Forbidden Worlds - Box Set (2 page)

With all her supplies in place, she only had to prep the engines and schedule her liftoff with Soffran security. She closed and locked the last of the storage compartments on the flight deck and turned toward the bridge.

Cantor stood there, just inside the open airlock, filling the narrow space with his broad shoulders and seeming to suck all the atmo out of the ship with his presence.

Lea froze, once again immobilized by his razor sharp stare.

“I changed my mind.” His voice abraded her nerve endings. How could words feel like a touch?

“What made you—?”

He crossed the deck, eating the space between them in two strides, and pushed her up against the bulkhead. She sucked in a startled breath tinged with the scent of him, clean and masculine without a trace of the sharp aroma of ore dust that permeated the place. “I’ll accept my standard rate for the trip. You can double it if we actually succeed in retrieving your brother-in-law, but the odds are against it.”

“Generous of you,” she whispered. The rest of her sarcastic comment disintegrated when he grabbed the zipper of her suit and dragged it down to her navel. “What—?”

“Don’t talk. Just obey.”

Her body did just that, even while her brain rebelled. The promise of sex had been only that, a distant promise, yet her nipples peaked instantly when the callused pads of his thumbs brushed against them. His fingers curled around her ribcage, spreading her suit open, and his hips pressed hers back against the cool metal of the storage locker door.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, Cherry.” One quick pelvic thrust from him had her clit pulsing wildly and her stomach doing somersaults. While she groped for the words to form a coherent protest, he lowered his lips to the sensitive skin above her exposed collarbone and suckled.

“I kn-know I’ll have to pose as your possession in order to—”

“Not pose. You’ll
become
my possession, wholly and completely mine to do with as I please. That’s the only way the Braxan males will respect your boundaries. I’ll be heavily armed at all times, but I can’t guarantee you won’t have to fuck someone in trade. You have to be willing to do anything at any time. Do you understand, Cherry?” He punctuated his question by thrusting a hand down into the shallow panties she wore beneath her suit. His thumb parted her pubic hair and sought the now-rigid nub of flesh hidden there.

Her knees buckled when he found it.

“I won’t always be this gentle. I won’t always get you off. Most of the time, what I do to you will be for my pleasure alone.”

She hated herself for nodding, but she had no choice. The Braxan code of behavior was explicit and unyielding. To blend in, to stay safe, if such a thing were possible, she’d be required to submit to the male who owned her and at this moment, Damon Cantor did just that.

The steady pressure of his thumb circling her clit drove her insane. She let out a small, desperate sound and clenched her jaw to hold back a wanton moan.

“We’ll have to practice,” he whispered against her ear. “Starting now.”

Fast and wickedly efficient, he parted her suit all the way to her crotch and dragged the tight sleeves off her arms. Then he spun her to face the bulkhead. She had to raise her hands fast to keep from banging her head on the locker door.

Any objection to the rough treatment died unspoken when he pushed both her panties and her suit down to her knees and nudged her thighs apart.

Cool air rushed across her exposed sex, evaporating the moisture that had already gathered there. “Are you going to do it right here?” she asked, willing her voice steady despite the fact that she was seconds away from orgasm. The idea of submitting to him here before the open air lock where any dock hand or passing digger could wander by both reviled and excited her. How would she feel if someone watched Damon Cantor fucking her?

“No, I’m not.” In contrast to his words, he nudged her slit with one finger, dipped far enough within her to cause her inner muscles to spasm. “But you are.”

The words slid over her skin, along her spine and seemed to settle like a heaviness in her womb. He flattened one hand against her spine and pushed her forward so that her hips titled back. “Are you ready?”

She wanted to say no, wanted to tear herself out of his grasp and slap him for daring to take such liberties with a daughter of the house of Vargas. But she wanted him inside her more. “Yes...”

He plunged roughly, one finger to the hilt. Her hands clasped uselessly at the bulkhead, scraping the metal, and this time Lea did moan.

His invasion was quick and deliberate. Thrust after thrust, he fucked her first with one finger, then two. Each movement pressed her breasts against the bulkhead and she reveled in the contrast of the cold metal against her nipples and the heat of his hands on her ass.

“That’s good,” he purred. His voice melted her resolve and ravaged her ability to think clearly. “If you’re always this wet, we’ll have a much easier time of it.”

