No Rules (4 page)

Moving his focus to her clit, he flicked the nub repeatedly, then suckled the small bundle of nerves between his lips. She arched off the mattress and his cock went all the way down the back of her throat. Though her shield neutralized his saliva, the lube, combined with her own body's response, made her plenty wet.

He could have played with her all day, but the cock in her mouth was ready to explode. With one final lick, he rose up and positioned his other cock at her woman's entrance. “Ready to take me deep into your hot little pussy, beauty?”

She made a noise he took as an assent, and he thrust forward into her welcoming depths.

God, both his cocks were in heaven, coated in her wetness, surrounded by hungry feminine muscles, determined to milk him dry.

He fucked her mouth and her pussy, enjoying the bounce of her tits with each motion. Her small hands dug into the sheets and he sensed her body drawing closer to climax.

Tilting her pelvis up, he braced her legs on his shoulders and fucked her deeper. The version getting the best blow job of his life held her head steady and caressed her cheekbones. The other pressed down on her clit, sending her crashing into release.

Her throat and pussy muscles held him fast, working him relentlessly with every ripple of pleasure. He spurted, hot and thick inside her, shivering at the sound of her shield annihilating his seed.

Slowly, he withdrew both cocks, still semi-hard despite the cataclysmic release. His throat was raw and he could well imagine how hers felt. Shame burned through him as he considered how roughly he'd used her. Whatever her motivation for seducing him, she hadn't deserved to be fucked within an inch of her life until she was limp from exhaustion.

He'd treated her like a whore. No thought to her feelings, just him, using her body however he saw fit. He was no better than those who'd killed Gili.

With a final kiss to her sweet lips, both sets, he recombined himself and left the room.

4

Alison lost track of time as she recovered from her obscenely intense orgasm. Pushing off the blindfold, which she discovered had been fashioned from her whore's half shirt, she looked eagerly around, only to find that Fenton—and whoever his mysterious partner in crime was—had abandoned her.

Unanswered questions swirled through her mind. Who was the stranger she'd taken in her mouth and how had he entered the room without her sensing him? True, her eyes had been closed, but it seemed almost as though one second she'd been alone with Fenton and the next she was being kissed by some unknown man.

Had he been in the apartment with them the whole time? And if so, why hadn't Fenton mentioned him? When she'd asked who was in the room with them, he'd said “no one.” If he had a live-in male lover, why deny it?

Even though her body was sated, her mind reeled. If there was another constant lover in Fenton's life, the chances of her persuading him to keep her around were nil. Kinky fuckery aside, two was company but three was a crowd. There would be a constant struggle for power, feelings would be hurt, and eventually someone would be left out in the cold. Damn it, she needed to know who that guy was and how he impacted her plans.

Though her health guard had taken care of any aftereffects from the men, her own desire left her feeling less than fresh. Climbing from the bed, she returned to the hot spring and stared at the pulsing blue and green light from the bioluminescent creatures on the ceiling. She needed an angle, any angle to play, but bluffing without all the information would cost her the game.

Her options were limited. Going back to the brothel now and begging for her job back was not only unappealing, it was risky as hell. That little shark-toothed troll would be hunting for her, and with no idea how close the assassin might be, staying in one place could get her killed. She needed to come clean with Fenton, tell him she was running and ask for his protection, or at least enough money to get her off world.

And he owed her, damn it all, for springing the ménage on her unsuspecting. Though Alison had no moral objections to pleasuring two men at once, she liked to at least have an idea
who
she was pleasuring. Sex with Fenton was meant to be a thank-you for rescuing her, but his pal's BJ put him in her debt.

Decided, she climbed from the water and snagged another of Fenton's clean shirts from the line. A little mouth action might not be enough; they could request another round with both of them inside her to really feel they'd received their money's worth. Her body shivered at the prospect of Fenton working the thick stalk of his erection into her ass while his buddy took his turn with her pussy.
Whatever it takes.

Padding across the stone floor, she went in search of him. Neither man was in the kitchen, nor did she hear the sound of voices from any of the closed-off rooms. Had he left her alone here?

Weariness overtook her. She was sick of guessing, sick of just scraping by. She eased back into an unusually soft chair that seemed to mold itself to the contours of her body. Curling her legs beneath her, she snagged a worn blanket from the arm of the chair and closed her eyes, letting herself drift.

