Abiogenesis (11 page)

She didn’t consciously set out to seduce him. She didn’t even actually consider teasing him. To begin with, it was more a matter of curiosity than anything else that spurred her to experiment to see what she might do that would have a similar effect on him.

Dropping the soap, she bent at the waist once more and lathered her thighs with slow deliberation. When she twisted around to rub the cloth over her buttocks, she saw that he had that glassy-eyed look of complete absorption again, watching as she rubbed the cloth slowly over first one buttock and then the other and finally slipped the cloth along the cleft between the two.

He blinked when she did that, swallowing as if it took an effort to gather enough moisture into his mouth to complete the action. Warmth spread through her as she watched his face and she lost track of why she’d begun the tease him in the first place.

Straightening once more, she turned to face him as she rubbed the cloth over her breasts, down her belly and between her legs. He studied her hand for several moments before his gaze lifted to meet hers.

For several moments, neither of them so much as breathed. Abruptly, he strode toward her.

Chapter Eleven

Dalia felt her heart execute an erratic little stammer and then begin to race, as if struggling to regain its rhythm. Adrenaline gushed into her system, bringing a flush of hypersensitivity to her skin as Reuel reached her. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him, lifting her up to meet him as he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his own.

A deep sense of gratification filled her as he flooded her senses with himself. She had wanted him, but she hadn’t realized how deeply she had hungered for his caresses until she felt it gnawing at her vitals, felt her body clamor with instant need as her mind and body absorbed his scent and taste as if his essence were as essential to her as air and water.

A jolt went through him as he felt the chain of the manacle glide up his chest as she reached upward to grip his shoulders. Breaking the kiss, he straightened, lifting her off her feet and guiding her legs around his waist. She locked her ankles behind his back and lifted her arms, looping them around his shoulders and spearing her fingers through his dark hair as she lifted her lips to his once more.

He seized upon her offering like a starving man, his mouth hungry and demanding and supplicating all at once as he delved his tongue into her mouth and rubbed it sensuously, possessively along the tender inner flesh of her mouth, sending a flood of heat through her. Sharp needles of sensation wove through her, absorbed into her flesh at every point she brushed against him despite the teasing barrier his clothing presented.

Frustrated, she grasped the fabric of his tunic and gathered it into her fists, tugging it upward. He helped her, shrugging his arms from it, breaking the kiss long enough to pull it over his head and toss it in the direction of the bank before he hoisted her higher and kissed her throat and the upper slope of her breasts.

Moisture flooded her sex in a wash of anticipation as she felt him fumbling at his trousers. But the moment his mouth moved downward and covered the aching tip of one breast, her entire world focused on that one point of intensely delightful sensation. She gasped. Her arms tightened around his head, clutching him to her.

He had aligned his body with hers and thrust upward, pushing down on her hips at the same time and sinking the head of his cock inside of her before she realized he meant to enter her. A whimper of pleasure escaped her and he lifted his head, his gaze locking with hers as he bore her hips inexorably downward until she was impaled to the hilt of his cock. She panted as she felt her body stretching, adjusting to his hard, unyielding flesh, but the sensations palpitating through her were so exquisite she found it impossible to remain still. She moved restlessly against him, urging him to move inside of her.

His face went taut, twisted as her movements drove him over the edge. Gripping her hips almost bruisingly, he lifted her up and pushed her down again, sheathing himself inside her, withdrawing, and pushing again in rough, jerky motions that drove her into mindless ecstasy. Within moments, she felt herself hovering on the brink and then pitching over it into blissful oblivion as pleasure rocked her body. Almost simultaneously, as if her own culmination had pushed him over the edge as well, she felt his body convulsing in completion, felt the jerk of his cock as his release exploded from him in a crescendo of passion.

His arms tightened around her as Dalia felt her own body go limp with relief. He swayed slightly. With an effort, Dalia lifted her arms from around his neck, gripping his shoulders. Withdrawing his spent flesh from her body, he allowed her to slide slowly down his length until her feet touched the ground. He pulled her close once more, running a hand caressingly along her back, but she sensed that he’d withdrawn, distancing himself from her emotionally.