He grazed her G-spot, and she cried out, slamming an open palm against the wall. If this is what he could do with his hands, what would his cock feel like?

He drew back for a moment and kissed her shoulder. The tingle of the gentle touch rocketed to her clit, and somewhere deep in her core a tremor began. “You’re no virgin, but you’re still tight. That’s good. You haven’t been used much.”

A hoarse laugh escaped her, ending in a whimper. “I have high standards.” She was close, so close to the edge.

Cantor squeezed her ass hard on the next thrust and the pleasure/pain brought her right to the precipice. “Prepare to lower them to rock bottom, Cherry. I’m the lowest form of life you’ll ever have between these creamy thighs, at least between now and the time we leave Ambrax.” That statement came with a final, deep thrust that had Lea gasping and arching into her orgasm. Her knees buckled with the force of it, and every muscle in her body locked while her insides heaved and spasmed, alternately pulling and pushing at the two fingers that invaded her pussy. He moved in rhythm to her pulsing, prolonging the sweet agony of it until her panting subsided.

When he withdrew, she sagged against the bulkhead, certain she’d land on her ass if not for the support of his arms around her waist. He pulled her against him and held her upright. The beat of his heart against her naked back matched the tempo of her own. “That’s it. You’re finished now. Hold on, don’t fall.”

“It’s okay. I’m fine...” she mumbled reassurances even as she wobbled.

“This time, Cherry. It won’t be so easy next time, because
I’ll
be coming, too.”

Chapter 2

Damon stretched his legs and settled back in the pilot’s chair of the Company skimmer he now commanded. It was a good ship, well-maintained and fully equipped. A pleasure to fly, like the woman who owned it.

Despite a quick wash in the luxury cabin she’d assigned him, he still smelled Lea Vargas’s arousal on his hands and tasted the salt of her skin on his lips. His cock hadn’t forgotten her either and still pressed uncomfortably against the fly of his trousers. He probably should have fucked her properly, and given her a real taste of life on Ambrax, but memories of his time there held him back. One look at her face told him she’d been hoping just to play the part, to find someone who would let her pretend to be a sex slave while
she
called the shots.

On Ambrax, that would never work. She’d be confiscated and given to the highest bidder or the fiercest fighter, and she’d never escape. If she wanted to survive this fool’s errand, she needed to know exactly what she had to become.

It shamed him that he’d enjoyed it so much. He’d been good in the role, taking easily to dominance, but not all men did. Most just became violent, drunk with their power, constantly hungry for more perverse forms of pleasure until the transformation took them. Damon had resisted. The first time.

He wasn’t sure he could do it again.

Unbidden, his hand snaked down to his zipper. Now that the ship had reached its cruising trajectory there would be little to do for the next twenty-four hours. If he wanted to sleep and give Lea Vargas time to regroup, he’d need to release a little tension. The bridge was as good a spot as any to—

“You’ve brought quite an arsenal with you.” Her voice was even, well-modulated, better suited to a board room than the untamed jungles of Ambrax. Nevertheless, his cock surged.

“Thank you.”

“I’m talking about the weapons you brought on board. I should commend your ingenuity, smuggling them through Soffran security in boxes of bailer parts.”

“I’m a trader, with an excellent reputation. The key to getting away with anything is remaining above suspicion.”

“After this evening, I figured you weren’t above anything, Mr. Cantor.”

He swiveled in the chair and indulged in a long look at her. She’d changed out of her cherry red suit into a clingy black tunic and brown pants. Expensive materials and designer cuts, yet not the least bit flattering to her amazing figure.

He rose fast, allowing his lips to quirk into half a smile when she backed off a step. “Cunning observation.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to rescue Troy, Mr. Cantor.”

“Damon. Considering the things we’ll be doing together, we should be on a first name basis.”

She acknowledged him with a faint tilt of her head, but remained silent, waiting. The mild perfume she wore reached him on a current of recycled air, and her unique flavor hit the back of his throat. This was a woman who belonged on a pedestal, worshipped by whatever man was lucky enough to win her attention.

Damon could not be farther beneath her station. And in a moment he’d sink even lower, but he had no choice if they were both going to survive this mission.

