Dona screamed, helpless and overwhelmed in the grip of an orgasm that flashed through her like a firestorm.
Alerio leaned closer, one hand sliding between their grinding hips until he could strum his thumb over her clit. Gasping, she arched her spine, pushing back onto his probing cock. His free hand glided up her torso, found one breast, and pinched its tight, flushed nipple.
A third orgasm spilled over her. Dona screamed, so lost in delight, she was barely aware of Alerio shoving to the balls, roaring in animal delight as he came, pulsing heat spurting into her depths.
Floating in a kind of sweet, dreamy contentment, Dona savored the sensation of Alerio’s strong arms wrapped around her, his body warm and sweat-damp against her back.
She’d had fantasies like this, secret midnight dreams with one hand busy between her thighs. Yet she’d never thought she’d actually make love to Alerio Dyami, Warlord and Chief Enforcer of the North American Outpost. She’d never expected to feel his hands gripping her ass as he suckled each nipple in turn and his cock drove into her slick core, fucking her with impossibly deep, greedy strokes.
I never thought I’d be this stupid, a mental voice whispered, acrid as bitterfruit. To make such a mistake once, that’s understandable. Twice, even. But three times? After Ivar? Hell, after the colonel?
Shut up. Dammit, not now. She didn’t need that vicious inner voice ruining this moment. All she wanted was to savor this sweet, fragile peace before something snatched it away.
Something always did.
Unfortunately, her inner bitch had no intentions of leaving her in peace. He put you in the brig, Dona. Locked you away. Didn’t even listen when you tried to explain. He believed you were the kind of woman willing to spit on her honor and her friends for tainted Xeran galactors.
Dammit, shut up.
He betrayed you, just like the other two.
He’s not the colonel. And he’s sure as hell not Ivar.
He’s wanted a taste of your hot little ass since you arrived on this station. Now he’s had it. And you know what that means.
He’s a Warlord. They’re not like . . .
He won’t love you. The whisper was damn near a shout now, pounding away at her like Ivar’s fists. Why would he? They never do. Take what you’ve got and get out with what’s left of your pride before it gets sticky.
Shut up.
You’ve got a good thing here. Better than you deserve. Don’t fuck it up the way you did on Arania.
Suddenly Alerio’s weight seemed crushing, as if someone had turned up the Outpost’s gravity. Dona fought the growing claustrophobia, but it grew worse by the second.
“Dona, what’s wrong?” Concern colored Alerio’s voice as his arms suddenly tightened, drawing her tighter—and intensifying the sensation of being slowly smothered.
He’s already feeling sorry for you. He’s going to start noticing the cracks in what passes for your soul. Get the fuck out while you can.
“I can’t breathe,” she wheezed. “Get off. Please, just get off!”
“Yes, of course.” Alerio rolled off her before her voice could quite spiral into a scream. His concerned gaze searched her face as he helped her to her feet. The crimson had vanished from his irises, leaving them a deep, velvety brown verging on black. “Are you all right?”
Means nothing, the voice whispered as she fought the panic attack. Her heartbeat filled her ears, and she gasped helplessly. Yet somehow she could still hear that fucking whisper. Ivar could fake it, too.
“Dona, what’s wrong?” She could almost feel the sweep of his sensors, registering her galloping heartbeat, her labored breathing, the sick nausea churning her stomach.
Don’t let me toss, she ordered her computer.
Anti-nausea procedures activated.
Spotting her top on the floor, she pounced on it and started shrugging it over her head as if it were combot armor and she were under fire. Once she was a little less naked, her panic began to ease.
Before she could start the search for her shorts, Alerio held them out to her. “Look, what’s going on? Did I . . . ?”
“You didn’t do anything.” Yet. “I just need to go.” She considered adding a lie, but knew his Warlord sensors would spot it like a signal flare. “I . . . just don’t feel well.”
His frown deepened. Her sensors detected his worry intensifying as his confusion deepened. With it came anger—and more than a little hurt. Hurt? Why would he feel hurt?
They like to be the one to end it when they want it ended, the frigid whisper reminded her. They don’t like it when you take control.
She started for the door, wanting only to get away from him before she humiliated herself any further.
“Dona, wait . . .” Alerio sealed his own snugs, stepped into one low gymboot, and glanced around for the other. “I think I should walk you back to your quarters.”
“Dammit, stop scanning me!” Dona snapped, the words bursting from her twisted lips like a shard pistol’s fléchettes. “Give me a little fucking privacy, would you?”
He rocked back on his heels, his brows shooting for his hairline. There it was again—hurt flashing across his face.
Ah, seven hells. To make matters worse, she sounded like a bitch. And a crazy bitch at that. Just the impression she wanted to give her CO.
That’s what he is, she reminded herself. My CO. That’s all.
Alerio stiffened. “It’s my job to be concerned for those under my command,” he pointed out in a cool, level voice. Obviously fighting to control his temper. “And that includes you.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, I just . . .” Throwing up her hands, Dona spun toward the door, ignoring his growled Vardonese curse. “Look, I’ve got to go . . .” She told her comp to order the door open.
It didn’t budge, sending a quick spurt of panic into her bloodstream.
“Let Enforcer Astryr out,” Alerio growled, and the door slid open with a sigh.
Oh, right, the chief had ordered it locked. Naturally it wouldn’t respond to her counter-command.
Not when you’re nothing more than a mere Enforcer. Unimportant to the Outpost—and to Alerio Dyami.
Dona fled from the gym, driven by the stinging, acid whispers that somehow managed to drown out the delicious memory of Alerio’s passion.
Almost.
Frustrated, confused, Alerio watched her escape through the gym doors as if something with a lot of teeth was chasing her. What the flaming hells? He’d thought he was finally making progress . . .
Hell, he had been making progress. According to his sensors, she’d been enjoying the same post-coital bliss he’d felt. At least, until a wave of self-loathing had triggered some sort of panic attack, though Alerio had no idea what had brought either of them on.
Oh, fuck. Ivar. Of course.
This was probably the first time she’d made love to anyone since the romance with the traitor ended six months ago—when Ivar had beaten her half to death.
Instinct demanded he go after her, somehow pull her out of the emotional death spiral she’d obviously been caught in. And if he’d been nothing more than a Vardonese Warlord, Alerio would have obeyed that impulse.