Regaining Command Page 2

  With a deep hunger, she watched as his hand gripped his cock and stroked it back and forth. As silent as possible, she unbuttoned her coveralls and thrust her hand down her panties. She touched her clit in rhythm with his fingers and her breath caught as heat licked along her veins. She bit her lip to keep from groaning out loud as he growled low. His strokes increased in strength and speed as Elise thrust two fingers in her pussy. She squirmed and arched as the tension in his muscles etched lines in his face. His fingers circled the head of his penis faster and faster, and she slid her fingers inside her pussy at the same rate until she splintered and bit back a cry of pleasure. The sight of his cum exploding from his cock only made her hotter, needier.

  He leaned one hand on the tree in front of him, and she desperately tried to catch her breath. With unsteady hands, she fumbled with her coverall buttons and that familiar shame washed over her. What was it about the drug and Donny that made her so twisted, so deviant? Her legs shook as she staggered back to the vehicle, satiated and frustrated at the same time.

  She was in her seat, calm and collected when he returned.

  He barely glanced her way as he started the engine and careened onto the track. After a few miles of silence, he spoke.

  "Do you want me to have Earth Central send someone else to protect you?” Donny's abrupt question startled her.

  She stared at him. “No. Why do you ask?"

  "You seem ... uncomfortable with me,” he answered. Again, she couldn't read his body language or his expression. It was frustrating.

  She improvised. “I'm not used to having someone around that much.” The truth was too embarrassing. How do you say that you want your personal Tribunal soldier to fuck you senseless? Or that you love to watch him masturbate? Maybe there was a vid card for that. She smirked at the thought.

  "What are you thinking?” he demanded. His piercing blue eyes narrowed.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “I was thinking there should be a vid card for everything.” She evaded his question.

  His abrupt halt of the vehicle almost made her fly into the windshield. “That does not answer my question.” He glared at her.

  Suddenly, she was angry. Angry at him for staying distant from her. Angry at herself for wanting him. Angry at the planet for being filled with a chemical that forced her to have feelings she didn't want. “I don't have to answer your fucking questions,” she spat.

  His cold smile made her skin freeze. A trickle of fear slid down her spine. For good reason. His hand shot out and gripped her arm in a hard vise. “Yes, you do. I'm not here to be someone's little puppet. Tell me what's going on, or I'll beat it out of you."

  Why didn't those words fill her with fear and disgust? Why did she have a vision of being bruised and spanked by his large, calloused hands? Why was she wet from the thought of what he might do to her? She bit her lip.

  His gaze immediately went to her mouth, and she gasped. He studied her face in a heated glance, and the silence between them was taut and filled with heavy desire. A small sound escaped her throat and seemed to unleash a wildness in him.

  Like a whirlwind, he caught her to him and slammed his lips onto hers. Possession, danger, violence lay just beneath the surface of that kiss. Her senses spun and her mind splintered. God, how she needed him. The chemistry between them was instant and explosive. His tongue thrust in her mouth with insistent pressure and she responded with a moan.

  His hands switched to her head, and he drove his fingers into her hair until her scalp tingled. With a twist, he angled her mouth until he could dominate her, drive her insane. Reason deserted her, and she just felt.

  With a curse, he shoved her away from him, and she flew back against the vehicle door. His breath panted like a jet engine, and she didn't think she could breathe at all. He didn't look at her and clenched his hands on the steering wheel. “I'll tell Earth Central to reassign someone to you.” He bit the words out.

  If he'd taken a knife and twisted it in her gut, it would have hurt less than those few words. She stared out the passenger window at the gathering dark outside and thought how the nighttime had become a comfort to her. No one could see you in the dark. And it suited her loneliness.

  Why was she surprised? She was a freak of nature. What had Dr. Riggo called her that one time? Oh right. Goth Barbie. At the time, she thought he'd just meant to insult her because she chose to pierce her nose and had black, spiky hair. But now, she thought he meant her personality. Perky, but suicidal. Friendly, but lonely. A walking contradiction. Why the hell would any man want to take that on?

