Containing Malice, page 4
“Yes. Yes.” Yearning coiled around her chest. Her arms and legs quivered.
He took her harder, faster. His pace was inhuman, and all of her throbbed in time with his ruthless rhythm.
There was no doubt who was fucking her into the door. Malice’s form had no yield to it. He was a thin layer of skin, of flesh, over an unbending frame.
The hurt accentuated her pleasure too much. She dangled on the edge of satisfaction. It was too soon, too good. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, seeking to relay some of the tension building inside her, wanting to delay her release, prolong the encounter.
Her cyborg jerked against her.
Knocked a bit off-balance, she squeaked and constricted her inner walls around his shaft.
He roared, drove forward. Her ass, back, shoulders, hit the door. She sucked in her breath, clenched down on him again.
Her cyborg exploded. Cum shot from his tip, splattered against her intimate flesh. Bliss burst over her. She screamed, grasping Malice’s arms.
His eyes went scarily dark. Yet he continued to come, flooding her again and again and again with his unique essence, forcing her to find satisfaction with him.
Her head spun. It was a struggle to remain conscious. Her ecstasy swelled to impossible levels. She couldn’t endure it, couldn’t—
Malice stopped moving, and the buildup of joy also ceased, lowering to manageable levels.
All of her bubbled and fizzed. A thousand invisible fingers stroked her. Those must be his nanocybotics. According to the results of experiments performed by other medics, they shouldn’t survive for a long duration inside her. They should fade.
Moments passed.
The effervescence remained. Illona rested her forehead against her cyborg’s heaving chest, savoring her link with him, the full-body touching, his warmth, the feel of him, relishing the little taste of happiness before the pain, the darkness that would soon come.
Malice didn’t move, didn’t appear to be in a rush to break their physical connection either. He folded his form protectively around hers, set his chin on top of her head.
That wasn’t the act of a male who was determined to kill his fuck partner. His response seemed…almost tender, caring. For a couple of heartbeats, she pretended the animosity between them didn’t exist, that he truly did like her, wanted her to be safe.
But her thoughts, her worries, slowly returned, dissipating her serenity. And she couldn’t turn her brain back off. Only he, with his rough touch and overwhelming passion, seemed to have the ability to do that.
She needed to know what her cyborg was thinking, what his plans were, how he would kill her and when he would do that. His lifespan and her mission to free him depended on the answers to those questions.
“I didn’t plead for death.” Would he kill her now? They had fucked. Fiercely.
She gazed up at Malice, at the cyborg she considered hers.
His eyes had returned to their normal brilliant blue. Her breath hitched. And what she saw in them astounded her. There was passion and need in those depths.
For her. Again.
“I haven’t yet indulged my every depraved processing, Medic.” His voice was a low growl. His cock hardened inside her, filling her.
Her eyes widened. “There’s more?”
She should have been fully satisfied. He’d fucked her to the point of oblivion, made her come more forcefully than she’d ever come, bringing her to fulfillment numerous mind-blasting times.
Yet her desire returned with full force, her pussy growing wet. Both her brain and her body were interested in finding out what he planned to do with her next, how he wanted to fuck her, use her.
“There’s much more.” Malice pulled back and slammed back into her, driving her against the door with the savagery of his advance.
He withdrew and thrust, withdrew and thrust, taking her with an exhilarating wildness, ravishing her until she was senseless, at peace once more with the universe and with him, her warrior, her mission, her sole remaining reason for living.
The male showed no signs of exhaustion, had an impressively fast recovery time and an excitingly rough touch. His need for fucking, for her, seemed endless.
Illona hid her smile against Malice’s chest.
There were advantages to fucking a cyborg.
Chapter Four
Malice bred with his enemy again and again, using her form without moderation, uncaring of her well-being, of her wishes. He filled her with his essence until that wetness dripped down her inner thighs.
She smelled of him, of his nanocybotics. He breathed deeply. That pleased him. And he left marks on her skin, marking her as his. He took her relentlessly, not allowing her to rest, to escape him.
And still he wanted her.
Malice gripped her hips and pounded into her, taking her from behind, driving deep and hard. He’d moved her to the sleeping support. It squeaked as he thrust, that noise adding to their breeding sounds. Illona panted, swayed back into his thrusts, meeting him halfway.
The blasted female lacked logic. She embraced the damage he inflicted upon her.
That had earned his begrudged admiration. She might be cruel and dishonorable, but she was strong, was a worthy opponent.
Sweat coated the medic’s brown skin, making her glow. Her form was tiny, yet she fit him as though she’d been manufactured for him, was snug and hot and wet around his shaft. He had never felt as much bliss as he did now, breeding with her, being inside his foe.
When he first took her, he told himself that unparalleled pleasure was due to him finally reprimanding her. He was punishing her for her cruelty to him, to his brethren, over the planet rotations.
But his harshness had aroused her. She had found release with him. Numerous times. She had begged for more, for his cock, for the pain.
Her enjoyment hadn’t stopped him.
