Taking Command (5 page)

Warmth, vibrating from BioOne, radiated through Shon and deep into him, neutralizing his semen and protecting them both.

The added sensation pushed Shon over the edge. She gripped hard to Tarik. She trembled, whimpering through her sudden orgasm. Tarik held still, feeling the sweet pulses of her pussy on his dick. Then her body went limp.

Inching back, he slipped from her. He cradled her in his arms and kissed the side of her head. “Are you ready to get some rest, Shon Monet?”

“No. You’ve tortured the truth from me, but I haven’t learned anything about you.”

He brushed his fingertips along her hip, still holding her, and unwilling to sever the connection. Foolish, to lower his defenses for even a moment of sexual pleasure. Yet, he wanted more, wanted her again, soft open and beneath him. “You can torture me later…after we rest.”

She nodded. “And after I check your flesh wound and change the bandage. Put me down before you do more damage to your arm.”

“It’s just a—”

“I know. It’s just a flesh wound.” She stared into his eyes. “Trust me.”

He didn’t know why, but damn, he wanted to.

Her feet touched the ground, but she was unsteady, still trembling from her multiple orgasms. “32D, grab my supplies.”

Chapter Three

Shon pretended to sleep next to Tarik in his quarters. She barely breathed, barely moved. She would’ve thought Tarik the machine. He was too intense, too aware. Both good qualities for a man who stole ships—life forms—from the government.

He had an agenda. But she did, too.

Leaning toward the edge of the bed, she slowly lowered her hand to the floor. Careful not to disturb Tarik, she fumbled for the foil packet. In his sleep, Tarik shifted and grumbled. His arm snaked around her middle, and he closed in tight behind her, nestling his cock—his hard cock—into the crack of her ass. She froze. Warm breath fanned her neck.

Breathe. Stay calm.
She fumbled along the floor, inching her fingers in a circle. Yes. With minimal movement, she clutched the packet in her fingers. The foil crinkled in the quiet room.

Tarik’s breathing changed. His hold tightened, and his pelvis took a deeper angle. His cock slid between her thighs, brushing along her pussy. She stilled as her heart raced.

Just like earlier, a single touch had her arching into him. She widened her thighs, aching for Tarik to fill her again, anticipating the fullness of total penetration. His cockhead prodded against her slick folds. She arched her back to allow his entry.

Tarik eased his cock into her. His low moan broke the silence. His shaft, hard and thick, speared her heat, penetrating deep. Reaching over her, he nearly climbed on top of her, forcing her to flatten on her stomach. Her face burrowed into the bed. She fisted the packet and slid both of her hands beneath the pillow. How could she focus on her task with Tarik bracing her hips, lifting her ass, and fucking her into oblivion? Beneath the pillow, she fumbled and tore at the wrapper. Then Tarik jerked her hard.

Rising onto her knees, she braced against his punishing thrusts. Again and again he crammed her full of cock. Shon cried out as she careened into orgasm.

Tarik pulled free of her cunt, turned over, and positioned on his back. “I want to see your beautiful green eyes.” He straddled her over his hips, grabbed his shaft with one hand, and drove back into her wet hotness.

Shon’s heart pounded. Energy surged through her system, feeling as if he sent liquid fire through every nerve. Her pulsing pussy gripped his cock as she rocked on his lap, keeping his hard length deep inside her.

Tarik forced her into a faster rhythm. She collapsed onto his chest. Tarik groaned, holding her tightly. With deliberate slowness, she reached under the pillow and snatched the surgical sedation patch, careful not to anesthetize herself.

“Look at me, Shon.”

She didn’t want to, didn’t want to acknowledge what she was about to do. Because she wanted him to trust her, she had to know the truth, too.

“Now, Shon.” His cock hardened further, seemed to penetrate deeper. Muscles tensed between her thighs.

Shon rose up, gasping as pleasure and guilt warred within her. She looked into his face, a lump of regret rising into her throat.

Tarik’s lips pulled into a snarl. Tendons stretched his neck. Sweat beaded on his brow as his gut tightened. Nearly jack-knifing on the bed, he came. Hot spurts of cum slicked her channel, making her momentarily forget the urgency of her task and arch to receive him deeper.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Shon braced her hands on his chest, slapping the surgical sedation patch to his pectoral, just above his nipple.

