Page 21 of Her Alien Cyborgs
He moved his hand faster as he let the memories morph into a fantasy, one where he hadn’t let her walk away. In his mind, he stripped her naked while Fyr’enth held her. He imagined her resisting but only at first. Her protests could be ended with well-timed kisses.
He’d fuck her with his fingers, his mouth, and then finally his cock. Yes, up against the bulkhead with her legs wrapped around his hips.
A groan rose in his throat, and he braced his free hand against the wall. Hot water flowed over him, and he pretended it was Hezza’s hands caressing him, coaxing him toward climax as he fucked her.
He wanted to feel her come around him, to hear her cries as she shuddered in ecstasy around his cock.
He groaned as his balls tightened and his shaft pulsed between his fingers.
He came hard, his hips pumping frantically as his semen splashed against the tiled walls.
Fraxx. If that was what happened when he imagined sex with their lovely rescuer, what would it be like when he fucked her for real?
He couldn’t wait to find out.
CHAPTER 9
Hezza couldn’t besure whether her time in the freezer had actually cooled her raging libido, or if it was simply the fact she’d kept her distance from her new guests for the last two hours. Possibly it had to do with the fact that she had the air scrubbers maxed out in hopes they could remove or at least reduce the level of pheromones on board. Or, she considered, it might be the foolish amount of Torski rocket fuel she’d consumed. She’d downed enoughja’kreeshthat she should be vibrating right now.
Whatever the reason, her mind had cleared, and her hormones had leveled off enough to let her function. She’d spent the time mulling over star charts, calculating her fuel consumption, and trying to decide the best place to go.
After two hours, she stopped. While she still hadn’t made her final decision, she’d narrowed it down to a handful of options. Now she wanted to take it to the others. This felt like a choice the three of them should make together.
She dropped the ship back to normal space and altered course enough to annoy anyone who might be following them. It wasn’t a big change, and it moved them in parallel to the generaldirection of two of her preferred destinations without giving anything away.
It frustrated her that she couldn’t tell if they were being followed. It was possible that someone had managed to detect their entry point before their energy signature dissipated. The only way to be certain would be to stay put and wait to see if another ship showed up in the next few hours. That would let her know if anyone was after them. It would also mean they’d be spotted, and the chase would begin again.
Given the choice between pessimism and hope, she opted for the former. It was always better to expect the worst. That way, anything else was a pleasant surprise.
With the task done, she rose from her chair and absently patted her stomach. She needed food, and the cyborgs probably did, too. Not that she had any idea what they’d like. From the stories Thrash and some of the others had told her about their time as prisoners of the Shadows, it was likely her guests had never had anything but nutri-bars and algae broth.
She refused to have that crap on board theGambit, not even as cargo. She could still remember the way the greenish sludge wouldgloopout of the food dispenser at the corporate-funded orphanage where she’d grown up. It only came in two varieties: a watery broth that tasted like tears and old socks, or a viscous, foul-tasting gel that quivered when she poked it with her spoon.
Hezza had many failings, but no one on theGambithad ever complained about her cooking. It was time to show her guests what they’d been missing.
She decided to make them one of her favorite meals. Brinner, also known as breakfast for dinner, was a tradition she started when Anya was a little girl. Whenever there was time, she’d let her daughter pick out a new recipe. Then they learned how to make it together. The food dispenser was a convenient way to get hot, nutritious meals in a hurry, but once she’d struck out onher own, Hezza discovered she enjoyed the act of preparing and cooking her meals.
Given the amount of food she expected her guests to consume, she tasked the dispenser with the job of making the pancakes. The rest she managed herself.
When she was close to ready, she sent a message over the ship’s comms. “I thought the two of you might be hungry. You’re welcome to join me in the galley if you want food or company.”
“Thank you. We’ll be there shortly,” one of them replied.
She couldn’t tell which, since their voices were as identical as the rest of them. At least, physically. Like most cloned cyborgs she’d met on Haven, the pair did have subtle differences. Not so much in appearance but in personality. Kalan was more forward, while Fyr’enth was the quieter of the two. She would be able to tell them apart, eventually.
Footsteps in the passageway announced that at least one of her guests had arrived. She checked the bacon one last time and then turned to greet them…and nearly dropped the spatula she held.
Holy hells and gravity wells, a god was standing in her galley.
“Hi. Also, wow. You look different.” She winced at her awkwardness, but her brain had shut down and left her to babble like an idiot.
The scruffy prisoner dressed in rags was gone. In his place was a male who looked like a leading man from the latest action vids. His long hair had been cut short at the sides, while the top had been left long enough to be swept back from his face. He still had a full beard, but now it was neatly trimmed.
He wore black pants that made her think of a military uniform—not the pretty ones they wore on parade but actual combat gear. Same with his boots. She hadn’t known the ship’s fabricator could even make that kind of thing. Maybe Archer had sent some new patterns along with the raw materials?
Only one thing about him hadn’t changed. He still wasn’t wearing a shirt.
She stared longer than she should have, too shocked by the transformation to tear her eyes away.
