Ours to Share: ES Siren 8 Page 3

  Bastard.

  Jasmine peeled off first one sock, then the other, her hands lingering on each of his feet. Cloey’s mouth dried. She’d bet her girlfriend had the same dirty thoughts she’d had about his size.

  The prisoner proffered a hand. Jasmine took it and he pulled her back to her heeled feet, then softly said, “Kiss me.”

  Jasmine linked her hands behind his nape. Her head tilted back and the prisoner bent to accommodate their height difference. Their lips touched, and then they locked mouths as though they were starving.

  Cloey’s body temperature climbed a few more degrees. Strangely enough she didn’t feel left out. Instead, a voyeuristic thrill moved through her as she watched the prisoner’s big hands cup Jasmine’s ass so that their bodies fused almost as one, their moans and indrawn breaths filling the cabin.

  Just when she thought they were too far gone to stop, 322 dragged his head back and focused on Cloey with heavy-lidded eyes. “Your turn,” he rasped.

  Jasmine stepped back, stumbling a little before she sank onto the bed, her legs evidently too weak to support her.

  Cloey’s knees were ready to give out as she walked toward him. She swallowed. Even with the advantage of her heeled shoes, she doubted she’d reach his mouth to kiss him.

  He bent and scooped her up, and she gasped even as her jeans-clad legs automatically curled around his hips. Her womb clenched at his undeniable strength and at the thick length of his arousal, pressed hard against her belly.

  She wriggled a little, trying to lift herself up and ease the ache, but then his mouth crashed onto hers and her lips parted on a gasp. His tongue pushed inside, taking charge. His stubble was rough on the tender skin of her jaw, while the vague taste of Jasmine sent her taste buds into a wild and wanton dance that made her even more aroused.

  Sharing had never felt so damn good!

  She lost herself to him, her senses seemingly hardwired to his every desire. He groaned against her lips and she opened wider to him. Holy shit, this man knew how to kiss! He gave his all and took even more, his lips sliding hard and then soft against hers, his tongue teasing the soft tissue of her inner mouth.

  When she wondered if she could take any more, he pulled his head back, releasing her from his spell.

  His eyes blazed into hers, a hint of speculation behind the passion. “You taste good, sex kitten.”

  She smiled at his choice of endearment. “If you want to hear me purr, I need more than a kiss.”

  His eyes smoldered, but he practiced iron restraint. “Soon, kitten,” he promised.

  He set her gently onto her feet. “First you get to kiss your girlfriend again.”

  She glared in response. This feline had claws. “We brought you to our cabin. You don’t get to be in charge anymore.”

  Chapter 3

  Silo understood the sexual frustration evident in every taut line of Cloey’s slender body. Hell, he was about to explode himself. It was almost impossible not to grab her by the upper arms and kiss her senseless, then strip off her low-slung jeans and panties before taking her hard and fast, like the animal he wanted to be.

  But these women were elite, and they were all too sure of themselves, and of him. He wanted them at his mercy. He wanted them begging for release. Lord knew he’d taken enough orders from the elite in his lifetime, and had been screwed over by them more times than he’d care to recall.

  No, this time he’d be the one screwing. He’d be in charge.

  He gave a careless grin that he knew would infuriate them both, and would undoubtedly make them want him even more. The elite were known for wanting things they couldn’t have. “You wouldn’t have brought me here if you wanted a man to bow and scrape to your every whim.”

  Jasmine nodded, her dark hair swinging. “He’s right, Cloey.”

  Cloey ignored her girlfriend for a moment and blinked up at him. “You like to watch us kiss?”

  “It sure beats watching my cellmates give each other blow jobs.”

  She arched a brow. “You’re not into same-sex love?”

  “I’m not into men, period. Women have always been my … downfall.”

  Cloey stared up at him. Her mouth opened as though she wanted to ask more, but she pressed it shut.

  He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or pissed that she didn’t want to know more about him—the real man beneath the physicality she and Jasmine wanted only to fuck.