“You’ll need to be on your knees for this.”

She stiffened at his words. Certainly she didn’t think he’d only been testing her before. Her gaze fell to the bulge of his now painful erection. “Wouldn’t you prefer—”

He advanced on her, and this time she stepped forward, not back, ready for anything. He grasped the neckline of her shirt and tore the thin fabric, exposing her breasts. Her nipples were already hard, jutting high. “I’m sure you know what to do, Lea. I suggest you get started.”

She held for a millisecond, and Damon had no doubt that she would have put him down if she’d had a weapon. No one talked to a Vargas this way. She’d been yes-ma’amed probably since her infancy. He needed to be able to command her with a look, and resistance on her part could be fatal.

He opened his trousers and drew the zipper down. “I won’t ask again.”

She dropped to her knees, and he thrust his hips forward, giving her better access. With warm, deft fingers, she liberated his cock. Her touch made him twice as hard as he’d been a moment ago, and his balls went so tight he thought he’d come all over the deck any minute. He should have taken care of this erection earlier, so he’d have a little more control now, but since it was too late for that, he closed his eyes and centered himself.

“No teeth.”

Her laugh was quick and guilty, then her lips found the head of his cock and she began to suck.

Damon fisted his right hand in her short hair, guiding her while she licked his shaft and flicked her hot tongue along the ridge of his glans. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” he asked after a low moan.

She tilted her head up, eyeing him from under her long, curly lashes. “Once or twice.”

“Hmm.” He wanted to comment again, but his brain shut down entirely when she wrapped her lips around him once more.

She had talent and a tenacity he would not have expected of a Company spawn. He wondered if her dying sister would truly appreciate the depths to which Lea Vargas was willing to sink on her behalf.

Damien’s balls clenched hard, heralding his orgasm. When she set to laving his shaft with her nimble tongue, he threw his head back in uncharacteristic abandon and closed his eyes. He wanted to speak, to urge her on with words, but she needed no guidance or reassurance.

With her warm fingers cupping his balls, she sucked and massaged him until his climax roared through him. The sinful friction of her mouth closing around his cock drove him so far over the abyss, he could have sworn he lost consciousness for a moment. He had to lock his knees to keep from collapsing with the force of his ejaculation.

With his balls twitching and his cock still pulsing, he released his grip on her short hair and took one unsteady step back.

She had the nerve to look demure, sitting there at his feet, her shirt in tatters and her bare breasts tipped with tight pink nipples.

“That was....” He clamped down on all the gushy, schoolboy praise that came to mind. He’d been blown before but never with that kind of skill, even by professionals. Lea Vargas was no ordinary uptight heiress.

“Are you pleased?” Her sweet voice held a steel-sharp note. She’d done this to prove a point.

“Very pleased. Now, can you do that with an audience?”

Her sapphire gaze never wavered, even as she rose from the deck in one fluid motion. “If I have to, I’ll do it to an audience. Understand, Mr. Cantor, if I lose my sister to Lorcan, there will be nothing left of me. I’ll give up everything I am to save her life.”

Her words were meant to cut, to convey that nothing she did would be for his pleasure or anyone else’s, including her own. Damon recognized the feeling that settled in his gut in response.

As much as he hated to admit it, he had to respect her. Like a soldier, she knew her mission and had separated herself from the circumstances. Her body was here, before him, half naked and flushed with enticing sexual heat, but her soul was somewhere else, hidden in a place no man would ever be able to reach it, least of all a dark-hearted mercenary like himself.

And that was just the way he liked it.

* * * *

Lea left Damon on the bridge and retreated to her cabin on shaky legs. Once safely locked in, she headed immediately for the shower, stripping off her ruined shirt and sliding her baggy pants off as she walked.

She’d never felt quite so dirty, or so supremely powerful in her life. Cantor might have been expecting her to fuck him, or suck him, or any number of things, but the look on his face when he came in her mouth was one she’d seen before. In that moment, she’d owned him, and that made this whole situation a little more bearable. She might have been on her knees the whole time, but she didn’t doubt for a moment her ability to bring him to his.

