No Rules (5 page)

She wiped her eyes. “Fenton, take a good look at me. Do you think anyone would really believe I'm the sort of woman who would wait for commitment?”

Though she no longer dressed like a whore, she moved like a seductress, each swish of her hips and tilt of her head a practiced seduction. “I don't want you to feel obligated to share your body with me.”

A small, unevolved part of himself wanted her body, regardless of the circumstances. The male part that could only think of the slickness between her thighs and how many ways he could take her until they were both spent. But the thinking portion, who'd watched his sister be used time and time again, had to make himself clear. “You can say no to me without fear of reprisal.”

Alison studied his face for a moment, and he forced himself to hold still while she deliberated. “That's very sweet of you to say.”

She thought he was sweet. He barely suppressed a grimace.

“But you see, I
do
require sex, and since you're supposed to be my fiancé, I should probably have it with you.”

“Thank the stars,” he murmured before lifting her dress over her head to bare her smooth skin to his hungry gaze.

5

M
ig Larshe was in a foul mood.

What was the universe coming to when a respectably wealthy Hibariate couldn't buy a whore to nosh on for a night? As he paced around his suite—randy as hell—he debated whether he ought to jerk off or go vent his spleen on Madam Brizella for taunting him with that delectable alien girl with her unbitten skin, only to let her escape into the night with that lousy grunt Fenton.

His teeth ached for flesh, his soul for the cries accompanying a good fuck and feast session.

A knock on his suite door made him jump. “Who's there?”

No reply.

Scowling at the interruption, Mig stomped to the door and threw it open. “What do you want?”

The bipedal male looming in the doorway lacked the iridescent eyes belonging to natives of the Hosta System. His gaze was pitch black, devoid of any feeling. “Mig Larshe, I presume?”

The Hibariate shifted his weight. “Who's asking?”

The stranger pushed past him into the suite. “Close the door.”

Mig wanted to sputter at the stranger's audacity, but he found himself compelled to shut the door.

“Come here.” The man set a flat plastic card down on the nearest table and depressed a button. A three-dimensional image of a blond woman with hazel eyes and a voluptuous form sprang to life. “Do you recognize her?”

The stranger's voice was low and ragged, as though speaking was an effort.

Mig moved closer to the hologram, tilted his head. “She seems familiar. Wait! That's the whore from earlier, though she's meatier now and not so polished.”

“Where is she?”

“She went off with one of the military drones from this system.”

“His name.” It was a demand, not a request.

“Fenton.” Mig narrowed his eyes at the stranger, uneasy that he'd complied so readily. Usually he bartered with his information, did his best to turn a tidy profit before spilling his secrets. Something about the stranger compelled him to speak the truth.

“How do I find him?”

“The barracks on the other side of the bridge, most likely.” Mig took a deep breath as his curiosity asserted itself. “Who are you?”

The man deactivated the photo and slipped the plastic card into his pocket before turning his attention to Mig. His irises spilled over into the whites of his eyes as he rasped, “Death.”

Those lifeless pits sucked him down into a swirling vortex of agony. Mig gasped as the sensation of thousands of teeth sinking into his flesh, ripping chunks off of him until he was nothing but a bleeding carcass, swept through him. Every female he'd ever bitten now exacted her revenge as he was attacked by hundreds of unseen foes at once. Collapsing onto the hard floor, he groaned, writhing to get away. But the sensation was internal, planted in his mind by the man who made no noise as he left the apartment, with the soon-to-be-mad Hibariate locked inside.

 

Alison kissed her savior again, truly enjoying his unique flavor and the way his hands skimmed her body in a worshipful caress. The stars were finally aligning in her favor. On the move again, away from Pental and that awful brothel, and this sexy beast of a man insisted on taking care of her every need.

She shivered as he traced her ribs, his kisses growing bolder by the second. Though she still hadn't come to terms with his replication—or split, as he called it—but really, if that was his worst flaw, she'd learn to live with it.

With that thought in mind, Alison tore her mouth from his, intending to work her way down his body. Activating her health guard, she sent him a wicked smile full of dark promise while unbuttoning his shirt.