  Cloey turned away from him and faced Jasmine, who held out her arms and said huskily, “What are you waiting for? Kiss me.”

  As Cloey sashayed toward her girlfriend, Silo eyeballed her petite, jeans-clad butt and the bare length of her slender back. And suddenly he was glad of the further rush of blood to his cock. He didn’t want to be emotionally invested. Not with any woman, but especially not with these two elite lovers.

  He’d use their bodies in just the same way they’d use his. He’d sink his cock deep into their hot, slick pussies and be thankful for it.

  Cloey stepped between Jasmine’s legs and bent to kiss her, their mouths fusing and their breaths and gasps quickly becoming audible.

  Silo squeezed his eyes shut on a shuddering breath, aware that giving full rein to his libido hadn’t been the best idea. Not if he intended to maintain even a shred of control.

  When he next opened his eyes, Cloey was sprawled over Jasmine on the bed, her little bottom sticking up in the air and the heels of their strappy shoes giving the illusion of daggers attached to their feet.

  It was the perfect analogy. These women really would cut him if he wasn’t careful. Elite didn’t care for anyone but themselves.

  But if he didn’t give them what they wanted soon, they’d be getting off on each other instead of on him. And as much as that would titillate, it definitely wouldn’t satisfy.

  He stepped toward the bed. The women’s passion, their musky scent and little cries as they kissed and their bodies writhed, was almost his undoing. “Undress me,” he growled, his voice as hard as his dick.

  The women climbed off the bed with a speed that would have made him laugh under any other circumstances. Two sets of hands dragged off his pants and boxer briefs in one motion, and he stepped out of the material bunched around his ankles.

  Cloey and Jasmine all but licked their lips as they stared at the arc of his cock stretching toward his belly button. It was only the sheer weight of his arousal that kept it from being vertical.

  Jasmine blinked up at him. “I want you in my mouth.”

  “Me too,” Cloey breathed.

  His jaw locked tight, his balls tightening to the point of pain. “I could probably use a shower first.” He was still a gentleman, despite what these women might think. Performing a gig in a small, overcrowded room had left him dripping in sweat that had long since dried.

  Jasmine shook her head. “We want you just the way you are.” Her lips curled into a smile that was pure seduction. “We want a real man, not a scrubbed-up, fresh-faced boy.”

  He drew in a long, slow breath, waiting for the bite of grief to pass. He’d long ago lost the title of boy—he’d never really had that title, not with the responsibilities that had been heaped upon his shoulders from a young age.

  All the bitter thoughts from the past evaporated the moment Jasmine bent over him. Her warm mouth covered the head of his cock before drawing in his shaft in a liquid slide. When Cloey dropped onto her knees and cupped his engorged balls then licked and sucked, he exhaled in a shuddery rush.

  “Holy fuck.” He shut his eyes, fighting for control. Their touch was incredible. Add the visual of them pleasuring him, and it was almost his undoing. He’d gone to heaven. Paradise. Another world, where prisons no longer existed and women wanted only to please him.

  Jasmine released him and looked up, her gorgeous stare unblinking. “I’ve missed this … missed sucking cock.”

  He swallowed, all of two seconds away from embarrassing himself and revealing just how much he’d missed having a lover do exactly t
hat. “If only I’d known that sooner.”

  He’d been on this pile of space junk for close to a year—Solitaire was only three weeks away, give or take a couple of days. The journey would have been made a lot more bearable by spending some time between the sheets with these women.

  He gritted his teeth, trying to separate his chaotic emotions from the worshipping Cloey was giving his balls with her mouth and tongue. Was he forgetting who these women really were? They’d toss him out with the trash the moment they’d had their fill of him.

  Elite only knew how to manipulate and use.

  Jasmine smiled, seeing only his ecstasy. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  A growl rumbled at the base of his throat as Cloey continued her ministrations. Screw the past. For this one night all his tainted memories of elite could go straight to hell.

  Right then, he was the luckiest man on the ship.

  His cock stretched, impossibly harder. He wouldn’t last much longer. “Jasmine, undress Cloey,” he rasped, “and then I want you both lying on the bed.”