  Tears pricked her eyelids, but she forced them back. No way she'd let Donny see her cry. It was going to be a long eight hour drive.

  * * * *

  It was going to be a fucking long eight hours. Donny kept his gaze forward and scowled at the track. He needed to get away from the little witch. The smell of her arousal drove him insane, and he got a whiff of it when he returned from jacking off to visions of her. Again. She was temptation with a nose ring. She was smart, strong and sexy. A dangerous combination in an assignment. Especially the first assignment he'd been given since being reinstated in the Tribunal.

  Why couldn't they have assigned Paul Lestrano to the job? Just because the asshole resigned didn't mean they couldn't convince him to do it. It didn't help that Donny had once given in and touched her, fucked her. She was a dream come true.

  And he couldn't have that dream.

  He was an ex-criminal, a freak, who had been injected with God knew what since he was twelve years old. All his life had been a lie told by an alien named Kliro. Even now, as the drugs Kliro manipulated him with were gone from his human body, he still felt the Dormrela lay beneath the skin. It shifted and growled to be released. Dr. Carstairs told him the side effects from the Dormrelian DNA being bonded to his human DNA might include personality relapses.

  Six months of therapy, both physical and emotional, left him battered and jaded. And now he was assigned to a woman he was drawn to. It wasn't just her sexy piercings and defiant expression. It wasn't the way she filled out a pair of coveralls. All those things just made him want to fuck her. It was the innocence mixed with decadence, the smile versus the snappy comebacks. She was a fantasy for a man like him. Beneath the surface, she longed to be taken, twisted, and controlled. And he wanted to be the man to do it.

  But she was a scientist, a specialist, and fucking smart. What the hell would she have to do with a guy who spent all his life learning to kill? Especially a guy who was responsible for the murder of four women and the near destruction of the Asberek colony. Guilt still swamped him over the things he'd done. Sure, he'd been controlled by the Dormrelian injections, but part of him believed if he'd been a good guy, the Dormrela DNA couldn't have made him do those things.

  His therapist was still working with him on that. What right did he have to think about any woman like Elise Fleming?

  The only relief he had from the chemical Synthetic Endorphin Xcstasy was the raucous trips to the Virtual Fantasy Room where he exorcised his demons. At the temple, he'd relied on frequent masturbation.

  He was damaged. He had to leave Elise alone, even as her scent swirled around him and he couldn't resist a sidelong glance to her profile every once and a while. Their silence filled the vehicle, and he chose not to break it. Better to keep quiet and let her think. She'd realize sleeping with him would be a huge mistake. A mistake he'd love to make, but not at her expense.

  A smirk lifted his lips. A soft thought for a hardened killer.

  "Something funny, Tribunal?” Elise glared at him.

  He wiped the smile from his face. “Not a thing, Doctor."

  More silence.

  They reached the Causeway Center as daybreak started a new day. Elise tumbled out of the vehicle and didn't give him a backwards glance as she grabbed her bag. She didn't even glance at him as she headed for her quarters.

  Thoughtfully, he followed her and made sure she made it to her door. He could have
insisted on checking her room to make sure there was nothing to kill her. But he didn't trust himself. In her quarters, he might have jumped her, and nothing would stop him from tasting the honey he knew she carried for him.

  With impatient fingers, he used his hand held vid phone to send a message to his superiors at Earth Central. Reassignment. Immediately.

  It didn't surprise him when his phone jangled five minutes later.

  Most contact on a vid phone included a visual of the person, but his superior kept his face digitally jammed on the screen and Donny was pretty sure the voice was manipulated too.

  "No reassignment,” the voice told him.

  "She doesn't trust me,” Donny lied. Trust was not the issue. His uncontrollable lust was the problem.

  "It doesn't matter. You're the best person for the job."

  "Why? You could get Lestrano to guard her. He knows as much about the situation as I do."

  "Kliro has escaped."

