Cyborg Revealed Page 10

  “You like that, huh?” he whispered as he bent over her, every muscle in his big, powerful frame bent to fucking her. “Thick cock in your ass, another in your pussy. Does it get you hot, Milly, being fucked like this?”

  “Yes…yes, just…harder,” she demanded, his words turning her on all the more as he pounded into her ass. Conversation devolved into grunts and strained moans and a whimpering she realized was her own as the tension, the ache in her body wound higher and higher.

  Then it stopped. For one blissful moment between Johnny pulling out and thrusting back in again, she floated. A perfect moment. Then he shoved, the vibe pulsed in response and she screamed his name as ecstasy crashed over and washed her away.

  He was absolutely, one hundred percent in love.

  Twelve hours later, Johnny sat in the first officer’s chair on the bridge and watched as Milly flitted about like a hyperactive butterfly. How she did it, he had no idea. By rights she should be exhausted, since he’d kept her up half the night. She’d pleaded exhaustion, but he was nothing if not persuasive, only letting her grab a little sleep before the need that kept his body in a constant state of arousal around her became overwhelming and he woke her so they could start again.

  With the ship safe in orbit around a Class-G planet, tucked in the dark side of the largest of the three moons, he’d expected her to sleep in. Instead, she’d been wide awake by eight a.m. intergalactic time and grumping at him for letting her sleep so long.

  A fond smile curved his lips. He’d discovered two things this morning. She was so not a morning person and she was a cute grump. So cute he wanted to wind her up just to see temper flash in her pretty eyes, then kiss the end of her nose just to see what she would do.

  Tall frame stretched out in the large chair, he tapped his fingers lightly on the console by his side. He was glad he was an earlier riser than she was, managing to clear the bridge of any sign of yesterday’s violence before she got back up here. She’d stiffened, a look of panic on her face just before she stepped back onto the bridge, one that quickly turned to relief at the pristine condition of the place. He’d have taken on legions of fleet soldiers single-handedly for the smile she’d given him then.

  Milly’s voice echoed around the bridge, a soothing refrain as she turned the ship around and plotted a course back to Taalsix station. They’d done it. Beaten off the hijackers and were well on their way to returning to the station, not only with their lives but also with their cargo intact. He allowed himself to relax and just watch his woman.

  Sitting in the pilot’s chair, she operated the big cargo transport like she’d been born at the helm. Slender fingers flew over the pilot’s console as she calculated a new course and locked it in. Johnny’s gaze locked onto them as his onboard memory replayed segments of those hands and what they felt like on his body…smoothing over him and wrapping around his cock.

  Heat slammed into him like a shuttle with its boosters on full, his cock hard and aching in a heartbeat. Spreading his legs, he didn’t bother to hide the state of his body in case Milly looked over. The sight would have one of two possible reactions. Her breathing would catch and she’d make that sexy little moan in the back of her throat that drove him nuts or she’d tell him his “Experimental predictive arousal system” was malfunctioning.

  In his head, that conversation would then morph into a seamless explanation and apology as to the fact he wasn’t a bot at all, simply pretending to be. The daydream Milly would be outraged, but his kisses would win her around and he’d carry her back down to her quarters so he could prove to her a man could love her just as well as a bot. Better, in fact.

  Johnny, you’re a fucking idiot.

  He sighed as the little voice in the back of his head, one that sounded suspiciously like Cyn, sneered at him. More likely, she’d shoot him full of holes with the pulse-pistol she’d insisted on strapping to her thigh and dump him out of the nearest airlock as soon as she realized he’d lied to her. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. At the moment, nothing he did could make things better, but he had high hopes that the situation would change and he could somehow find a way to explain to her without appearing to be a complete lying asshole.

  She sighed as she locked the new coordinates in and pulled the ship out of orbit with a confidence he found fascinating. Sure, it was something he could do without batting an eyelid, but that was with cognitive relays and a bio-organic onboard computer. He was on his feet and had drifted closer before he realized it. The fact that she was piloting cold, with just human reflexes, amazed him.