Discomfort settled over her, making her feel suddenly awkward. She wondered how it was that they could meld so completely, pleasure each other so thoroughly, and still feel such distrust of one another that they could find no common ground on a mental or emotional level.

This was the point, in the afterglow of their pleasure, where they should be expressing deeper feelings--or polite thank yous for a good fuck at the very least, but she couldn’t express what she didn’t understand and she couldn’t bring herself to denigrate what happened between them by acting as if he’d just handed her a bouquet of flowers. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, she pushed against him. When he released her, she turned away without meeting his eyes and looked around for the soap he’d given her.

She saw it had floated halfway across the pool and, with a sense of relief that she had something to do besides stand around and avoid his gaze, she went after it.

He stood where she’d left him, studying her while he absently removed the rest of his clothing and began to bathe himself, waiting, she sensed, for her to say something. Instead of diminishing, the sense of awkwardness intensified as she finished her bath. What did he expect her to say? Its a damn shame we’re enemies, because I really enjoy having sex with you? I wish you’d considered wooing me before you fucked me over?

She considered herself a reasonable person. Under the circumstances, she couldn’t really fault him for the course he’d taken. He’d had no reason to believe she would be anything but hostile and uncooperative. The truth was, she probably would have been.

So what did that mean? There never would have been a chance for them, no matter what?

She frowned at that thought, wondering, if she really did consider him an enemy, and if she really did distrust and despise him for what he’d done, why she would think it at all.

The answer was simple, but not something she felt like she could accept.

She had to consider that her logic must be faulty at present. If she accepted everything that he’d told her, then her body was in the grips of some hormonal and chemical changes that she’d never before experienced. It stood to reason those changes would affect her logical brain functions.

She could not trust her judgment, not when she knew that Reuel was a dangerous, and, from what she knew from personal experience, ruthless, man.

Shaking off her thoughts, she finished her bath, climbed from the pool, and dried herself off with the length of cloth Reuel had brought for that purpose. After a moment, Reuel followed suit, collected the clothing he’d tossed onto the bank, and began tugging his clothes on once more. When she’d finished drying off, she wrapped the cloth around her since she couldn’t dress with the manacles attached to her wrists.

Reuel looked displeased, but it was hardly her fault. If he didn’t want her parading around the compound half naked, he should have remembered to bring the key or not manacled her to begin with.

She supposed she could see his point to an extent. Despite the nearly twenty-foot stockade that encompassed the perimeter of the compound, it didn’t look very secure. If she’d had the desire to escape, there wouldn’t have been much to even slow her down. She could jump a good fifteen feet flat footed, so the stockade itself was no hindrance. Besides, she suspected there would have to be large gaps in the stockade on each end where it crossed the water. She could see the water was flowing freely. She still had no idea of how many Cyborg inhabited this camp, but there were certainly not many--too few to present much of a problem if she’d decided to sneak out after dark.

Dismissing her irritation, she tugged her boots on, tucked her towel snugly around her breasts, and headed back. Reuel caught up to her after only a few steps, catching hold of her upper arm.

It was almost dark by the time they reached the structure where she was being held. Inside, it was completely dark. Reuel pulled her to a halt on the threshold and moved inside. After a few moments of listening to furtive movements and wondering what he was about, her curiosity was appeased when light blossomed around them, illuminating the interior of the structure. She saw Reuel was holding a small, cuplike object. Whatever it was inside the container was on fire. She shouldn’t have been surprised considering the crudeness of everything else she’d seen since she’d arrived, but open flame for lighting in a structure made entirely of drying wood seemed foolhardy to say the least and she wondered if the Cyborgs had escaped with little more than the clothing on their backs.

That thought brought her back to the puzzle the entire situation represented to her mind and she wondered again why it was that this place felt so wrong. In a way, she supposed, it did make sense. The Cyborgs were on the run and had been since they’d gone rogue. They had certainly not had time to establish a place of permanence. It also made sense that if they had to move frequently for security reasons that they would not attempt to acquire a great deal.