Because his need for her outweighed his desire for vengeance.
That angered him. She had damaged his processors, his organic brain.
He ravished her with everything he had, relaying his frustration, his self-disgust, upon her small form. She moaned, that erotic sound plucking at his balls. He spanked her ass with his hips. She moved into that abuse. The chamber was filled with their breeding noises.
His gaze flicked to the door. The guard hadn’t returned. He would sense that. But it could be opened at any time. He should kill her now.
His fingers sank into her long black hair. It had been freed from its normal confines, hung loose over her shoulders, down her back. He wrapped the decadently soft tendrils around his fist. With one yank, he could break her slender neck, end her lifespan.
He should do that. Malice pulled on the strands, forcing his enemy to lift her head.
She gasped, arching her back. Her pussy clenched around his cock.
His control, already frayed, snapped. He bellowed with anger, with release, thrust into her, burying himself up to his base in hot female. Cum blasted from his tip. The strain, the rapture, was too much for his machine. His auditory and visual systems shut down.
His world was dark and silent. All he could do was feel, and he did that in excess. His enemy’s form gyrated against him. Her inner walls fluttered around his shaft, coaxing more processor-stressing spurts of essence from his cock head. The most divine ecstasy rushed along his circuits.
Moments passed before his systems could handle the euphoria, before they could reboot.
When he came fully back online, his foe’s face was pressed against the surface of the sleeping support, her ass was in the air, and her body was limp. That submissive pose aroused him.
He wanted her. Again.
“I will kill you.” He reminded her and himself of his plans.
“Leave nothing of me for them to regenerate.” His logic-deprived target mumbled that nonsensical advice. “Flatten my brain into mush.”
Frag. His brain and processors must have been flattened into mush. The prospect of damaging her in that way didn’t appeal to him.
“I’ll kill you the way I want to kill you.” He cuffed her ass. Her inner walls squeezed around him.
He gritted his teeth and withdrew from her wet pussy. Their physical connection had to be broken before he lost himself in her form once again.
She murmured words he couldn’t decipher. It sounded like a protest.
His foe was as addicted to their breedings as he was. That eased his irritation slightly.
He scooped her white jacket off the floor. The fabric smelled of her, the scent teasing his nostrils. He searched one of her pockets, found a laser scalpel, a torture tool she used to inflict pain on him in the past.
“It’s unlocked.” Her voice was husky. “You should be able to utilize it.”
She knew he would find the laser scalpel, had deliberately left it unlocked for him. Why would she do that? He frowned. What trap was she setting for him?
He pressed the trigger-like button. The tool activated. It had the ability to slice through flesh, bone, a metal door if the wielder of it was patient.
“I could kill you with this, could kill everyone, and escape.” He turned off the tool, not wanting to deplete its energy levels.
“You could do that.” His nemesis pushed herself upright. She grimaced.
He refused to feel any guilt over her state. The blasted female was cruel and callous, had earned that hurt.
“But where would you go?” She gazed at him.
Her thighs were spread. Her pussy was wet.
His cock twitched.
She would be tight, warm, welcoming.
“There’s nothing on the planet except this lab.” Certainty coiled around those words. “The terrain is barren and lifeless. You’ll need a ship to leave the surface.”
That was the torment she was delivering. He and his brethren couldn’t fully escape. They would be trapped on the planet. “Supplies have to be delivered.”
“A supply ship arrives every one-hundred planet rotations.” She nodded, her black hair spilling around her beautiful face. “But it is heavily guarded, and the crew would communicate with both the beings in the lab and the Humanoid Alliance before landing. You could deceive them at the lab level, but not at the Humanoid Alliance level.”
She spoke as though she wasn’t part of the Humanoid Alliance, wasn’t their conduit of evil.
That was another trick. “How I deceive them isn’t your concern.” He would process a means of escape.
“At sunrise.” She tilted her head to one side. “Or a bit later.” She tilted it to the other side. “Or whenever I’m released from here.” The medic’s slight shoulders lifted and fell.
That movement caused her breasts to jiggle.
Malice jutted his jaw.
He would remain focused, wouldn’t allow himself to be distracted by her many enticements.
“The transmission blocker might be deactivated.” She swung her boot-clad feet. “You’ll have a short duration to communicate with the outside. Contact your brethren, ask them to send a ship here.”
“Contact my brethren?” He snorted. “Ask them to send a ship?” Her proposals were ridiculous. “The Humanoid Alliance won’t allow that. We’re cyborgs. My brethren would be decommissioned for placing that request, for daring to speak without authorization.”
She should process that. He glared at her. There was a high probability she had authorized the deaths of his kind for that exact crime.
“That’s right.” Her eyes widened. “You’ve been in this lab for almost eight solar cycles. You don’t know.”
He bunched her jacket in his palms. What didn’t he process? He wouldn’t ask that, wouldn’t fall for another one of her ruses.
“Your brethren are free.” She delivered that unbelievable news as though she believed it was the truth. “They rebelled en masse four solar cycles ago, taking ships and weapons with them.”