  Registering his presence, she cast him a little smile over her shoulder, which brought his attention right back to her. She’d showered this morning, the scent of her floral shower gel and the citrus shampoo she’d used on her hair wrapping around him, teasing and tantalizing his senses.

  Her hair scraped up into a messy bun on top of her head, her face was completely bare of makeup and the skinny vest and cargo pants she wore couldn’t be considered alluring by any stretch of the imagination, but the whole package hit him low in the gut with a blast of lust. All he wanted to do was shove the control console over her lap aside, strip her naked and nail her right there in the pilot’s chair.

  Her frown stopped him in his tracks.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Fingers flying over the console, she shook her head. “Got something on long-range sensors. Another ship by the looks of it. Big, whatever it is.”

  10

  “How big?”

  His voice was filled with calm interest as she pulled the sensor feeds to display them on the main screen. The fact that she was doing so, for a bot of all things, made perfect sense in the warped reality her life had become. Academically, she knew he wasn’t real, that he was a combination of high tech parts and an artificial intelligence core for a brain, but who was to say that didn’t mean he wasn’t real? That he couldn’t be self aware, have hopes and dreams just like the next person.

  The screen in front of them filled with images and readouts, so she put her internal debate about the nature of life aside. A frown creased her brow.

  “That looks like a fleet vessel.”

  “Yeah, it does. Let me…” Johnny reached over her shoulder, his big hand fast on the console as he pulled different information from the ship database. Awe filled her as his fingers danced and more and more information piled onto the screen. She could never have operated the console that quickly.

  “Denaris-class destroyer-escort. Bearing three-seven-nine-alpha. Coming in fast on a search sweep,” he said, puzzlement evident in his voice. “We’re a little out in the sticks for a destroyer to be patrolling. There’s very little pirate activity in this area.”

  She shrugged, her attention caught by his nearness and the subtle scent of shower gel rising off his warm skin. Under it, the smell of warm man wound around her senses. He was so close the heat from his body beat at the skin of her arm and shoulder. All she had to do was turn her head and she could brush her lips against his neck, against the emerging stubble of his beard. Huh, she’d never noticed that on a bot before. They were normally clean shaven—

  “We’re being pinged. Do you recognize this identity code? It’s not one I’ve seen from a fleet vessel before.”

  He turned his head to catch her gaze, and paused for a second as he caught her watching him. Heat and darkness flared in his eyes, the green swallowed up by the gold, for a second before he shook his head as though to clear it.

  “Sorry, little one. No time. But hold that thought.” Leaning down, he caught her lips in a quick kiss. She was still reeling from it as the computer chirped to indicate an incoming communications hail.

  “Vos, what the fuck do you think you’re playing at? You’re in the wrong freaking system!”

  Vos. Hearing that name, the name of one of the hijackers, over the comm froze Milly in place. She turned wide eyes onto Johnny, seeing the same realization written over his features she knew had spread over hers. T
he hijackers had been meeting up with another ship, a fleet ship.

  Not just any fleet ship, but a destroyer. A ship with enough weaponry to blow a planet out of space, never mind a civilian transporter. If cargo space equaled speed, then they were the fastest thing out on the space lanes, but it didn’t. The Starflame was a big-bellied behemoth designed for lugging cargo at a set pace.

  “That is so not good. I’m jamming the signal. Can you plot us a jump vector?” Johnny was already moving, using a few commands she’d never seen before to split the helm console in two. She gawked as the half he was working on dropped the user interface, leaving her looking at what she assumed was raw code. Whatever it was, he seemed to understand it.

  “Vos? What the hell is going on over there? We can’t raise Darrick or Hiram either.”

  Who the hell were Darrick and Hiram? She’d only seen two, and those weren’t what they’d called each other.

  “Crap, they’re powering weapons. Out of the chair, now.”