  If the women resented him being back in command they no longer showed it. Instead, they acted as though his every wish was their desire.

  It was enough to bring any man to his knees.

  Ignoring his aching hard-on, he sat on the bed between the two women, and trailed his fingertips along the inside of their thighs. He didn’t need to see their faces to read their anticipation. Their hitched breaths and flushed, moist skin were more than enough indication.

  He caressed a little higher, pausing as he reached the junction between their thighs. His balls tightened at the sight of their neatly manicured pussies, one a dark strip of hairs, the other a lighter-color.

  “Please,” Jasmine whispered, her legs spreading wide to reveal the glistening inner petals of her sex. “I ache for you.”

  Cloey whimpered. “Me too.”

  He brushed his fingers along first Jasmine’s warm, wet slit, and then Cloey’s. At their hissed breaths, he said roughly, “Patience.”

  Jasmine all but whimpered. “I need you now.”

  These women had probably never waited or wanted for anything in their lives. It was beyond time he showed them differently, even if in the end they got exactly what they wanted.

  He caressed the plump nub of nerves between their labia folds. Cloey’s hips jerked, and Jasmine cried out. Their liquid heat brought a musky scent of arousal that caused his cock to jerk and a bead of cum to ooze from its head.

  But he didn’t accommodate the women, didn’t take the edge off their needs … or his own. That would have spoiled the game. Instead, he fondled and stroked, building their inner fires almost to combustion, before he stopped, and stimulated them all over again, until his own control was pushed to the limit, and he couldn’t hold off even one minute longer.

  He pushed off the bed, then stood and spun around. Clasping Jasmine’s legs, he tugged her to the edge of the mattress. Her beautiful, liquid brown eyes were slumberous with invitation, even before she secured her ankles behind his back.

  A growl built at the base of his throat. Thank god condoms were a thing of the past. Though everyone onboard the Siren had been screened and treated for disease, almost everyone also had implants to protect against it, as well as eliminating the ability to conceive.

  Aligning the head of his shaft to the wet center of her pussy, he pushed in deep. His balls tucked high at the tight, wet heat encompassing his cock, and he inhaled sharply even as Jasmine’s breath hissed out. On his next thrust her hips rose to meet him, greedy for every inch.

  Cloey didn’t lay idle. She rolled to Jasmine and began to fondle and kiss her breasts, her lush mouth licking and sucking in just the same way she’d licked and sucked his balls.

  He groaned, and stroked deeper, faster, harder, pushing Jasmine headlong into an orgasm that left her gasping for breath and her inner muscles clutching at his cock.

  He pulled free with a ragged sigh, his self-control hanging by a thread and his cock left throbbing and harder than steel.

  But Jasmine was glowing and satiated, and he had no intention of leaving Cloey high and dry. Ignoring the almost painful state of his anatomy, he focused on the woman whose raw lust was stamped onto every line of her gorgeous face.

  Her bright eyes, her small breasts with the pointed, hardened nipples, her flushed cheeks and parted, moist lips. Even the wink of navel jewelry in her toned belly.

  She was a woman primed for climax.

  And he was just the man to give it to her.

  Clasping her by the hips, he flipped her around onto her belly. She pushed up onto all fours, her petite little ass swaying at him like a red flag to a bull.

  With a growl, he levered his cock between her ass cheeks and pushed deep into her delectable pussy, drilling her tight, wet heat with everything he had.

  Her sweet little cries told him he hadn’t hurt her. Little wonder—he’d pushed foreplay to the limits, and both women were drenched and ready for him.

  He pulled back a little, then thrust forward, ten seconds away from ejaculating even before Jasmine slid a hand between Cloey’s legs and played with her clit.

  The added stimulation sent Cloey into instant climax. As her pussy contracted around his dick, he closed his eyes and threw back his head back with a roar, his seed spurting hotly over and over, until there was nothing left but utter exhaustion and a vague awareness of how else he’d like to pleasure these women.

  Shame the morning would see him back in his cell.