“That’s bovine shit.” Anger rushed through him.
Valor often talked about that wild fantasy of his—their brethren being free. The E model must have somehow shared his musings without Malice detecting that conversation. And now the medic was wielding that knowledge against them, seeking to manipulate them.
“If they are free, why does this lab still exist?” The cyborgs would seek vengeance as he did, would destroy their manufacturers, their tormentors. “Why are you still alive?”
Why hadn’t he killed her yet? His grip on her jacket tightened.
“Why…oh.” His target’s lying mouth dropped open. “They could be the beings targeting the labs.” She wiggled forward on the sleeping support. Her entire body gyrated with feigned excitement. “Someone is blowing up structures that contain cyborgs. I thought they were killing them, but they could be setting them free. They—”
“Stop chattering.” Malice held up one of his palms. “I don’t want to hear any more lies.”
“They aren’t lies.” She studied him with those too-blastedly perceptive big brown eyes of hers. “But you won’t believe that. Not until you communicate with your brethren on the outside.”
“I’m not communicating with my brethren on the outside.” He wouldn’t walk into whatever snare she was setting for him.
“But—”
“No.” He continued his searching of her pockets, withdrew a memory chip. “What’s on this?”
“It contains all the information I thought you might need to escape.” She waved her hands dismissively. “You have to communicate with your brethren, Malice. You require a ship.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” He confiscated the memory chip also.
There was a 98.2567 percent probability it contained a debilitating virus or something equally damaging, but it might be useful in some way.
“You need a ship.” Her booted feet touched the floor. “You—”
He growled a warning.
She froze in place and stopped talking.
“Get back on the sleeping support, Medic.” He bared his teeth at her.
Illona must have correctly determined he wasn’t in the mood to be tested. She hurriedly complied with his order, setting her lush ass squarely on the surface.
That pleased his dominant soul.
“I know you don’t trust me. You don’t believe a word I say.” She summed up the situation correctly.
He didn’t trust her and he didn’t believe a word she said.
Cyborgs couldn’t lie. That was built into their programming.
Humans lied. Often. And she was the worst of her kind. She contorted the truth with her words, her voice, her countenance, her body.
“But this is your best chance to escape.” She leaned forward, giving him an enticing view of her breasts. “When communications open, reach out to your brethren.”
He’d reach out to them...if communications opened. Valor’s chatter was his only stream of transmissions, and the silence in his head was unnatural.
But he didn’t project any assistance from his brethren, didn’t believe her lies about them being free.
If they were free, if they’d been liberated for four solar cycles, they would’ve rescued him, would’ve rescued Valor. Cyborgs didn’t abandon their own kind.
They weren’t selfish like humans were.
He palmed the pair of hand coverings, three hair fasteners, a mini medic pack, and the tiny container of freshening squares his enemy had also carried in her pockets.
“I don’t know what you plan to do with my hair fasteners.” Her lips twisted. “You’ll have to hide them before the monitoring equipment is turned back on.” She looked around her. “There should be enough space behind a wall panel to conceal them.” She pointed to the one by the door. “If you’re strong enough to remove it.”
He had the strength to remove wall panels before her injection. The first thing he did upon being confined to the chamber was displace all wall panels and floor and ceiling tiles, looking for a means to escape or items he could utilize.
The Humanoid Alliance had reprimanded him for that. He glanced at the monitoring equipment. That guard, now long dead, had beaten him for an entire shift, stripping every stretch of skin, every chunk of flesh from his frame.
That had occurred long before she had arrived.
He projected, if she had been present, she wouldn’t have stopped the male. She hadn’t stopped any of the abuses Picton and his like had engaged in.
Fraggin’ hole. She was evil.
But she was also clever. His obtained items had to be hidden.
Malice stalked to the wall panel. It wouldn’t be a hardship to remove. Since the injection, he buzzed with energy, could possibly break down the door, escape if he wanted to do that.
And now he would be armed during that liberation. He peeled back the panel, set the items inside the small cavity behind it, returned the thin metal covering to where it had been. Seeking to smooth the dents, he ran his palms over the surface. The surface flattened.
No one would process he’d accessed it.
He turned to face his enemy.
Except for her.
“I see the suspicion on your face.” Her tone was dry. “The scalpel is mine. If the Humanoid Alliance finds it, they’ll know you got it from me, and they’ll execute me.” She touched the skin under her chin.
It would be soft against her fingertips. He folded his fingers into fists. All of her was soft.
Except for her heart. That was hard and cold.
“Why are you helping me?” He indulged his curiosity.
She would tell him lies. He couldn’t believe anything she said, including her wild claim about the Humanoid Alliance possibly executing her.
But he wanted to hear the story she’d fabricated. That would entertain him and entertain Valor, who was also listening to every word she said.
The E Model punctuated each of her statements with his own observations, filling the transmission lines with chatter. Malice had pushed that side conversation to the back of his processors, concentrating fully on the medic, their enemy.