Fenton's hands gripped her hips, aligning her bared sex with the bulge in his pants. “Your body delights me.”

Her breath hitched a little, though she wasn't sure if it was from the emotion his words evoked or the throbbing of her greedy clit. How she wished he could have seen her at her prime! But the heady knowledge that he took pleasure in her form made her forget all the critical changes and delight in being a woman again.

She hungered for him; her body was eager for his, and her soul yearned for the sweetness shown to her by the rough soldier with a gentle heart. The way he'd insisted that she didn't owe him sex made her want to share it with him even more.

Never had she met a man like him. Or craved a lover so desperately.

“Easy,” he said when she ripped the shirt apart, buttons pinging on the floor. “I don't have many clothes with me.”

“I'll fix it later.” She'd turn into Betsy fracking Ross if it meant Fenton was naked and inside her sooner. Scrambling off of him, she did a one-eighty before mounting back up so she could rub her throbbing pussy against his washboard abs while she attacked the fly of his pants.

Fenton bucked up beneath her when she cupped his cock through the rough material of his trousers. The friction of his stomach against her folds only heightened her need, whittling it to a deadly sharp point. Stroking the hard length of him, she clenched, remembering how he felt buried deep inside her. Eager to repeat the experience, she worked the fastening, set on freeing his stiff prick.

His hand traveled along the length of her spine, a delicate stroke of his fingertips from her neck to the small of her back at odds with her frantic struggle to bare his cock. He adored her body while she mauled his.

Finally, the fabric gave way and she wasted no time in scooting forward, lifting her hips and plunging down until she took him all the way to the root.

His hoarse shout was music to her ears, and she remained still, trembling as she clenched and released with her inner muscles, clutching his body with hers. The penetration should have hurt without artificial lube, but she was so drenched with excitement, it eased the friction of their joining. Knowing he would be coated with her cream turned her on all the more. “God, you feel so good.”

Fenton sat up, shifting his angle inside her, driving himself impossibly deeper. His rough palms pulled her back against his chest, his callouses scraped over her stiff nipples. Puffs of air stirred her hair as he whispered in her ear, “You're so hot, so wet. I've never felt anything that compares to being inside of you.”

Though she usually preferred raw dirty talk, Alison had fallen completely under Fenton's sensual spell. What woman could resist the things he said to her?

Raising her hips, she began to ride him in slow, gliding strokes. His grip on her torso held her close while allowing her the freedom to gyrate in his lap.

“Yes,” she gasped when he slammed up into her.

“I need, I'm going to—” His words broke off and she thought for sure he meant come until another Fenton appeared in the space between his spread legs.

“Let me lick you while I fuck you,” they both said.

Words died in her throat as the Fenton before her used his thumbs to separate her labia and put his hot, suckling mouth directly over her pulsing sex.

Sensations overloaded her. His hands were everywhere, tweaking her breasts, holding her thighs wide. One mouth pressed to the hollow just behind her ear, the other licking from where they were joined to the hard button of her clit.

Her hands tunneled through his hair when his lips tugged on her throbbing bud. His hands pinched her nipples in time to the action below, and his cock stirred inside her, hitting every hot spot.

Release swamped her senses. She was no longer in command of her body; he was pulling her strings, making her writhe and twist and clench. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and she gave herself over to him completely.

The one tonguing her cunt held her gaze while he licked a trail of her cream down his own shaft. She shuddered again, doubting she'd ever seen anything so erotic in her life.

“My turn,” the one fucking her whispered a second before he lifted her up into the arms of the other one, keeping their bodies joined.

Feeling unbalanced, she reached for the Fenton before her, gripping his shoulders while the other held tightly to her hips and rocked into her hard and fast. She met his gaze a second before he claimed her mouth. She tasted them together, their hot merging even while it was happening a second before her shield obliterated him from her body.

The one not buried inside her gripped his own cock and stroked hard and fast, in time to the pounding inside her. They both came with a triumphant roar, one buried deep in her body, the other marking her breasts for a moment before her shield eradicated his seed into oblivion.

Fenton pulled his cock from her body and set her on the bed. Her eyelids felt heavy, as though they'd been weighted down, but she watched as the two men who'd just rocked her world melded back into one.