  He pulled out with a shuddering sigh, somehow feeling bereft at the disconnection. Despite his hatred of elite, part of him wished things were different.

  Cloey collapsed onto her belly, then twisted around, her big, shining blue eyes focused on him. “That was … amazing.”

  He nodded. “I think we make an amazing team.”

  When Cloey’s smile wavered, Jasmine sat up on her knees, her eyes fairly glowing as she reached up to cup his face. “I think you’ve earned that shower now.”

  Chapter 4

  Silo woke slowly, lying on his back with Jasmine and Cloey pressed up close either side. Not that they could go anywhere. His arms were wrapped around them, holding them near. The possessive touch caused him to frown even as something warmed from within, stirring up longings he had no business feeling.

  But all thought fled the moment an alarm sounded, loud and strident. The women jerked awake beside him, but they lay immobile, listening to the announcement that cut over the alarms.

  “Code red. This is not a drill. Repeat. Code red. This is not a drill. All military personnel to report to their superiors. Civilians, please remain in your cabins until further notice. All prisoners to return immediately to their cells. Repeat. Code red. This is not a drill.”

  The green decompression light above the door winked and Silo released the women and shot to his feet. He sucked in a steadying breath, ignoring the scent of sex that hung heavy in the air and barely taking a moment to appreciate the sight of the two naked women still on the bed.

  Though prisoners had been asked to return to their cells, he wouldn’t be opening the cabin door for anyone. Not if it was even remotely possible it could endanger the women.

  Cloey swiped the sleep from her eyes. “What’s going on?”

  Silo’s mind whirled, settling on one possible scenario before discarding it and moving on to another. “I have no idea.”

  Except he did have an idea. The prisoners’ growing discontent over the last few months had reached boiling point. It was no brain strain to guess that things had bubbled over into a spectacular explosion.

  There were stories circulating about a “silent” leader who was the mastermind behind the mounting anger. Whoever it was, many of the prisoners were willing subjects, blinded by their rage, by inequality and injustice, along with food shortages and extra work. Not to mention overcrowding and very little downtime.

  Silo exhaled. He knew better than most about the unfairness of t
he social system. Elite were at the top. Prisoners were at the bottom. They were scum, less valued than the animals onboard the Siren. And that was despite the fact the prisoners would do all the hard labor on Solitaire.

  Jasmine sat, her eyes narrowing, and this time it wasn’t in appreciation of his assets. She looked at him as though he was the key to unlocking the mystery behind the mayhem outside. “You do know something, don’t you?”

  He shrugged. “I’m hazarding a guess, but I’d say the prisoners have rioted, maybe even taken hostages, if the whole ship is in lockdown.”

  Cloey gasped. “No way!”

  Silo arched a brow. “Things have been … tough for us prisoners. Some would even say that desperate times have called for desperate measures.”

  Jasmine’s eyes narrowed. “So where does that leave me and Cloey?”

  He swallowed back a sudden urge to lash out. The elite were only ever invested in looking out for themselves. Self-preservation at its finest. He swept out a hand. “Don’t worry, baby-doll, you’re locked up safe and tight in your little cave, you’ll be fine.”

  Jasmine’s stare flashed, his endearment clearly no longer endearing. “How can you be so sure?”

  “I can’t. But until we get the all clear, we’ll have to wait it out.” And hope to god he wouldn’t be punished for staying and protecting his women.

  His women? Silo swallowed back his disgust. Hadn’t he learned his lesson? Never trust elite.

  *

  Cloey couldn’t stop the emotions churning in her guts any more than she could stop the alarms on the Siren from telling them something was wrong. Climbing out of bed, she stepped toward the wardrobe and jerked on a pair of panties, before thrusting her arms through the sleeves of a button-up dress.

  She did up her dress and glared at the prisoner. “You don’t get to stay here.”

  The very idea put her into an even bigger panic than the thought of him leaving. Perhaps because deep down she knew this man would impact her and Jasmine’s lives—had already impacted their lives in such a short time—in a way there’d be no coming back from.