The screams awoke her, awful, inhuman sounds that ripped through the stillness in the apartment and made her shoot upright in the chair.

The sound came again and she rose to her feet, staggering to the source before she fully thought it through. It sounded almost as though something was being slaughtered, and if she'd been clearheaded she would have run the opposite direction.

Heart pounding in her throat, she moved deeper into the dimness. Several archways led to rooms much like the one she'd already seen, sparsely furnished with a platform bed and hanging rack for clothes. The screams died down and were replaced by a whimpering sound, like that of a small animal with its leg caught in a trap.

A chill gripped her, like icy fingers wrapping around her throat. God, she should run. It could very well be the assassin in there taking out his only real rival. Now was
not
the time for her feet to turn into roots and sink through the stone floor.

“Alison.” It was her name that spurred her on, because that was clearly Fenton's voice and he no longer sounded as though he were being tortured. No, now the groan became one she knew well, stemming from a place of desperate need.

Hurrying forward, she stopped when she saw two forms in the bed, both naked with startling erections. Each bucked as his fist clamped down on the massive cock, fucking his own hand in unison.

Her mouth went dry as she watched the spectacle for a moment, but the really startling thing was that both men were obviously asleep.

And identical.

Fenton had a twin? One he shared women with and slept next to naked.

“Oh, Alison,” they both said again, hands moving in tandem.

The bizarreness of the scene did nothing to diminish her arousal at the sight of two gorgeous men pleasuring themselves to thoughts of her. Before she realized it, she moved closer for a better look.

Wait, that was odd, they both had the same scar. She was no geneticist but even if they were identical twins, or had been conjoined twins at some point, the exact same scar at the exact same place didn't seem possible.

Reaching toward the nearest man, she touched his shoulder, torn between wanting to witness the culmination of their hard work and the need for answers. But her touch spurred on an unintended reaction. They arched up, both of them bowing off the bed as pearly white jets shot—coated fists, abdomens, and chests. She held her breath, waiting for one or both of them to wake up.

It didn't happen. Instead the man under her hand surged back toward the other one in an unnatural movement. He didn't roll or shift his muscles in any way. It was more like a powerful magnet drawing metal filings to it.

Into
it, until only one Fenton remained.

Air turned to wet concrete in her lungs. What the hell had just happened? She'd seen so many weird things since she left Earth, but this one, this one she couldn't accept.

“Alison?”

She started as she realized Fenton's eyes were open and he was looking at her. His face groggy from sleep, he appeared completely unaware his chest was coated in spooge.

“What are you?” She used all her remaining oxygen to force the question out, needing answers.

He frowned and looked down, touched fingertips to his chest, and rubbed them together. The sharp scent of cum hung heavy in the space between them. Understanding swept across his face, and he leaned his head back against the wall with a dull thump. “Fuck. I split again?”

Her mouth dropped open. He asked it so simply like,
I left the seat up again?
What was next, a token
my bad
?

“Alison.” Wiping himself clean with the sheet in a smooth swipe, Fenton moved toward her. “Alison, take a breath.”

She tried, but she couldn't get her respiratory system working. It was as though a vise compressed her body together until there was no space left for even a shallow breath. Flapping her hands uselessly in the air, she stared at him, thoroughly panicked.

Her vision tunneled and she fell forward, just as Fenton lunged for her.

 

Fenton cursed under his breath as he stared out the view port in his suite. Taking Alison with him had been his only option. She'd seen him phase split, and anyone who came looking for him might interrogate her until she told them all she knew about him. Torture her. The people on Hosta might not know his name, but finding him squatting in the former overlord's apartment and discovering that he could split was enough to get him killed.

He couldn't let that happen, not until his mission was fulfilled.

She was still fast asleep. When she'd passed out in his chamber earlier, he'd checked her vitals and, assured that it was only exhaustion and shock that had such an impact on her, he'd dressed and summoned his contact at the docks.

Piggens had raised both his bushy eyebrows when he asked for a travel visa for Alison.

“Is she dead?” the gutter rat had asked.

“Would I need a travel visa for her if she were?”

“She's a right nice piece, but there'll be plenty aboard for you to diddle.”