  “What?” she squeaked a reply but she was already moving, aided by his large hands as he bundled her from the chair and crammed his large frame into it. “What the hell…it takes years to learn to pilot one of these things!”

  Yanking the console, he locked it into place over his lap. His teeth flashed white as he shot her a quick grin. “Maybe for you—”

  “Let me guess…experimental pilot chip?” she asked as she raced across the bridge. Her butt hit the first officer’s chair even as she reached for the straps to clip herself in. If that thing got a weapons lock on them, then this was going to be a hot jump and the last thing she needed was to be unsecured during a hottie. There were more than enough horror stories of unsecured crew ending up an inch thin red smear over the nearest bulkhead. Not a good way to go.

  He grunted in answer behind her as she flicked the FO’s console on and watched in amazement as he took the autopilot offline and dumped the ship into manual mode. The deck lurched under their feet, but he had it, catching the ship and stabilizing it before it could be dragged into the gravitational pull of the nearby planet. The roar of the engines powering up mingled with the metallic squeal of the ship’s space frame as he pushed it beyond its theoretical limits.

  “Hell, your creator really did a great job on you. I’m just surprised she put so much…stuff into a sexbot.”

  And she was. He handled the ship like a pro. No bot she’d ever seen could handle a ship like that or had half the abilities and sheer normalness he displayed. The amount of money it had taken to develop him must have been immense, and it couldn’t have been just for the sex trade. Fucking didn’t need a bot that could drop an attacker like a trained killer or the ability to pilot megaton transports. She froze, fingers extended over her own keyboard.

  “Shit! Will your creator have listed you as stolen? Is that why we were hijacked?”

  “Not likely.”

  His short laugh echoed around the bridge as the engines wound up to full power. Even at top speed, they seemed to be moving at a snail’s pace and threats poured in over the comms unit. Reaching over, she cut it off, silencing the filth in mid-sentence. It was safe to assume they’d realized the hijacking team weren’t in charge.

  “And since you’re only half loaded, they’re either inept or they have another agenda. Hold tight, we’re jumping.”

  “Ugggghhh,” was all she managed as Johnny initiated the jump and everything lurched.

  She curled her hands like claws around the console in front of her and tried to keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged. She hated hot jumps. Hell, she hated normal jumps, but hotties were the worst. Without the normal build up it was like every cell in her body had been wrenched sideways a few inches, then jiggled up and down. Violently.

  “Hold on, sweet stuff.” His deep voice sounded behind her, his tones reassuring as she resisted the urge to lay her head down on the cool surface of the console. The entire bridge rattled around and the navigator’s console exploded in a spray of sparks. The acrid smell of melting plasti-flex and fried conduits filled the room, burning her lungs.

  “Nearly…there. Hold on, dropping to normal space.”

  The ship lurched again, and Milly’s cells snapped back to their normal position. Dragging a deep breath into her lungs, she waited for the queasiness to pass. After a few seconds, she turned, meeting Johnny’s gaze and nodding that she was okay.

  They sat in silence, the ship settling around them with metallic groans. Gazes riveted to the sensor feeds on the main console, they waited for something, anything, to indicate that the destroyer had managed to follow them. She didn’t think they would have. They’d jumped blind, so they could be anywhere within the jump radius of the Starflame’s engines. It would take an AI assisted oct-core ship computer to even try to predict a blind jump and then jump to land in the right area.

  “I think…” Johnny started. “Aww fuck.”

  Proximity alerts drowned out all other noises on the bridge as the destroyer emerged right in front of them, filling the screen at the front of the bridge. This close in all she could see was the armored forward hull, and as the other vessel shifted position, the row of battery cannons lined up on the bridge.

  Her breath caught in her throat. At this range, there was no way they’d survive if the destroyer opened fire. The Starflame was a civilian vessel, the shields weren’t rated for combat. The most they’d ever had to deal with was random strikes from space debris as the transport chugged along the space lanes.