She supposed what made her feel the ‘wrongness’ of it was that Reuel simply didn’t behave at all like someone on the run. He was cautious, alert, prepared, but completely cool and collected as if he knew exactly what to expect and was prepared for it. There was no evidence of nervousness or fear in Reuel, or any of the others for that matter. If he’d been no more than what the company claimed the Cyborgs to be, emotionless machines incapable of anything more than mimicking the emotions of the humans they emulated, she wouldn’t have questioned it. She knew better, though. She knew Reuel was capable of feeling the full spectrum, just as she, who’d believed she was human, could feel them.

It coalesced in her mind that that was exactly what made this situation feel wrong. The compound looked thrown together. It looked like something one would expect to see if one were looking for a group that was fighting a running battle. The truth was the cyborgs didn’t behave as if they were engaged in a fight and flight campaign.

Still puzzling over it, Dalia went into the cell, discarded the cloth and settled on the bunk, tugging the boots off. She doubted Reuel would leave the light, just in case she took the notion of burning the place down to escape, and, in any case, she found she was tired enough to rest. To her surprise, Reuel followed her inside and set the light down.

Surprise gave way to something else, however, as he coolly began to remove his clothes. Despite the fact that he’d thoroughly pleasured her only a little while earlier, anticipation filtered through her mind. A prick of irritation surfaced, as well, that he seemed to expect her to welcome his sexual advances. But then she certainly hadn’t given him any reason to think otherwise and the truth was, she did. She saw no reason to pretend that she didn’t at this point.

Settling back on the bed, she propped her arms behind her head and watched the flickering light lick over him in a wash of golden light, completely enthralled by the bunching and flexing of his muscles as he tugged the tunic over his head and tossed it aside. His boots, still wet from wading into the pool, proved difficult. He sat down on the edge of the cot and tugged them off, then stood once more and shucked his trousers.

His member was fully erect when he pushed his trousers down his hips, rising almost vertically from the nest of dark hair low on his belly. Dalia stared at it, feeling the sense of excitement rise as memories flickered through her mind with a rush of heat.

Without hesitation, she reached for him when he’d stepped out of his trousers. The taut look left his face. Placing one knee between her parted thighs, he covered her body with his own, kissing her with the ravenousness of a man dying of hunger, as if the bout of love making at the pool had done no more than whet his appetite. It was almost disconcerting, but far more comforting than unnerving to find she had such an effect on him, for she could not deny that each encounter left her hungering for more.

And, despite the urgency she sensed in him, he made no effort to penetrate her body at once. Instead, he roamed her flesh with his hands, his lips, and his tongue, endlessly it seemed. He coaxed heated desire from her and then stoked it higher and higher with each attentive caress until she was writhing beneath him in an agony of need. She began to beg him to fill her, to bring her to fulfillment, with moans, throaty whimpers of need, arching against him.

He remained deaf to her subtle pleas, pushing her thighs wide and stroking one long finger along her cleft, rubbing it round and round her clit as he sucked first one nipple and then the other until she began to struggle against him, digging her nails into the flesh of his shoulders. She gasped his name, desperation in her voice, began to chant it as she felt the tension building inside of her until she knew she would climax without him ever having fully claimed her body. She fought it, struggling to keep it at bay until she could feel his cock stroking the tender flesh inside of her.

Abruptly, his own restraint broke and he rose on his knees. Catching her ankles, he jerked her hips free of the bed and, holding her legs against his chest, aligned his body with hers and rammed into her in one hard thrust, impaling her with his cock as if he had stabbed her. His possession caught her by surprise, forced the air from her lungs in a rush, and tore her resistance from her grasp. The inner walls of her sex quaked with shocked delight as he pulled a little way out and thrust again, in a short, hard ramming motion that sent her over the edge so suddenly that a strangled scream was torn from her.