Fenton had just stared the other man down until Piggens withdrew a molecular scanner.

“Payment up-front.”

Fenton shook his head. “Payment on receipt of the visa. We'll meet you at the docks.” He didn't want to give the man time to run to the patrollers and tell them Fenton was making a run for it.

With Alison's system-approved visa ensured, Fenton had deposited her sleeping body in his bed before opening the door. Most of his pocket money went to ensuring his cargo was secured in a private suite abutting his, and keeping word of it on a need-to-know basis. Scum like Piggens would squeal like the small mammal he was named after if he knew of its existence.

He checked the readouts and then locked it up for the night, returning to where Alison still slept.

The enormity of what he'd done crashed down on him. She lay there in nothing but one of his sister's dresses, owning no clothing, having no credits. He'd taken her off Pental without her permission, and he was completely responsible for her.

Another whore bent on self-destruction. Could he endure this again?

She stirred and looked up into his face. She didn't scream or faint again, thank the stars for small favors. Her hand touched her stomach and she glanced down sharply. “What am I wearing?”

“It belonged to my sister. I needed to dress you in something for traveling.”

“Traveling?” Her eyebrows drew together, forming a small crinkle between them. He stared at it, almost mesmerized by the small gesture.

Perhaps because he didn't want to confess. To have her turn on him, scream at him, maybe even throw things. His sister could be a real brat when he made major decisions without her input.

Shifting his weight onto the bed, he moved closer, ready to pin her if she became violent. “I apologize, but you left me no choice after you discovered my identity.”

She looked around and her gaze locked on the star port. Kicking her legs over the side, she rushed forward to get a better view. “You took me off Pental. How?”

How
, not
why
. Her reaction made him frown. “I already had passage reserved and I secured you an exit visa. It was a simple matter of credits finding the right recipient.”

She turned back to face him, her eyes wide. “A simple matter of credits? Do you know how long I've been trying to scrape together enough to get off world?”

Before he knew it, she was wrapped around him in a strangling embrace. “Thank you, thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me.”

He held her to him, and some tight knot loosened in his chest. She'd been whoring to get off Pental. She wouldn't throw a tantrum because he'd unwittingly given her exactly what she wanted. “You worked as a whore to earn money, to get off world? Why didn't you tell me that?”

“Why didn't you tell me you were leaving Pental?” she asked him back.

He frowned. “I did.” But even as he spoke, he recalled that all he'd told her was that he was leaving, not his destination.

She pulled away, though she remained seated in his lap. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and if she hadn't been smiling so beautifully, he would have worried she'd cry. Crying women made him twitchy. “I guess this is what we get for not asking more questions of each other, huh?”

She didn't seem displeased about it, or about the erection pressed against her. In fact, she rubbed against him suggestively, almost grinding in his lap. “So tell me more about this phase split.”

“Nothing to tell,” he muttered, staring at her tits through the thin material of her dress. “It's just something I can do.”

“Don't be so modest.” She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled lightly, tilting his head back until he met her gaze. “Can you do it whenever you want?”

“No.”

She sighed prettily. “You know, on my planet we have this saying: It's like squeezing water from a stone. That's what it's like getting information from you, Del.”

Del.
No one called him by his given name, not since his sister's death. He liked to hear Alison say it now. “I'm not very interesting.”

A smile played across her lush lips as she stroked one finger along his scar. “Oh, on the contrary. I find you extremely . . . fascinating.”

He wanted to fuck her, desperately. To rip the dress from her body and bury himself balls deep inside her again. But there were a few things they needed to settle first. “You're not here as my whore. I'm not going to trade you sex for money. When we're in public, you are my intended mate, clear?”

Sinking her even white teeth into that lush lower lip, she nodded once.

“That means you will not trade your body for currency to anyone else for the duration of this trip. Whatever you need, I will find a way to provide it. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

This was too simple; she complied too readily. “I don't expect sex in return for the pleasure of your company. If you want, I can secure separate quarters—”

She silenced him by placing her index finger over his lips. “How would it look for your fiancée to be staying in a separate room?”

“Some people wait until they are unified.”

She threw her head back and laughed merrily at that. Struck dumb by the sight of her joy and the feel of her quaking on top of him, Fenton waited for her mirth to subside.