  Donny's stomach dropped. The Dormrelian Ambassador was dangerous and he always had a plan. Donny ought to know. Kliro had used him, manipulated him and drugged him for twenty years. Nothing was off limits to the alien. He'd used Donny for every dirty, ugly act—including murder. He'd suppressed Donny's neural development in an attempt to aim him like a weapon. And it had worked.

  When Donny was dying, the man threw him away like garbage.

  He closed his eyes. Rage, guilt, and pain washed through his body. His superior waited several minutes before he went on. “Earth Central, the Ang delegates, and the Dormrela delegates all believe Kliro will come to Asberek. If he isn't there already."

  Donny sighed. “What does this have to do with Doctor Fleming?"

  "Kliro wants the Peace Agreement we've reached with the Ang and the Dormrela to end. He wants war."

  "And Doctor Fleming?” Donny pressed.

  "The Ang say she'll find something, and it's something important."

  "Fuck the Ang."

  "I'm not sure that's anatomically possible. Doctor Fleming doesn't have to trust you. She just has to stay alive."

  "Fine. Just make an official note that I've protested,” Donny said bitterly.

  "Of course. I'll put this recording in the file,” the man told him, and Donny knew he was lying. There'd be no evidence to show this call ever happened. He shook his head and ended the call. It had been pointless.

  He set up an uncomfortable chair outside her door and plopped down. When she came out, he'd be ready for whatever she threw at him. His eyes drifted closed, and he smiled. She certainly wasn't boring. That was his last thought as he fell into a light sleep.

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  Chapter Two

  Six hours later, he awoke with a start when her door swished open. Elise didn't even glance his way as she turned in the corridor toward the center of the Causeway.

  Wherever she was going, he approved of her ensemble. Short black skirt, a silver blouse made of some silky material and her hair loose, she was all sexy business. He shouldn't have been surprised to see her enter the newest hangout begun by one of the colonists.

  Asberek Moon was a pick-up bar. Because of the chemical S.E.X., the colony had to adjust and create an atmosphere where humans could find relief. So, one of the colonists opened a bar with several Virtual Fantasy Rooms. The interior was dark, and the noise muted by the special material in the walls. The place was packed, but you couldn't tell by the level of voices.

  Donny had heard rumors about this place. Musical, even multiple, partners were accepted. For those seeking mindless sex better than the VFR holograms could offer, it was a perfect location. He'd never gone because his desires were a little too twisted, in his mind, to take advantage of what was offered in there.

  Yet, now that he was inside the club, he noted the different clues to each small group congregated at the different sections. The colonist who built the club, Jonah Speigler, was a brilliant designer. A well lit section held the bright young things that wore conservative clothing and pasted on smiles. Muted lighting on the west wall held a little darker group with sly smiles and very little innocence. But the north wall drew Donny and, to his surprise, Elise.

  Tattoos, piercings and black leather dominated this group. Some were clearly marked as dominants and some as submissives. Other signs were more ambiguous, but Donny was familiar with many of them. Elise strode up to one of the tables and began to play a betting game called “Twisted". A weird dice game from Earth, it usually involved high stakes but almost never monetary bets. On Asberek, Donny was sure that “Twisted” had become a sexual game.

  Sure enough, her opponent was a man and wore all the signs of bisexual preference. Donny didn't think Elise gave a shit what man she played against. By her body language, he could tell Elise would lose, on purpose if necessary. By the easy exchange she had with her opponent, this guy was someone she knew and knew well. She wanted sex, not a win. And she was willing to play for the stakes he demanded.

  Donny's gaze narrowed on her opponent. He was good looking and charming with a touch of arrogance that Elise apparently found attractive.

  "I bet hot sex against the wall.” The man smiled and Donny resisted the urge to deck him.

  Elise's purr of approval sent every man within a mile on sexual alert. She hadn't noticed him behind her yet, but her opponent did. The interesting thing was Donny read the man's instant attraction to him and to Elise. Yet, another aspect of his demeanor made him wonder at his bet.