“What the hell?” He reached for the small patch. Before he could remove it, his eyes rolled and he fell back to the bed.

Shon released a heavy breath, her heart clamoring, and climbed off his limp form. “You left me no choice. You won’t talk to me and, like you, I need the truth.” She stumbled from the bed, deliciously sore between her legs, but pumped up on fear and adrenaline. Tarik’s condition was temporary. She turned to 32D. Maybe the bot could be more useful than Shon had originally given it credit for. “Are you programmed for bondage pleasure?”

“Rigging ropes, leather, pleasure with discipline—”

“Perfect.” She interrupted the bot. “When the captain wakes, he wants to be held down. Use that orator function for something besides chatter. He’ll protest, but his orders are to ignore his orders until I return.”

The booty bot swiveled to the edge of the bed, waiting for the captain to awaken.

Shon searched through the captain’s wardrobe for something to wear. “What in hell?” She grabbed the only thing remotely close to fitting. Crotchless leggings. She turned and glared at the 32D. “Yours I suppose.”

At least the matching tunic was long enough to cover most of her ass. Not that Tarik couldn’t have the ship dissolve these clothes on command if he chose to do so. Although, after what she’d just done, she’d be lucky if all he did was fuck her and not blow her out an airlock.

Shon slipped out the door. Shivers skittered over her flesh, and her ribs ached with her heart pounding like the thundering hooves of an Etanic mammoth. This was why she was a reporter, searching out the story, knowing she was about to glean information for an exposé.

Although, even knowing she and Tarik were the only two people on board, she couldn’t help feeling as if she were being constantly watched. “He’s out, and the booty bot is going to keep him busy if the damn patch wears off. I’m a journalist. I can get the story, prove Tarik isn’t the enemy, and figure out what he’s refusing to tell me about this ship and his mission.” Warmth washed over her and she took a deep breath at the thought of helping him.

Once on the bridge, she sat in the captain’s chair, recalling the way Tarik slid his palms over the controls. “Just because I don’t have a license to drive a hovercraft on the planet, doesn’t mean I can’t pilot a spaceship.” She shifted her glance right then left. “If you are sentient, then you should know I’m going to need a bit of assistance. I don’t want to steal you. I just want information.” She rolled her eyes. “Good hell, I’ve lost my mind. I’m speaking to a ship.”

Duplicating the same motions Tarik used, she smoothed her hands over the console. Nothing happened. Jumping from the chair, she crossed to the bridge panel. A slight tremble reverberated through her fingers.

Shon jerked her hand back. A jolt of electric energy surged through her system. A dizzying sensation swayed her on her feet as her head spun. Tumbling forward, she gripped the console. Nausea welled in her belly. What was happening?

The sensation is temporary.

Almost as soon as the thought entered her mind, her head began to clear. Glancing down, she stared at where her fingers rested on the console. Unlike a moment ago, the controls were warm under her palm. With a slow roaming motion, she caressed the top. With certainty, she knew she had somehow gained control of the ship.

We
’
re linked.

Was that her thought or the ship’s? She shook her head and refocused. “What does it matter?” She wasn’t interested in piloting the ship. Experience in journalism wouldn’t make her a good ship’s captain. Information was what she was after, details on the secretive captain and his interest and intent with this ship. Almost instinctively, she knew where to move her hand for personnel records. She slipped into the chair and moved her fingers over the console. “Ship, BioOne, what do you have on Tarik Baill?”

A screen materialized before her. Scrolling down the list, she skimmed the details of the life and
death
of Tarik Baill. Death? If Tarik Baill was deceased, who was the unconscious man in the sleeping quarters? He couldn’t be the man listed in this real Tarik’s interesting and diverse resume. Yes, he was military, but Tarik Baill was a scientist, a genetic engineer before he became a soldier. That couldn’t be the man she’d just knocked unconscious. Included in the impressive list of accomplishments was a special recognition from the Tri’Neith government for his work on merging biological intelligence with machinery.

Shon flashed to Tarik’s earlier statements about the ship. She almost believed he’d spoken the truth. After all, she’d begun speaking to the ship. If she didn’t know better, she’d wonder if BioOne had begun thinking for her.