That knowledge counteracted the shame that nestled in her belly like a small, black rock. It wasn’t the sex—she’d never been self-conscious about physical desire or its consequences. But she’d told herself before all this began that she would get through the degradation of enslaving herself on Ambrax by keeping focused on her goal. Nevertheless, while she’d been getting him off, her only thought had been how much she wanted to mount that massive cock of his and seek her own completion.

Every word he spoke in that deep, seductive growl of his rode over her like a rough caress. His black eyes cut through her bravado like hot blades, and his commanding touch left her weak-kneed and churned her insides to jelly.

Unacceptable.

Of course, it helped that Damon Cantor was attractive, well-built with a broad chest, a body defined by corded muscles and a set of family jewels any man would envy. Unfortunately, Lea had actually been counting on a little personal disgust to keep her mind on her task.

She couldn’t afford to lose sight of her goal while fantasizing about him, and that had been exactly what she’d been doing before she went to the bridge.

Ashamed, she stepped into the shower, desperate to clear her mind. Cold water hit her skin, and she gasped then let the steady spray wash his essence off her. The flavor of his cum lingered on her tongue and at the back of her throat, and her clit tingled at the memory of having him in her mouth.

Despite her rising desire, she refused to indulge. Self-stimulation was a crime on Ambrax, for females at least. She’d have to find another way to control her ardor until Cantor demanded her attention again. God, even thinking about it made her body tight and ready for him. How would she manage not to lose herself completely before she found Troy and wrestled him out of the grip of Ambrax?

She finished showering with quick, efficient movements and ran damp hands through her hair to style it. Emerging naked from the bathroom, she froze at the sight of Cantor sitting on her bed with half her wardrobe tossed haphazardly around him.

It appeared he’d taken a pair of galley shears to dozens of her shirts, slicing hems and plunging necklines. Presently he was engaged in lopping off the legs of a third pair of pants.

She gaped, closing her mouth only when he turned to rake an appraising gaze up from her toes to her navel.

“You call this a wardrobe?”

“I beg...I...what the
fuck
are you doing to my clothes?”

“When I saw that red number you wore in the bar, I had high hopes for you, Cherry. But everything else you own is black or some godawful shade of brown. Don’t tell me this is how Company babies dress these days.”

“My door was locked.” Once her indignation began to drain, Lea remembered she was naked and reached for a robe that lay at the foot of the bed.

Damon pinned her with a scathing look and shook his head. “I can override locks in my sleep. Drop the robe. You need to be comfortable in your own skin since that may be all you’re wearing most of the time.”

Her fingers stiffened, and the silky garment puddled on the floor at her feet. Fine. She’d walk around naked if that’s what he wanted, but the cost of her ruined clothes would be docked from his pay. “I happen to like dark colors.”

“Dark is one thing, shades of mud is another. Here, I fixed these.” He handed her several shirts that he’d split up the front. “When you wear them, tie the front low at your waist. No long pants. Skirts are preferable, but I see you don’t have any. What’s your function in the Company, anyway? Head of security?”

Lea bristled at the cavalier question. Her father and four uncles owned Vargas Industries and ruled their family enterprise like a small, military empire. Like her sister and eight of her female cousins, she functioned as a figurehead. Though they were treated like royalty at every Vargas installation, none of the girls possessed any real power, and as long as the first-born Vargas sons lived, they never would.

“I’m a line inspector.” Would he detect the blatant lie? She knew the job, better than most that her family employed, but the exorbitant “salary” she drew from the Company coffers represented compensation for her mere existence, not for any valuable service she provided.

Damon grunted. “Ah, that explains it.”

“I dress conservatively for most occasions. I wasn’t expecting to attend any formal receptions on Ambrax or I’d have packed a gown or two.”

She caught her breath when he rose from the bed. “I’m going to take a chance and fit you with a sheath. My identification lists me as a native of Spartha. They carry ceremonial daggers, and I can get away with giving you one as well.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“From Spartha?”

He favored her with a dark glance that bordered on mischievous. Something in her belly fluttered in response. “I’ve been there. I wasn’t born there.”

“Where were you—”

He cut her off with the sardonic arch of a brow. “Answers to personal questions will cost you extra.”

Lea abandoned her plan to interrogate him. The less she really knew about Damon Cantor, the better.

“Are you finished mutilating my clothes yet?”

“For now. Put something on, something small and tight, and meet me in the storage compartment so I can work on that sheath.”