  What would Elise wager?

  "I bet a submissive fantasy where you wash dishes.” She smirked.

  Everyone snickered. They all knew what that meant and the crowd began to dissipate. The dice game usually began with five or six players and whittled away to two. Elise had eliminated all the other potential sex partners and picked this one.

  She lost the next throw and the winner cocked his head at both of them. “I win. I'll let you choose the VFR, however.” His smile at Elise made Donny want to growl with frustration. Underneath his skin, Donny's possessive nature was screaming to get out. No one touched her. No one but him.

  But he had no right to her.

  When Elise turned and found him there, she glared at him. “I'm going to have sex now. You can leave."

  He shook his head and caught a gleam in the other man's gaze. “I have to watch over you."

  "Not while I'm fucking someone else,” she bit the words out.

  "I won't interfere unless it's necessary. I have to watch you,” he repeated and added, “That includes when you're having sex."

  * * * *

  Elise just stared at him. The way he'd said “watch” made her blood churn and boil. Not with anger, but with lust. She wanted him to watch her.

  With a glance at Jonah, her eyebrows rose in a silent question. “It's your fantasy. I seem to have no choice."

  Her opponent's hazel eyes turned green. He was definitely turned on by the idea of Donny watching. She rolled her eyes. She should have known Jonah would find her guardian hot. And that he'd like being watched.

  Sex with Jonah had always been fun—a romp. She'd rather sleep with him than someone she didn't know at all. They both knew sex was all there was between them.

  Built, muscular, and handsome, Jonah was attractive and sexy enough to get the job done since Elise couldn't have what she wanted. Donny. To fuck him while Donny watched was both unnerving and titillating. The three of them entered the VFR, and Elise found her clothes changed.

  Jonah liked her in leather and she was now in a leather corset and boots to her knees. Jonah was decked out in leather pants, no shirt. His dark, curly hair was mussed and his feet were bare. Through his pants, she could see he was hard and ready.

  With a glance over her shoulder, she noted Donny leaned against a wall, and his gaze was unreadable, dark, intense.

  She faced Jonah and he touched her cheek. “That's him, isn't it?” he whispered.

  With closed eyes, she nodded. When she opened them, a wealth of
compassion swirled in Jonah's dark green gaze. “Then we'll do what we've always done, baby."

  His smile reassured her and his hand brushed over her shoulder. His voice was low and heated. “Prompt plasto barrier #45."

  Between Donny and the two of them there was now a clear, sound proof barrier. The man could watch, but he couldn't hear or touch them. He straightened away from the wall and glared at Jonah.

  "He didn't like that.” Jonah smiled into Elise's neck. “He's going to like the rest of it even less.” He leaned back and met her gaze. “Does he know what you do in here?"

  "I don't think so."

  "So, he has no idea you like me to be rough."

  "He doesn't even know I sleep with you as far as I know."

  "You should see how he's glaring at me. You belong to him, in his mind. Are you sure you want to piss him off?” Jonah pressed his lips on her collarbone.

  "He had his chance.” Her anger actually spurred her to press her knee into Jonah's crotch. “Up against the wall was the wager, I believe."

  His lips moved to the top of her breast. “You're really out to make him suffer, aren't you?"

  "Yes,” she hissed.

  "Then let's really make him suffer.” He gripped her arms and tossed her onto the huge bed that was part of the room's furniture. She hit the mattress and hadn't caught her breath when Jonah was on top of her.

  His hands encircled her wrists and slammed them on the bed over her head. His knee wedged between her legs and spread them. “He can't hear you, Elise.” Jonah's voice was velvet in contrast to the rough feel of his hands on her wrists. “You can pretend I'm him, like you always do."

  She gazed up at his face. “You like having him watch."

  He nodded. “I do.” His cock was iron hard and nestled at the junction of her heated entrance. “And while you're pretending he's the one fucking you, bruising you, touching you, I'll be fantasizing that he's fucking me.” His eyes glittered. “We'll both get what we need."