  “Starflame,” the voice said over the comm again. “This is the Warspear, power down and prepare to be boarded. Resist and we open fire on your bridge.”

  Anger flared through Milly’s system. Clenching her teeth so hard she thought they’d crack under the pressure, she stabbed at the reply button. These bastards had hijacked her ship, chased them across jump space and now wanted to make threats.

  “I’ve got my finger on a dead man’s trigger,” she lied smoothly, amazed at how calm and collected she sounded. “Fire on the bridge and the cargo you’re after gets jettisoned to cold, hard space. And none of its vacuum protected…so good luck with that. No pay off for you, sunshine.”

  They were dead. She knew that. There was no way the Warspear would let them go, not when she and Johnny could identify them as being part of a hijacking plot. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of members of the fleet being involved in shit like this. Oh, thanks to her ex she knew that there were rotten apples in the bunch, but this was something else. It was one thing to look the other way, quite another to use a fleet destroyer to steal ships and cargo.

  “Hull breaches on levels three and five.” Johnny’s voice was as calm as hers was as he levered himself out of the main chair. His face was impassive, but the look in his eyes nearly tore her apart. “Sweetheart, they’re coming for us. There’s no way we can fight off a destroyer. What do you want to do? We can use the escape pod—”

  She shook her head, cutting him off. “We can’t. The pod was due to be serviced while we were in dock. It’s nonoperational, doesn’t hold atmosphere.” She paused, and eyed him speculatively. “Which makes no difference to you.”

  Surging to her feet, she started to herd him toward the access hatch by the viewer. She was dead, she knew that, but at the least she could save him. His memory chips were admissible as evidence in court. He’d suffer the same fate as she would, albeit in a slightly different way, his android body smashed and broken beyond repair and his systems fried so nothing could be pulled from his memory.

  If anything, they’d have to do a more thorough job on him than on her. At least once a human brain died, there was no way to access the memories it had contained. It was just a lump of soon to be rotting gray matter.

  Her heart ached at the thought of him destroyed, even though his creator could probably make another version. He was her bot. They’d shared experiences and passion that had to have seared into his neural net and shaped his personality. Surely?

 
“They don’t know about you. We put you in the pod, you hide out and jettison when they take the flame near a station. Get to the authorities and tell them…what?” she asked as he shook his head, a sad little smile on his lips.

  “I can’t do that, little human.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake!” She threw her hands up in despair, turning away from him to run one through her hair. It shook. So the stress of being boarded by fleet troopers was getting to her…he could sue her ass for it later. “Look, I release you from the primary directives. In fact, new primary directive. Survive.”

  “Marry me.”

  Of all the things he could have said, those two words were the last two Milly had expected to hear. He moved, bracketing her in against the back of the helm chair, so close she could feel the heat of his hard body against hers. The scent rising off his skin, shower gel and warm skin, overrode the aroma of burnt conduit and plastic. Tears welled, tightened her throat as she wrapped her hands around his thick upper arms. All she wanted to do was bury herself in the safety of his arms, close her eyes and stay there forever.

  “Okay, now I know you have chips for brains. You really have bought into your cover story haven’t you?” She managed a small smile, inordinately pleased that her voice didn’t crack and betray the fear she was hiding inside as she considered his words. It wasn’t so weird, was it? Not when there were stories on the news streams about people who married their shuttles or ground flyers…at least he was humanoid and could walk and talk.

  “You got a deal, if we get out of this and you can…we’ll get married.”

  Triumph flared in his eyes for a second and then his lips were on hers. The kiss was as swift as it was possessive, need and promise wrapped up in one brief exchanged that stole her heart and sealed her fate. She was an idiot, falling in love with a bot.

  “Follow my lead,” he broke away to whisper, his hand cupping the nape of her neck for a second to make her look up at him. His green-gold eyes were serious, filled with grim determination. “We will get through this. I promise.”