messed up, getting even more turned on by the fact that she’s my boss, but there it is. It’s not like I’ve treated her that way anyway. Half the time I don’t even do what she wants, and the other half I do it with a heavy dose of sass. But now she’s making me do what she wants, and it’s overwhelming.

  No. Shit, no, I won’t go down without a fight. She doesn’t get to win again, not this time. This time when I gasp in her ear, it’s on purpose. “Vente dentro de mi, Jefecita. Dámelo todo.” Come inside me, Boss. Give me all you’ve got.

  That does it. Sasha’s eyes go wide enough to show the whites and her lips fall open. A sob cracks in her throat, and instead of slamming into me, she stays buried deep. Her hips give a soft, uncertain twitch, then lock up completely as heat floods out of her and into me. She looks surprised, almost like her body has betrayed her.

  I almost feel sympathetic as she shakes in my arms, all those tight muscles melting. She obviously wasn’t expecting this. She was trying to fuck me unconscious, just because she thought she could. But finally, finally I’ve got her. Checkmate, bitch.

  I seize my chance. It’s easier than I’d hoped to flip her over while she’s like this. Her size and strength are useless as I brace my hands on her shoulders, pinning her flat to the bed. "Eso es, llename la panocha." Fuck. That’s it. Fill my pussy deep.

  Another groan breaks in Sasha’s throat. Her large hands grip my waist, but they’re trembling too hard to find a proper hold. The hot pulses speed up, spilling deeper as I roll my hips over hers. When they finally start to taper off, I surrender to the deep tug in my belly. My last peak isn’t painful or sudden, but it’s the strongest one of all. It feels like I’m shedding my skin, dissolving into the air around me—or maybe like I’m sinking into Sasha’s body, lying soft beneath mine.

  I don’t stop rocking over her or squeezing around her until we’re both finished. Sasha stares up at me in amazement, like she still can’t believe what happened. Her mouth moves, but her voice is on a three-second delay. “I…I don’t…how did you…”

  Several cruel retorts come to mind, but I’ve burned through most of my fury. I still don’t like Sasha, but I don’t want to strangle her anymore. Well, maybe only half as much as usual. I got my revenge, got back my pride, and got her off. No reason to be a jerk about it.

  “Shut up.” I stroke up along her stomach to squeeze one of her breasts. “I don’t care about…whatever.”

  “This doesn’t change things,” Sasha says, sounding almost suspicious. “It doesn’t mean anything.” But although her eyes aren’t warm or tender, they aren’t ice-cold either. Maybe I’ve graduated from an insufferable annoyance to a tolerable acquaintance.

  “Yeah.”

  I start to slide off, but Sasha pulls me back down to her chest. She doesn’t wrap her arms around me. There’s no embrace. But we do stay like that for a little while, and lying skin-to-skin against someone isn’t so bad.

  Sunday, 06-13-65 01:19:58

  THE HUM OF THE Eagle’s engine vibrates under me as we whisper through the dark, passing over the city of Hong Kong and out into the wilderness beyond. My hands have the shakes and my toes keep curling and uncurling in my boots. I’m stupid for being here. I don’t even know why I’m here. But even after the…incident…with Sasha, I didn’t leave the Hole, and when the rest of the crew piled into the Eagle later that night, I strapped in with them.

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. I tell myself it’s because Val would be even more dangerous than she already is in Cross’s hands, but I know that’s only part of the real reason. On a smaller scale, I’m also here because I don’t want to see the rest of the crew get killed.

  No one else seems nervous. Alert, maybe, but not scared—or if they are, they don’t show it. Doc seems downright gleeful, sitting across from me in her ugly new ‘I <3 St. Petersburg’ hat. I owe Rami, Cherry, and Rock a big one for taking the kid somewhere to preserve her not-so-innocent ears. According to Cherry, who still hasn’t stopped smirking at me, the bathroom walls echo. Everyone got the hell out after my first scream.

  Sasha’s up front, riding copilot for once. There’s no proof, but I’m pretty sure she made Doc ride in back because she doesn’t want to look at me. She hasn’t been rude since we fucked, or even colder than usual, but she’s kept her distance. I don’t know why she’s worried. I thought I made it pretty clear I’m not trying to put a ring on it or any of that shit. Rock looks at me and makes a quiet, questioning noise. Guess being a dude who doesn’t talk makes him good at listening to what people don’t say.

  “It’s all good,” I tell him, but he doesn’t seem convinced. I’m not sure I’m convinced either.

  The tension feels like it lasts a while, but the rest of the flight doesn’t. I glance out the Eagle’s window to see the lights of Hong Kong disappearing into the distance. We’re leaving the city behind us, flying away from the coast and into the mountains.

  Cherry nudges my thigh from the seat next to mine. “You ready, Nevares?”

  I shrug. “Ready to get my ass fried because Sasha has a death wish? Sure, why the hell not.”

  I’m surprised when Cherry doesn’t find a way to make the conversation sexual. She sounds sincere when she says, “But you’re here, yeah? You think this is the right call.”

  “I think it’s a trap.”

  “We all know it’s a trap,” Cherry snorts. “Point stands: you think riding into a trap with us is the right call.”

  “Mmhmm. Fuck if I know why.”

  Cherry’s eyes flick toward the front of the Eagle. “Because you’re Sasha’s now.”

  I gape at her in disbelief, my face flaring hot. Cherry rolls her eyes. “Not like her girl or something. Don’t be dumb, Nevares. I mean Sasha’s got this list of people she’ll take a bullet for, no hesitation. You got her crew back together. You risked your ass for us. So in her book, you’re one of us, and some part of you knows that. A
nd for all that you bitch about crewbonding, you have too much pride not to match a commitment like that.”

  I start to say that I don’t know any such thing, but the truth of the words shuts my mouth. Mierda. One crazy, adrenaline-fueled week with these losers and I’m already starting to care about them. They’re like a fungus or something, softening me up until I’m all rotten and gross inside. No one warned me this ride-or-die shit was contagious. Fine. I’ll risk my ass keeping these idiots alive. Then I’ll freak out about getting attached and take a chainsaw to the roots I’m growing.

  Another light appears in the Eagle’s window, a distant, fuzzy glow halfway up the mountain almost like a firefly. As it gets bigger, it turns into several lights. The shadow of a huge house emerges, darker than the blue-black night sky. It’s set on a plateau carved unnaturally into the side of the mountain. Of course, Cross would think nothing of cutting into the landscape, so she could plop her mansion in the middle of it.

  “Val, what’s on the scanners?” Sasha asks.

  Val’s cheerful voice fills the shuttle. “Nothing unexpected to report. An electromagnetic field twenty yards away, containing twenty heat signatures. It appears to be a biodome.”

  Sasha nods tightly. “Rami, take us in.”

  “Going ghost.”

  The shuttle’s trajectory doesn’t change, but its vibrations rise in pitch. It’s not a squeal, more like rasping white noise. I look at Cherry. “If we have cloaks, why the hell weren’t we using them before this?”