His eyes closed. “Are you all right?”

“Never better,” she replied honestly. His shoulders sagged in obvious relief. “Come here.”

He crawled to her and she deactivated her heath guard so he could lay his head on her breast without the annoyance of her shield zapping every molecule of sweat. “You're not going to hurt me with a little rough sex.”

Though he didn't answer, she felt him stiffen, as though he didn't believe her. Quickly she added, “I thoroughly enjoyed that, and I plan to continue enjoying that all the way to . . . ?”

Fenton picked up her cue easily, pulling her over until she sprawled atop him. “The Omicron Theta System. I'm headed to the empath homeworld.”

Alison's blood turned to ice in her veins.

 

Fenton didn't know what happened. One second Alison had been snuggled against him, seemingly content after his total loss of control, and then she'd leapt from the bed while babbling incoherently.

He sat up, his body protesting the quick movement so soon after another round of aerobic fucking. The words spewing from her mouth as she yanked her dress back on made no sense. Something about a frying pan and a fire. Since neither of them was preparing food, he didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

“Alison, slow down, you're not making any sense.” He reached for her, but she threw her arms up defensively.

Stung, Fenton sat back. Was this some kind of delayed reaction to his rough claiming? The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her beautiful body, she gave him so much pleasure. But once the split took over, he had two minds and he was unable to think beyond the need to fuck her hard and fast, to come on her, in her, fill her up, make her his.

Her eyes were wild as she bolted for the door. “I have to get out of here.”

“You can't.” Not in this state. He couldn't let her out in public when she was ranting. Though it hurt him to deny her, he wouldn't risk his mission to set her free. “I told you I'd secure you separate quarters.”

She pounded on the door, which had been sealed with his genetic code. Frustration radiated from her. Screaming wildly, she struck the metal door. Only once before had he seen a person look so much like a trapped animal. Shoving the memory aside, he reached for his pants. “It's soundproofed. No one will hear you. I promise not to touch you again if you settle down. You have nothing to fear.”

She didn't seem to hear him. How could she, over the thudding of her relentless siege on the door?

When he saw the smears of blood she left on the pristine metal, he forgot about dressing and scooped her off her feet. “Stop it, you're hurting yourself.”

She screeched again and flailed wildly, but he was through with her tantrum. Dropping her back onto the bed where they'd been blissfully content only a few moments earlier, he pinned her arms on either side of her head. His legs trapped hers between them, ceasing most of her movement. To his shame, his cock stiffened from the struggle, but he made sure to keep it from pressing against her. No need to incite her further. “Alison, you must compose yourself. I won't let you go until you do.”

Tears filled her hazel eyes and spilled down her pale cheeks. “Please, let me go.”

His gut twisted. “I can't. Believe me, if there was another way . . . I'm sorry.”

Sobs broke from her, a horrific, defeated sound, and all the fight seemed to drain from her. Releasing her hands, he moved away, and pain ripped through him when she huddled in the fetal position, making herself as small as possible to minimize damage from an attack.

Oh, how well he knew that mind-set.

Fenton wanted to wrap his body around hers, to physically shield her from any external hurt. But he'd caused this response in her; he had no business touching her.

“I vow on the memory of my family, I will let you go as soon as I possibly can. We'll be in the space lanes for a few weeks, but I won't come near you again. You have my word as a warrior on that.”

Turning away, he picked up his ruined shirt and slid his arms through before exiting into the adjacent chamber.

Though the suite was soundproofed from the rest of the ship, her sobs chased him. The door barely hissed closed behind him before he moved into his fighting stance, reaching for his calm center.

Sweat beaded his forehead as he concentrated on the movements of his muscles. But his focus was stuck in the past, haunted by ghosts that lingered in the shadows of his mind. How many times had the overlord threatened his life, or that of his sister? Xander was reputed to be cruel, but Fenton knew from firsthand experience it was the truth brandished like a weapon that cut deeper than any blade.

Doubt had been his constant companion from the day he'd watched the overlord annihilate his father, Raz Fenton. His mother had begged him the night before not to compete. “Think of us. Me and the children and what he'll do to us if you lose.”