Telepathy? Not unheard of, but certainly not between human and ship. This wasn’t any typical ship.

Reading on, knots formed in her belly. Two years ago, Tarik had been removed from duty. Shortly thereafter, a warrant was issued. Stripped of his military rank, at the time of his death, he was listed as enemy of the government.

“Is there a picture of Tarik Baill?”

An image filled the screen, the same man in the other room. “He isn’t dead,” she whispered. Whatever the story, she’d only just begun to uncover the pieces. Now to try to put together those pieces. However, she still needed more.

“How did he die?” she asked, because, unless the man who just made her come multiple times was a male version of 32D, he was very much alive. More information on Tarik scrolled across the screen. Nearly a year ago, he’d been cornered by a Tri’Neith detachment in Sector Two as he was attempting to gain entry to a high-level, secured area. No doubt something to do with BioOne. She continued to read the details. Sixteen government soldiers had been killed. The carnage of the battle and the decimation of the bodies made identification of the corpses impossible. Tarik was believed to be one of the dead.
Presumed dead.

Somehow, he’d escaped. If he’d tried to gain access to this ship that day, he hadn’t been deterred. Risking his life, knowing he was a fugitive, he entered a government station, stole aboard BioOne, and took her. Shon sat back and chewed her bottom lip.

Once the Tri’Neith discovered who stole BioOne, they’d discover he wasn’t dead and he’d be right back at the top of the most wanted list.

All good information on his actions, but she still didn’t know what he wanted with the ship or what he’d done to become enemy of the Tri’Neith.

“Why is he so intent on getting this ship and getting you away from the Tri’Neith?” she asked BioOne.

A wave of dizziness washed over her.

You must trust Tarik Baill.

BioOne? The thought had to come from the ship, because she didn’t know who…or what to believe. “I’ll trust him if you tell me why the government wants him dead.”

Tarik is my creator.

Tightness gripped her chest and squeezed. If that were true, the soldier in the other room really was a biological engineer—a creator of life. Not that it would validate his actions. Men were dead because of what he’d done.

More will die. My existence threatens all men, all worlds, and all life.

There was no doubt that somehow the ship was communicating with her. Only one explanation existed. The ship was alive and sentient. Tarik spoke the truth about BioOne. She had to trust him…at least until he proved untrustworthy. “And if that happens, it better be Tarik’s weapon you deactivate, not mine,” she said to BioOne.

Suddenly the ship’s bow dipped hard as it abruptly dropped from hyperspace. “What did I do?” Panic sharpened her voice. She moved her hands over the console, but the ship failed to respond to her commands. What the hell did she know about commanding a ship? Nothing!

The ship rolled hard to port, then radically shifted again, spinning hard to stern. Shon screamed as she gripped the console, struggling to stay on her feet.

For a moment, the bridge went black. Shivers raced along Shon’s spine, and adrenaline fired through her blood. Damn her and her need to know everything. Now that she was scared out of her freaking mind, she wanted Tarik at the helm.

The ship rolled again. Shon dropped to her knees. “BioOne, what’s going on? Stabilize, please.”

A low glow emanated from the console. Shon pulled herself up. “A drone.” The monitor displayed a small orb, about a quarter of the size of BioOne, positioned just off the port side of the ship. She recognized the Tri’Neith shield on the side. “We’re cloaked. Will it be able to detect us?”

The ship responded with another hard shift. The drone emitted energy pulses, searching for ripples in space, trying to detect cloaked ships, looking for BioOne. BioOne mimicked the motion of the energy pulses, attempting to remain undetected.

“We need Tarik.” She glanced over her shoulder, barely able to make out the doorway with the glow from the monitor. He was either still under sedation or under the fem-bot. “I have to get to Tarik.”

Fighting the hard rhythmic pitches and turns of the ship, Shon crawled to the doorway. The door swished open. In the passageway, the walls seemed to glow, giving off just enough light to see her way to Tarik’s quarters.

Shon could only assume the ship was self-piloting. The drone didn’t seem to be firing a weapon at them, but BioOne was certainly taking evasive measures so that it didn’t happen.

As she approached the door to Tarik’s room, her heartbeat pounded through her body. Sweat trickled along her brow. He was going to be pissed.

The door opened, and she froze.